The ridge rises steeply from the town clothed in woods; the ruins themselves are inconsiderable. In this castle, not then in ruins, according to Izaak Walton, was born the saintly George Herbert, in 1593. He was the fifth son of Richard Herbert, a younger brother of the celebrated Lord Herbert of Cherbury. In his fourth year his father died, so that, with his brothers and sisters, he was left under the sole charge of that excellent woman his mother, who subsequently married Sir John Danvers. He grew up to be a good scholar, and became an attendant at court, in expectation of preferment. But at length, weary of such dancing attendance on court favour, he retired into Kent, “where,” says his biographer, “he lived very privately. In this time he had many conflicts with himself, whether he should return to the painted pleasures of a Court life or betake himself to a study of divinity and enter into sacred orders, to which his dear mother had often persuaded him. At last God inclined him to put on a resolution to serve at His altar.” He was offered the prebend of Layton Ecclesia, in the diocese of Lincoln, whilst still a layman. In 1628 he married Jane, daughter of Mr. Charles Danvers, a near relative of his stepfather. “Mr. Danvers having known him long and familiarly did so much affect him that he often declared a desire that Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine daughters, but rather his daughter Jane, because Jane was his beloved daughter. Mr. Danvers had so much commended Mr. Herbert to her, that Jane became so much a Platonick as to fall in love with Mr. Herbert unseen. This was a fair preparation for a marriage; but, alas! her father dyed before Mr. Herbert’s retirement; yet some friends to both parties procured their meeting, at which time a mutual affection entered both their hearts, and love having got such possession governed, insomuch that she changed her name into Herbert the third day after this first interview.” [Illustration: CHURCH, MONTGOMERY] A few months after the marriage, the Earl of Pembroke obtained for him from the King the living of Bemerton, whilst he was still in deacon’s orders, but he was speedily ordained priest. “When, at his induction he was shut into Bemerton Church, being left there to toll the bell, as the law requires him, he staid so much longer than an ordinary time before he returned to his friends, that staid expecting him at the church door, that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in at the church window, and saw him lie prostrate on the ground before the altar; at which time and place (as he after told Mr. Woodnot) he set rules to himself for the future manage of his life; and then and there made a vow to labour to keep them.” He died of consumption in 1632, aged 39. It is remarkable that Wales should have given to England two of her sweetest sacred singers, George Herbert and Henry Vaughan.