The weather prevented our seeing the celebrated Walks of Piercefield, but we promised ourselves the pleasure of visiting them on our return down the Wye. The Castle of Chepstow, called Kaswent, or Castelk Gwent, stands on a rock washed by the river Wye, near its influx into the Severn. Topographical writers differ in their accounts concerning the antiquity of the Castle, but it is generally supposed to have been built at the same time with the town, appearing at that period to have been a kind of citadel to Chepstow. {9} The Castle was formerly of great extent, as, according to Leland’s account, the “waulles began at the end of the great bridge over Wy,” yet “in the castel ys one tower, as I heard say, by the name of Langine.” Little now remains of its former grandeur: but, impelled by an irresistible curiosity, we ascended the decayed steps of the tower, from whence the eye traced with pleasure the windings of the Wye, till it was at last lost in its conjunction with the Severn. With horror we examined the dark dungeon, where Henry Martin, one of the twelve judges, who sat to condemn Charles I. was confined seven and twenty years. Grand views of the Bristol Channel still continued to form interesting objects from the road; but about three miles from Chepstow, we turned into some fields on the right, to examine the Ivy-mantled walls of CALDECOT CASTLE. On our first entrance we gazed with that wrapt astonishment, that fears to disturb, or be disturbed by the mutual communication of thought.—Mr. Warner, in his survey of this ruin, was much disappointed; but I cannot help allowing, although the view from it was inferior to Chepstow, yet its antiquated walls wear a nobler appearance; and the gloom that reigns around it, forces a sigh, and evinces the transitory nature of sublunary greatness. The antiquity of the building is very obscure: it is situate on a flat, and memorable for the birth of Henry VII. Passing through the village of Caldecot, we soon entered CAERWENT, on the Western side, through the broken fragments of its walls, of which one immense mass has recently fallen. This ancient town is now little more than a village, with a few scattered cottages, but formerly celebrated, under the auspices of Agricola, for its temples, theatre, porticos, and baths; few vestiges of its former splendour are now extant. A few fragments of loose stones only remain to point out its former extent. In an orchard, adjoining a farm-house belonging to Mr. Lewis, is the beautiful tessalated Roman Pavement, discovered in the year 1777. The tesserale or dies, about an inch in breadth, and half in depth, are nearly cubical, consisting of four colours, red, yellow, blue, and white, {11} which are still in great preservation; the whole is surrounded with a border, much resembling a Turkey carpet. The daily depredations on these curious remains of antiquity are greatly to be lamented.