Arthur, King -- Homes and haunts -- England -- Cornwall (County); Cornwall (England : County) -- Antiquities, Celtic
“A statelye and impregnable seate,” is Norden’s testimony, “now rent
and rugged by force of time and tempests; her ruines testifye her
pristine worth, the view whereof, and due observation of her situation,
shape, and condition in all partes, may move commiseration that such
a statelye pile should perish for want of honourable presence. Nature
hath fortified, and art dyd once beautifie it, in such sorte as it
leaveth unto this age wonder and imitation.” Tintagel is to be visited
rather than described, though our most luxuriant poets have painted
it with lavish richness of words, and artists have depicted some of
its natural beauties in the most radiant of colours. From many a rocky
verge can be seen the dark remnants of Arthur’s fortress, inaccessible
on all sides but one; from the deep base the ocean spreads out without
bound, surging and boiling and casting up steam-like fountains of
hissing foam. Only a few arches and rude flights of steps, surmounted
by a frail-looking wooden door, now remain, with some fallen walls
which imperfectly outline the shape of what were once spacious royal
chambers. On a carpet of turf wander the small mountain sheep, and
pick their way about the narrow precipitous paths which wind around
the jagged sides of the cliffs. The fortifications are in ruin, and
the battlemented walls which encompassed the massive steeps are now
nothing but disconnected strips over which the curious traveller
looks into the angry waters grinding and regurgitating far below. The
noble bridge which once stretched across the yawning chasm dividing
the two promontories must alone be imagined, though its beginnings on
each side may be traced by the line of low stone arches reaching, and
stopping abruptly at, the edge. The hills “that first see bared the
morning’s breast,” the heights “the sun last yearns to from the west,”
as Swinburne has sung, are eternal, but Arthur’s castle has gone, and
Tintagel, “half in sea and high on land, a crown of towers,” is even
called by the dwellers no more by its old inspiring name.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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