Upon the summit of the mountain called _Pen Caer Gybi_ (the Head of Cybi’s Fort) is a remarkable Roman antiquity, viz.: _Caer Twr_, (Fort Tower). This circular building was formerly strongly cemented with the same kind of mortar as the Fort (church walls) of the Town, and supposed to have been a _Roman Pharos_, or Watch Tower. It had stood and braved the crushing thunder, vivid lightning, and warring winds and storms, for perhaps sixteen hundred centuries. But the rude hand of man has marred it, hoping by so doing to meet with an Australian digging. Upon this mount a tower stands Well known in days of yore; When chieftains with their hostile bands, Shed floods of human gore. ’Tis now in ruins—but a spell Of grandeur haunts the scene; While none remain the deeds to tell, The deeds of blood there seen. Upon the side of the mountain runs a long dry wall, several feet high in many places. The peculiar form of the wall exhibits the Roman architect; and there is no doubt the Romans had here one of their posts, or walled encampments. There is a power And magic in the ruined battlement For which the palace of the present hour Must yield, and wait, till ages are its dower. On the opposite or West side of the mountain, and about ten minutes’ walk from the Telegraph, on the right hand of the footpath leading to South Stack, and in a situation awfully romantic, may be seen traces of a religious house called _Capel Lochwyd_. Here also the hand of man has effected a greater demolition than the elemental war of many centuries; the altar and walls have been removed with the hope of finding treasure. It is worth while to visit this spot were it but to admire the taste which these hermits of old had in fixing their residence; and the piety, it may be, which led them to seek a solitary abode so favourable to devotion. From this spot has ascended the voice of prayer, and the hymn of praise. I doubt not but the surrounding rocks have witnessed such acts of self-denial, fervent devotion, and entire consecration to God as would put many of us, who are making a flaming profession, to the blush. I should imagine that few could view these remarkable remains of ancient piety without feeling, in some degree, the sentiment so admirably expressed by the Poet— I do love these ancient ruins; We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history.