But Clifford Castle is not associated merely with ideas of war and rapine, but with those of love and beauty. Here was born that too celebrated lady, of whom Dryden says—
“Jane Clifford was her name, as books aver, Fair Rosamond was but her _nom de guerre_.”
She was the daughter of one of the earls of Clifford, and became celebrated for her amour with Henry II.; who built her a bower in Woodstock Park, which he defended from his jealous wife by the classical device of a labyrinth. Queen Eleanor, however, who was as well read in ancient history as her spouse, was not slow in hitting upon the expedient of the clue of thread; and, on reaching her rival, the historical romancers add, she compelled her to swallow poison. Whatever may have been her fate, Fair Rosamond was buried at Godstow, and a Latin epitaph inscribed on her tomb to this effect:
“Here lies not Rose the Chaste, but Rose the Fair, Whose breath perfumes no more, but taints the air.”
The ruins of the castle, completely covered with ivy, look down solemn and sad upon the Wye:
“Clifford has fallen—howe’er sublime, Mere fragments wrestle still with time; Yet as they perish, sure and slow, And rolling dash the stream below, They raise tradition’s glowing scene,— The clue of silk, the wrathful queen; And link in memory’s firmest bond The love-lorn tale of Rosamond.”
We carried away with us for a considerable distance the dreamy repose of Clifford Castle; but this was at length broken by repose of another character. The scene was a little wayside hut, purporting to be an inn, where the weary pedestrian might obtain shade or shelter, if no refreshment. An old man, and an old woman, occupied the two fireside corners, the one reading, the other sewing, in profound silence. Around the hearth, there was a semi-circle of five cats, in various attitudes of rest, but not one breaking the stillness of the place even by a pur. A dog, apparently kept in proper order by his feline associates, lay outside the semicircle, and shared in the tranquillity of the scene. We paused for a moment at the door, feeling that our presence was an intrusion; but, after a brief question, and a brief reply, the good wife dropped her eyes again upon her work, and the dog, who had himself raised his head, returned to his slumber with a sigh. As for the other inhabitants, our presence had produced no effect upon them at all, and we withdrew to proceed upon our wanderings, unconsciously taking care to tread without noise.