ill shall you charm, and men shall still obey:
Then, with remembrance soft, and tender smile,
Perchance you'll think upon this mossy pile;
And, with a starting tear of joy declare,
"Oh! how we laugh'd, how merry were we there!"

[Footnote A: The manor of Berry was given by William the Conqueror to
one of his Normans, Ralph de la Pomerai, who built on it the castle
which still bears his name, and in whose family it continued till the
reign of Edward VI. when it was sold by Sir Thomas Pomeroy to Edward
Seymour, Duke of Somerset, from whom it has descended to the present
Duke.

The castle is seated upon a rock, which rises almost perpendicularly
from a narrow valley; through this valley winds a small stream of
water, which drives the mill seen through the foliage of the
surrounding woods from the turrets of the castle.

In approaching the castle from the south, the path leads down the
side of a hill through a thick wood; and on the north side of the
valley, opposite the rock on which the castle stands, is a high ridge,
partly covered with oak: these hills completely shut in the ruins on
both sides. The valley stretches a considerable way both to the east
and west, and opens a view at either end into the adjacent country.

From the ivy-covered ruins of the fortress which now remain, it is
scarcely possible to say what was its ancient form; but it is most
generally supposed to have been quadrangular, having only one
entrance, a large double portcullis, at the west end of the southern
front, turreted and embattled, as was the whole of the front, with a
tower at its eastern end, corresponding with that on the west. This
front, with its gateway and turrets, are perhaps the only remains of
the original structure. Winding steps, now almost worn away, lead to
what once was a chapel, over the portcullis, and thence to the top of
the turrets.

In more modern times a magnificent building was erected within the
walls of the castle by the Seymour family; but, although upwards of
L20,000 were said to have been expended on it, it was never finished,
and now the whole forms one common ruin, which, as it totters on it
base, the spectator contemplates with awe, while he sighs over the
remains of fallen grandeur.]

[Footnote B: A party from Totness went to Lord Courtenay's masquerade
in this way, there being no other conveyance to be had, and met with
the ridiculous accident here alluded to.]

LINES

TO SIR ROBERT KER PORTE