Here and there the ramified mullions still retained their wealth of painted glass, and the grand eastern window shone gorgeously as of yore.

All else was neglect and ruin.

Briers and turf usurped the place of the marble pavement; many of the pillars were festooned with ivy; and, in some places, the shattered walls were covered with creepers, and trees had taken root in the crevices of the masonry.

Beautiful at all times were these magnificent ruins; but never so beautiful as when seen by the witching light of the moon--the hour, according to the best authority, when all ruins should be viewed--when the long lines of broken pillars, the mouldering arches, and the still glowing panes over the altar, had a magical effect.
In front of the maidens stood a square tower, part of the defences of the religious establishment, erected by Abbot Lyndelay, in the reign of Edward III., but disused and decaying.

It was sustained by high and richly groined arches, crossing the swift mill-race, and faced the river.