MELINCOURT FALLS. "Over the rocks with a mighty leap, Waking the waters where they sleep, Down in the valley below." THE romantic region of the Vale of Neath abounds with some of the most beautiful scenery in Wales. The river winding through the sylvan solitude adds that indescribable charm which water always affords to a landscape, and the cascades and waterfalls, occasioned by the abrupt inequalities of the ground, contribute to the pictorial attractions of the Valley. The Cascade of Melincourt, a representation of which is given in the accompanying Illustration, is formed by the river Clydach, and from the peculiarity of the rocks over which it is precipitated, presents a singularly grand appearance. In gazing on the stream gliding rapidly towards the fall, and then rushing foward on its course, one is reminded of those lines of De Castro which Bryant has so exquisitely rendered. "Far better 'twere to linger still In this green vale these flowers to cherish, Than thus, a youthful Danube, perish." Exquisitely beautiful, also, is the language of Keble, the beauty of which— notwithstanding its being so well known, may excuse us for introducing it here. "Go up and mark the new-born rill, Just trickling from its mossy bed; Streaking the heath-clad hill With a bright emerald thread. Canst thou her bold career foretell, What rocks she shall o'erleap or rend, How far in ocean's swell, Her freshing billows send? Perchance that little brook shall flow The bulwarks of some mighty realm, Bear navies to and fro, With monarchs at their helm. Or canst thou guess how far away Some sister-nymph, beside her urn, 'Mid reeds and mountain fern, 44 MELINCOURT FALL. Nurses her store, with thine to blend, Their sportless lives at last? Even so the course of prayer who knows? At first a lonely rill. But streams shall meet it by-and-by From thousand sympathetic hearts- Their chant of many parts. Stay, rivulet, nor haste to leave The lovely vale that lies around thee! Why wouldst thou be a sea at eve, When but a fount the morning found thee? But when the skies began to glow, Humblest of all the rock's cold daughters, To that vast grave with quicker motion. |