cemetery, and part of the dormitory, still remain. On the ceiling of a
room in the gatehouse is inscribed,

Mille et Quingentos postquam compleverit Orbis
Tuq: et ter demos per sua signi Deus
Prima sauluteferi post cunabula Christi,
Cui datur omnium Honor, Gloria, Laus, et Amor.


The principal window is particularly admired as a rich specimen of
Gothic beauty, and a tourist, in 1818, says, "bids defiance to time
and tempest;" but in our engraving, which is of very recent date, the
details of the window will be sought for in vain. "Shrubs and trees,"
observes the same writer, "have found a footing in the crevices, and
branches from the walls shook in undulating monotony, and with a gloomy
and spiritual murmur, that spoke to the ear of time and events gone by,
and lost in oblivion and dilapidation. At the end, immediately beneath
the colossal window, grows an alder of considerable luxuriance, which,
added to the situation of every other object, brought Mr. Southey's
pathetic ballad of 'Mary the Maid of the Inn,' so forcibly before my
imagination,[5] that I involuntarily turned my eye to search for the
grave, where the murderers concealed their victim." He likewise tells
us of "the former garden of the monastery, still cultivated, and
exhibiting a fruitful appearance;" cells and cavities covered with
underwood; and his ascent to a gallery by a winding turret stair,
whence, says he, "the monks of Kirkstall feasted their eyes with all
that was charming in nature. It is said," adds he, "that a subterraneous
passage existed from hence to Eshelt Hall, a distance of some miles,
and that the entrance is yet traced."