In 1844, Joseph Tubb of Warborough Green, took a tent and ladder up to Castle Hill and lived there for two weeks
while he carved a specially composed poem into the bark of a beech tree.
A gifted wood carver, Joseph was frustrated in his vocation, having to go into the family malting business. The poem, thought to be
an expression of his thwarted creativity, still remains although now it is illegible. The tree itself died in the 1990s, at which
time a commemorative stone was erected close by, complete with the poem in full:
As up the hill with labouring steps we tread
Where the twin clumps their sheltering branches spread
The summit gained, at ease reclining stay
And all around the widespread scene survey
Point out each object and instructive tell
The various changes that the land befell.
See on that skyline there, yon shapely mound
That ancient earthwork form old Mercia's bound
In misty distance see the furrow heave
There lies forgotten lonely Gwichelm's grave.
And in the vale where stands the stately tower
In days gone by, up rose the Roman power.
Around the hill the ruthless Danes entrench'd
And these fair plains with gory slaughter drench'd.
And yonder there, where Thames' smooth waters glide
In later years appeared monastic pride.
And in the field where stands the grazing herd
High walls were crumbled, stone coffins disinterred.
Such in the course of time is the wreck which fate
And awful doom await the earthly great.
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Photos © David Stone
