The Village of Broadwindsor in the County of Dorset

Broadwindsor has a historically important location. It is on the only land boundary of the ancient kingdom of Dumnonia between the River Parrett and the River Axe. It has three ancient hill top fortifications at Pilsdon Pen, Lewesden Hill and Waddon Hill. During the dark ages it would have been on the frontier between Brythonic territory and Saxon held land. Maybe it would have been an important place in Arthurian times?

Lewesdon Hill was a poem that was famous around 200 years ago. It was written by Rev William Crowe From this proud eminence on all sides round The unbroken prospect opens to my view, On all sides large; save only where the head Of Pillesdon rises, Pillesdon's lofty Pen: So called (still rendering to his ancient name Observance due) that rival height south-west, Which, like a rampire, bounds the vale beneath. There woods, there blooming orchards, there are seen Herds ranging, or at rest beneath the shade Of some wide-branching oak; there goodly fields Of corn, and verdant pasture, whence the kine, Returning with their milky treasure home, Store the rich dairy: such fair plenty fills The pleasant vale of Marshwood, pleasant now, Since that the spring hat): decked anew the meads With flowery vesture, and the warmer sun Their foggy moistness drained ; in wintry days Cold, vapourish, miiy, wet, and to the flocks Unfriendly, when autumnal rains begin To drench the spongy turf; but ere that time The careful shepherd moves to healthier soil, Rechasing, lest his tender ewes should coath In the dank pasturage. Let not the fields Of Evesham, nor that ample valley named Of the White Horse, its antique monument Carved in the chalky bourn, for beauty and wealth Might equal, though surpassing in extent, This fertile vale, in length from Lewesdon's base Extended to the sea, and watered well By many a rill; but chief with thy clear stream, Thou nameless Rivulet, who, from the side Of Lewesdon softly welling forth, dost trip Adown the valley, wandering sportively. How is it vanished in a hasty spleen. The Tor of Glastonbury! Even but now I saw the hoary pile cresting the top Of that north-western hill; and in this Now A cloud hath passed on it, and its dim bulk Becomes annihilate, or, if not, a spot Which the strained vision tires itself to find. But hark! the village clock strikes nine; the chimes Merrily follow, tuneful to the sense Of the pleased clown attentive, while they make False-measured melody on crazy bells. O wondrous power of modulated sound! Which, like the air (whose all-obedient shape Thou mak'st thy slave), canst subtilely pervade The yielded avenues of sense, unlock The close affections, by some fairy path Winning an easy way through every ear, And with thine unsubstantial quality Holding in mighty chains the hearts of all,— All but some cold and sullen-tempered spirits Who feel no touch of sympathy or love,

Broadwindsor from Lewesdon Hill

St Johns Church Bells

The bells of the village church dedicated to St John the Baptist are supposed to be the oldest set of three (peal) in the country. They are maiden bells that were cast in the 13th century according to this old news article from 1956.