THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 FOE CAMBRIA.
 
 »f^ 
 
 LONDON: PKINTKD BY 
 
 SrOTTISWOOUK A NO CO., NKW-8TRKKT BQUARB 
 
 AND PAHLTAMRNT STSEEI
 
 FOR CAMBRIA: v^^f 
 
 THEMES IN VERSE AND PROSE, 
 
 iK^H^op 
 
 A.D. 1854-1868. 
 
 WITH OTHER PIECES. 
 
 BY JAMES KENWAKD 
 
 (ELVYNYDD). 
 
 ' NEC ALIA, LT ARBITROR, GENS QUAM H^C CAMBRICA, ALIAVE LIN'GIJA, IN 
 DIE DISTRICT! EXAMINIS CORAM JUDICE SUPREMO, QUICQUID DE AMPUOKI 
 CONTINGAT, PRO HOC TERRARUM ANQULO RESPONDEBIT.' (A.D. UC3.)— Ex 
 
 Giraldo Cambrensi : {Cambriw Descriptio, lib. ii. cap, x.) 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 1868. 
 
 922026
 
 TO THE 
 
 YICOMTE THEODORE HERSART 1)E LA 
 YILLEMARQIIE, 
 
 MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE OF FRANCE, 
 A MASTER IN CELTIC LITERATURE, 
 A GENEROUS VINDICATOR OF CELTIC NATIONALITY, 
 
 I |lfbkrit£ tljesc SSrilings, 
 
 •WITH TRUE ADMIRATIOK AND RESPECT.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 If the object of a preface is to aiDologise or to explain, 
 I may well leave this little book to be its own justifi- 
 cation, and to tell its own tale. 
 
 The opinions on Welsh Nationality, which an ex- 
 perience of fifteen years has led me to form, will be 
 opposed, as such opinions have ever been, by a large 
 proportion of the few readers who may care to examine 
 them in their present setting. But this consideration 
 by no means relieves me from the duty of asserting 
 what I hold to be just and true. Liberavi animam 
 meam. 
 
 On the other hand, I feel sure of the sympathy and 
 approval of a small but happily increasing number of 
 Celtic scholars and patriots, who, looking at the earnest 
 purpose, will perhaps pardon the imperfect work. 
 
 Yet to those of both classes who do not know 
 me, it seems right to say that I am not Welsh by 
 birth, residence, or connexions. My name, formed 
 of etymons which are at once Gothic and Celtic, 
 appears equally in the Rotulje WalliaB and in the 
 Anglo-Saxon Chronicles. I have approached these 
 
 a
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 subjects simply as a student and as a traveller, mthout 
 personal interest, and without national prepossession. 
 
 Several of the poems have already been published 
 in "Wales and in Bi-ittany. They are now submitted 
 to an English audience. In annexing the prose pieces 
 I have tried to avoid deviating into the history, 
 archaeology, literature, and bardism, connected with 
 many allusions in the text, and of which my inclina- 
 tion, and the materials at my disposal, Avould naturally 
 tempt me to treat. The present work is designed for 
 the general reader and the traveller. The notices, 
 therefore, refer for the most part to social and scenic 
 matters. 
 
 I have endeavoured to do justice to the themes of 
 my choice. I feel that the result is unsatisfactory, 
 but I cannot help it. If the living masters of English 
 Song would realize and expand the noble suggestions 
 of Milton, Spenser, Drayton, or Gray, the Cymric 
 Cause might be enshrined in numbers that would 
 surely charm the ear, and perhaps move the heart, of 
 our united Britain. 
 
 As to the poems in this collection that do not bear 
 on the main topics, they may be added, without special 
 remark, to the innumerable miscellanies of Fugitive 
 Verse. 
 
 J. K. 
 
 *SmETIIWICK, near EiRJIlXGHAJI : 
 
 Jime 25, 1868.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VERSE. 
 
 STANZAS READ AT THE NATIONAL EISTEDDFOD OF I-LANG01.LEN, 
 
 A.D. 1858 ...... 1 
 
 ULANGOIXEN . . . . . . .21 
 
 TO GWENTNEN GWENT . . . . .28 
 
 A SONG FOE WAXES . . . . . .33 
 
 A SONG FOR SAINT DAVID's DAT . . . .35 
 
 •ft-HAT WAS THOUGHT IN WALeS, A.D. 1859 . . .40 
 
 FOR THE CONWAY EISTEDDFOD, A.D. 1861 . . .44 
 
 ABMORICA, A.D. 1867 . . . . . .49 
 
 ARMORICA BRETON TRANSLATION . . . .55 
 
 CYMRU TO ARVOR . . . . .60 
 
 VERSES WITH NOTHING NEW IN THEM • . . .67 
 
 NANT FFHANCON . . . . . .71 
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNO'SV'DON . . . .84 
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE . . . . . .94 
 
 FROM CARDIGAN BAY . . • . . . .108 
 
 TO CYTHNA . . . . . .112 
 
 TO CYMEO, A MOUNTAIN DOG . . . . .115 
 
 ELLEN EILUNED . . . . . .123 
 
 WENEFREDA ....... 125 
 
 TO A COTTAGE GIRL OF CL^WTTD . . . .127 
 
 SNOWDON ....... 132 
 
 WAR VERSES, A.D. 1854 ' . . . . .144 
 
 MEDITATIONS ....... 146 
 
 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY . . . . 151
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A TEIAD . . . . . . . 158 
 
 LOVE-HHAPSODIES 
 
 
 
 
 164 
 
 PEiELATA PVELLIS 
 
 
 
 
 170 
 
 TO CYTHNA 
 
 
 
 
 172 
 
 ON HEVTENT TOUJOUHS 
 
 
 
 
 175 
 
 HOBEET LUCAS CHANCE 
 
 
 
 
 177 
 
 ON THE EVE OF A EEFORM DIVISION . 
 
 
 
 
 178 
 
 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE . 
 
 
 
 
 179 
 
 ATTEOEA 
 
 
 
 
 . 185 
 
 AFTER CHEISTMAS . , . 
 
 
 
 
 . 189 
 
 BAEDSEY 
 
 
 
 
 197 
 
 PROSE. 
 
 AET AND SCIENCE OF THE BRITONS 
 
 ANEUEIN AND THE GODODIN . 
 
 THE EISTEDDFOD 
 
 WELSH STUDIES AND ENGLISH CRITICS 
 
 WELSH ANNALS AND ANTIQUITIES 
 
 WELSH COLLEGES, OLD AND NEW 
 
 DURATION OF LANGUAGE AND NATIONALITY IN WALES 
 
 HOME TRAVEL 
 
 TWO WINTER DAYS ON SNOTVDON 
 
 THE VALE OF MOWDDWY 
 
 THE WELSH LANGUAGE 
 
 WELSH LITERARY SOaETIES 
 
 THE PLYGAIN .... 
 
 204 
 207 
 
 209 
 215 
 219 
 222 
 224 
 226 
 227 
 236 
 245 
 253 
 259
 
 STAXZAS READ AT THE NATI0:N"AL EISTEDDFOD 
 OF LLANGOLLEN, 1858. 
 
 Dygorvu Cymry trwy gyvei-gyr, 
 
 Yn gywair, gydair, gydson, gydfydcl : 
 
 Dygovci Cymry !— Golyddax (Seventh Century). 
 
 Cymru ! ^ first Mother of our love and pride, 
 "Wlio beai'est yet a bright and queenly brow 
 Though crowuless and contemned, for at thy side 
 Wait Truth and Hope to cheer thee and endow 
 With victory and with joy, when Hate shall bow, 
 And Falsehood blush, and Obloquy be duml) 
 Before thee ; ancient Mother, favour now 
 Thine earnest children, who to greet thee come 
 From many alien paths to one dear kindred home ! 
 
 Accept again our Gorsedd ; favouring look 
 From old Eryri's head where Genii guard 
 Thy liberty and name, the eternal book 
 The Muses open to the patriot Bard, 
 The urn whose waters time shall not retard 
 Quick rushing, and the birthplace wild and free 
 Of all the winds ; and let this high reward, 
 Thine Awen flow like wind and wave on me, 
 And fill my heart and song, unworthy though I b, ' 
 
 ' Cyn-hru. 
 ?.
 
 STANZAS READ AT THE 
 
 Not mid the City's pillared fanes of Trade, 
 WLei'e men entwine their heartstrings, and grow old 
 In method ; not where Pleasure's nets ai'e laid 
 Por idle Passion ; Art enslaved and sold, 
 And Science priestess of the idol Gold ; 
 Not in the narrow schools with form imbued ; 
 May Cambria's history be conceived or told 
 Ai'ight, nor what she was and is, reviewed 
 With large and liberal mind, and weighed, and under- 
 stood. 
 
 But staiid beside the rock-engirdled sea 
 Wlien Night looks on it with her ardent eyes ; 
 Or where the Carnedd watcheth solemnly 
 The mountain waste ; the broken pillar lies 
 Noteless mid nameless graves ; the owlet flies 
 Slow through the ruined oriel : there receive 
 The true impressions that within thee rise, 
 For elemental Spii'its will reweave 
 The Past's rent robe o'er all, if thou their power believe. 
 
 Or seek the Cymric future when the day 
 Flashes from ocean to the mountain crest ; 
 When rolls the tide rejoicing in the bay ; 
 When Life leaps eager from the vale's green rest, 
 And all the country's fair and peaceful breast 
 Glows with the light and energy of morn : 
 Oh then, when nerve and pulse obey thee best, 
 Come with clear intellect and heart unworn, 
 And hail the Nation's day, the era newly born !
 
 LIAXGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 
 
 So margined, so interpreted, then range 
 With calm discerning eye the historic page, 
 And what is there obscure or weak or strange 
 In the mixed colours of a vanished asre 
 Shall brighten so ; as lonely haunt of sage. 
 Or mouldering keep of warrior, marks his clime 
 And life, and as where spreading seas did rage 
 Above the mountains of primeval time, 
 Eternal traces bear significance sublime. 
 
 The Briton held the Isle ; avails it not 
 To know the story of that earliest sway ; 
 The stream which flows through subterranean grot 
 Can bear no bui^den and reflect no ray ; 
 But still it winneth its resistless way. 
 And soon emergeth to a course of j)ride, 
 And beauty and fertility array 
 Its banks, the heavens mingle with its tide, 
 Ai't there selects her seat, and Power and Fame abide. 
 
 Enough that in the Nation's parent fount 
 The force which launched the issuing stream inheres ; 
 That on this stream the spirit may remount. 
 And follow Truth beyond recorded years ; 
 And though, alas ! its later path appears 
 Narrowed and rock-opposed, and bent aside, 
 Tet more its depth or purity endears. 
 And more triumphantly its waters glide, 
 While storied lakes are lost, and mightier rivers dried.
 
 STANZAS HEAD AT THE 
 
 Enough for us that o'er that ancient day 
 Which Folly shuns, and Ignorance maligns, 
 A power is spread not transient all as they, 
 A light unquenchable as Heaven shines ; 
 For Moelmud fills the place his worth assigns — 
 Great parent of his people, wise and just ! — 
 And for the land of green hills, isle of pines, 
 Rose Plennydd's song — though harp and hand are dust, 
 The soul survives, and well Tradition keeps her trust. 
 
 And Science then had half unveiled her face 
 First to the circling stars of God upturned ; 
 And Art accorded to a simple race 
 AVhat simple needs demand ; and Labour earned 
 Free blessings from the soil ; and purely burned 
 The lamp of Virtue kindled in the fane 
 Of Druid worship, whose clear eye discerned 
 Truth darkly subject yet to Error's reign. 
 And led the captive forth, but could not break her chain. 
 
 The Roman came, and saw, but conquered not 
 Till Fraud and Discord had oppressed the land, 
 And Luxury unfortified the spot 
 Where brave Caswallon took his earliest stand, 
 Or reared a city where Cj^iivelyn planned 
 A camp, but sternly on that city fell 
 Victoria's ' curse and red avenging hand, — 
 Vain the doomed Legion this last shock to quell, 
 Colonia Victrix sank,^ dirged by the conquerors' yell ! 
 
 ' Boadicea {Buddug). * Camalodunum.
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 
 
 Thence rose, alas ! the tide of blood and turned 
 Back on the hapless Princess ; utter woe 
 Consumed her, but the heroic heart that spurned 
 Forlorn and crownless life, and Roman show, 
 Lived yet again and laid the Armada low. 
 Spurning for Tudor England threats and chains ; — 
 Lives quenchless yet, and may it ever glow 
 In her, our new Victoria, while she reigns 
 Invincible and fi'ee o'er ancient hills and plains ! 
 
 But woe was bitter then : hear the dark Isle 
 Bewail her flaming groves and ruined halls ; — 
 Sad Mona ! Autumn gave its golden smile. 
 Spring decked thy fields, and now fierce ravage falls 
 On thee, and sternly purple Power enthrals 
 Thy rock-bound shores and blue- encircling sea ; 
 And lone Despair thy white-robed Druids calls 
 In vain — too well they cheered and counselled thee,— 
 And such must perish first ere perish Liberty. 
 
 Paulinus flung the Briton's earliest creed 
 Out to the wind-swept Orcades to die ; 
 And Edward, emulous of that fair deed, 
 On her own altar murdered Poesy ; — 
 Vain leader ! vainer king ! the mystic tie 
 Of each was proof against thy sharpest sword : 
 This lives renewed more holy, pure, and high, 
 Throned on thy seven hills, and tlmt, proud lord, 
 Sings loftier sconi of thee, and Cambria's name restored !
 
 6 STANZAS READ AT THE 
 
 Where sits conspicuous over Deva's wave 
 The old blind Pharos on its mount alone ; 
 Where the green hills hold many a burdening grave, 
 And wood and dingle tell of tear and moan ; 
 Achwynvan stands deep-based — dark Weeping-stone ! 
 Saddest of all memorials of our shame, 
 When sank the Ordovices, overthrown 
 By wise and strong Agricola, whose name, 
 Though conqueror's it be, we honour with acclaim. 
 
 Dark Stone of Lamentation ! whose the hand 
 That raised thee, whose the princely dust below, 
 What import lurk in sculptured scroll and band. 
 Were idle all to ask and vain to know ;— 
 Thou silent, moveless Sentinel of woe ! 
 The hours glide round thee, circling seasons meet, 
 Thy grey head wears a coronal of snow. 
 Brown wheat-ears deck thy sides, spring flowers thy feet. 
 Impassible and cold ! while Time's quick pulses beat. 
 
 But Ave invest thee with our own emotion. 
 Ghost of the Past ! and claim a voice to tell 
 How round thee, as a rock in heaving ocean, 
 Thou saw'st the Roman tide of conquest swell ; 
 Heard impious Ethclfrid's and Offa's yell ; 
 Rejoiced when Owain bowed the I^orman's pride : — 
 Enough ! Peace folds her wings o'er thee, the bell 
 Of Sabbath morn falls sweet, and at thy side 
 Rise safe and loyal homes, wave plenteous harvests wide.
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 
 
 In Po"v\"ys, wliore a thousand mountain camps 
 Their crested lieads eternally uprear 
 O'er crumbling fort and palace, history stamps 
 Three hills "with name and fame to Britons dear ; 
 For the long fiery struggle ended here, 
 That shook the leQ:ions, where secluded Teme 
 Before the mailed invaders shrank in fear, 
 And Freedom's shield was rent, and Victory's beam 
 Was quenched in Redlake's swoln and crimson stream. 
 
 Caradoc's spirit hallows yet his hill — 
 That triple camp ; and let us look from thence 
 Toward his loved Siluria, victress still 
 ^Vhen he, pre-eminent in eloquence 
 As war, stood uttering his high defence 
 To Time ; for her not cruelty could tame — 
 Not clemency ; she wrung a recompense 
 For all — herself alone — and put to shame 
 In many a struggle fierce the great Imperial name.^ 
 
 Nor closed her ample page of glory yet. 
 But golden letters point the Saxon time ; 
 For though a mark of blackest hue be set 
 'Gainst the arch-traitor Yortigern, his crime 
 Is as the river's sun-corrupted slime. 
 While like to ocean waves in grandeur free. 
 The deeds of Uthyr and Ambrosius climb 
 Heavenward to Fame ; but Death rides on the sea. 
 And Hate prepared their tomb, too soon for Liberty. 
 
 ' Tacitus, Annul, xii.
 
 STANZAS KEAD AT THE 
 
 Yet brighter tlien in ancient Caerlleon rose 
 A name than legion or tlian fort more strong 
 To guard the land, and overawe its foes, 
 And Caerwent echoed to a loftier sono* • — 
 Immortal Arthur ! fain would linger long 
 The enamoured Muse o'er all we deem of thee. 
 For round her, vivid shapes of glory throng — 
 The unsullied sword — the plume of Chivalry — 
 The battle-harp of Bard — the torque of Chieftain free. 
 
 Vain are the voices raised against thy state, 
 Birth, lineage, power, nay existence too ; 
 Dull minds within themselves the doubt create 
 That overclouds them, and a picture \'iew 
 Of grandest import, lovely, large, and true. 
 Captious of aught that envious Time have stole 
 Of clear and bright away — of faded hue. 
 Of newer colours ill applied — soul, 
 Conceiving part so well — impervious to the whole !- 
 
 Be just ; from Truth's filr amaranthine stem 
 Pluck intertwining Fable if you can ; 
 But not both tree and parasite condemn. 
 Nor praise the picture yet deny the man ; 
 Valour that ever led the battle- van — 
 Genius that guided — love that lit the fire 
 Laid on the Country's altars — wit to scan 
 Prophet's and Muse's face, and wake the lyre — 
 Sweetness and grace to charm — devotion to aspire ;-
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 
 
 These, these are truth, and true to truth, and we, 
 Shall we not credit, cherish, and esteem ! 
 These sank not 'neath a Medrawd's treachery — 
 Passed not, the lifeless pageant of a dream — 
 Died not at Camlan : — glory's latest gleam 
 That bathed his shattered helm and pltimeless crest, 
 Expanded into broader light shall beam 
 Immutably above our hero's rest — 
 Transfuse the land he loved, and fill each patriot breast ! 
 
 Did'st thou, Caradoc, on thy silent hill 
 Discern this distant recompense ? — thy name. 
 Kindred with Arthur's, is united still 
 To his in immortality of fame ; — 
 Nor his alone ; thy beauteous Gwent may claim 
 Lucius, bright bringer of the light divine ; 
 Mwynvawr the mild, with whom fair Courtesy came 
 Tewdric who well sustained and blessed thy line, 
 Armed with the sword and cross of potent Constantino :- 
 
 Of Constantino, in whom o'erruling Heaven 
 Restored thy empire, and confirmed thy creed ; 
 And though no permanence to that was given, 
 But soon the sceptre passed into the reed ; 
 Yet tills, expanding still with human need, 
 GroAV with the slow decay of Latin power. 
 As, noteless first, there grows till all men heed. 
 Above a storm-rent and time-wasted tower, 
 The seed, the plant, the tree, the overshadowing bower.
 
 10 STANZAS READ AT THE 
 
 Where all found rest and shelter. Oh how sweet 
 To blunt the curses of malignant War 
 By the mild blessings of the Paraclete — 
 To scorn the thundering of his battle car, 
 And list the angelic accents from afar 
 That tell of unity and peace on high ! 
 And when the hapless valley-meadows are 
 Polluted all with blood, and Tyranny 
 With Treason shares the land, and Love kneels weeping 
 
 Oh then how jiure and sweet the mountain air 
 Fresh from eternal Heaven ! and the fane 
 "Wliere Passion bows his burning front in prayer, 
 And Resignation breaks the weary chain 
 Of j^ale Subjection, and the voice of Pain 
 Is hushed by Mercy, and the lurid eyes 
 Of Cruelty abashed, the aspiring strain 
 Of Genius swells mid holy symphonies. 
 And Liberty waits calm h.er lingering star's uprise ! 
 
 In Arvon Clynnog holds her worship yet ; 
 Stern Eifl guards her, and the choral sea 
 H^nnns in her aisles, and Beauty's signs are set 
 Within, \^^thout, o'er all ; a joy to me 
 It is to wander there with footsteps free, 
 Mindful how royally Anarawd crowned 
 Valour with Faith, and oft to bow the knee 
 Where Beuno gazed on Wisdom's face, and found 
 Devotion's beart beat warm on Nature's glorious ground.
 
 LLAXGOLLEX EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 11 
 
 Llancarvan, Clrnnog, Enlli, Llandaff, kept 
 Securest refuge for the darkening hour, 
 Of Cyniru's princes, wlien the war-flames STvept 
 Axound AberfFraw, Eilian, Dinerawr ; — 
 O'er many a palace proud and rockfast tower ; 
 And when the fight 'gainst destiny grew Tain, 
 When sank anew the star of patriot power, 
 Thev guarded sleep which Treachery and Pain. 
 Haunt not — for the crossed hands shall meet in prayer 
 again ! 
 
 Yet still from marble grey, and formless mound. 
 Where the wild winds, from out their ancient caves, 
 Sweep many- voiced — the mystic life of sound — 
 Viewless and fetterless among the graves, 
 As is the spirit's self, the Poet waves 
 His laurel wreath above the illustrious dead, 
 And each immortal memory clears and saves, 
 And crowns "vvith worthy song each honoured head 
 On the broad battlefield eight centuries have spread ; — 
 
 Eight centuries, down from when the Saxon keel 
 Defiled fair Thanet's shining sands, to when 
 Demetian treachery, and X^orman steel 
 Delivered to the insatiate tiger's den 
 The gallant remnant of our trueborn men, 
 With their last lion-hearted princes : — Shame 
 Lie heavy on that act, and may the pen 
 Of honest History yet degrade Ms name 
 "VMio, brave, spared not the brave, recked not a nation's 
 claim !
 
 12 STANZAS HEAD AT THE 
 
 Strike then the harp for high Cunedda's line, 
 For Arthur and a hundred epic years, 
 For Maelgwn, Island Dragon, A-alour's sign. 
 Who rushed exulting o'er the broken spears, 
 For Rhodri whom his triple sway endears ; — 
 Would that the valiant still were wise as brave ! — 
 For Hywel, name Humanity i*everes, 
 Who sought, and brighter to his Country gave, 
 The lamp of law and truth which burned in Dyvnwal's 
 gi'ave. 
 
 And he the Heaven-favoured, Sitsyllt's son, 
 Llywelyn great and good, whose warlike hand 
 And peaceful heart for suffering Cymru Avon 
 Secure and liberal blessings : — wretched Land 
 That paid him death for life ! he joins the band. 
 The glorious few who lived before their time. 
 Whose recompense is evermore to stand 
 And look from Heaven's crystal towers sublime 
 On hopes and deeds fiilfilled in happier age or clime. 
 
 Enouc^h ! thouo-h circlino- on the vision crowd 
 Princes and Bards and Saints, a noble train. 
 Ere Power grew tyrannous and Insult loud 
 O'er Cambria's vanished royalty ; and fain 
 The Muse would viA-ify the scenes again 
 Where Dy vrig, Dewi, Teilo taught and prayed ; 
 Where Llywarch's, Gwalchmai's, bright Taliosin's strain. 
 And Cynan's, Gruffydd's, Owaiu's falchion made 
 Hope, triumph, genius, joy, from sea to sea pervade.
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. L"] 
 
 Alas ! of episodes so briglit and pure, 
 Enougli, foi' Clio rises cold and stern 
 With other records and a night obscure, 
 Though yet may stars of keenest lustre burn ; 
 See the storm-maddened billows swift return 
 And sweep the golden sands where sunset lay 
 In magic slumber, and ye might discern 
 Beauty in myriad types ! — Oh haste away 
 From hideous shapes of ill that swarm to meet then* prey ! — 
 
 Their prey e'en Cambria, poisoning the heart 
 Of her own sons each against each and her : 
 Ambition with his suicidal dart ; 
 Pale Jealousy ; slow Hate the murderer ; 
 Loud-tongued Dissension, like a clinging burr 
 On Patinotism's robe ; blind Ignorance, 
 And sanguine-eyed Ferocity, concur 
 To hold their Country in distraction's trance, 
 While o'er her prosti-ate form glad enemies advance. 
 
 Yet selfishness and error, sloth and crime. 
 Are clouds and tempests of the human day, 
 Not all Humanity ; the heavens sublime 
 Blend varied colours in each vivid ray. 
 And hold forever their unswerving way 
 Through all vicissitudes of time and tide ; 
 And thus, through Cambria's many-featured sway — 
 Through light and gloom, decadence, power, and pride, 
 One cause, one soul, one love, one purpose, did abide .- —
 
 14 STANZAS READ AT THE 
 
 And that was Freedom : — tliou recusant 
 Of loftiest truth and beauty ! see wild Wales 
 With all her mighty heart for freedom pant 
 In Destiny's fell gi'ip ; the foe assails — 
 Race after race succeeds — she faints and fails, 
 Down-trodden — then convnlsive wakes and flings 
 Oppression off, and triumphs ; not avails 
 Such strength or ardour long, for closer clings 
 The giant iron-mailed, and locks the deadly rings. 
 
 Infinite wiles and weapons 'gainst her breast, 
 One her simplicity — her purpose one ; 
 Now Britain's voice supreme and arm confest — 
 Now beaten backward with the setting sun — 
 Backward to wave and mountain yet unwon — 
 Insulted by her own and linked with blame — 
 Aspersed, derided, ever did she run, 
 With changeless brow, with spirit still the same, 
 Her radiant course adown the starbright track of fame ! 
 
 Nations like phantasms have haunted her. 
 And passed as vapours from the rising day ; 
 Creed, custom, speech, opinion, that confer 
 On them a character, have died away 
 To newer forms of upgrowth and decay ; 
 But she has kept alive her ancient tire 
 Through Roman, Saxon, Norman, English sway : — 
 Oh cherish it, and it shall not expire 
 Until her mountains feed Earth's last great funeral pyre !
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 15 
 
 Her mountains, Nature's own dividing line 
 Between the enduring and the transient set ; 
 They saw the Lloegrian plains unvanquished shine, 
 Saw Anarchy and Despotism met 
 In Freedom's temple there, and Change beget 
 His Proteus brood o'er vale and wood and shore ; 
 But all inviolate their rock-realm, yet 
 They held, and nursed the seed whose sacred store 
 Shall ineradicably spring for evermore. 
 
 Joy then for Cymru ! though disposing Heaven 
 Have now her empire old and name denied, 
 Yet is not recompense divinely given ? 
 May she not lift her voice — assume with pride 
 Her place among the nations, close alHed 
 With England, sharer in her triple might ? 
 Oh let not factious tongues that sway divide 
 Which shines before the world so clearly bright, 
 Firm on its rock-fast base, inaKenable right ! 
 
 One Throne is o'er the kingdom — Liberty 
 And Law have reared it ; not the Despot's sword, 
 But Love, sustains it — here may Cambria see • 
 Her history honoured and her realm restored : 
 One God of peace and mercy is adored ; 
 Knowledge sheds on the land one common light ; 
 One blood for hearth and altar's freely poured ; — 
 Witness each field of Britain's well-proved might, 
 From Bosworth's royal plain to Alma's deadly height!
 
 ■10 STANZAS HEAD AT THE 
 
 Long live such union fair ! yet Cambria hatli 
 Her OAvn bright heritage apart from all ; 
 Her genius still protects and guides her path ; 
 The flowers faded from her coronal 
 Were not Truth's amaranth ; the mountain wall 
 That still divides her from the Saxon plain, 
 Di%ddes her too from many a vicious thrall, 
 From many a clinging care, and bitter pain — 
 ShadoAvs which ever haunt Civilisation's train. 
 
 Kot in the cherished dream of old dominion 
 Her surest hope, her fairest freedom, lies : — 
 See, "with the Past's dull night, on broken pinion. 
 Irrevocably now that Error flies ! 
 And see a clearer, hajijiier day arise, 
 When safe from tyranny, misrule, and wrong. 
 She looks rejoicingly in Nature's eyes. 
 And seeks, what years shall deepen and prolong, 
 Truth, virtue, purity ; art, science, song ! 
 
 And so, while England's fevered pulses beat 
 For power, pleasure, territory, gold ; 
 While change and novelty involve her feet. 
 And mar her speech, and leave her altars cold ; 
 Cambria shall cherish in her mountain fold 
 A small, perchance, but uncorrupted band, 
 Whose loyal lives shall public faith uphold ; 
 Whose tongue shall last unperishing as gi-and ; 
 Whose piety shall warm, whose valour guard, the land !
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 17 
 
 Thus rising still, refined, regenerate, 
 Developing her greatness from within, 
 All the best blessings of a Christian State 
 Linked with enduring power, shs shall win : 
 Even now the bardic prophecies begin 
 To wake the voice of vindicating Time, 
 Not as they seem, to Error's brood akin, 
 But as they are, with inmost truth sublime, 
 Appealing still for one to every age and clime. 
 
 England ! thou who art so great and fx*ee. 
 As oft thy children vaunt, and foes confess ; 
 Think that thy might was not conceded thee 
 To scorn thine elder Sister and oppress ; 
 No ! 'twas to aid, acknowledge her and bless, 
 For God hath fixed her dwelling-place apart. 
 And given her gifts which thou dost not possess ; 
 Hurt not her shieldless form with envious dart, 
 But bear her by thy side with nobly generous heart ! 
 
 And ye her own ! a solemn task is yours 
 To keep her fame unsullied to mankind ; 
 For as the mountain-mist the sun obscures, 
 Though still his keen efi"ulgence lives behind, 
 Yet to the lower world the day is blind ; 
 And ye by actions dark may thickly veil 
 Your Country's face, and cloud her genius kind, 
 While Slander tells the old malig-nant tale. 
 And Pedantry's dull taunt, and Folly's sneer assail. 
 
 c
 
 18 STANZAS READ AT THE 
 
 Live simple lives, and worthy of the land ; 
 Bow not to Fashion ; heed not the voice of Gain ; 
 Draw near to Nature — see her stretch her hand 
 From ragged mountain or from fruitful plain ; 
 Let mild and peaceful Agriculture reign 
 O'er skill and industry ; let every art 
 Be fostered wliich the clime and soil sustain ; 
 But shun the Mammon spirit of the Mart, 
 Which dims the vivid eye, which mocks the swelling 
 heart. 
 
 Cherish each worthy memory of the Past, 
 Of Saint and Warrior, Teacher, Bard, and Sage ; 
 Hold Christian Faith immutable and fast. 
 Drawn from clear fountains of an early Age, 
 Not from to-day's vexed stream ; pursue the page 
 Of human history well, and urge the car 
 Of conquei"ing Science ; but whate'er engage. 
 Think 'tis not what ye Icnoir, but what ye are 
 And do, that hallows Earth, and sets in Heaven your star. 
 
 And ye bearers of a princely name ! 
 Whose birth-roll tells of Cymru's proudest sway ; 
 Wlio hold her soil, and take from her your fame ; 
 WTiose sires stood foremost in the battle-fray ; 
 Lead ye the nation still, but in the way 
 Of truest peace and progress ; give it light 
 And strength, and ye shall have our praise to-day, 
 And in their ancestral halls your sons shall write. 
 Proud on the glowing shields, your name thus doubly 
 bright !
 
 LLANGOLLEN EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 10 
 
 And ye "wlioiii fortune or mistaken choice 
 Draws from your Country to an alien soil, 
 Still for her name and language lift your voice, 
 Nor let rude tongues her dignities despoil ; 
 But still 'mid poverty, and pain, and toil, 
 Remember her, and she shall comfort you ; 
 And oh ! when pleasures tempt, and riches coil 
 Around your heart, return, and so renew 
 Your life with blessings pure — your path with purpose true. 
 
 One farewell word ! friends, there is a stain 
 Upon your bardic robes, and it was so 
 With counsellor and chief since Rhodri's reign ; — 
 Dissension! see what crimes and miseries flow 
 From that polluted source : behold a foe 
 Deadlier than all beside : — Arise, arise I — 
 Ye are our hope and refuge — lay him low — 
 The giant who has stalked with sneering eyes 
 Among you, and diffused the poison of his lies ! 
 
 Peace, Concord, Truth, let these prevail to-day- 
 Prevail for ever Cambria's sons among ; 
 Be this Eisteddfod in its bright array, 
 "Where Genius, Learning, Birth, and Beauty throng, 
 A great regenerating Voice which long 
 Shall echo in the land from Wye to Dee, 
 Like that of ]\Iarchwiail — may those chiefs of Song — 
 Those glorious brethren,' our high pattern be. 
 While Trevor's fame shall live in Powys fair and free ! 
 
 * Ednyfed, Madog, Llywelyn, at the Eisteddfod of Marchwiail, temp. 
 Edward HI. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 STANZAS READ AT THE EISTEDDFOD, 1858. 
 
 Awake, Delieubai'tli ! join our patriot union — 
 Colon tvrtli galon, heart to heart, defies 
 The world ; and G^vynedd, keep thy close conimuniou 
 With beauty, lineage, and all that lies 
 Most ancient in thee ! and Morganwg, rise — 
 Thou Queen of Countries' — Freedom's earliest stay — 
 Mother of waiTiors stern, and teachers wise ! 
 And Powys ! victim erst of many a fray, 
 But bright with conquering peace, and strong in love 
 to-day. 
 
 Advance the Dragon Standard ; raise the song 
 Zhibenaeth Prydain ; let us firmly swear 
 By Wood and Field and Mountain,^ to prolong 
 Our bloodless contest for the great and fair : 
 Hark, how Dee's rushing waters fill the air ! 
 Through night and day, and storm and calm they pour ;- 
 One voice, one strength, one tendency, is there ; — 
 Be wiser, truer, bolder than before. 
 And God shall bless our Cause, and prosper evermore ! 
 
 ' ' Arglwyddes pob Gwlad.' 
 ^ ' Coed, Maes, a Mynydd.'
 
 21 
 
 LLANGOLLEN. (ALBAN ELVED,i 1858.) 
 
 Llangollen ! round whose loveliest brow fondly doth wizard 
 
 Dee 
 Bind his last charms ere duller plains invite him to the sea ; 
 Fair vestibule which Nature rears to Cymru's mountain shrine, 
 '\Vhich Light and Beauty penetrate with all their gifts divine ; 
 Where Grandeur sits upon the rocks that saw the primal wave 
 Their bastion-front like ocean-fort with slow persistence lave ; 
 Where wood and stream gain voice and soul by old Tradition's 
 
 might, 
 And arch and pillar, wall and tomb own History's clearer 
 
 light; 
 Where Peace broods over human homes, and Freedom fills 
 
 the air, 
 And Health exults, and Piety outbreathes her purest prayer ; — 
 Valley ! ever dear to me, beneficent and sweet. 
 How oft I've wandered through thee with full heart and 
 
 careless feet ! — 
 Lingered with languid summer moons on Geraint's flowery 
 
 crest — 
 Lain 'neath the kindling star of Love on Craig-y-Vorwyn's 
 
 breast — 
 Heard the storm-echoes sigh within Myvanwy's ruined hall, 
 And watched the sun's most golden rays on Llan Egwestl fall ; 
 And by the green-embosomed bank of the immortal stream. 
 Shaped many a lofty enterprise, nursed many a wayward 
 
 dream ; 
 
 ' Autumnal Equinox.
 
 22 LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 Aiid in thy hosjDitable liomes "wliicli kindly spirits gi'ace, 
 Have seen what Art could bori'ow from, and lend to, Nature's 
 
 face. 
 But never yet did majesty so well thy brow adorn, 
 So proudly o'er thee roll the Night, so jocund move the Morn ; 
 But never yet so eloquent did wood and wave and hill 
 Assume a voice — so glad a heart thy sweet recesses fill ; 
 As when the azure bardic flag pla^-ed in the mountain wind, 
 As when the ancient music swelled to heaven unconfined, 
 As when from far-divided homes the patriot Cymry came 
 On Cambria's fairest ground to bless and vindicate her name — 
 To rear in peace their Gorsedd-stone on basis firm and strong, 
 And in their great Eisteddfod to honour Art and Sons; ! 
 
 They come from Mona's^ sunny isle which rocks eternal guard, 
 Where lives the might of many a prince, the voice of many a 
 
 bard ; 
 They come from where the mountain-queen of gentle Clwyd's 
 
 domain 
 Looks on grey tower, leafy dell, white cottage, golden grain ; 
 From where the Eifl's crags enwrap, cold, desolate, and 
 
 stern. 
 The vale that nursed the fiery snakes for traitor Vortigern ; 
 Where Nevyn saw the pageant pass of Edward's blood-stained 
 
 sway — 
 How scorns and triumphs over it our peaceful one to-day ! 
 From where the lake of Beauty lies, and Aran's summits 
 
 blend 
 Their giant cones with Eve's gold shafts that in its breast 
 
 descend ; 
 
 ' No longer Yni/s Dywell, the Dark Isle, from its groves.
 
 LLANGOLLEN. 23 
 
 "Where yet round hoary Snowdon beats the quenchless heart 
 
 of Wales — 
 And shall, till stedfast rock dissolves, till rushing river fails ! 
 Where Vyrnwy sparkles 'mid the groves and meadows rich 
 
 with kine, 
 And spreading uplands white with sheep and quiet home- 
 steads shine ; 
 AVliere Past and Present meet and mix in CaerdifF's storied 
 
 town ; 
 Where fair Glyn Neath from Brecon's ridge her streams leads 
 
 dancing down ; 
 Where Towy glides through level meads and gardens of 
 
 dehght, 
 And Merlin's spirit animates wood, waterfall, and height ; 
 Where Usk and Wye confirm to Gwent the beauty of her 
 
 name, 
 And Learning holds his heritage, and Royalty his fame ; 
 Where Merthyr's fires and circling smoke deform the air, yet 
 
 give 
 A recompense in art and wealth, and peace by which they live ; 
 Where round Saint David's stormy Head the deep-voiced 
 
 breakers pour, 
 And howl the sea- winds through the aisles where Worship is 
 
 no more : — 
 They come from hall and cot remote — from fajctory, mine, and 
 
 farm. 
 Linked by one common brotherhood, led by one sacred 
 
 charm ; 
 And e'en from England's airless towns where Trade has 
 
 blocked the street, 
 For Patriotism keeps their heart though Fortune guides their 
 
 feet;
 
 24 LLAXGOLLEX. 
 
 They come with hope and purpose high, and voices tuned to 
 
 glee, 
 To stand as stood their forefathers beside the holy Dee ; 
 To rear in peace their Gorsedd-stone on basis sure and 
 
 strong, 
 And in their great Eisteddfod to honour Art and Song ! 
 
 Xow in the beaming face of day and in the eye of light, 
 Beneath the freedom of the sky, fall in the country's sight,' 
 See on the level greensward the zodiac stones arise 
 That emblem out the sun's career, the circle of the skies ! 
 For as the eternal heavens bend o'er human chance and 
 
 change. 
 As Nature swerves not from her course through all Creation's 
 
 range, 
 As holiness and truth and peace immortally endure 
 Before God's throne, though clouds of Earth their purity 
 
 obscure ; 
 So is the bardic circle raised, the bardic colours worn, 
 Tlie ancient mother-tongue invoked, the ancient symbols 
 
 borne. 
 The gauds of pleasure cast aside, the nets of habit burst, 
 The mind led up to principles that shall be last as first ; 
 And, one by one, while evil thoughts and passions disentwine, 
 The heart is warmed by human love, and blessed by love 
 
 divine ; 
 And spirit-filled is the temple great which time nor strength 
 
 can bow. 
 Hallowed by faith and eloquence three thousand years ago. 
 
 ' These expressions denote the conditions under which the Gorsedd must 
 be held.
 
 LLANGOLLEN. 25 
 
 Firm on the central Covenant-stone stands the presiding Bard ; 
 The banners close aronnd him there, and thronging votaries 
 
 guard ; 
 Before him in his azure robe the hateful sword is sheathed, 
 While peace within the hearts of all on the lips of all is 
 
 breathed : 
 Fair to his noble forehead the gold tiara clings — 
 More fair in what it typifies than vainer crown of kings ; 
 The mountain winds endearingly play o'er him and rejoice ; 
 The river sends its softest tones to mingle Avith his voice ; 
 He stands with calm eyes turned toward the ever-radiant 
 
 East, 
 Proud as Christ's loyal minister, and Nature's poet-priest : 
 So stood Tahesin for his prince, with shining brow, and sang 
 Of honour, fame, and chivalry, while the battle-music rang ; 
 So Lucius stood — true saint and king — on many a British 
 
 height. 
 Taught the pure faith, and perfected the triad rays of light ! 
 
 Thus to the Kstening Gorsedd now the Hierophant declares 
 
 Of Cymru's Druid altars, of Cymru's Bardic Chairs ; 
 
 Of them who first in Heaven's name the sacred circle drew ; 
 
 Of ceaseless right and privilege — of ceaseless duty too ; 
 
 Of faith that found in Britain's isle a safe abiding ark, 
 
 When turned from her Creator's face, the Earth was lost and 
 
 dark ; 
 Of peace that filled the bardic breast as Heaven's own hue 
 
 serene ; 
 Of growth in knowledge and in good, plain in the Ovate' s 
 
 green ; 
 Of purity and holiness linked in the Druid white ; 
 Of truth that trieth, crowneth all in the Omniscient sight —
 
 26 LLANGOLLEX. 
 
 Of truth that beams like a polar star o'er every age and 
 
 clime, 
 Would Man but clear his troubled eyes and view its light 
 
 sublime ! 
 
 Before the honour-giving Stone the glad expectants stand ; 
 With reverent mien and earnest gaze they grasp the Bard's 
 
 right hand ; 
 The elder grave, the student mild,the maiden young and fair, 
 The Saxon, Celt, and Norman join in love for Cambria there ; 
 And solemnly and fervently in the calm mountain air. 
 Descends to Earth that blessing, ascends to Heaven that 
 
 prayer — 
 God's light be ever before thine eyes ! God's truth upon thy 
 
 lips ! 
 God's word \^'ithin thy conscience !^ May silence or eclipse 
 Fall never on that utterance now burning in their heart. 
 When from the Gorsedd's ancient ring to the world they 
 
 shall depart ! 
 Illusions load the wings of Time, and feelings fade or sleep, 
 But may this hour's influence be durable as deep ! 
 O Druid, Bard, and Ovate ! know your duty and your joy ; 
 Let virtue, peace, and worthy praise ^ your energies employ ; 
 Shun sloth, contention, folly; ^ win a high but honest name, 
 For Honesty is sentinel at the loftiest gate of Fame ; 
 To human thought and human work go forth, and join the 
 
 crowd, 
 But be your honour still unstained, your spirit still unbowed ; 
 
 ' The formula addressed to the candidates for ordination in the bardic 
 degrees. 
 
 * As enjoined in the Triads of bardic duties.
 
 LLANGOLLEN. 27 
 
 Though. Custom wave her leaden wand, though Pleasure's lips 
 
 entice, 
 Assert your free and manly name 'gainst slavery and vice : 
 Around you Falsehood colours all, all gTa\-itates to Gold, 
 And Passion moves in varnished masks, and Life is bought 
 
 and sold ; 
 But clasp your bardic lamp of truth, your bardic faith, retain, 
 Be pure and single-minded, be primitive and plain ; 
 For few and narrow are the needs of Man's ignobler part. 
 But vast the field of Intellect, and deep the mine of Heart ! 
 And oh ! forget not Cambria now, her history, soil, and 
 
 speech ; 
 For her let Genius raise his song — for Iter let Wisdom teach ; 
 Let Beauty keep her heart for him whom patriot love first 
 
 warms — 
 Devote the mother's watchful eye, the maiden's modest 
 
 charms ; 
 Let Eloquence pour winged words — Art doubly nerve his 
 
 hand. 
 For her, for her, the old — the true — the beautiful — the grand : 
 And she shall well repay the love by many a golden hour 
 Of health, of clear intelHgence, of privilege and power : — 
 Shall lead ye up from rushing time to the eternal dome 
 Where Peace and Virtue, Faith and Truth, sit in their primal 
 
 home ; — 
 Shall cool Life's fevered pulses with her fragrant mountain 
 
 breath ; 
 And stand Consoler, Hope, and Joy, beside the bed of death !
 
 28 
 
 TO GWENYNEN GWENT. 
 
 Love ever cherishes thy name, 
 
 Love doubly hails it now, 
 When, sharer of thy husband's fame, 
 And crowned desert and honoured claim, 
 
 New jewels grace thy brow, 
 And royal favour and respect 
 Anew thine ancient House erect. 
 
 What noble nature e'er requires 
 
 Titles to set it forth ? 
 The clear discerning soul aspires 
 To her own heaven, and but desires 
 
 The dignity of wortli ; 
 Rank little aids thy heart or hand 
 To win — sustain — protect — command. 
 
 Yet as some rock-fast guardian light 
 
 Set o'er a stormy sea, 
 Shows more beneficently bright 
 To curving zones, when added height 
 
 Lifts it above the lee ; 
 Llanover thus may beam sublime 
 To distant shores and distant time.
 
 TO GWENYNEN GWENT. 29 
 
 For thou witli pure unselfish bent 
 
 Hast loved our Cymric land, 
 And by that patriot love hast lent 
 New beauty to thy beauteous Gwent, 
 
 And deepened all of grand, 
 Or fair, or sweet, in hills and dales 
 Which shrine the burning heart of Wales. 
 
 Of Wales — each mountain, cave, and rock. 
 
 That guarded first the free, 
 And broke the untiring battle- shock, 
 And saw the mom (let dulness mock !) 
 
 Of faith and liberty. 
 Which circling wide o'er British ground, 
 Have shed so fair a noon around : 
 
 Of Wales — her laws of simplest mould. 
 
 Of wisest sense withal, 
 Her ancient knowledge half untold. 
 Her ancient virtues manifold, 
 
 That flourished ere her fall, 
 And left a heritage behind — 
 Rich usufruct for heart and mind : 
 
 Of Wales — her song that ever poured 
 
 In love-soft Hnnet's trill. 
 Or Hke to mountain eagle soared 
 For chieftain praised or God adored, 
 
 Through ages good and ill — 
 Dee-p and imperishable might. 
 The soul of law, the source of right !
 
 30 TO (nVENYNEN GWENT. 
 
 Of Wales — lier speech ennobled long 
 
 By wise and fervent lips, 
 And hallowed by the sacred throng 
 Wlio raised the psalm sublimely strong 
 
 When faith's most cold eclipse 
 But brightened their lone altar-fires, 
 And silence swelled their deep- voiced quires 
 
 Of Wales — her zone of living air 
 
 Which Health's sweet spirit knits, 
 Her bower of mildest beauty where 
 Young Spring selects her emerald chair, 
 
 And calm-browed Summer sits ; 
 Her rock-walled storm-swept palace lone 
 "Where Winter rears his lofty throne : 
 
 Of Wales — of Wales — her present cause 
 
 Built on her past renown — 
 Oh may it flourish 'mid a])plause. 
 Plainly and proudly as it draws 
 
 Near to the future crown ! 
 Oh lot the Cymry round her cling 
 With close yet still enlarging ring ! 
 
 Oh let the Cymry calmly rise. 
 
 And know aright theii* part, — 
 Look on theu" work with chastened eyes, 
 Strive hand in hand till discord dies 
 
 Encountered heart to heart ; 
 Then rest on loyal love to plead. 
 And claim for Wales her fullest meed ! —
 
 TO GWENYNEN GWENT. 
 
 Unfettered freedom for her tongue 
 
 In Cliurch and Court and School ; 
 Respect for hopes her bards have sung, 
 Respect for instincts that have sprung 
 
 From unforgotten rule ; 
 Prelates of native heart and voice, 
 Of people's love and sovereign's choice. 
 
 Lady of my lowly verse ! 
 
 'Tis thy surpassing praise, 
 That 'mid the cares which rank immerse, 
 'Mid bosoms cold and eyes averse 
 
 In Cambria's evil days, 
 Thou hast for her dear service still 
 Intrepid heart, unshaken will. 
 
 Glorious it was in ancient time 
 
 When came a princess forth 
 With stately step and brow sublime, 
 The height of womanhood to climb 
 
 By deed of arms and worth, 
 Cheered by her subjects' deep applause 
 To guard their altars, homes, and laws ! 
 
 More glorious now when sneers abash, 
 
 And grasping passions hold. 
 And jealous aliens Cambria lash. 
 And of her sons the warm are rash, 
 
 The wise, alas ! are cold, 
 And Trade and Habit bind the chains 
 Which Power gladly locks and strains !
 
 32 TO GWENYNEN GWEXT. 
 
 More glorious, honoured Lady, now 
 
 Is thine exalted part ; 
 Not Fashion's frown can make thee bow, 
 Nor sneering Pity disavow 
 
 The impulse of thy heart : 
 Bright is thy place, but brighter yet 
 We o'mi thy spirit's coronet. 
 
 'Tis thine on Virtue's mountain crest, 
 
 'Neath Truth's cerulean dome, 
 To weigh the world and scan it best. 
 And dwarf the men of selfish breast. 
 
 And feet that life-long roam — 
 Puny of eye and heart and hand — 
 Through vales of flowers or wastes of sand. 
 
 Oh honour to the radiant throng 
 
 \Vho half redeem our Age ! 
 Hail Art, Philanthropy, and Song, 
 That wax in Avonian fair and strong, 
 
 To light Time's latest page ! 
 Hail constellation great and pure, 
 Lind, Browning, Nightingale, Bonheui- ! 
 
 Another rising star shall shine 
 
 Long in the crystal Wye, 
 For with our names of princely line 
 And princely worth, we welcome thine 
 
 Of bardic melody — 
 Of strength and sweetness redolent. 
 Revered and loved Gwenynen Gwent
 
 33 
 
 A SONG FOR WALES. 
 
 Rise, brothers, Delieubarth. with Gwynedd,' and render 
 
 True praise to our Mother loved dearly and long ! 
 Come Manhood intrepid, and Womanhood tender — 
 
 Come graces of Music and glories of Song ! 
 United, rejoicing, ask blessings upon her. 
 
 Who gave us for birthright so bounteous a part ; 
 Our pride and our pleasure — our trust and our honour — 
 
 The star of our memory — the hope of our heart ! 
 
 The war- strains defiant have ceased from her towers ; 
 
 The sceptre lies hid in her Pendragon's grave ; 
 But Melody moves us from Beauty's calm bowers, 
 
 And Freedom sits guarded by mountain and wave ; 
 And Peace plants among us a banner of brightness 
 
 Which Wisdom and Mercy and Genius surround ; 
 And strong in our union, and strong in uprightness, 
 
 We, Britons, with Britons, defend British ground. 
 
 The wires that engii'dle, and arches that span us. 
 
 But Prejudice fetter, but Passion disarm ; 
 Givyllt Walia's old breezes unchangingly fan us, 
 
 Health rounds the fair bosom, and nerves the strong arm ; 
 And, oh ! the dear speech of the Awen and Altar— 
 
 The language we love as alone ii can tell — 
 Shall never on lips pure and patriot falter, 
 
 That for it and ivith it plead wisely and well ! 
 
 ' The South and the North. 
 D
 
 34 A SONG FOR WALES. 
 
 And still old Eryri's grey summits aspire ; 
 
 In lonely Geirionydd the heavens still beam, 
 But over a kingdom bend, broader and higher 
 
 Than Arthur could -win, or Taliesin could dream : 
 Cambria's true sons, let us cherish that treasure ! 
 
 let us Uve worthy so glorious a part ! 
 Be Cambria our love and our pride and our pleasure- 
 
 The Star of our memory — the Hope of our heart !
 
 35 
 
 A SONG FOR ST. DAVID'S DAY. 
 
 Joy, joy for a morning that hallows existence, 
 And wakens the soul from her visions of clay ; 
 
 Sheds the light of the Past o'er the Future's dark distance ; 
 Our Day of Saint Dewi — our Cambrian Day ! 
 
 Spring welcomes it now with her heavens serenest, 
 And violets' sweet odour, and birds' gentle call,^ 
 
 As if for his sake who loved highest and meanest — 
 Lived holy, secluded, and grateful to all. 
 
 While far over oceans the Southern Cross beaming: 
 Lights the Cymro's glad steps where idolaters trod, 
 
 And Autumn well honours, by golden gifts teeming, 
 Menevia's rich fruitage that glorified God. 
 
 One pulse thrills the people wherever is vital. 
 
 The blood whose warm fountain is Cambria's deep heart ; 
 
 Wherever is cherished that loftiest title 
 
 To hold in her faith and her fortune a part : 
 
 For not the broad sweep of Missouri's proud waters, 
 
 And not the warm glances of Aryan maid, 
 Can win us from Gwent's or from Gwynedd's bright 
 daughters — 
 
 Can hide the hill- streams where our Lifancy played = 
 
 A.D. 1859. 
 d2
 
 .•Ki A SONG FOIi SAINT DAVID'S DAY. 
 
 Unfrozen and pure are those primal affections, 
 Though rich be AustraHa, and Labrador bleak ; 
 
 And ^^\^d aad lasting those old recollections, 
 
 Though Age touch the forehead, and Climate the cheek. 
 
 Joy, joy for this morn when the long disunited 
 Are linked by the Spirit whose call they obey ; 
 
 When the far-scattered picture their heart's home deHghted, 
 And Day of Saint Dewi — their Cambrian Day ! 
 
 But where can devotion rise truer or higher 
 
 Than here in the land which his genius nursed ; 
 
 Where the mighty of old hailed the heavenly fire, 
 And guarded the altars that glowed with it first ! 
 
 Oh ! raise the glad song and the hymn of thanksgiving. 
 Let Music's best melodies heavenward swell ; 
 
 Love weeps not his death who, immortally hving, 
 Yet blesses the Country he cherished so well ! 
 
 See, bright on his brow, with the Isle's ancient splendour, 
 The crowns of Cunedda and Ai'thur combine ; 
 
 And in his deep eyes, how majestic yet tender, 
 The graces of faith and benevolence sliine ! 
 
 &' 
 
 His heart as a lion 'gainst Error contending. 
 The softest enaotions could win and enthral ; 
 
 True servant of Christ, and true friend of Man, blending 
 The meekness of John with the fervour of Paul !
 
 A SONG FOR SAINT DAVID'S DAY. :37 
 
 His soul nurtured Wisdom, his mind mirrored Learning, 
 And passionate Eloquence kissed his pure lips ; 
 
 And sweet human Charity in his heart burning, 
 No lust could enfeeble, no pride could eclipse. 
 
 Oh ! witness fierce Boia's unhallowed aggression. 
 Disarmed and transmuted by patience and prayer ! 
 
 Oh ! witness Caerlleon's victorious session 
 
 When black Falsehood beaten crouched home to her lair ! 
 
 Oh ! witness the hearth of wan Misery brightened, 
 
 The orphan protected, the outcast restored. 
 The faithful exhorted, the doubtful enlightened, 
 
 Bv him who did all in the name of the Lord ! 
 
 And now, wheresoever God's praises are chanted. 
 
 And Cambria's prayers guard her unperishing tongue, 
 
 Let Piety think of the Churches he planted — 
 Let Gri'atitude echo the psalms that he sung ! 
 
 For are not those Churches among us still springing, 
 Thouffh arches can bend not, nor columns can climb 
 
 From the dust with the ivy of centuries o'erclinging ; 
 Their silence is voiceful, their ruin sublime ! 
 
 Wherever rude tower reheve the wild mountain, 
 
 Wherever fair spu'e ascend from the plain. 
 By seashore or forest, by river or fountain. 
 
 Our Dewi has reared it, or blesses the fane.
 
 .38 A SONG TOR SAINT DAVID'S DAY. 
 
 And near the proud mosque ; on tlie verdant savannah ; 
 
 Where idols are bowed to abroad or at home ; 
 Resound yet the strains of that early Hosanna 
 
 From lowliest chapel, from loftiest dome. 
 
 There Childhood can lisp them with accents angelic. 
 
 And patriot Youth grow unselfish and warm, 
 There Age can enshrine, as the holiest relic. 
 
 Calm trust in God's love, from life's infidel storm. 
 
 Joy, joy for this hour ! but be it productive 
 
 Of more than the fiery emotion that bums 
 Like the sun of an April too bright and seductive. 
 
 Till the evening of torpor its ashes inurns ! 
 
 If princes of old thronged Rosina's far valley. 
 To learn of thy wisdom, or bow at thy shrine ; 
 
 If once thy loved voice could the timid heart rally. 
 And be for the valiant a Avatchword and sign ; 
 
 If, 'mid the rude conflict which Treachery nourished, 
 Thy prayers and thy labours availed to afford 
 
 One quiet green spot where Humanity flourished, 
 
 And Love worked to strengthen the Pendragon's sword ; 
 
 ►Shall ?ce not hve worthy of thee and the sages. 
 The heroes and saints who ennobled the land ? — 
 
 Wc, wc, on whom shine the beneficent Ages 
 
 When Faith linked with Strength fears no ravager's brand !
 
 A SONG FOR SAINT DAVID'S DAY. 39 
 
 When Liberty spreads her broad plumes like the eagle, 
 Above our old mountains and wealth-laden seas ; 
 
 When Justice, with power and majesty regal. 
 
 Rules People and Throne by her Christian decrees ! 
 
 And over the Islands lips faithful and fervent 
 Tell hourly the truth to the peaceful and free, 
 
 And still to Menevia God granteth a servant 
 
 Well worthy, great Primate, of Cambria and thee ! 
 
 Such treasures surround us ; Dewi, inspire 
 Right use and enjoyment, and as tliou hast been, 
 
 May we, with pure motive and patriot fire 
 Be loyal to Altar, to Country, to Queen ! 
 
 May ever a ray of the light of thy spirit. 
 
 Wise father ! on ours increasingly shine ; 
 May ever our hearts, tender pastor, inherit 
 
 Afiections as warm and unworldly as tliine ! 
 
 Oh then we shall clierish this radiant morning ! 
 
 Oh then its fail- beams will perennially play ! 
 High purpose exalting, sweet concord adorning, 
 
 Our Day of Saint Dewi, our Cambrian Day !
 
 40 
 
 WHAT WAS THOUGHT IN WALES, 
 A. D. 1859. 
 
 AxD is it tlien consummated and done — 
 
 This newest work of heartless statecraft planned 
 Calmly before high Heaven and the sun, 
 
 Against the altars of our mountain land ? 
 
 Was 't not enough to flout, ignore, withstand, 
 And mock our speech, our history, and our song ; — 
 
 Was sneering voice, or cold oppressive hand 
 Withheld, and dared they add this utter AVTong, 
 To thrust 'tween God and us their impious will and 
 
 strong ? 
 
 O shame ! pity ! — see her where she lies — 
 The Cambrian Church, despoiled, degraded now, 
 
 Gathering her robe of many miseries 
 
 To her cold breast — ^her queenly matron-brow 
 Vacant of gems save one, whose primal glow, 
 
 Enkindled at the Cross of Chi^ist, shall burn 
 
 Before His Throne : her voice is ftxint and low — 
 
 Her bounteous arms droop pinioned — hoarse waves learn 
 Her dirge, and wild -svinds pause around her living urn.
 
 WHAT WAS THOUGHT IN WALES, 1859, 41 
 
 Sadly to her of power and place bereft 
 
 Come stately memories and immortal dreams ; 
 
 Dubricius leads from Enlli's rocky cleft 
 
 His saintly thousands ; royal Lucius beams 
 
 With Truth's perennial Hght ; the hills and streams 
 
 Quicken and heave when Dewi comes, who blest 
 Their gifts to Man : the Past with glory teems ; 
 
 Where is the Present ? — they who should invest 
 Their Church with strength and love, and vindicate her 
 best! 
 
 Alas ! her children hasten from her side 
 
 As from a plague- struck mother ; she is mad 
 
 With mutterings strange — senseless to prompt or guide- 
 Nerveless to feed or che.rish ; dwells a bad 
 And blighting spirit in her : would ye had 
 
 Prevented timely ! but ye yet may heal ; 
 
 Return from meaner worship — make her glad — 
 
 Unfetter, raise her, purify, unseal ; 
 Let tongues of fire now plead — let hearts of mercy feel ! 
 
 O royal Lady of Earth's proudest throne, 
 Defender of the Faith, we hail thee still ! 
 
 So be thy mercy and thy justice shown 
 To Cambria bowed 'neath one colossal ill 
 Of Enghsh peer and bishop — they who fill 
 
 Her Courts with grass, her people's hearts with gall — 
 The pompous parasites who starve and chill 
 
 The breast that feeds them like an idle thrall — 
 Alien in blood and speech, what other could befal !
 
 42 ^^'HAT WAS THOUGHT IX WALES, 1859. 
 
 When Dewi led the multitudes to God, 
 
 'Tis fairly fabled — who is he can say 
 What truth or fable be ! — the spot he trod 
 
 Swelled to a mount with Spring's sweet honours gay 
 
 To lift him Heavenward : Is it thus to-day ? 
 What prelate boasts of fruit, result, or sign — 
 
 God's favour, or Man's love ? Again Ave praj'- 
 Thee, all- compassionate, to save each Shrine 
 Whose ancient aisles resound with blessings on thy line ! 
 
 For we have reverend men among us, true 
 
 To thee and to the laws, while prompt to speak, 
 
 And think, and act, for Wales in all men's view, 
 With all men's love : Madam, thy Cymry seek 
 Support in these that make their state unique — 
 
 Tradition, custom, language ; but their breath. 
 
 Arms, wealth, hearts, all are thine, sincere if weak ; 
 
 Oh be to them who love thee unto death. 
 Their Helena anew — their bright Elizabeth ! 
 
 o 
 
 But prayers to thee were vain, insidious Chief, 
 
 Who hold'st our Sovereign's power without her grace ; 
 
 Idly we deemed that Cambria's trefoil leaf 
 Would flourish in thy keeping : it was base 
 To crush high hope with heavy commonplace ; 
 
 Thou mightest truer love and ampler sway 
 Have won in justly dealing with our race : 
 
 But this thou could'st not rise to. Go thy way — 
 Go tread thy tortuous path, and Hve thy little day !
 
 WHAT WAS THOUGHT IN WALES, 1859. 43 
 
 Cymiy ! the work is yours. Unite, arise — 
 Before the Throne with peaceful protest come ; 
 
 And heed not habit, sect, antipathies ; 
 Let love be eloquent, dissension dumb : 
 Think how of old the Hierarchy of Rome, 
 
 Who warred 'gainst British right and conscience, quailed 
 Before your fathers ; and in Girald's tome 
 
 Read how the !N"orman power your Church assailed, ^ 
 Nor till the sword grew sharp, through years on years, pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 O brothers, doth not now a greater need 
 Claim now a greater effort ! By the child, 
 
 Vowed at the font to Christ in word and deed, 
 Whose rosy Hps have first in Cymru smiled — 
 Fii'st charmed with Cymru's tones ; by maiden mild, 
 
 And ardent youth, and feeble sire, who stand 
 Troth pHghting, faith confirming undefiled ; — 
 
 By all I would invoke you — rise — demand 
 A Bishop of your o-mi for God and Fatherland ! ^ 
 
 ' Ultimately the next best step vras taken in the appointment to the see 
 of Bangor of Dr. Campbell, whose residence in Wales, and kno-wledge of 
 the "Welsh language and character, had endeared him to his people. But 
 the fact remains stronger than ever: — Government will not appoint a Welsh 
 clergyman to a Welsh bishopric. 
 
 If the Protestant Church in Ireland is to lose her rightful predominance, 
 and be deserted by the State in deference to that old falsehood, the prin- 
 ciple of numbers, will not the Established Church in Wales have, sooner or 
 later, to bow before Dissent ? How can Government avert a result which 
 its policy has so powerfully tended to promote ? — {^lay, 1868.)
 
 44 
 
 FOR THE CONWAY EISTEDDFOD, a.d. 18G1. 
 
 Who said tliat tlie star of Gwynedd 
 
 Hath paled its beaming ray, — 
 That the lig-ht of heroic Asres 
 
 Grows faint and dull to-day ? 
 Who said that the heart of Cambria 
 
 Beats languidly and cold, — 
 That Commerce dwarfs the haughty, 
 
 And Custom awes the bold ? 
 That never again her children 
 
 Shall glow with the spirit of yore, 
 Which taught and prayed in Gwent's fan* sliade, 
 
 Or guarded Gwynedd' s shore ? 
 
 Answer, ye harps loud ringing. 
 
 As across tlie battle blown ! 
 Answer, ye lips, sweet singing 
 
 Each old familiar tone ! 
 Answer, ye bards of wisdom, 
 
 Lords of the immortal tongue, 
 Which, old as the hoary patriarch, 
 
 Is yet as the infant young ! 
 Answer, ye thronging people 
 
 Who listen and rejoice. 
 Whose eye is bright with feeling, 
 
 Whose heart speaks in your voice !
 
 FOR THE CONWAY EISTEDDFOD, 1861. 45 
 
 What tlioug-h your patriot princes 
 
 Have lost their native throne, 
 Ye rule in the great Unhenaeth ^ — 
 
 The Empire is your own ! 
 What though your dragon standard 
 
 Feel not the mountain breeze. 
 Ye have a part in the flag supreme 
 
 That floats o'er the world's wide seas ! 
 Not vainly on Dyganwy 
 
 Your ' Island Dragon ' stood, ^ 
 And flung the Mercian war- wolves 
 
 To howl in Cynwy's flood : 
 Not vainly on those wave- washed crags ^ 
 
 Your Grufiydd's blood was shed ; 
 Not vainly through these halls was borne 
 
 Llywelyn's wasted head. 
 
 For God's high dispensation 
 
 Is never blind or vain ; 
 He weaves the web of happiness 
 
 From threads of grief and pain : 
 Sure, though unsepn. Earth rolling 
 
 Round Him her path pursues. 
 The rocks sustain her bosom. 
 
 The tides her brow suffuse : 
 As sui'e and as resistless 
 
 As rock, or wave, or wind, 
 Grows for the Eternal purpose 
 
 The good of human kind. 
 
 Sole Monarchy. ^ Maelgwn Gwjnedd. ^ PenmaenmaflT.
 
 46 FOR THE CONWAY EISTEDDFOD, 18G1. 
 
 Gaze on your fields of Powys ; 
 
 Are they not doubly fair 
 Since War has ceased to trample them, 
 
 And Peace has brooded there ? 
 Gaze on your stern Eryri ; 
 
 Is he less "wild or grand, 
 That the blood-red beacon-flames are quenched 
 
 AVhich marked the foe at hand ? 
 Oh, free arc the storied valleys ; 
 
 Oh, free are the circling seas ; 
 And many a Christian spire 
 
 Gleams among Druid trees ; 
 And the Saxon dyke is levelled. 
 
 And the Norman fort is dust ; 
 But Friendship needs no barrier. 
 
 And Strength is mutual trust ! 
 
 Oh ! shame upon the Cymro ! 
 
 Let the loyal Cymry say — 
 Who would shake the noble pillars 
 
 Of British strength to-day ; 
 Who with his English brother 
 
 Would not march as brothers can, 
 Whether in Art's and Learning's train. 
 Or, if their Country call again. 
 
 Firm in the battle van ! 
 
 And shame upon the Saxon 
 
 Who gives not Wales her due, 
 Who, loving well her glens and hills. 
 Loves not the kindred soul that fills 
 Her tongue and people too !
 
 FOR THE CONWAY EISTEDDFOD, 18G1. 47 
 
 Oil ! shame iTpon the Saxon 
 
 Who lightly deems or says 
 That noble things can perish, 
 
 Born of the ancient days ! — 
 That all the dreams of Theory, 
 
 Or all the arms of Might, 
 Can take, or ought to take, from Wales 
 
 Her heritage and right ! 
 'Tis fair in the leafy valley, 
 
 'Tis firm on the monntain head, 
 It flashes adown the cataract, 
 
 It rests with the quiet dead ; — 
 'Tis twined in the firs rock-rooted, 
 
 'Tis deep in the heart of Man, 
 'Tis shed through the winds and waters ; 
 
 Hemove it if ye can ! 
 
 Joy ! for the day is dawning 
 
 When Faith and Love shall be 
 The only law for the Nation, 
 
 The only bond for the free : 
 Witness, this ivied ruin, 
 
 With shaft and oriel bowed, 
 Which never saw an hour more bright- 
 
 A company more proud ! ^ 
 For here the blood is mingled 
 
 Which erst was idly poured. 
 And the ensigns hang around us 
 
 Of love that shames the sword, 
 
 ' The Eisteddfod was held in the Castle.
 
 48 FOn THE COXWAY EISTEDDFOD, 18G1. 
 
 And, oh ! of that love's gold fetter 
 
 May never a link outstart, — 
 
 ]\Iay Celt and Saxon firmly stand 
 
 Brothers, not only hand to hand, 
 
 Bat brothers heart to heart !
 
 49 
 
 ARMORICA, A.D. 1867. 
 
 READ BEFORE THE CELTIC CONGRESS AT SAINT BRIEUC, 
 OCTOBER, 1867. 
 
 Lone Genius of the Celtic lands ! whom oft 
 I seek hj Cymric Enlli's sea- vexed graves, 
 
 Or pleasant Menai red with evening soft, 
 
 Not Druid blood, or where the north wind raves 
 O'er Mon's sad marshes, and the wintry waves 
 
 Beat on Aberffraw's ruins ; or where far 
 
 On Loegrian plains the Giant Circle^ craves 
 
 Faith in its dubious megaliths whose are 
 Sti'ange concords with the old world, and circling sun and st;ir : 
 
 Nor less, O dark-browed Genius, dost thou sit 
 In soaring camp and various battle-ground, 
 
 Whether in Powys holding closest knit 
 The great Silurian's memory,^ or around 
 Strathearn's fair meads where living streams resound 
 
 The name of Galgacus ; and it is thine, 
 
 Patron and guardian Presence though discrowned, 
 
 To watch o'er choir and college, cell and sluine. 
 Where burned through centuries dark, Song, Learning, Faith 
 divine. 
 
 ' Cvr Gawr, Stonehenge. ^ Caractacus.
 
 oO ARMOKICA, A.D. 1867. 
 
 But chiefly 'tis across the narrow sea, 
 
 Within our elder Britain, dear Arvor, 
 That thou, sad Spii-it, lovest most to be, 
 
 And chiefly on the melancholy shore 
 
 From Sena's Isle where whelming breakers roar 
 Around the Bay of Death, ^ to where the land 
 
 Enlocks Morbihan with her history hoar, 
 And where far ]3elle-Ile looks on Quiberon's strand, 
 And by Biscayan airs the drifting dunes are fanned. 
 
 So, couched upon Saint Michel's storied Mount, 
 
 My dreams have seen thee in the dawn-light pale, 
 Mournfully looking to the Orient fount 
 
 "Whence flowed thy people, and to where the wail 
 
 Of Ocean testifies the latest tale 
 Of race on race through ages westward driven 
 
 To those extremest bounds where yet they fail, 
 And having 'gainst assaults innumerous striven. 
 Seem now by subtler fates to slow extinction given. 
 
 Beneath thee Camac spreads her little life 
 Of field and cottage round the Christian fane 
 
 Of good Corneille ; but all beside is rife 
 
 With the dead Past, thine old Druidic reign 
 Adumbrated in stone : athwart the plain 
 
 The solemn Menhirs stand in mystic rows. 
 And fitfully upon the unequal train 
 
 Of gaunt gi'ey columns in their mute repose, 
 The clinging sea-mist falls, and the clear sunlight glows. 
 
 ' Baio dos Tr^passfe.
 
 ARMOPtICA, A.D. 18G7. ol 
 
 Defiled, despoiled, for Want's ignobler ends, 
 
 By the poor peasant- Vandals of the spot, 
 Less grandly now the rugged crescent bends, 
 
 And the long issuing lines continue not 
 
 Eastward as erst, hy cromlech, caer, and grot. 
 To the drear gulf where brooding Ruin dwells — 
 
 Stones, in thousands gone but unforgot, 
 In thousands shall ye stand while Learning spells 
 Dark words, and Faith her beads of many colours tells ! 
 
 Prone lies on Lokmariaker's old shore 
 
 The mightiest Menhir, and the Carnedd's breast 
 
 Above is rilled of its sculptured store, 
 
 And children play, and curious eyes invest 
 The serpent tokens ; and all dispossessed, 
 
 Menehom of the Osismii looks forlorn 
 
 Upon Douarnenez ; and on Michel's crest 
 
 A Chapel marks, of purer Worship born. 
 How by the exulting Saint the Ophidian creed was torn. 
 
 Yet, yet it perished not, the old belief; 
 
 Though, wove by Time, Truth's vestments must decay, 
 Truth still endures ; the meteor bright and brief 
 
 That cleaves the midnight ere the dawn of day, 
 
 Is not less light ; the living lips that pray 
 In the perfect faith of Cheist, with knowledge filled, 
 
 Are scarce more eloquent of God's high way 
 With Man, than were the Bards' for ever stilled — 
 The deep-voiced priests who graced Religion's world-wide 
 
 guild. 
 
 E z
 
 52 ARMOKTCA, A.D. 1867. 
 
 ' Good with tlie Gospel is the Stone,'' was said 
 By those who cast their symbols at the feet 
 
 Of the fulfilling Word ; the Druid dead 
 Survive and speak around us, if 'tis meet 
 To make love strong, peace broad, and \-irtue sweet, 
 
 Revolve high themes, assert the immortal soul. 
 And trace the Almighty Archetype complete 
 
 From the marred human image ; to control 
 Fate ■v\ath Free Will, and shape Earth's course to Heaven's 
 goal. 
 
 Nor memories only of stern Woi\ship fill 
 
 This silent coast ; with arms the air is loud, 
 
 The waves are vexed with triremes, every hill 
 
 Flames through the dark, and Celt and Roman o'owd 
 Tumultuous in the fight where Strength is boAved 
 
 And Valour foiled on crimsoned Morbilian 
 For hapless Arvor ; — yet let Gaul be proud 
 
 Of her fierce sons who cii'cumscribed the span 
 Of the dread Eagle's flight, though Keris fell with Vannes ! — 
 
 Who held through the long centuries, ever firm, 
 
 Name, soil, and speech against each aUen horde, 
 Against apostate kin — by any term 
 
 A foe — Norse, Frank, or Norman — well the sword 
 
 Of Gradlon, Houel, Arthur, shining lord 
 Of chivalry, and Nomenoe, kept 
 
 Their cherished confines ; well the prayers were poured 
 Of Cadoc, Herv6, and each pure adept 
 Till Samson who afar in Cymric Lantwit slept ! 
 
 ' ' Da y w'r Maen gj'da'r Evengyl.'
 
 AIIMORICA, A.D. 18G7. 53 
 
 And now when arms have ceased, and with slow hate 
 Fi-anee meditates to quench the primal fire 
 
 Abjured from her own halls, that lingers late 
 On Breton hearths, and Power will not tire 
 Till the last accents of the old tongue expire 
 
 On Breton lips, and thou, their Genius, part 
 
 From these old seats ; what doth the hour require 
 
 Of thy diminished children ? — Let the dart 
 Be hurled, and beaten back with calm and constant 
 heart ! — 
 
 Be beaten back, and back, as from sweet Hfe 
 
 Is many a harm by temperance and by will ; 
 Till God's plain purpose interdict the strife. 
 Oh let them not accelerate the ill. 
 But strive as they who Fame's last annals fill — 
 Le Gonidec, Chateaubriand, La Tour d'Auvergne, 
 
 Brizeux — and each who strove with strength or skill- 
 Each Paotr Jcalet of Arvor — in whose urn 
 A nation's ashes laid unquenchably shall burn ! 
 
 And live there not of such a hundred more ! 
 
 Courson, De Gaulle, La Borderie, of wise name. 
 And tuneful Luzel, hepred Breizad, pour 
 
 Their love, their learning, freely ; and 'twere shame, 
 
 To weep for Fatherland, for sure is fame 
 If doubtful fortune ; nor omit we one 
 
 In birth, life, labour, of thrice noble claim — 
 Villemarque, in whose wreath, through shade and sun, 
 Laurels and bays shall twine while File's waters run !
 
 o4 ARMOmCA, A.D. 1867 
 
 And shall not she, the Ai'vor of the Tsles. 
 
 Aid, love, sustain, her Sister elder-born, 
 Whom first she taught to rear the granite piles 
 
 (^f old Devotion's twilight, left forlorn 
 
 In the sun to-day ; "vvhoni, wlien the fuller morn 
 Arose for both, she guided to the Cross ; 
 
 With whom, when thronging foes had vexed and worn 
 Their race, she linked herself 'gainst pain and loss, 
 To curb the overweening steps which would the world engross ! 
 
 Yes ! Cambria's heart is Bretagne's, and the more 
 
 ^Vlien stricken now with Change, and Fever-pressed ; 
 
 But Change that may not all their Past restore, 
 Shall not divide their Future ! — 'neath the crest 
 Of Snowdon Llydaw lies ; her deep full breast. 
 
 Turbid anon with wintry snows, or bright 
 With gleams of autumn stars, loves ever best 
 
 To mirror that proud Peak who, day and night, 
 Grows darker with her gloom, or gladder with her light.' 
 
 ' This Llyn bears the Welsh name of Armorica, Llydaw.
 
 55 
 
 ^1 Breton Version of the preceding Poem. By the Vicomte de 
 
 LA ViLLEMARQUE. 
 
 ANN ARVOR ER BLOAZ 1867. 
 
 TfiOBT E BREZONEK 
 
 Ha Kenniget da genvreudeur ann Eistezvod Keltiee, 
 WAR DON ar re unanet. (Baezaz breiz.) 
 
 AwEN c'houeg ar Geltied ! Te a glaskann bepred 
 War draez enez Enlli gand al lano gwasket, 
 War draez ar Menai ruziet gand ar c'liuz-lieol, 
 Na lavarann ket gand gwad ann Druzed lazet lioll ; 
 
 Te a glaskann war c'heun Mon, pe war zarz Aberfraw, 
 Pe belloc'h c'hoaz, war meaz meur ar vein Mr enn ho zao 
 Hag a hanver Tl ar cjaior, ennn ti kromm 'vel ar bed, 
 Ar bed koz, enn dro d'ezban ann beol bag ar stered. 
 
 Hogeii chom a rez ivez war al leac'biou buel ; 
 Cboni a rez ivez, Awen, war meazou ar brezel, 
 E bro brudet a Bowys, bro ar Sellour distak, 
 Pe a-bed donriou Stratbearn a wel ato Galgak. 
 
 Evid oud da vout tristik ha didalgen hiriou, 
 
 Ouz it-te a zell difenn hor gwen hag hor gizion, 
 
 Ouz it-te a zell difenn kor ha skol ar Varzed 
 
 Ar skiant, hag ar furnez, ann Done heb-ken, bepred.
 
 50 ANN AltVOR ER BLOAZ 18G7. 
 
 Hogen enn tu-all d'ar nior eo gwell gan-ez beva, 
 Enn eur vro muia-karet, e tal hor c'hoar liena ; 
 Adalcg enez Siznn lia Boe arm Atiaon, 
 Tre beteg ar Morbiban e tired da galon ; 
 
 Adaleg ar c'herreg gwez a latam gant-bo ar inur 
 Heteg ami douar meulet gand ann dud a enor, 
 Tre beteg enez Gerveur, rag-enep Kiberon 
 Leac'h 'ma ann treaz gwentet gand awel ar mor don. 
 
 Kno ema da galon ; ha me, o vale Breiz, 
 
 War grec'b Sant-Mikel kousket da weliz enr pe deiz ; 
 
 Te droe da zaou-lagad war zu ar zav-beol 
 
 War zu ar vammen founnuz omp deuet out-hi hoU, 
 
 Te gleve ar mor kanvuz a lavare 'nn he iez : 
 
 • Ac'hann tud ar c'huz-heol a lamniaz a-liez ! ' 
 
 Te lavare da unan, A^ven : ' daoust ha gwir eo 
 
 E vez va gwenn diskai'ct, sioaz ! gand ar c'hrign-beo ? ' 
 
 K5etu ar ger a Garnak a vev e giz-ma-giz, 
 Enn hi parkou ha tiez, enn he c'hreiz he iliz, 
 Iliz kaer sant Korneli ; hogen a dro-war-dro 
 Xemet traou ann amzer goz, nemet liou ar maro ; 
 
 Da vrud zo skrivet araa, 'nu eul leor diaez da lenn, 
 — Eul leor burzuduz meurbed, peb eneben eur maen ; — 
 Ann heol a lak da lintra enebennou al leor, 
 Ha gorventennou awel hen sar hag hen digor. 
 
 Meur eneben zo roget gant tud keiz ar barrez ; 
 Ma cc'h ober traou iakiz, n'ed eo mui enn he bez ; 
 (jwech-all ann neb hen lenne oa rod d'ezhan redeg 
 Pell, pell, tre beteg ar mor, a garrek da garrek ;
 
 ANN ARVOR ER BLOAZ 1807. 57 
 
 Kerrek brudet ! Kouezet oc'li ; ia, kouezet oc'h a leiz ; 
 Med angoviet n'ed oc'h tamm, chom a rit enn tor c'lireiz ; 
 Chom a rit soun enn ho sao ; hag al lennek hello 
 Ober c'hoaz he arvarou, hag ar c'hroac'h he c'helo. 
 
 E tal Lokmariaker eui' peulvan zo kouezet, 
 
 Hag eunn daol a-nz d'ezhan hed-da-hed zo faoutet, 
 
 Ar vugale a c'hoari dindan, hag al lennek 
 
 A zell gant preder mar gwel roudon ann Aer-vorek. 
 
 A-nz da Zouarnenez e sav ar Menez-c'hom 
 Ne azenler mui eno pell-zo ann Done falz Kromm ; 
 Ha war grec'hen Sant-Mikel eur chapel a weler 
 A ziskouez eo diskaret kreden Ofiz, ann aer. 
 
 Hogen ar c'hredennou koz n'ho c'holler ket da vad; 
 Beo eo c'hoaz ar wii-ionez, nevezet he dillad ; 
 Al luc'hedennig a red enn ear abarz ann deiz 
 A zo ar c'houlaouennik kannad ar goulou-deiz. 
 
 Beleien Jezuz ho deuz pedennou helavar 
 Ar wirionez e teskont enn eunn doare dispar, 
 Koulskoude ne oa ket gwan kanaouen ar Varzed, 
 Ne oant ket gwan kennebeut pedennou ann Druzed, 
 
 Ar Varzed a lavaraz gwech-all enn ho c'hentel : 
 Mad eo ar mean, eme-z-ho, mad gand ann Aviel 
 Bvit-ho da vout maro e komzont enn hon mesk, 
 Darn euz ar pez a zeskent, hon beleien hen desk, 
 
 Ar peoc'h hag ar garantez, ha leiz a vertuzo, 
 Peurbadelez ann ene a oa hetuz d'ezho ; 
 Diouc'h skouer ann den, ann den mad, ho Done hi a eure, 
 Enn eur ziskouez ann hent eon, eme-z-ho, da bep re.
 
 58 ANN ARVOR ER BLOAZ 1867. 
 
 Ne ked ann traou-ze heb-ken, am laka da venna, 
 
 Nemet strap ar c'hlezeier lia trouz listri Roma ; 
 
 Peb menez a luc'li enn noz ; Galled La Romaiied 
 
 En em vesk, en cmgann ; gwa ! gwa ! c'lioui tud diskai-et ! 
 
 Ar Morbilian zo ruziet he zour gant ponllou gwad, 
 Diwall a ra enn aner lie vro peb kenvroad ; 
 N'euz forz ! grit fouge gant-ho, tnd Naoned, tud Gwennet, 
 Grit fouge gant-ho ! harzal ann Erer euz int gret. 
 
 Piou a ziwallaz ivez, bepred krc ha didorr, 
 Piou a ziwallaz hon iez hag Iiano bro Arvor 
 Oc'h tud estren pe di"ubard, Franked ha Normaned 
 Ha Danezed, a vagad a bcp tu dastumet ? 
 
 Klcze Gradlon a oa vad, kleze ar roue lioiiel, 
 Kleze ar roue braz Arzur, briidet a dost, a bell, 
 Kleze roue Nomenoiou, pedennou sant Samson, 
 Sant Kadok, ha sant Herve, ha kant kristen gwirion. 
 
 Ha brema pa gouez ann trouz, pa ra ar pez a c'hall 
 Evit laza tan Ai'vor he amezeg Ar Gall, 
 O veza maro pell zo hoU dan ar C'balloued 
 Hag o veza beo ato hini ar Vretoned ; 
 
 Brema pa droc'h goustadig Broc'hall teod ar Vreiziz 
 Ha pa da wask, Awen ker, vit raa 'zi war da giz, 
 Petra zo red da ober d'az pugale mantret ? 
 Derc'hel stai'd ha kalonek, moustra pa ver moustret ! 
 
 Moustrit, ia, moustrit bepred ! gwall glanv eo hon mignon. 
 Klaskit louzou talvouduz da zistan he galon ; 
 Na loskit ked ar c'hlenved da wasaat bemdeiz, 
 Stourmit 'vel ho kenvreudeur, brudeta tud a Vreiz ;
 
 ANN ARVOR Ell BLOAZ 18(57. 50 
 
 Stourmit 'vel Ar Gonidek, ha Koret, ha Brizeuz, 
 Stourmit 'vel Kastelbriand, a oa eunn den mar 'zeuz. 
 Stourmit 'vel peb Paotr kalet, 'vel peb Breton diouc'h-tu, 
 A ra van da vout maro, hag a oar pegi dn ! 
 
 Stourmit 'vel ma ra Courson, Laborderie dalc'hmat, 
 Charlez Broc'hall, Ann Huel, barz chouek, hepred Breizad ; 
 Pa ho gweler o stourmi, lenva n'ed eo ket red ; 
 Vit-hi da vout ezommek hon bro zo enoret ; 
 
 Stourmit 'vel ma ra'nn hini a garer enn Arvor, 
 Dre ma stourm tregont vloaz zo 'vit rei d'ezhi enor, 
 Dre 'ma o wea d'ezhi, gant lora ha gant frouez, 
 Eur gurunen a bado 'tra redo dour Ellez. 
 
 Na te, Breiz Veur ann Enez, c'hoar iaouank Breiz-Izel, 
 Daoust ha na gari da c'hoar, na ri d'ezhi skoazel ? 
 Na ri skoazel d'ann hini a zeskaz d'id sounna 
 E bro ann hanv ar vein-heir, eunn deiz, enn eur gana ? 
 
 A zeskaz d'id goudeze sevel gant kalz a feiz 
 
 Kement kroaz Done a weler o splanna e peb Breiz ? 
 
 Ha kleze ouc'h kleze lemm, ha kalon ouc'h kalon. 
 
 Ha bi'eac'h ouc'h breac'h, troad ouc'h troad, a harzaz al LeonP 
 
 la, kalon Breiziz Breiz- veur eo kalon Breiz-Izel ! 
 la, hirio gwell 'vit biskoaz eo red en em zerc'hel ! 
 la, hirio ann deiz pa dro ar bed war he c'hino, 
 Kaer en do ober troiou, tra n'hon diunano ! 
 
 A-uz da grec'h Ereri ema Lenn ann Arvor, 
 (Lynn Llydaw a ra out-hi ar Vreiziz a dreuz mor) 
 Wechou 'ma louz gand ann erc'h, wechou sklear gand al loar ; 
 Wechou trist, wechou laouen, sellout ouc'h krec'li a gar.
 
 60 
 
 CYIMRU TO ARVOR 
 
 (October, 1867). 
 
 ' Nid Cadai-n ond Brodyrdde.' 
 
 Hail Sons of ancient Arvor ! 
 
 Hail Brothers of our race ! 
 Whom long our love has cherished, 
 
 We greet you face to face : — 
 Hail Land of truest glory, 
 
 Of all-enduring name. 
 Of many-textured fortune. 
 
 Of Christ-confessino: fame ! 
 
 ■'o 
 
 We leave our hills and valleys. 
 
 We leave our Cymric shore, 
 We cross the friendly waters 
 
 Our fathers crossed before : 
 Around us spread the oakwoods 
 
 With autumn splendours drest, 
 The moorlands bittern-haunted. 
 
 The meres vpith sedgy breast ; 
 Drear beaches, wind-swept sand-dunes, 
 
 Slow streamlets, granite mounds ; 
 All tell us we are parted 
 
 From home's accustomed bounds. 
 
 But Avliat though Nature vary 
 
 Her many-jewelled robe. 
 The Celtic heart beneath it 
 
 Throbs changeless o'er the globe !
 
 CYMRU TO ARVOR. 61 
 
 We hear the fervid accents 
 
 Of child and maid and man, 
 As Edward heard in Gwynedd, 
 
 As Cassar heard in Vannes ; 
 And as our grandsires spoke them 
 
 Our grandsons still shall speak, 
 Hushed here and there, it may be. 
 
 Or tremulous and weak : 
 But till the winds careering 
 
 Grow mute 'neath Fashion's spell, 
 Till Power's jealous murmur 
 
 The sea's deep voice can quell. 
 Till Art can train the thunder 
 
 To tell the flute's soft tale ; 
 The Briton's tongue shall cease not, 
 
 Nor the Briton's lineage fail. 
 
 Again we look on Arvor 
 
 Not unfamiliar now, 
 Dear sister of our Cymru 
 
 Though sadder be her brow : 
 See, through the veil Change- woven 
 
 The changeless Spirit burns ! 
 See, through the mist of Ages 
 
 The heroic Past returns ! 
 
 From Penmarch's Point with sunset 
 Golden, to brimming Loire ; 
 
 From Cornouaille's wave- washed granite 
 To Quiberon's sand-ribbed shore :
 
 62 CYMPtU TO ARVOR. 
 
 From where world-weary Tanguy, 
 
 On the lone foreland's rim, 
 'Mid driving foam and sea-shock 
 
 Raised the rejoicing hymn ; 
 To where by Aleth's ruins 
 
 Ranee glides to ocean-deeps, 
 And 'neath the Cross he honoured 
 
 Sublime Chateaubriand sleeps : — 
 Through all the land of Llydaw 
 
 Our heritage we trace, 
 We read in all, emblazoned, 
 
 The records of our race. 
 There rise the mystic columns 
 
 Of the lore our Druids taught, 
 Who smote with light the Idols, 
 
 And vanquished Force by Thought : — 
 Rude Stones, through the centuries stedfast, 
 
 Rejoice, for the faith ye fed 
 Lives in the fair Cathedral 
 
 Not lost but perfected ! 
 Vorganium's battle relics. 
 
 And Peran's dubious wall. 
 With all the Northmen's power, 
 
 And all the Frankish thrall. 
 Vex not our peaceful Present 
 
 With more than fleeting stain ; 
 But the light of God is o'er us, 
 
 The signs of God remain. 
 Yes ! for we meet as brothers 
 
 And gaze on all around. 
 Christians 'mid Christian worship, 
 
 Britons ou British ground.
 
 CYMRU TO ARVOR. 63 
 
 Beside your Gouet's waters 
 
 Our Brieuc came to dwell, 
 And reared his lowly Chapel 
 
 By Orel's blessed Well : 
 And where that ancient City 
 
 Lifts Heavenward still her eyes — 
 Calm lake near Hfe's mad torrent — 
 
 Our Paul of Leon lies : 
 And ours the warlike Samson 
 
 Who gave her fame to Dol, 
 And oui's the gentle Malo 
 
 Whom love made strong of soul. 
 Even so, in mutual blessing, 
 
 Your sons of saintly name 
 To Cymru's guardian mountains 
 
 With princely Cadvan came : 
 And many a hallowed tower, 
 
 And many a crag and cwm. 
 Sure spring, and lonely sea-marge, 
 
 Their life and death illume. 
 
 Nor less before our vision 
 
 The elves of Fancy dance. 
 And softly falls around us 
 
 The roselight of Romance : 
 Enora, warm with beauty. 
 
 To her lost love angel-borne. 
 Greets him with heavenly passion 
 
 Heart-stirred, yet half forlorn : 
 And list ! — ia the summer gloaming. 
 
 Through the dense leaves zephyr-fanned. 
 Comes the song of happy Vivien 
 
 From green Broceliande.
 
 (34 CYMRU TO ARVOR. 
 
 She kneels by the moss-lipped fountain 
 
 Afar in the secret glade, 
 And fern and rose and lily 
 
 Embower the stately maid : 
 No sound save the rill's low murmur, 
 
 Or the nestward-fluttering wing. 
 No sign that a subtler Presence 
 
 Lives in the enchanted ring ! 
 But the oak of a thousand winters 
 
 Spreads his broad bulk around, 
 And the ghostly forest-shadows 
 
 Glide through the pines star-crowned : 
 And she chants — her wldte arms outspreading — 
 
 And she chants — and her dark eyes shine — 
 O Merlin mine forever ! — 
 
 O Merlin forever mine ! ^ 
 
 And Arthur ! whose name of wonder 
 
 Like the rainbow's glory stands 
 Arching our British waters, 
 
 Based on our British lands : 
 Who rose like a star in tempest, 
 
 And scattered the Saxon horde 
 By the dread of his Dragon banner, 
 
 And the force of his knightly sword : 
 Who in Caerlleon or Camelot, 
 
 Unhelmed, led the minstrel's song, 
 And nurtui-ed his shining Chivalry 
 
 In hate of shame and wrong. 
 
 ' I accept the Vivien of M. de la Villcmarque (see Myrdhiitn), not iho 
 Vivien of Mr. Tennyson (see Idylls of the King).
 
 CYMRU TO ARVOK. 60 
 
 Dear Land ! our hearts still trace tliee 
 
 Through all thy royal line — 
 Gradlon and Nomenoe — 
 
 Conan and Constantine : — 
 Through all the war of races, 
 
 Through all the growth of years, 
 Are linked with thee in triumph, 
 
 Are Hnked with thee in tears : 
 For thy Past is the Past of Cymru, 
 
 Thy Speech echoes Cymru' s Speech, 
 And her's is thy Faith's foundation, 
 
 And her's its Heavenward reach. 
 And now what fate soever 
 
 Betide the Celtic name. 
 Our gain and loss are blended, 
 
 Oui' destinies the same. 
 O brethren, the task is ours — 
 
 Let none his part forget — 
 To stay the jealous billows 
 
 Which coldly our borders fret ! 
 Let them waft us Art and Commerce, 
 
 Let them knit us in the bands 
 That make one sacred brotherhood 
 
 Of Earth's divided lands ! 
 But let not all their fary 
 
 Our landmarks old efface. 
 Nor break one dear memorial 
 
 Of our far-descended race ! 
 Faith, Song, with all that the Ages 
 
 Around oui' history wreathe, 
 'Tis our privilege to inherit, 
 
 'Tis our duty to beqvieath.
 
 66 CYMRU TO ARVOR 
 
 If the Speech which God hath given 
 We consecrate to Him, 
 
 Our Speech shall never minish, 
 Our light grow never dim. 
 
 By Plestin's strand, where wildly 
 
 The Atlantic surges toss, 
 Conspicuous on Roc'hellas 
 
 Saint pjlHam reared his cross : 
 And while those arms of mercy 
 
 Rise clear above the wave, 
 The traveller unfearing 
 
 The Ocean's march may brave. 
 So, brothers, travelling onward 
 
 Along the Nation's track, 
 Keep still the Cross before you — 
 
 And fear no foe's attack : — 
 Keep still the Cross before you — 
 
 Hope — strive — resist — endure ; 
 The battle may be stubborn, 
 
 But the victory is sure !
 
 67 
 
 \^RSES WITH NOTHING NEW IN THEM. 
 
 Ver novum, ver jam canonun, vere natus orbis est ; 
 Vei-e concordant amores, vere nubent alites, 
 Et nemns comani resolvet de maritis imbribus. 
 
 Catttllus, Pervigilium Veneris. 
 
 I HAIL thee welcome, spirit-moving Spring ! 
 
 Welcom.e again, thou Season fresh and fair, 
 Virsrin and Love as now awakening; 
 
 From thy chaste bed of snows, and Night's cold care, 
 
 Approach ! thy opening breast, thy flowery hair, 
 Thy fragrant breath, thy beaming eyes incline 
 
 Kindly to his embrace whom life's harsh wear 
 Hath left, alas ! no solace sure as thine, 
 No love so unalloyed, no blessing so benign. 
 
 Meet me enamoured in thy nascent charms — • 
 Types of all-perfect beauty, matchless they ; 
 
 Not the full kiss of matron Summer warms 
 My bounding senses ; not the rich array 
 Of Autumn's treasures brightening in decay. 
 
 Like thee, ambrosial Influence ! can impai't 
 
 That temperate joy which passeth not with ]\Iay. 
 
 But lives a pleasure followed by no smart — 
 An ever- vernal bliss within the reposing heart. 
 
 F 2
 
 G8 VERSES WTTII NOTIIIXfl NEAV IX TIIE.M. 
 
 All harmonies, all melodies arise 
 
 With thee, and overspread the rejoicing earth ; 
 Light glows in landscapes green, and laughing skies, 
 
 And sparkling waters ; air resounds with mirth ; 
 
 All loveliest hues and forms with thee have birth — 
 Sweet odours, gentle heats, and quickening rain ; 
 
 How many noble hopes and thoughts of worth 
 Thy smiles suggest ! thou comest not in vain 
 To lighten Labour's steps, and smoothe the bed of Pain. 
 
 With rosy health thou tintest Woman's cheek. 
 
 And tired by thee, her eye the brighter beams ; 
 Thou armest Man with energy to seek 
 
 The work-day duty that his lot beseems ; 
 
 And oft thy pure and happy face redeems 
 The wretch whom sin and misery bow down ; 
 
 While mirrored in the Poet's heavenward dreams. 
 What thronging shapes of thee descend to crown 
 His soul's far-imaged home, where fadeless peace is known ! 
 
 Thou fructifiest latent thought and feeling — 
 
 The infant owns thee on its mother's breast. 
 And Youth's quick pulses, variously revealing 
 
 The })regnant will to do, and sweet unrest 
 
 Of genial passions all thy power attest ; 
 But kindHest fans thy breath the pallid brow 
 
 Of him whom City sights and sounds invest — 
 Bind in the strife to live, and disallow 
 Lost time with sun or shade, clear stream or budding bough.
 
 VERSES WITH NOTHING NEW IN THEM. 69 
 
 And one of many sucli, I learn from thee 
 
 A deeper scorn of destiny and fate, 
 A multiplied belief that Man may be 
 
 In measure as he wills it, good and great, 
 
 A mind to frame and love that double state 
 Where thought with action, rest with labour blends, 
 
 Where evening follows day to recreate. 
 Where music, poesy, art, flowers, friends. 
 Relieve and reconcile life's ruder, sterner ends. 
 
 And though obdurate Circumstance impede. 
 
 Be ours to conquer and to realize ! 
 For Will moulds Way, and Thought eventuates Deed, 
 
 And less in outward things than in Mm lies 
 
 Much that opposes Man : for me I prize 
 Doubly those moments that compelled they come, 
 
 Which lead me on to learn of earth and skies, 
 Or shape sweet visions at the hearth of home. 
 Or far from towns for health and healthful thoughts to roam :- 
 
 Roam cheered and guided by thy happy smile, 
 Of Nature thou the first and fairest born ! 
 
 To mark the growing waves embrace the Isle, 
 To breathe the bright and unpolluted morn, 
 To press the grass, and touch the tender corn, 
 
 To thread the wood, and low- voiced dove to list, 
 
 To trace the stream's smooth bank or channel worn. 
 
 To climb the mountain through the parting mist. 
 Whose head the new-sprung Sun rejoicingly hath kissed.
 
 70 VERSES WITH NOTIIIXG NEW IX 'ITTEM. 
 
 And wliitlier can my eager footsteps bend 
 For such, if not, dear Cambria, still to thee ! 
 
 Where blessings manifold from Heaven descend, 
 Where Beauty hallows mountain, vale, and sea, 
 Where Nature's joyous bosom swelleth free 
 
 'Neath the glad Hours' ever-young embrace : — 
 Alas ! that here should human discord be, 
 
 Old faith decay, new fantasies have place. 
 And ]iatriot ardour droop, and worldly lust debase ! 
 
 Enough ! for little verse of mine availeth. 
 
 And headlong Passion's breath that dully stains, 
 
 As soon from off the mighty glass exhaleth 
 Which mirrors the Eternal ; — she remains, 
 Calm Nature — faints not, wearies not or wanes ; 
 
 Still is her torch undimmed, her portals wide. 
 And I on Snowdon's crags, or Mona's plains, 
 
 Weep not for hopeless fame, or love denied. 
 While she is hope and love, joy, recompense and pride.
 
 71 
 
 NANT FFRANCON.i 
 
 Now from the world of sorrows, shows, and kists — 
 
 From the life-mine deep, hard, and cold, where Man 
 
 Must dig for daily bread that gives but strength 
 
 To labour on and ever on — I come, 
 
 A little while to know repose and truth, 
 
 To bend to Nature's fair and awful charms. 
 
 And win some pure emotions from her face. 
 
 Joyous, my footsteps press the winding road 
 
 Amid the hills uplifted ; backward, sink 
 
 The gleaming Straits, the calm romantic Bay, 
 
 The far infinity of svinbright waves ; 
 
 Yet soon to rise more beautiful, more free, 
 
 Again upon the vision, and around 
 
 The sterner scene pour liberty and light. 
 
 The Pass grows onward, glorious to behold, 
 
 And turning, shuts and spurns the beaten plain 
 
 Where Fashion struts, and Commerce buys and sells, 
 
 And Manufacture dins ; but opes instead. 
 
 Dear Cambria's wildest vestibule and shrine. 
 
 Rock- walled, and mountain- shadowed, and stream-laved, 
 
 ' The scene of this poem is the Pass of Nant Ffrancon (approached from 
 the direction of Bangor), the Fall of Benglog, the tarns Ogwen, Idwal, and 
 Bochlwyd, and the mountains Glyder Vach and Vawr. The time is the 
 evening of Christmas Day, 1854.
 
 72 XANT FFRANCOX. 
 
 Where tlie poor task-bound senses may exult 
 In pliant freedom, and the langnid veins 
 Throb with an influence neAv, and the hot brow 
 Bathe in the freshness of qnick-rushing airs, 
 While circling silence thrills the deeper ear, 
 All eloquent, and love and wonder lift the soul. 
 
 NoAV dreadly hang above me Davydd's crags, 
 A terrace of convulsion, dark and vast ; 
 Here curved and jagged and shattered, strewn along ; 
 There in fantastic gi-andeur pillared high. 
 Or rounded to a storm-defying front ; 
 Now like the mightiest fort of human hands 
 In sfranite solidness and turret mould ; 
 Now crumbling down in hosts of savage shapes. 
 As when the throat of War has flamed destruction : — 
 But idly Fancy summons human arts 
 To so compare, for where is he could frame 
 Such battlements, or where could overthrow ! 
 That bulk outlaughs the Titan's fabled boast — 
 That height alone the warder eagle knows ; 
 The elements have raised the mountain-wall ; 
 The elements alone have changed — shall change ; — 
 Look how the jealous clouds enwrap the steep — 
 Look how the vivid lightning wantons there — 
 Look how the virgin streams come dancing down ; — 
 All tells of calm and unapproached repose — 
 Of Power that antedates the world, abiding- 
 Sublime and still, until the world dissolve ! 
 
 Beneath me lies the valley low and green, 
 Wliose other verge the peaked Glyder bounds,
 
 NAXT FFRAXCON. 73 
 
 As this, tlie Carnedd's crags — a sweet recess, 
 Which frowned upon by all around, above, 
 And girt by forms of terroV, sounds of awe. 
 Gives back but beauty to their dark embrace — 
 Gives back but lightsome joy and vernal smiles : 
 For here the sun is wooed to linger long, 
 And here the breezes furl their mountain wings 
 And bend to kiss the grass ; while in the midst 
 Glides quiet Ogwen, smooth and brimming, by — 
 Glides quiet Ogwen now — ^but list the dash — 
 The deep and crystal dash of prisoned waves, 
 And mark the flood of spray that floats and sweeps 
 High o'er the chasm of dense and dripping rocks ; — 
 'Tis Oofwen fallinsf from his mother lake 
 Set fair on his:h, the mirror of the hills — 
 With roar and bound and flashing tumult falling, 
 To know a quiet course, and meet the sea 
 In peace beyond Nant Ffrancon's level floor. 
 
 River of life, is this thy history too ! 
 Emers^nsf from some antenatal lake — 
 
 Dim dream-acknowledged source of daily being — 
 
 To meet upon the margin storm and woe. 
 
 And scattered, tossed, perplexed, through youth be driven 
 
 O'er shelving precipice, through winding ways, 
 
 Where countless forces wait to thwart and bend ; 
 
 Happy, if speed and strength and high endeavour 
 
 Can break through all, and know a calmer time ! 
 
 Let me descend, and feel upon my cheek 
 
 The pure cold spray flung fi'eshening by the wind ;
 
 74 NANT FFHANCOX. 
 
 For Ogwen, after many a sullen plunge, 
 
 And involuted whirl, and headlong dash, 
 
 Falls volumed, massed, and foaming, at my feet. 
 
 In everlasting gleam and resonance 
 
 Reverberated by the hollow walls 
 
 Which, dark and still, contrast his life and brightness, 
 
 Yet lichen-specked, and diamonded with beads 
 
 Of dew, aiid ever bathed in crystal showers, 
 
 Stand fittest framework for a scene so fair. 
 
 Eternal waters and eternal rocks ! 
 
 No transient thing may mingle here with you 
 
 Save yon bleak tree that o'er the mid abysm 
 
 Stretches its withered arms and naked head, 
 
 As if survived some Druid spirit there. 
 
 To guide and guard the river's deep- voiced psalm. 
 
 Eternal waters — mountains — rocks — how oft 
 
 The fiery sun hath lit ye festively ; — 
 
 How oft the snows have mingled witli j-our tide, 
 
 And filled your rifted steeps in feathery play ; — 
 
 How oft the rainbow with sweet vivid charm 
 
 Hath hung around ye, and the midnight moon 
 
 Shed clearer beauty from her pearly urn ; — 
 
 What storm and darkness have encircled ye 
 
 Since first your waves outwandered from the mere — 
 
 Since first your rugged pinnacles arose ; 
 
 And so again through time's repeated cycles 
 
 Shall these still wax and wane, when he that looks 
 
 And listens now, decaying, frail and mean, 
 
 While ye endure, shall moulder, pulseless, voiceless — 
 
 While ye endure — the same through all — to all !
 
 NANT FFRANCOX. 75 
 
 Yet not — for one imperishable part 
 
 Brightening the complex dust, shall brightest grow 
 
 When death unbinds it, scattering wide that dust 
 
 Oh ! let me ever think — the vital sense 
 
 Which moves within me and impels me hither, 
 
 Enamoured of this ancient solitude 
 
 Of stream and rock, and wood and mountain hoar, 
 
 Shall thrill with double sympathy and joy, 
 
 And purely know, and purely feel whate'er 
 
 Is like itself good, great, sublime or fair, 
 
 When these slow feet have ceased their ministry. 
 
 And these dim eyes withdrawn their narrow gaze ! 
 
 And if in Man's weak frame there thus may live 
 
 And after-live, so measureless a power. 
 
 Shall not the mighty heart of Nature beat 
 
 Reciprocal, and to the kindred soul 
 
 Intelligible revelations send ! 
 
 Still — with the wisest, noblest that have felt. 
 
 Still would I feel how all her shapes and sounds 
 
 Have deep significance to eyes and ears 
 
 Un dulled, and as within our human world 
 
 Doth beauty ever beauty seek, and love 
 
 Respond to love, and wit prompt equal wit ; 
 
 So ever do the fair and great in Nature 
 
 Unite their essence to the same in Man — 
 
 So ever Nature's spirit may with his 
 
 Meet in communion — truth, and love, and beauty 
 
 Its seals and signs — and with material voice 
 
 That mystery is outspoken, in the sigh 
 
 Or swell of winds and waves — in the deep thunder 
 
 And whispering wood, and restless waterfall.
 
 7G XANT FFRAXCON. 
 
 But day declines, and over Trivaen's brow 
 The frowning clouds are thickening : Horror sits 
 Stern on the topmost crags that meet around 
 And darken o'er the depth Avhere Idwal sleeps — 
 Cold ghastly pool ! — hence let me haste to gain 
 The mountain-crest and downward track to where 
 Llanberis shows her bright twin laughing lakes 
 That sweetly glisten like the eyes of Spring, 
 Beyond the wintry chaos of the Pass ; 
 While old Dolbadarn, grey and bowed and mute, 
 Looks fondly on their e\er-vernal beauty — 
 On their rejuvenescence looks with years 
 On years the same, while he by time is made 
 A Ruin, yet how eloquent and fair ! 
 
 Now southward as I tread the rising path, 
 
 December's dusk-red twihght briefly floats 
 
 Around the head superb of Glyder Vawr, 
 
 And faintly touches each discoloured peak 
 
 Outflung against the eve, and palety sinks 
 
 Within the water, latest lingering there ; 
 
 But every cleft and pillar and raAn'ne 
 
 Looms massed in blackness, and one horrid chasm 
 
 Far through the mountain cloven, downward yawns 
 
 Precipitous, and nurses in its coils 
 
 A howling stream and dwelling-place of fiends. 
 
 Idwal ! cold, sad, and lonely lake that liest 
 
 Encradled high on Glyder's breast, 
 
 As in some outer world where never are 
 
 Glad sounds, warm colours ; whither still ascend 
 
 Tlie fiercer elements to pour their rage.
 
 NAXT FFRANCOX. 77 
 
 And vex tliee into passionate unrest, 
 And wake and overcome tlij sullen cry : 
 No flowerets spring beside thy stony marge, 
 Nor Childliood plays, nor Love reposes there ; 
 No summer Zephyr kisses that dark brow ; 
 Within those frigid depths no EA^ening burns ; 
 But when the winter moon hansrs hioh above. 
 And when tlie air is tliick "vvith cTrivinor sleet. 
 And north winds sweep convulsively athwart 
 Snowdonia's buttresses, and lightnings strike 
 Sublimely on each bold defiant crest — 
 Then art thou, Idwal, e'en a wild delight ! 
 
 Murder hath stained thy waters, and there brood 
 Red legends over thee, voluminous ; 
 The far-ojff light of olden time remains 
 About thee ; deeds of suffering and of strength 
 Rise dimly from thee in the midnight mist : — 
 The far-off light of olden time remains ; 
 Ghosts of a thousand buried years surround 
 Thee and thy mountains where the feet of Change 
 Which rapid trample out Man's haunts and Man, 
 Come not or slowly come — but all survives 
 Past ever Present — ever Then as Now ! 
 
 Upward and upward o'er the craggy slope 
 Mid rocks edge-poised, columnar, pyriform. 
 Rude altars framed for rites iuA-isible — 
 Rude fonts that lift their grey eternal urns 
 Fed with the ice-cold dews, and Memnons rude 
 Whom animate the wild winds' wizard tones. 
 Upward and upward where unnumbered rills
 
 78 XAXT ITRAXCON. 
 
 Mossed underfoot and plashy, steal adown, 
 
 Or tear tempestuous their resounding way ; — 
 
 Upward with beating breast and weary foot, 
 
 And eye deluded thrice by ridge o'er ridge 
 
 Expanding, until now I gain the brink 
 
 Of a deep-stretching cwm whose walls inclose 
 
 A night of dripping clouds — whence one steep ledge 
 
 Approaches to the mountain's secret brow 
 
 Far unattained above me and around. 
 
 Here gaze I backward through the darkening air 
 On gathered outlines shown sublimer so ; — 
 On Trivaen's stormy front, Llywelyn's side 
 Rounded by bold impending Olea Wen ; — 
 These lap fair Ogwen in their stern embrace 
 Whose river-child delights the eye afar, 
 Disporting through the crag-invested glen ; 
 And the white granite arch is seen which bears 
 That firm and graceful road — the boast of Art, 
 And bridging o'er the tortuous cataract, 
 With all the giant mountain massed above, 
 Stands perilled in its strength like liberty 
 Assailed internally by anarch force. 
 And overshadowed by a tyrant's power. 
 Nearer, on either hand, the gloomy tarns 
 Idwal and Bochlwyd rest, while not a sound 
 Save the wind moaning through the rifted rocks. 
 And — far adown — the sleepless waterfall ! 
 
 And this is Christmas night ! of months and days 
 The holiest name, that blesses and embalms 
 The winter drear, a bright perennial time ;
 
 NANT FFRANCON. 79 
 
 When God's goodwill, and peace to mortal men 
 Descend from Him ' Who gives upbraiding not,' 
 And angels waft down Love's fair links of gold 
 Uniting heart to heart, and Earth to Heaven. 
 
 In this wild, silent, early home of Nature, 
 How swift Imagination now unbound 
 From clinging cares and visions of To-day, 
 Rends lightning-like the veil of centuries, 
 And Kstens — 
 
 Hark ! from out the catacombs 
 Of many-templed Rome, a loud-voiced hymn 
 Yet glad and irrepressible, ascends ; 
 The Christians sing the birthday of their Lord, 
 And not the Afric honess who waits 
 Famished and sullen, till to-morrow's sun 
 Shall in the gleaming cii'cus see her rage 
 Upon their naked limbs, and not the steel 
 Of Cruelty, or taunt of lettered Pride, 
 Can once affright their souls whom love and trust 
 Sublimely temper or for hfe or death. 
 
 But list a stranger chant, a loftier tongue ! 
 And forth from yon pine forest moves a band 
 Of white- robed Druids girt with evergreens 
 And mystic symbols of Truth's eldest creed : — 
 Within that temple of unsculptured stone 
 They gather, and a crowd of worshippers 
 Submissive wait their doubly sovereign will ; 
 When lo ! a shout — a tramp, a glittering rush — 
 And woman's shrieks and clamorous despair, 
 And rallying valour poured in stubborn fight ; —
 
 80 XANT ITIIAXX'OX. 
 
 The pampered eagles swoop upon their prey, 
 And priest and bard and chieftain forth are hurled- 
 On through morass — on through engulfing wave — 
 Backward to Mona's last and lone retreat, 
 Befoi'e the victor Roman's leo-ioned mia-ht ! 
 
 But turn to breathing life, and what and where 
 Is Rome ? while that extreme, barbarian clime. 
 Conserving in its conscience and its laws 
 And in its arts and arms the Truth of truths, • 
 Hath gained a wider, surer, deeper power 
 Than e'er witli empire crowned the Seven Hills ; 
 And o'er the Islands beautiful and free. 
 Village and town that hail Victoria Queen, 
 No people blend more piety with life. 
 Or make their hves more worthy of their land, 
 Or cherish humbler, higher faith in Christ — 
 Ti-aining their drooping language to His praise — 
 Than the poor simi)le peasantiy of Wales. 
 
 Farewell my reverie ! even now the night 
 Starless and cold is come, and with the night. 
 Behold careering from their secret cells 
 The elemental spirits hither throng I — 
 The wild Ellyllon — whom autumnal fields 
 Or level pastures, thymy, clover-sweet. 
 Or murmuring brook or quiet garden-plat. 
 See never — fair in sunny pleasantness — 
 See never — crisp with frost or dull with rain : 
 But on the rock-ribbed headland lifted broad 
 Above the storm-bird's wing and billows' roar. 
 Or mid the trackless deserts far recessed
 
 XANT FFRANCON. 81 
 
 Ai'ound the feet of mountains, or sublime 
 
 Upon their congregated tops that, met 
 
 In majesty of council, interpose 
 
 An ambient zone of many-coloured cloud 
 
 Between their greatness and the smooth dull world : — 
 
 There, speeding o'er the chasm's toppling ridge, 
 
 Or in its viewless depths fierce revelling, 
 
 Or haunting, turbulent, the heaving lake. 
 
 Or where the tortured stream is foaming flung 
 
 Down from the bare clifi' to the leafy vale — 
 
 The wild Ellyllon hold their midnight play ; — 
 
 Their music and their might, the thunderbolt 
 
 Redoubling stern among the skyey rocks, 
 
 And smiting hail, and wide-enthralling mist, 
 
 And winds now monotoned with sullen plaint, 
 
 ISTow furious sweeping, with the note of war, 
 
 From peak to rival peak, the blinding snow. 
 
 These circle me, afflicting, as I press 
 
 Bewildered, pathless, down the hill of crags. 
 
 Unknowing whither, yet with hope to win 
 
 A peasant's kindly hut, and warmth and light ; 
 
 Now falling bruised from point to point, the while 
 
 A treacherous mirage looms of lakes and glens 
 
 In unfamiliar aspect changing oft 
 
 And blended oft as by enchantment's work ; — 
 
 N"ow sinking in the ever-dripping moss. 
 
 Where countless glowTV'orms trim therr tiny fires, 
 
 Bediamonding the ground ; now pausing faint ; 
 
 "Now straggling slowly o'er the dashing torrent 
 
 And rugged breastwork of unchiseled stone ; 
 
 Now clinging to the soil while onward dart
 
 82 XAXT FFRAXCON. 
 
 The mad storm- spirits whirling from the west 
 Where break the wavelets o'er the sandy Traeth, 
 Onward with gathered passion, to convulse 
 The wintry sea that bases Pcnmaenmawr. 
 
 Interminably down ! for in the gloom 
 
 Level on level grows, and precipice 
 
 Surpassed, conducts to precipice again : — 
 
 And this is Christmas night when round the hearth 
 
 (3f home secure, may throng congenial friends, 
 
 And urge the tale, the song, the buoyant dance, 
 
 With beaming looks and cordial words, and thoughts 
 
 Of kindness for the absent, e'en while I 
 
 Benighted on dark Glyder, wander lost, 
 
 And wrapped by z'ushing winds : — 
 
 Yet have I thus 
 A sympathetic joy more deep, more rare 
 Than home's becalmed and dull sensations yield, 
 And vulgar pain and soul- debasing fear 
 Mar not that pleasure passing eloquence. 
 
 And lo ! the heavens are blue, the kingly star 
 
 Beams over Trivaen like a diadem. 
 
 And lo ! swift sailing from the parting cloud 
 
 The crescent Moon comes brightening, blessing night 
 
 How beautiful ! her presence is a calm 
 
 Transfusing all— as mercy after wrath ; 
 
 She touches tenderly the darkling lake. 
 
 And Idwal wanly smiles on her, like Sin 
 
 Wliose death-bod Faith half softens and consoles : 
 
 The circling crags, from mist unrobing, feel 
 
 Her effluence mild assuage their frowning brows ;
 
 NANT FFRANCON. 83 
 
 The guardian stars about her burn ; the winds 
 
 Repressed, retire ; the cold translucent air 
 
 Bathes earth and heaven with living purity ; 
 
 And I with new emotions vigorous, 
 
 And guided steps, resume my way, and mark 
 
 The paly trembling shafts of light outpoured 
 
 Along the vale whence human voice again 
 
 Is audible — one effort yet and noAV 
 
 I hail a cottage nestling tranquilly 
 
 On Ogwen's side, engirt by all the hills ; 
 
 And soon the melody of Woman's words 
 
 Delights me, and her kind officious cares, 
 
 And soon with wearied limbs and thankful heart 
 
 I sink to sleep and dreams felicitous. 
 
 In the yreat shadow of Pen Olea Wen. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 
 
 LINES 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON, IN THE WINTER OF 
 1857, ADDRESSED TO FRIENDS WHO HAD SENT A WHISTLE TO 
 THE WRITER TO REPLACE ONE LOST IN THE EXCURSION. 
 
 Gwynt gwaedd feni 
 Gal\va\vT Eryri. — Tauesin. 
 
 Truly 'tis a handsome wliistle, 
 Kind inscription, kind epistle ; 
 Just received and read and blown. 
 Perfect each in form and tone ; 
 Like a finished Cambrian triad 
 Good and graceful : — Oh ! that I had 
 Something of a poet's power 
 Skilled in Edeyrn Davod Aur,^ 
 To express in nervous rhyme 
 Of the old Myv}Tian time 
 All my thanks ! — But do I need it, 
 For mcthinks you wouldn't read it ? 
 Atvtll of subhmest bard 
 
 Might you not pronounce it hard ? — 
 
 Call it names like Bulwer Lytton 
 
 In the epic he has vrritten — 
 
 So I'll venture this alone, 
 
 Diolch i cliwi gyfeilllon ! 
 
 And — don't fling the paper down — 
 
 Yr ydivyf yn rhwymedig iawn ! 
 
 ' EdcjTii the Goklcn-tongucd, the great grammarian of Wales, in the 
 thirteenth century.
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 85 
 
 Oft shall I renew our trip 
 When I put my pipe to lip ; 
 Whether I on sea-clifF vast 
 Call the spirit of the blast ; 
 Or in waveworn cavern nigh, 
 Mock the startled guillemot's cry ; 
 Or through valley pacing slow, 
 Tempt coy Echo liiding low ; 
 Or, my foot on mountain crest, 
 Blow a pa?an from full breast. 
 And the hills all stooping round, 
 Waken, ireful, at the sound ! 
 
 While the Llechog ridge we crossed 
 Was my signal- whistle lost ; 
 There with ^olus it lies, 
 N'or shall mortal find the prize, 
 Till, erect on donkey-back. 
 Stumbling o'er the stony track. 
 Or on tariffed wheels swift rolled, 
 Perfumed, prim, and parasolled ; 
 Comes the ' Season ' on ao-ain. 
 Troops of tourists in her train ; 
 Or Avhile yet the nights are long, 
 Till the wild Ellyllon throng 
 Round the Clogwyn's toppling crag, 
 And mine ancient whistle draa" 
 From its place in mosses nested. 
 And some chieftain imp, storm- crested. 
 Seize the pipe for deeds of ill, 
 Breathe a note so keenly shrill,
 
 86 A NIGHT ASCEXT OF SNOWDOX. 
 
 That the elves recoil aghast, 
 And the over-sweeping blast 
 Pause to hear, and souls at sea 
 Sadden at the wizard glee, 
 Owls in Dolwyddelan tower 
 Shrink within their ivy-bower. 
 Trout in Coron's sedgy nooks 
 Dream of fryingpans and cooks ! 
 
 Ever will this whistle new 
 
 Waken old emotions too, 
 
 With the tones sent down the wind 
 
 Through the night, which you behind 
 
 Knew were meant to make you hurry 
 
 Up the steep of old Eryri — 
 
 Old Eryri looking down 
 
 On the tilled men from town : 
 
 Jove ! but 'twas an hour of joy 
 
 Years of dulness can't destroy ; — 
 
 Lo ! from Nantlle's deepest valley 
 
 Out through Drws y Coed there sally 
 
 Four adventurers bold and free ; 
 
 Day's last beams behind them flee, 
 
 And the night moves on before, 
 
 Blackening the mountains o'er : 
 
 Under Aran's island-pile 
 
 Now they urge their way ; awhile 
 
 Close around them all the hills, 
 
 And the aii" with silence fills : 
 
 Now they climb the marshy steep, 
 
 GiXkws the hour more calm and deep ; —
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 87 
 
 Heed not clouds that idly frown, 
 
 Or the torrent brawling down ; 
 
 Night — brave Beauty — bends to meet you^, 
 
 Waits with all her stars to greet you, 
 
 On the hidden mountain crest — 
 
 Spring exulting to her breast ! 
 
 On ! but look a moment there 
 
 Backward to the valley fair — 
 
 Fair no more but glorious now. 
 
 Palest twilight bathes the brow 
 
 Of the stormy Mynydd Mawr, 
 
 Sternest type of stedfast power, 
 
 While Llyn Cwellyn at his base. 
 
 Type of motion, life, and grace, 
 
 Broadly now his bulk receives. 
 
 And with waking winds upheaves : 
 
 Next — the valley's southern bound — 
 
 Silyn's crags are piled around, 
 
 Hebog stands athwart the skies. 
 
 Thence the mountain walls arise 
 
 Circling to the eastern side. 
 
 There is Aran in his pride. 
 
 See, huzza ! his brightening brow — 
 See the Moon emerging now ! 
 As to the tehjn ' comes the tone 
 Comes she to her Cambrian throne ; 
 Calm, and eloquent, and clear. 
 Filling earth and atmosphere — 
 
 ' Harp.
 
 i58 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 
 
 Rivulet in rocky bed — 
 Peak with cloud-encumbered head — 
 Crag sharp-outlined, storm-repelling — 
 (kvm, the elves' sequestered dwelling — 
 Hill's green bosom maiden-moulded — 
 Lake where ferns repose sleep-folded ; 
 And the enamoured human heart 
 Purer in each better part, 
 Happier in each vivid feeling. 
 Wiser by each deep revealing ; 
 Feels the all-transfusing might, 
 Owns the hour of love and Ha-ht. 
 
 Upward — On ! Hope leads the van 
 O'er the crags of Cwm y Llan — 
 O'er the vast Cathedral Cwm 
 Consecrate with lifjlit and gloom : 
 Lonely watcher, noon or night, 
 Bears it not its name aright ! 
 Point tlie pile that haughty Art 
 Frames so grand in every part ! 
 Space ? — regard the emerald floor, 
 See the heavens bending o'er ; 
 Strength? — behold ilio walls of rock, 
 Heed they time or tempest-shock ? 
 Beauty ? — let thy heart declare 
 When the young Moon worships there, 
 Touching all with tender hght, 
 Made herself more holy-bright — 
 Like to virgin Womanhood 
 Bent before the sacred Wood,
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 89 
 
 Pure and peaceful in her flower, 
 At the solemn vigil-hour, 
 When by love received aud given 
 Earth may meekly blend with Heaven. 
 Beauty ? Worship ? — say again, 
 For on the mountain thou hast lain. 
 And with the starlamps keenly bright 
 Watched the lapsing autumn night ; 
 How through opal gates of dawn, 
 Up from Grwynant's verdant lawn, 
 
 Came the Sun with face benign 
 
 Into this eternal shrine ; 
 
 Shedding purest glories there. 
 
 Waking voiceless praise and prayer ; — 
 
 As some youthful patriot king 
 
 Great in empire, bright as spring, 
 
 Kneels in all his strength and beauty, 
 
 Humbly seeks to learn his duty, 
 
 Asks upon the altar-stone 
 
 Grace to fill his father's throne, 
 
 Rule the world with royal mind. 
 
 Just, beneficent, and kind. 
 
 Nor didst thou forsake the cwm 
 When December's midnight gloom 
 Passed upon it, and there rang 
 Fiercely out the north wind's clang, 
 And through aisle and buttress steep 
 Swelled the diapason deep 
 Of the far upgathered thunder 
 Till the valleys trembled under.
 
 00 
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 
 
 And the long- forgotten dead 
 
 Slowly came with muffled tread. 
 
 O'er their ancient hills to range 
 
 Changeless 'mid a world of chano-e ' 
 
 Wlio would give that stormy psalm 
 
 For the flute's enervate calm ! 
 
 Who would miss those mountain graves, 
 
 And the wind that o'er them raves, 
 
 And the hour of wintry night, 
 
 And the crag's all-barren height ; — 
 
 Church with ever-open door, 
 
 God's great presence shadowing o'er ; 
 
 For the garden's fairest prime. 
 
 And the azure summer time, 
 
 And the City's formal aisles 
 
 Where Fashion struts, and Thought beguiles, 
 
 And Habit burnishes his chain, 
 
 And Misery scowls upon Disdain, 
 
 And Worship pines into a sound. 
 
 And Love droops pinioned to the ground I 
 
 Now ere Bwlch y Maen is crossed 
 Riseth long-reluctant Frost 
 From the upper rocks keen breathino- 
 And the rolling mists o'erwreathing 
 Meet us on that lonely height. 
 Saddening the brow of Night, 
 Veiling all before, behind — 
 Thus are hope and memory kind. 
 Veiled in the madness-clouded mind ; 
 And with war-song mid, at length, 
 Comes the Wind in all his strength—
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 91 
 
 Aquilo with streaming hair, 
 As we front his ancient lair 
 On the Glyder rent and bare. 
 But in vain such powers combine 
 To divert our high design ; 
 Though the anger-laden blast 
 Rave and beat, the ridge is passed ; 
 Though the clinging mist enthral, 
 Eye of Will can pierce its pall : 
 And behold in airy fight 
 Cloud and Wind at last unite ! 
 Now retreating, now returning, 
 Eddying, circling, closing, spurning, 
 Till the baffled vapours glide 
 Sullen down the mountain side. 
 And afar the clouds are driven, 
 And the Moon through lucent heaven 
 Treads the deep cerulean floor, 
 Brighter, happier, than before. 
 
 Shrinks the Wind within his lair, 
 Sleeps the cold and stainless air. 
 And the world of hills and vales 
 Cynthia's beaming presence hails, 
 Cwellyn calmed her smile reflecting, 
 Eilio his clear crest erecting. 
 Peace and Silence, sister-forms. 
 Crowning the shepherds' ' Hill of storms ; ' ' 
 Eair beyond, the twin lakes lying, 
 Each with each in beauty vying, 
 
 ' Carnedd y Gwjnt, part of Glyder Vawr.
 
 92 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 
 
 Further yet, the island-shore, 
 Spirit-shadows brooding o'er ; 
 Near, the matchless hollows meet 
 In the ridge beneath our feet, 
 Thence their outlines vast expand 
 Prominent on either hand ; 
 Each, an ebon casket, holds 
 Gems of pure water in its folds. 
 Pearl-like here the tarns upgleam, 
 Flashes there the diamond stream ; — 
 But of all things whereon now 
 Bendeth Night's triumphant brow. 
 What shall match the rocky cone 
 Rising in its pride alone — 
 Snowdon's Peak, ' Conspicuous ' named, 
 Triple-buttressed, history-famed ! 
 
 You, Companions, I invoke 
 Oft to spurn the City's yoke, 
 Oft ere grow the senses dim. 
 Ere inaction cramp the limb. 
 Ere routine consume the heart, 
 Ere the higher instincts part 
 Wliolly from you, and give place 
 To the selfish, dull, and base. 
 
 Come where common life is sweet, 
 WTiere unfevered pulses beat. 
 Where the eye grows bright and strong, 
 And the spirits mount in song ; 
 Where the bounteous nights and days 
 Chill not hope with cold delays,
 
 A NIGHT ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 93 
 
 Mar not sleep with visions vain, 
 Load not memory with pain, 
 "Vex not industry with loss, 
 Plant not thistles, heap not dross ! 
 Come ! and whether Sunrise glow 
 On Spring's maiden cheek, or throw 
 Life along the mountain snow ; 
 Whether yet the matron Moon 
 Soothe the ardent breath of June, 
 Or the autumn meteor- star 
 
 Shoot from peak to peak afar ; 
 
 Whether to banks of holy Dee, 
 
 Or where sweet Dovey weds the sea, 
 
 To Snowdon's crag, to Conway's hall. 
 
 To wood, or lake, or waterfall ; 
 
 By the scene and hour arisen 
 
 On you, you shall disimprison 
 
 All the faculties innate 
 
 Pressed beneath the City's weight ; — 
 
 Pure emotions that have lain 
 
 Fettered by Convention's chain, 
 
 And the power and will, aright 
 
 To use the new-evoked delight — 
 
 Learn from mountain, valley, sea, 
 
 What is simple, great, and free, 
 
 Lead a life — for tliat bestowed — 
 
 Nearer to Nature and to God.
 
 94 
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 
 
 On ! blessed be the Power 
 
 That oft remits an hour 
 From the far and wide enthralment of the world's nets evei- 
 spread ; 
 
 And tenderly unsealing 
 
 The founts of light and feeling 
 Revivifies the dormant heart, and clears the troubled head ! 
 
 Be mine to clasp the pleasure, 
 
 To use aright the treasure, 
 Enjoy the golden season ere its April brightness fails ; — 
 
 Renew the old emotion 
 
 Of mountain, vale and ocean — 
 Of elemental liberty that cannot pass from Wales ! 
 
 From cottage walls retreating, 
 
 Wlien night and day are meeting, 
 I seek the sinuous margin of Deva's holy stream ; 
 
 Where vernal boughs embracing, 
 
 And lightly interlacing, 
 Involve the fitful star and the noon's translucent beam : 
 
 Where purest dews descending, 
 
 With heat prolific blending. 
 Deck Spring's triumphant feet with the hyacinth's fair bells ; — 
 
 Cowslip, child- wept when perished — 
 
 Anemone song-cherished. 
 And violet, stainless beauty of the Naiad-haunted dells :
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 95 
 
 * 
 
 Where the old historic River 
 
 Flows on, flows on for ever, 
 Bearing his ancient tribute to the mightier stream of Time ; 
 
 But here no ivied ruin, 
 
 Or work of man's renewing, 
 Shows stateliness or loveliness less perfect than its prime. 
 
 Glide the waters still serenely 
 Through meadows lying greenly, 
 
 Wliich render back in beauty the bounty they receive ; 
 Or surging on and singing 
 Through white rocks midway springing, 
 
 Bent, broken, yet unchang-ing still, their rapid way achieve. 
 
 With vital force eternal, 
 
 Fed by influences vernal, 
 Rolls the pure and living stream as it rolled ere mortal gaze ; 
 
 And summer languors press it. 
 
 And aiitumn leaves caress it, 
 And winter with long wreaths of snow and feathery frost 
 arrays : 
 
 And all the free winds sweep it. 
 
 And all the Genii keep it. 
 Whose guardian presence o'er the land the secret heart may 
 know ; 
 
 And Time and Nature ever 
 
 Breathe on the wizard river, 
 The interfusing charm that links To Day with Long Ago.
 
 96 A SOXG OF THE DEE. 
 
 Mark, from their Tonely dwelling • 
 
 In Aran's shadow, welling, 
 Two ri%Tilets emerge, but seek each other as they flow ; 
 
 Like friends whose troths are plighted. 
 
 And hearts and lives united, 
 And kindUng with exalted hope to meet the world who go ! 
 
 Through fair Llyn Tegid gliding, 
 
 Unmingling, undividing,^ 
 They pass, one current, self-assured, in self-reliance strong ; — 
 
 brief but sweet existence 
 
 While in the rosy distance 
 Love fondly shapes a quiet course where no distractions throng ! 
 
 And now such calm attaining, 
 
 No obstacle restraining. 
 Flows the stream beneath the willows, cool and crystalline and 
 deep ; 
 
 Awhile it bends to dally 
 
 In Edeyrnion's green valley. 
 And lave the lily blossoms that hang in mirrored sleep. 
 
 To Corwen soon advancing, 
 
 Behold it broadly glancing. 
 Baring its placid bosom to the genial summer sun ; 
 
 So far in life's progression 
 
 Love's mutual fond possession. 
 And Fortune's all-prevailing hand, a golden course have won. 
 
 ' Assuming that the Dee passes through Bala Lake as the Rhone does 
 throucrh Lake Leman.
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 97 
 
 But now ungently falling', 
 
 Rude stony shapes enthralling, 
 It runs the race of passion and lifts the voice of pain ; 
 
 Yet to endure is glorious, 
 
 And joy to rise victorious. 
 And sweet the hope of pressing through to tranquil hours 
 again. 
 
 And as those waters surely, 
 
 Beneficently, purely, 
 Move ever on their varied way from mountain unto sea ; 
 
 Let the life of firm affection, 
 
 Resigned to Heaven's direction. 
 Be happy, and make happy, whate'er high Heaven decree ! 
 
 But 0, beloved river, 
 
 Forgive me that I ever 
 By emblem weak imputed aught of suffering or of wrong ! — 
 
 No ! all thy moods delight me, 
 
 Thine aspects all excite me, 
 Love — ^beauty — blessing flow with thee — joy triumphs in thy 
 song ! 
 
 More rugged streams high gushing 
 From rock- walled tarns, and rushing 
 Smooth o'er the pine-clad precipice with deep and solemn 
 sound ; 
 Thence do^vn the valley springing — 
 Loud-murmuring, foam-flinging. 
 Have won my heart's communion, and my restless spirit 
 bound. 
 
 H
 
 98 A SONG OF THE DEE. 
 
 And not the gentle Clwyd 
 
 Rich with memory of Druid 
 And battle-field and fortress, hath a softer calm than thine : 
 
 Though — all the rest transcending — 
 
 One starry name^ be blending 
 Its brightness with the woods and waves — meet Genius for 
 such shrine ! 
 
 No more the hues of slaughter 
 
 Profane thy crystal water — 
 Albeit with love and reverence paused and bowed the fiery 
 ranks — 
 
 No more the lurid flushing 
 
 Of flames to heaven rushuig, 
 That I'ose from altars reared upon thy oak-embowered banks. 
 
 For Peace and Truth most holy 
 
 Have trod the valley slowly, 
 And stilled the strife of races, and banished cruel creeds ; 
 
 And in thy breast, fair river, 
 
 The stars untroubled quiver. 
 And Quiet broods upon the hills, and Health frequents the 
 meads. 
 
 Now loveliest colours blended 
 
 Glow o'er the sun descended 
 Wliere Llantisilio's pasture-glens reflect the ripening day ; 
 
 But night through heaven flitting, 
 
 Comes, shade to shadow knitting, 
 And all the rosy-streaming bars melt momently to grey. 
 
 ' Felicia Hemans.
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 99 
 
 Above the eastern mountains, 
 
 See from her clear cold fountains 
 The Moon suffuse Eglwy sag's sublime embattled crest ; 
 
 And on Llangollen's cluster 
 
 Of white walls pour new lustre, 
 And wake the darkened water to a magical unrest ! 
 
 Happy, whose heart, the Spirit 
 
 Of Night can all inherit, 
 Unsighing, unencumbered, vnth. pulses beating free ; — 
 
 Fearless of puny danger. 
 
 O'er ocean paths a ranger, 
 lona's graves, Helvellyn's crags, or by the banks of Dee ! 
 
 Happy, who bold pursuing 
 
 The matchless Beauty, wooing 
 Her varying moods and changing charms with all-congenial 
 breast. 
 
 Can wdn her love ne'er cloying, 
 
 And taste the deep enjoying — 
 Now lifted on the wings of storm — now lapped in lowly rest ! 
 
 To him, a sister soothing. 
 She comes, the vexed brow smoothing, 
 Gives the anodyne of quiet, and hope's sweet sovereign 
 balm ; 
 To him, a friend begruilins' 
 The world's neglect by smiling. 
 And teaching what the world is worth, and what contentment's 
 calm. 
 
 h2
 
 100 A SONG OF THE DEE. 
 
 To liim, a Muse unsealing 
 
 The Past's great book, revealing 
 The doubt of human history, the depth of human heart ;— 
 
 Prophet, to whose clear seeing, 
 
 Becoming flows from Being, 
 And future paths diversely from life's present highway part. 
 
 Poet of truth, enlightening, 
 
 Revolving, clearing, brightening 
 Emotion, thought, ^nd enterprise that stir us in the day ! 
 
 Poet of fancy, breathing 
 
 Celestial air, and wreathing 
 Flowers whose hues and odours sweet exhale not or decay ! 
 
 Poet of nature, mating 
 
 With earth and heaven, creating 
 What best belongs to them of free, of silent — awful — grand — 
 
 For him she loveth loosing 
 
 The eloquence transfusing 
 Wood, mountain, planet, wind and wave, which few may 
 understand ! 
 
 I feel her now before me. 
 
 For midnight closes o'er me. 
 And locks all breatliing life in rest or feverish or deep ; 
 
 Hushed is the bird's late singing — 
 
 Hushed the bell's festal ringing — 
 And hushed upon Moel Geraint's side, the cry of wayward 
 sheep.
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 101 
 
 But the fitful wind is waking, 
 
 And 'mid the branches making 
 A hai'p-like music many-toned, that tells of old lament ; 
 
 And the river low is calling 
 
 Responsively in falling 
 Adown the rugged ledges which its rapid course indent. 
 
 While the moon supreme presiding 
 
 In heaven's court, is gliding 
 Slow o'er the azure floor, the shiftiag shadows throng ; 
 
 Ajid all the hills that bound me, 
 
 Seem closer to surround me. 
 And press their paean of old fame, their monody of wrong : — 
 
 Press on the ear ideal 
 
 With voice as silence real, 
 Nor only relevant to works and record-rolls of Man ; 
 
 For each enduring feature 
 
 Glows with the dawn of Nature, 
 When all unkenned the sun revolved, unheard the river 
 ran. 
 
 Superbly Dinas standing. 
 
 The lowly vale commanding. 
 Lifts his fantastic coronet of gray and gaping stone ; — 
 
 Young, in spring's green renewals, 
 
 And autumn's purple jewels. 
 Old, in the mist-clad memories that gird his stedfast throne.
 
 102 A SONG OF THE DEE. 
 
 The power hath left the palace — 
 The wine drained from the chalice — 
 Tlie wind raves through the portal — the storm beats on the 
 floor — 
 Valour's bright sword is broken — 
 Beauty bequeathed no token — 
 The banner spreads not to the breeze — the harp resounds no 
 more ! 
 
 Yet wherefore trite reflection 
 Or mournful recollection ; — 
 Unseen, not perished, are the things oppressed by Time and 
 Death ; 
 Not the first state and splendour — 
 The fair, the grand, the tender — 
 Can match with what the musing mind conceives of bloom 
 and breath ! — 
 
 The sacred Vale where nestle 
 Tombs, arches of Egwestl ; ^ 
 Where Beauty broods in sadness, but Faith still keeps a 
 shrine : — 
 All Cambria's blood yet vital. 
 Shed for her glorious title, 
 To Glyndwr last and stormiest chief of the great Llywelyn 
 Line : — 
 
 ' Valle Crucis Abbey.
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 103 
 
 And strength that knows not I'uin 
 
 In earthworks of Caer Drewyn' — 
 In Ai'thnr's turrets^ raised by Him who formed the clinging 
 cloud ; — 
 
 Signs of the old prevailing 
 
 'Gainst foreign arms assailing, 
 As it shall yet again prevail ere Britain's front be bowed ! 
 
 Old Llywarch,^ lonely weeping 
 For all his brave boys sleeping, 
 Whose necks unbent, the golden torque of Cymru's princes 
 bore : — 
 Eliseg'* — what though broken 
 The Cross, love's fitting token, 
 His mightier race guards mightier faith — Tka Beython still 
 TEA MOR ! ^ 
 
 And Deva's queen, Myvanwy,^ 
 Like the flower of Dyganwy 
 Which Nature's happy poet- child, and poet-loved hath sung ; 
 
 ' Opposite Corwen. 
 
 * Craig Arthur on the Eglwysegs. 
 
 ^ Llywarch Hen, Prince and Poet of the sixth century. Of his twenty- 
 four brave sons, Eiirdorchogion, one, at least, lies in Llangollen ; ' Bedd 
 Sawyll yn Llangollen.' And another near to it ; ' Bedd Givell yn y Khiw 
 Velen.' 
 
 * Of the seventh century. His well-known pillar gives name to the Vale 
 of the Cross. 
 
 * Taliesin's words, ' Tra mor, tra Brython ; ' ' While tlie sea will be, the 
 Britons will be;'' or 'While there be sea, while there be Britons;' co- 
 duration being clearly intended. 
 
 ^ Mj'vanwy Vechan, the celebrated beauty of the House of Trevor, who 
 resided in Castell Linus Bran in the fourteenth century. The ode of her
 
 104 A SONG OF THE DEE. 
 
 For round that ruined tower 
 Twines her beauty's deathless flower, 
 And hers the deepest eloquence poured from tliat stony 
 tongue : — 
 
 And hers the light that flashes, 
 
 As an eye beneath dai^k lashes, 
 From out the sombre shadow of the dreary wind-swept wall ; 
 
 Morn's fragrance sweet ascending, 
 
 And midnight's stars o'erbending, 
 With her are redolent and bright — her life to ours recall. 
 
 Now in her home of power 
 
 Sits she at festal hour. 
 Mistress of many a faithful heart, of many a flashing sword : — 
 
 Hark to the song ascending, 
 
 The rose and laurel blending, 
 For Ti-evor's fairest maid whose guest is Gwynedd's bravest 
 lord ! 
 
 ■ Now in the glowing pages 
 Where live the vanished Ages, 
 
 Immortal Arthur fires her breast, or Hywel good and wise ; 
 The legend now securing. 
 More eloquent, enduring. 
 
 Beneath her ardent lingers' see the tapestry-colours rise ! 
 
 lover, Howel ap Einion Lygliw, comprises all that is known of her. See 
 Evans's Specimens of Welsh Bards, p. 11. A fragment of an inscribed stone 
 has been found in Valle Crucis Abbey, which would indicate that she was 
 buried there.
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 105 
 
 Now by the stream she ponders, 
 Or on far summits wanders, 
 Where yet may white Craig Vorwyn keep her virgin heart 
 and name : 
 And now she seeks sedately 
 The Abbey fair and stately. 
 And humbly bends before the Throne whence birth and beauty 
 came. 
 
 And the vesper-hymn she hearkens 
 While the mountain shadow darkens 
 Around her sires' honoured graves where time will spread her 
 own — 
 Look ! what dim Shape went flitting 
 Where the Past's grey ghosts are sitting — 
 There— where the wan and yellow moon streams on the broken 
 stone ! 
 
 But now, of state denuded, 
 
 Behold her sit secluded, 
 High in her turret- chamber at quiet eventide ; — 
 
 Her scarlet robes neglected — 
 
 Her jewels all rejected — 
 And doth she put the woman on, and hath she done with pride ? 
 
 Ah no ! her cheek's pure blossom 
 
 Unchanging glows ; her bosom 
 Heaves not in sweet suspense ; her eyes are ever calm and deep ; 
 
 She listens coldly heeding. 
 
 While comes her lover speeding 
 With heart in flame, on foaming horse, up Bran's resounding 
 steep.
 
 JO^ A SONG OF THE DEE. 
 
 She opes the casement — liigher 
 
 Ascend those hoofs of fire, 
 Till dies the rugged sound beneath her lonely taper's light ; 
 
 And now the bard upturning 
 
 A face with passion burning, 
 Outbroathes his soul as love compels, and poesy, and night. 
 
 Is it the night- wind flutters 
 Her bosom while he utters 
 The lay that wafts its sweetness still across the wastes of 
 time ? 
 A moment only tender ! 
 He shall not lightly bend her — 
 She lifts her downward-verging heart to compass the 
 sublime ! 
 
 Shall lie presume to love her ! 
 
 She scans the heavens above her ; 
 Nor heeds the access tremulous of love's refulgent star : — 
 
 Her heart and eye of eagle 
 
 Seek Jove serene and regal, 
 And mighty suns which sweep through space immeasurably far. 
 
 And the languid airs that dally 
 
 With rose-odours of the valley, 
 With child-entrancing music, and with minstrel's selfish 
 sighs ; 
 
 Reach not her brow raised boldly 
 
 To bathe in winds which coldly 
 Speed, pure and wild and vigorous, athwart the upper skies.
 
 A SONG OF THE DEE. 107 
 
 Linked with no feeble rhymer, 
 
 Her life shall grow sublimer, 
 Firm in that highland fortress with Beauty, Strength, and 
 Will; 
 
 And haixghtily repelling 
 
 Youth's currents inly welling, 
 Shall like an ice-isle indurate, bright, terrible, and still ! 
 
 Was this well done, Myvanwy ? 
 
 For marble towers can we 
 Forget what Womanhood may give — what Poesy may claim ? — 
 
 But such regret were idle 
 
 When an eternal bridal 
 Unites the crowns of love and pride, and thine with Howel's 
 name : — 
 
 When springs a greater glory 
 From Dinbrain's classic story 
 Which, save for that, nor song could boast, nor history could 
 disclose — 
 E'en as the cataract's power 
 Outlives the summer shower — 
 E'en as the statue white and calm transcends the bljishing 
 rose!
 
 108 
 
 FROM CARDIGAN BAY. 
 
 I RISE to meet the glowing sun, and look 
 
 Witli him on earth's most bright responsive face, 
 
 As on a cherished life-consoling book. 
 
 Which oft at dawn secluded we retrace, 
 
 Ere the heart's founts with mid-day dust are dry, 
 
 Or the world's lures distract the temperate eye. 
 
 Great wordless volume from the Almighty hand, 
 
 If unto me 'tis bountifully given 
 
 To turn thy Cambrian pages fair and grand ; 
 
 Inspire O still my praise and prayer to Heaven, 
 
 That ever I may mark and use aright, 
 
 A lore so deep — a loveliness so bright ! 
 
 Thy noblest characters address me here ; 
 
 Ocean uplifts a pleasure-murmuring voice 
 
 And breast broad beaming ; mountain-brows austere, 
 
 Unveiled and calm to meet the day rejoice ; 
 
 Rocks stand impassible, and swift and slow, 
 
 Through mead and wooded valley rivers flow.
 
 CAEDIGAN BAY. 100 
 
 The landbird witli short flights and broken song 
 Is restless in her joy ; the seabird sails 
 Silent and high on snowy wing along ; 
 The breeze a vital purity exhales ; 
 Clouds from the opal east float softly by, 
 In ether melt, or lightly fleck the sky. 
 
 And glorious Morning blesses all, and brings 
 New form, new voice, new being to the air. 
 The earth, the sea ; hving and lifeless things 
 More strong, more pure and eloquent and fair, 
 Grow, as with pristine excellence beneath 
 The loving Spirit's recreating breath. 
 
 With impulse keen the senses bound and meet 
 The outer world which kindred sense contains ; 
 With added energy the pulses beat. 
 E'en as the blood revives in Nature's veins ; 
 Strengthened, refined by all, like all, the soul 
 With clearer ken surveys and sums the whole. 
 
 Time shows us death and darkness, and his wings 
 
 Chase woe and change and ever-eddying cares ; 
 
 But is he not an angel too who brings 
 
 Recurrent hours when the future wears 
 
 A golden aspect, and clear light is cast, 
 
 To bless and guide the present, from the past !
 
 110 CARDIGAN BAY. 
 
 Eve wakens memory and delicious sadness ; 
 Niglit thrills the being with celestial call ; 
 Morn renovates with hope and buoyant gladness ;- 
 But glorious, beautiful and good are all, 
 And blent and varied as the varying heart 
 Reflects on each a character and part. 
 
 Glorious indeed and beautiful and good. 
 
 When Nature's frame harmoniously inspiring 
 
 In such a scene as this ! for hither could 
 
 The student come, from words and forms retiring. 
 
 And win, unchilled by doubt, unchecked by pain, 
 
 Knowledge that is not objectless or vain ! 
 
 Here the cold mocker of a holy creed. 
 Or colder votary of decorous rites. 
 May learn a lesson suited to his need. 
 And scrutinise high truth by vivid lights ; 
 Then home return the human world to scan. 
 With dawning faith in God and love for Man. 
 
 And is there one to whose world-wearied breast 
 Friendship comes not, or comes to falsely mock ; 
 Where love oft bidden will not be a guest. 
 And whose vexed bark is broken on the rock, 
 Seeking a haven ; let him hasten hither 
 Ere feelings indurate and senses wither !
 
 CARDIGAN BAY. ill 
 
 For Nature's friendship wliat shall e'er estrange, 
 
 If he but knit in true congenial bands, 
 
 His heart to hers ! and though her aspects change, 
 
 Each, new delight, new sympathy commands ; 
 
 Unfailing as intelligible, each 
 
 Can soothe and stimulate, inspire and teach. 
 
 And who the rarer depths of love can measui-e 
 Hid in the loyal heart that owns her sway ! — 
 Who tell the augmenting and unwasting treasure, 
 Her gift to men perchance of meanest clay ! — 
 Poor human beauty fades and passion stains, 
 She ever fair and calm and good remains. 
 
 Di\'inest joy ! supremest consolation ! 
 
 Wliom Wealth can purchase not, nor haughty Birth 
 
 Inherit only, nor aspiring Station 
 
 Command ; whose bright and beauteous form of Eartli 
 
 To all belongs, irrevocably given. 
 
 Who seek the spirit there all eloquent of Heaven !
 
 112 
 
 TO CYTHNA. 
 
 Mynnu ddwyf draethu heb drnthiad na gwyd 
 Wrthyd haul gynimryd, gamro wasdad ! 
 
 HowEL AP EiNlON Lygliw {ciixa A.D. 1350). 
 
 I CROWN thy beauty with a Cambrian wreath, 
 I praise thy dearest name to Cambrian ears ; 
 Not for the grace that moulds, or pride that rears 
 A queenly form ; nor virgin bloom and breath. 
 Nor e'en the dark Silurian eye beneath 
 Lashes that tremble with the heart's true tears ; 
 Or softly dreaming over shadowy years, 
 Or scorning with sweet ardours change and death ; — 
 No ! 'tis that unevoked in these there lies 
 A love more passionate, a power more grand 
 Than ere could glow with lighter sympathies. 
 Than ere in lighter conquests could expand ; 
 Such love, such power, claim I from thine eyes. 
 To serve the Land of Song — my cherished Mountain 
 Laud. 
 
 What though thy stately steps were guided first 
 Through the smooth pleasures of an English lawn, 
 And round thy maidenhood were greenly drawn 
 The elm's broad arms and trellised vine sun-nursed ; 
 Though thou hast watched the amber splendours burst 
 O'er pastoral meads, and wake the frolic fawn ; 
 And loved to see light's starry second dawn 
 Folding thy cherished flower-cups athirst
 
 TO CYTHXA. 113 
 
 For dewy sleep ; and tliough in tranquil pride 
 
 Thy summers still have led thee ; though admiring 
 
 Fashion solicit thee, and Flattery glide 
 
 Around thee ; thou art calm and undesiring 
 
 Of such, and canst adorn a nobler side, 
 
 And measure rarer joys, to loftier heights aspiring. 
 
 And thus then I invoke thee ! I Avould teach 
 
 Thy earnest brow to scan the Cymric scroll 
 
 Unblotted yet ; to mark Time's billows roll 
 
 The Past's rich relics on the narrowing beach 
 
 That girds the Present, and discern in each 
 
 Some sign to chasten, stimulate, control ; 
 
 Oh keep iuAnolate with stedfast soul 
 
 Old faith and form, tradition, learning, speech, 
 
 As each is stamped with Truth's eternal seal ! 
 
 Oh lead the wavering people on to win 
 
 Cambria's o-wn good in Britain's commonweal — 
 
 Rights from without by duties from within ; 
 
 And fervently with purest lips reveal 
 
 Peace to all hearts made deaf by Trade's mechanic din ! 
 
 Thou glorious maiden ! rise, and put to shame 
 Those alien daughters careless of their line 
 And language, weaving with a poor design 
 Their hfe's pale colours on an English frame ; 
 Not their weak limbs but weaker hearts I blame. 
 And dull, dull e3'es that see no beauty shine 
 In lake or valley, save a landscape fine — 
 Feel not the sun-glow on the hills of fame : 
 
 I
 
 114 TO CYTHNA. 
 
 come, my Cytlina, plume thy spirit's wings, 
 The mountain waits thee with its lichened walls 
 Of crag, its grassy depths, its bubbling springs, 
 Its wind-swept crest ; the sea enamoured calls ; 
 And sweet for thee the bird of twilight sings 
 In Worship's voiceless fanes, and Power's slow- 
 crumbling halls ! 
 
 The ghostly Carnedd shrouded in the waste 
 
 Of towering peaks, silent through sun and snow, 
 
 Mid funeral silence, save when keenly flow 
 
 The hail-floods on its granite, or in haste 
 
 Come the wide- wheeling pinions hunger-chased ; 
 
 The dark memorial- stone where Mayflowers blow 
 
 By singing streams, and Valour long ago 
 
 Died in the arms of Love ; the camp high-placed 
 
 Graving its history in unfading lines ; — 
 
 They wait thee, lofty Heart, they welcome thee ; 
 
 And jSTature, too, in fairest lap enshrines 
 
 The Past she nursed, and decks immortally : — 
 
 Ah ! speaks she not V?i us by kindred signs. 
 
 And knitting both to her, knits she not thee to me ?
 
 115 
 
 TO CYMRO, 
 
 AN OLD MOUNTAIN DOG IN WHOSE NAME WAS SENT TO ME A 
 PRESENT OF FLOWERS, ' 
 
 Thank you, Cymro, for tlie flowers 
 
 Gathered in these wintry hoars 
 
 From your favoured garden-bowers ! — 
 
 Many treasui'es choicely set — 
 Rose of beauty blooming yet, 
 With my darling violet ; — 
 
 Gilly sweet, and intertwining 
 Mosses silky, soft, and shining, 
 Fresh and fair and free combining — 
 
 Mosses that to memory tell 
 Of their nestling- place so well 
 In the Oread-haunted dell ; — 
 
 In the wooded valley steep 
 Where the river's foamy sw^eep 
 Ends in one resounding leap ; — 
 
 Of the upper mountain- crest 
 Where the sun embrowns their vest, 
 Where the storm invades their rest ; — 
 I 2
 
 116 TO CYMRO. 
 
 In tlie civm where moonlight falls 
 Lighting up the fairies' halls 
 For their secret summer balls ; — 
 
 Or in home's delightful bound 
 
 By the Churchyard's hallowed ground 
 
 Girt with guardian hills around. 
 
 Did you, Cymro, cull them there 
 At the old tree-shaded chair > 
 Where we met the morning air — 
 
 You and I, while mistwreaths curled 
 Slowly o'er your valley- world 
 River- vocal, dew-empearled ? 
 
 Long shall I remember you 
 
 As a Cymro honest, true, 
 
 Brave and swift, and handsome too ! 
 
 May you long your life enjoy, 
 Care, privation, and annoy 
 Never shadow or alloy ! 
 
 Free to course before the gale, 
 Where the crags command the vale. 
 Where the white Cloud spreads her sail ;- 
 
 Free to range the woodland warm 
 When the dove her deep- voiced charm 
 Utters, and the wild bees swarm ; —
 
 TO CYMRO. li: 
 
 Frolic in tlae feathery snow 
 
 When the northern ice- winds blow, 
 
 Birds are mute, and streamlets slow ; 
 
 Bask in Autumn's noontide heat, 
 While the Hours with lingering feet 
 Glide around your garden- seat ; — 
 
 Stretch your limbs before the blaze, 
 When Home's social sun its rays 
 Scatters 'gainst November's haze. 
 
 And when nights are long and dark, 
 Be your honest eye and bark 
 Prompt to warn and keen to mark ! 
 
 Little reason though there be ; 
 Love and Virtue keep the key, 
 Rests the treasure safe and free. 
 
 Light and grateful are the tasks 
 Cymro's mountain mistress asks — 
 Happy life that bounds or basks ! — 
 
 Happy Cymro to abide 
 
 By the young Eiluned's side — 
 
 She the kind and gentle-eyed ! 
 
 Catching from her loving face 
 Something of its thoughtful trace. 
 Something of its inner grace ; —
 
 118 TO CYMRO. 
 
 ]Macl -with joy, Avhen bounding blithe, 
 Treads she laughing, flushed and lithe, 
 July's fields that wait the scythe. 
 
 And when dear Euronwy strays 
 By the Pymrhyd's winding ways, 
 Musing on the ancient days ; 
 
 Where by old Tydecho's bed 
 Aran veils his haughty head 
 With a tempest overspread ; 
 
 Or within that sweet recess 
 Which the secret fairies dress, 
 And the softest winds caress ; — 
 
 Whei'e, through green embowering leaves, 
 
 Cowarch plaj-fally receives 
 
 On his breast light's vivid sheaves ; 
 
 There shall Cymro's steps be staid 
 Near the earnest British maid 
 Mourning patriot love decayed ; 
 
 And his instinct half shall know 
 Hope upon her poet-brow — 
 Hope and faith that inly glow ; — 
 
 Joy for what remains behind — 
 Many a heart sincere and kind — 
 Many a high unyielding mind ; —
 
 TO CYMRO. 119 
 
 Will, to cherish in her breast 
 What is noblest, purest, best, 
 And to leave to Heaven the rest. 
 
 Faithful Cymro ! nor alone 
 Faithful to the ladies shown, 
 But when dark December's zone 
 
 Binds the vale, and watchlights burn, 
 Warm fires glow, and warm hearts yearn 
 For the master's quick retvirn ; 
 
 You shall meet him ere he come. 
 On the bleak road white and dumb 
 Bring the fixst delight of home. 
 
 But, old Cymro, I refrain 
 From this too protracted strain 
 Lapsed into a tedious vein. 
 
 Thank you for the pleasant flowers 
 Gathered in these humid hours 
 Interposed mid sun and showers ! 
 
 I shall keep them, love them, long, 
 Hope and memory and song 
 In theu^ faded petals throng. 
 
 * * * # * 
 
 I am gazing in the fire. 
 
 And my thoughts like flame aspire 
 
 With a dominant desire.
 
 ^■20 TO CYMRO. 
 
 I would luii'.se my spirit's di-eams 
 In the Vale of ' spreading streams ' 
 Rich with iinforgotten themes. 
 
 I Avould see the Morning wake 
 O'er the hills, and Evening make 
 Twilight long for Beauty's sake. 
 
 I would watch the stars ascend, 
 And the Moon her sphere suspend, 
 And the vivid rainbow bend ; — 
 
 AVander where the shrouding snow 
 Wraps me, and the winds of woe 
 Chill the ghosts that glide below ; 
 
 Then with pale cheek rushing down, 
 Win the wild enthusiast's crown — 
 Win Eiluned's archest frown ; — 
 
 Study then conundrum-wit, 
 Puzzle o'er the answers fit. 
 Laugh at each unhappy hit ; — 
 
 Wake the song, or turn the page, 
 ]Mingling with the Middle Age — 
 Bard and chronicler and sage ; — 
 
 Task our Ovateship to shine 
 In more worthy native line 
 Thau that graceless triad mine —
 
 TO CYMRO. 1-1 
 
 Tri cliariadau Cymry : Telyn ; 
 CofFadwriaeth Hew Llewelyn ; 
 (Goreu oil) hen Gwrw melyn ! 
 
 And when Spring's delicious skies 
 Light the maiden violet's eyes, 
 And her buried sisters rise ; 
 
 I would mark each one unclose, 
 Till the perfect beauty glows, 
 From the snowdrop to the rose. 
 
 But, alas ! desire is vain. 
 Reason tightens Fancy's rein. 
 Duty's path is straight and plain. 
 
 I must press the iron track. 
 
 Be the earth and heaven black, 
 
 Gold will gild them — who would lack ! 
 
 Tethered to the central stake. 
 Though you short excursions make, 
 Firm the bonds — your heart may break. 
 
 In the ever-rushing street 
 Swerve a moment — myriad feet 
 Trample you to ruin meet ! 
 
 Yet 'tis something to retain 
 Feelings that relax the chain — 
 It shall perish, they remain !
 
 1-'-' TO CYMRO. 
 
 Thus these simple flowers tell 
 Of the vale I love so well ; 
 I can love them nor rebel. 
 
 All that they denote to me, 
 Virtue, grace, and purity. 
 Kind affections, fancies free ; 
 
 Such, I trust, with life may last, 
 Though the symbol's bloom be past, 
 Leaf and stalk in ruin massed ; — 
 
 Though I wander nevermore 
 In that vale, or see that door 
 With its roses clustering- o'er !
 
 123 
 
 ELLEN EILtWED. 
 
 Sweet Ellen Eiluned ! oh wlio would not love her, 
 AVTio lores what is fairest and hohest and best — 
 
 Skies, waters, woods, mountains, around and above her. 
 Have moulded her beauty, and live in her breast ! 
 
 The breeze that exhales the pure freshness of morning — 
 The whirhvind of midnight that sweeps the dark pines — 
 
 The daisies those greenest of meadows adorning 
 Which margin the river that sings as it shines : — 
 
 The snow-wreaths that with the bleak mountain-crests dally ; 
 
 The grain lowly nestled till golden and warm ; — 
 All shapes and all sounds that descend on the valley, 
 
 From moonlight to noontide — from slumber to storm ; — 
 
 ■^o' 
 
 Are gathered to her with most gentle aiFection — 
 
 Ai'e mirrored in her with intensified hue ; 
 Oh never may aught come to mar that reflection 
 
 Of lofty and lovely, of tender and true ! 
 
 Oh never may birthdays rose-garlanded, bringing 
 New grace and new beauty, more honour and sway, 
 
 Creak that first vivid charm to her childhood long clinging. 
 Or snatch that supremest attraction away.
 
 \-Ji ELLEX EILUNED. 
 
 But let the meek virtues, dear Ellen, for ever 
 
 Your maidenhood cherish, your womanhood hold ; — 
 
 Be happy and wise, if not brilliant and clever ; 
 Be loving and gentle, not stately and cold ! 
 
 Oh better — believe me, Eiliined — far bettei' — 
 
 In freedom of spirit and quiet to live. 
 Than wear the uneasy though flowery fetter, 
 
 Which Fashion and Worldliness mock while they give ! 
 
 Let talents be hid not, nor study neglected, 
 
 Seek lofty-browed Science, or soft-smiling Art ; 
 
 But learn first each duty by Heaven directed, — 
 Each line on Life's stage of the heroine's part. 
 
 Then lightly will sorrow and suffering pass o'er you — 
 Then amaranth blossoms your head will entwine ; 
 
 And Friendship will follow, and Love will adore you, 
 Yet brighten, not darken, so spotless a shrine. 
 
 And though the swift stream of eternal mutation 
 
 Bear you far from the mountains and vales of your youth, 
 
 Oh cherish for ever the old inspiration — 
 The early simplicity, candour, and truth ! 
 
 And thus, sweet Eiluned, and dear beyond measure. 
 Wherever your footsteps may rest or may roam, 
 
 We fondly shall hail you our pride and our treasure — 
 Pure Lily of Djxi, bright Star of your home !
 
 125 
 
 ^YEKEFREDA. 
 
 SONG WRITTEN FOE AN OLD WELSH AIR. 
 
 Wenefreda, white and holy, 
 
 Lady of the Foimtain-shrme ! 
 Teach us, friends and lovers lowly, 
 
 Teach ns faith and love like thine ; 
 More than thine onr earthly pleasure, 
 
 Life is free, and love secure, 
 Yet oh add thy richer treasure. 
 Ever growing, ever pure ! 
 Give the love 
 Born above, 
 Hallowing breath. 
 Spurning death, 
 Light not from earth that springs, 
 But shed from seraphs' wings. 
 
 Love not only household-bounded, 
 Instinct's law and habit's chain, 
 
 Love not only joy-surrounded, 
 Perishing by doubt or pain ;
 
 126 WENEFREDA. 
 
 But the love of nobler passion, 
 
 Chairity's sublimer glow, 
 Fearless love whicli snailes at fashion, 
 Conquers fortune, tempers woe : 
 Sweetest calm, 
 Softest balm, 
 Fairest flower, 
 Firmest power, 
 Though bloom and strength depart, 
 Though mirth forsake the heart. 
 
 Wenefreda, white and holy, 
 
 It is good that Love divine, 
 Ordering life for us so lowly. 
 
 Gave a bliss denied to thine ; 
 Yet oh guide us in our going, 
 
 Not by Self s dull torch alone, 
 But the reflex clear and srlowins- 
 Of the light before the Throne ! 
 This is love 
 Bom above. 
 Love unsisrhinsr. 
 Love undying. 
 The stream like thine still sure, 
 The fount as deep and pure.
 
 127 
 
 TO A COTTAGE GIRL OF CLWYD. 
 
 Dearly I love thy native land 
 
 For all that bounteous God hath spread 
 Imperishably fair and grand 
 
 From ocean- floor to mountain-head ; 
 Rock, waterfall, wood, vale, and sea, 
 Are blest and beautiful to me. 
 
 Nor only in their hue and form, 
 And light and motion love I them. 
 
 And haunt the sources of the storm. 
 Or quiet fields which flowers begem ; 
 
 But that the undying Past broods there, 
 
 And sacred spirits throng the air. 
 
 For as the light transcends the lamp, 
 
 Or as the voice excels the lips, 
 Or e'en as Heaven's mighty stamp 
 
 Impresseth silence or eclipse ; 
 I seek to know and feel aright 
 The inborn eloquent and briglit. 
 
 And such spring amply from the scene. 
 
 On every hand, at every time. 
 And many an hour my heart hath been 
 
 A pulse of pleasure, and sublime 
 Hath soared my newly-winged thought, 
 And soft emotions tears have wrought.
 
 1-^8 TO A COTTAGE GIRL OF CLWYl). 
 
 And I have marked, dear maid, the daughters 
 Of thine old fathei'land, and thee 
 
 Their type, Hke thine own mountain waters, 
 Melodious, pure, secluded, free ; — 
 
 Have marked, as well as alien could, 
 
 The beauty born of hill and wood. 
 
 1 gaze upon thy young sweet face — 
 No art its clear expression hides ; 
 
 I mark where glows the C}Tnric race, 
 And where the Saxon blood abides ; 
 
 If such the union, never be 
 
 Their equal charms compared by me ! 
 
 'Twere hard for painting to define 
 The modest roses of thy cheek, 
 
 Or eyes where happy feelings shine, 
 
 Or mouth whence only truth can speak 
 
 What spirit-guided pencil gives 
 
 The soul that in the features lives ! 
 
 And 'tis not, Mary, idle praise 
 I offer to your beauty now ; 
 
 I frame no tributary lays 
 To Hebe-lip, or Pallas-brow, 
 
 Nor seek I to mislead your heart. 
 
 And play a poor unworlliy jjart.
 
 TO A COTTAGE GIRL OF CLWYD. 129 
 
 Love may I feel, but 'tis, perchance, 
 
 Not such as you conceive ; I Ic jk 
 Upon you with a quiet glance. 
 
 As on a limpid, lucid brook, 
 Much pondering what its course will be 
 Ere it attain the far-off sea. 
 
 Sweet girl of Clwyd, my love beholds thee now 
 Formed by each influence that haunts the vale ; 
 
 The placid hills fair outlined in the glow 
 Of sunset, guardians true of town and dale, 
 
 The river in its pastoral dress, which glides 
 
 Embraced by mead and wood, and swelled by freshening 
 tides : 
 
 E'ea the bowed Castle and the mournful Marsh 
 Reflect the pensiveness, the shade that lies, 
 
 Without a trace of querulous or harsh. 
 
 In the deep lustre of those earnest eyes ; — 
 
 Long may such beauty-giving shade remain, 
 
 But no sharp sorrow the fair eyelids stain ! 
 
 Long may the hills, the woods, the vales, the streams. 
 Preserve the freedom that endears them now ; — 
 
 Long move the heart and quicken noble themes, 
 And give sweet health to bless the cheek and brow 
 
 And fostering simple wants, may long withstand 
 
 Encroaching Pride, and Trade s all-grasping hand 1 
 
 K
 
 130 TO A COTTAGE GIRL OF CLWYD. 
 
 And never may tlie brightness of your youth, 
 Dear Maiy, change to any shape less fair ; 
 
 May all the virgin innocence and truth 
 
 That fills your heart, be ever vivid there — 
 
 Show to congenial eyes with added grace, 
 
 And fix perennial beauty in your face ! 
 
 Live so, sequestered hei-e as birds or flowers, 
 And know existence in its better part, 
 
 Not in its vicious moods, or frantic hours, 
 Not in the idler's hall, or trader's mart, 
 
 But near to God 'neath Heaven's purer dome, 
 
 Girt by the loves and blessings of your home ! 
 
 Yet not all passionless ; the heart's deep strings 
 May vibrate soon to stern affliction's touch. 
 
 Or rare emotion lift you on its Avings 
 
 To heights where much is seen, and suffered much : 
 
 Brink, then, from founts whence mingled waters flow, 
 
 And know what all Humanity must know. 
 
 But as the mountain which black clouds array 
 At midnight, glows sun-diademed at morn. 
 
 As from the valley storm-embraced to-day, 
 To-morrow beauty manifold is born, 
 
 As thunders rock, and winds enrage, the sea, 
 
 And leave it yet more calm and fair and free ;
 
 TO A COTTAGE GIRL OF CLWYD. 131 
 
 So will you meet the passions and surpass, 
 
 K only you be simple, truthful, wise, 
 And like the breatli-stain transient from the glass. 
 
 Shall fade each stern emotion from your eyes, 
 And native peace succeed that brief unrest, 
 And native joys spring quenchless in your breast. 
 
 And I again may come from life's rough ways 
 To consolations old that never mock. 
 
 Where the bright matron mountain- queen surveys 
 Her valley-realm, or where the castled rock 
 
 Looks proud upon her, and my heart may swell 
 
 Again by Elwy's banks ajid blessed Well. 
 
 And then, dear maid, my deepest joy will be — 
 No wife's, alas ! or sister's love is mine — 
 
 To learn simplicity and peace from thee, 
 
 Heal my vexed spirit with the balm of thine. 
 
 Hush the world's discord with thy low sweet song. 
 
 Nor hurt thee by one word or thought of wrong. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 
 
 SNOWDON. 
 
 Ar oer garreg Eryri 
 
 Mac ged vawr, lie mag^vyd vi. 
 
 Rhys Goch Eryri (circa 1380). 
 
 A TREE-CROWNED, grassy, undulating hill 
 
 Sloped pleasantly toward the sunny weather ; 
 
 Whence musical glides down the pebbly rill ; 
 Where the brown bee exults among the heather, 
 And rural lovers rest or stray together, 
 
 And quiet cattle feed, and birds rejoice 
 
 While the soft west wind ruffles scarce a feather ; 
 
 Whence the fair fields and white walls of your choice 
 Are seen, and heard around is cheerful Labour's voice. 
 
 Such, haply, dost thou know, and hath thy heart 
 
 Grown tame and passive many sweets among, 
 And rarely mayst thou feel emotions start, 
 
 Secluded far from worldly woe and wrong ; 
 
 Thy pulse beats calm, thy measured sleep is long, 
 Thy feet glide willmg in the path of right ; 
 
 Thou lovest placid mirth and gentle song. 
 And leafy lawm, and terraced garden bright. 
 And Beauty's mild blue eye, and warmth and ease and 
 
 light.
 
 SNOWDON. 133 
 
 But hath the spirit's harp one only chord — 
 
 One only refrain of a flute-like tone ; 
 Doth Nature's mighty cabinet afford 
 
 One tint of rose or emerald alone ! 
 
 Hence ! let thy energies o'er life be thrown, 
 Oft high desire impel thy voice and hand, 
 
 And trace the scenes where kindred signs are shown — 
 The wild, the stern, the beautiful, the grand, 
 Where rise in ancient strength the mountains of our 
 
 land. 
 
 Let others rove from foreign spot to spot. 
 
 As Fashion bids, or Novelty grows old. 
 And throng to gaze, perchance discerning not, 
 
 On storied shows and scenes of giant mould ; 
 
 Can such read Nature's mightiest book unrolled. 
 Or e"en to thee can Alp or Andes rise 
 
 Revealed in all its bulk ? Oh be consoled. 
 And first the hill-page lit by British skies 
 Interpret with deep heart, and scan with earnest eyes. 
 
 Ben Nevis know, on whose surpassing crest 
 
 Wliite Winter sits defiant of the sun ; 
 Helvellyn, dear to every poet's breast. 
 
 For streams of song that from its fountains riin ; 
 
 Green Cheviot, and romantic Mangerton ; 
 Plinlimmon bare, and forest-girt Cairngorm ; 
 
 And Snowdon all unmatched, whose crags upon. 
 The immoi'tal Past endures, and whose great form 
 Rose at the birth of Time from Chaos and from Storm.
 
 134 SNOWDON. 
 
 Assume the glance of that unvanquished bird 
 Who made Eryi'i once his home of pride ; 
 
 Behold the hills when autumn rain has stirred 
 The air, and Morning's fingers parted wide 
 The horizon-bounds ; from where Dubricius died 
 
 In holy Bardsey, on to Penmaenmawr 
 
 Far eastward planted bold against the tide, 
 
 See sweep fantastic, or sublimely tower, 
 Caernarvon's mountain boast, and record-roll and power ! 
 
 And midmost, Snowdon rears his triple head. 
 
 And holds his court : around him and below, 
 The subject hills, yet scarce outi'ivalled, spread 
 
 Their giant limbs, and lift their rugged brow ; 
 
 Llywelyn, Glyder, Hebog, Eilio, — 
 Names memory-stamped with Man's or Nature's might, 
 
 The elements come up to them, and lo ! 
 The mingling and the lapse of day and night, 
 Of worship, council, wrath, disdain, repose, and fight ! 
 
 But now approach him ; the dark summit crags 
 Stand sharp in ether blue, and the young Day 
 
 JDarts eager glances where yet Shadow lags 
 Deep in the hollow sides, and ray on ray 
 Explores the stony mysteries till they 
 
 (Jleam broadly desolate and all unveiled; 
 And in the nested tarns the heavens play. 
 
 And peaks Avhich late the midnight storm assailed, 
 Now first in tranquil rest the glo%ving sun have hailed.
 
 SNOWDOX. 135 
 
 And here wliere still the hardy sheep maintain 
 Scant hfe, once bounded the broad-antlered deer ; 
 
 The Cambrian goat an unapproached domain 
 Possessed ; the golden eagle plumed him here, 
 And the dark Druid pine-trees waved austere ; 
 
 And pregnant with the changeless still the scene ; 
 A wealth of metal lurks in chasms drear, 
 
 And Floi-a's Alpine offspring sit serene. 
 And spread to nursing storms their many-tinted green. 
 
 Profound the silence grows, and more profound 
 
 While slow you traverse the encumbered steep 
 Hushed in the clear calm air, the hills around 
 
 Seem, fancy-scanned, to listen or to sleep ; 
 
 Not so of old when Dolwyddelan's keep 
 Saw waving spears and circling beacon-flames — 
 
 To battle saw the shouting Cymry leap. 
 Led by the prince whom Clio proudly claims, 
 Llvwehai, first amid his land's heroic names : 
 
 When Gwynedd's chiefs in festive triumph stood. 
 Or worn and weak, their patriot blood outpoured ; 
 
 And rock and llyn and waterfall and wood, 
 
 And bardic song and human heart have stored 
 ^lemorials of high sage and mighty lord : — 
 
 What else ? a dubious cairn, a toppling tower, 
 Pei'chance a golden torque or broken sword 
 
 Remains, interpreting old strife and power. 
 Less than the battle-field's corse-nurtured fruit and flower.
 
 V.'A', SNOWDON. 
 
 iSucli trophies leave to microscopic minds, 
 
 Such links of rust exhumed by time or toil, 
 For that unseen but perfect chain which binds 
 
 The Past around the people and the soil ; 
 
 This not the 1 ipse of years can dim or spoil, 
 It flashes fi'eely to the summer sky, 
 
 Tradition bathes it as with freshening oil, 
 Nor shall it cease to be a nation's tie. 
 Till Cambria's hills decay, and Cambria's language die ! 
 
 Behold a relic truly ! piled above. 
 
 The granite summits stedfast evermore, 
 Rare ti'ophy for the virtuoso's love 
 
 To teach him surer truth, sublimer lore ; 
 
 These rocks of eldest time saw silent shore 
 And sunless sea with shell and weed and bone 
 
 Of darksome life, slow rise through ages hoar, 
 And slow retire through added ages grown. 
 Themselves unwasted still, unlinked to Change alone. 
 
 Now press the tortuous track ; see Wyddfa's ridge 
 Upheaved immense on adamantine walls ; 
 
 Pass thither by the crag's aerial bridge ; ' 
 
 With guarded steps when clinging mist enthrals 
 Snowdonia — then he perishes Avho falls — 
 
 But sunbright yet, magnificently lying 
 
 Beneath your feet behold those mighty halls. 
 
 Par piercing down to depths which undescrying 
 The eye pursues, and whence the shepherd's song comes 
 dying : 
 
 ' Clawdd Coch.
 
 SNOWDON. 137 
 
 Far sweeping round with myriad shapes indented — 
 
 Ledge, buttress, pinnacle, and chasm deep — 
 Within the eagle winged his flight contented. 
 
 The clouds roll midway curtaining the steep, 
 
 And on the ever- verdant floor they weep 
 Their purest tears, and wizard colours glow, 
 
 And funeral shadows throng, and lightnings leap 
 Transverse, and rise the sounds of war or woe 
 When the careering Winds their stormy trumpets blow. 
 
 From central Wyddfa's cairn-crowned summit part 
 The mountain pyramid's deep curving lines ; 
 
 Of Cwms that matchless triad — Snowdon's heart — 
 And peaks whereon the golden morning shines ; — 
 Crib Goch, Crib Ddysgyll, bare with stony spines, 
 
 Grey Lliwedd's side majestically sheer ; 
 
 These gleam all changeful, but when day declines. 
 
 Their giant images fling broad and clear, 
 And shed o'er half the East their beauty grand and drear. 
 
 But who, from these great crags though long beholding, 
 
 Can tell aright the infinite display ! 
 One nearest zone all Venedotia folding 
 
 Which Loveliness and Terror both array ; 
 
 Then myriad circles widening away 
 O'er rural levels, forest, river, plain. 
 
 And teeming city ; o'er the bending bay. 
 And o'er the sparkling waters, till again 
 Within each kingdom's bound they touch a mountain 
 
 chain.
 
 138 SNOWDON. 
 
 All ohjccts merge compressed within your ken, 
 
 All distance now enclianted semblance knows, 
 The winds have accents which the haunts of men 
 
 Hear not, and heaven a holier repose ; 
 
 The sea uplifted near you swells and glows, 
 The hills bow prominent on every side, 
 
 And Mona full her storied islands shows, 
 One gleaming fair where Menai's currents glide, 
 One paled by twenty leagues in mid Saint George's 
 
 tide. 
 
 And mark, around the mountain's rifted base. 
 
 The shining lakes in varied shapes expand ; 
 Now deep-embosomed lies their liquid grace. 
 
 Now brimming high as in a giant's hand ; 
 
 Sweet Gwynant bere begems the vale's green band, 
 Llanberis there her fairy waters bolds ; 
 
 And open Cwellyn's crystal face breeze-fanned. 
 And loveliest Nantlle e'en mid beauty's moulds. 
 And winding Llydaw laid in dark Cwm Dyli's folds. 
 
 Come hither from tbe Avorld ! Ambrosial Spring 
 Quickens the breast of Nature, and thy veins 
 
 Throb warm and generous : though no linnet sing, 
 Or garden-bloom, or joyance of the plains 
 Invite, yet here the vernal Spirit reigns 
 
 INIatchless in azure sky, reposing sea, 
 
 And clouds, the wild winds' image : Who remains 
 
 On this proud peak with him, and cannot see 
 A spring o'er Cymru fall, broad, beautiful, and free !
 
 SNOWDON. 139 
 
 The spring of truest liberty and light, 
 
 Of victory over prejudice and wrong, 
 Of high dominion ; — what though Arthur's might 
 
 And Rhodri's sway no more to her belong, 
 
 Nor in her halls resounds the prince-bard's song ; 
 Yet God protects, and who shall quite destroy ! 
 
 Taught, chastened by the Past, more wise, more strong, 
 The Future she shall fill ; not tool or toy, 
 But Britain's Muse, and Hope, and Counsellor, and Joy ! 
 
 Come hither from the world ! Sweet Autumn brings 
 Clear temperate day, and night for starry dreaming, 
 
 And now one last and crowning beauty flings 
 
 O'er earth and sea and skj^ : As love late beaming 
 In proud and arid hearts, the grey rocks gleaming 
 
 With purple lights incline their lofty breast : 
 
 Low to the vale with warmth and colour teeming ' 
 
 Dai-ts the full stream ; fair- woven boughs invest. 
 And soothe with weeping charms, the cataract's unrest. 
 
 Come hither when the ardent summer Sun 
 
 Springs in full strength above the Berwyn-steep ; 
 
 His circling course from hill to hill is run. 
 In many a lonely lake his splendours sleep, 
 In many a streamlet flash, and broad and deep. 
 
 Far crags and chasms touch with chequered play — 
 Arenig, Aran, Idris' giant keep, 
 
 Eifl's mute camp of stone,' till slow away. 
 In beauty blending all, they die in Arvon's bay. 
 
 ' Tre'r Caeri.
 
 140 SNOWDON. 
 
 As when tlie Roman oft at vigil-time 
 
 Gazed from Segontium after doubtful fights — 
 
 Gazed on the crimson-bannered West, the clime 
 Beyond his ken, beyond his eagle's flight : 
 Where now his own imperial City's might ! 
 
 Where now the hosts that wrought at Cambria's chain ! 
 The Norman eagles crown yon turrets' height ; 
 
 What strength hath sunk — what glory shone in vain ! 
 Still bend the beaming heavens ; the mountains still remain. 
 
 And ever glows the quenchless light from God, 
 
 Religion, spii'it-beauty of the land ; 
 This wreathed wdth myrtle many a tyrant's rod, 
 
 This joined the Saxon's with the Cymro's hand, 
 
 This fired the Muse, trimmed Learning's lamp ; hoAV grand 
 The victory by the chained Caradoc w^on. 
 
 Binding the Roman in a golden band ; 
 For w^hat fair Eurgain's blessed heart begun, 
 Kindled the conquering Cross of queenly Helen's son ! ' 
 
 Star- wooed, cloud- wrapped, the gentle Moon comes gliding. 
 
 Yet evermore the Sun's pale path pursuing. 
 Like Woman's love for some bright Fame, abiding 
 
 Hopeless, untold, intense, her life's undoing ; 
 
 Yet Dian soon her virgin pride renewing, 
 Looks o'er this rock-realm like a fairy-queen. 
 
 Her magic shafts fantastically strewing. 
 And mixing ebon shade with pearly sheen. 
 Till kindling Fancy hails the wild and wondroiis scene. 
 
 ' Eurgain the daughter of Caractacus, is said to have introduced Chris- 
 tianity, with St. Hid, into Britain, on her return from captivity in Rome.
 
 SNOW DON. 141 
 
 But when the fair young Moon — sweet Promise — bends 
 
 Upon heaven's verge all twilight-veiled and low, 
 And timorous of those diamond halls, descends 
 
 Throneless till majesty shall grace endow ; 
 
 Then come the stars in faint and fervid glow 
 O'er-arching ; midnight deepens round the Pole ; 
 
 No breath of care or passion from below, 
 No earth-bred damps their influence control, 
 But clear then- lustre beams, their harmonies deep roll. 
 
 Who hath not felt Light's sphered spirits fill 
 
 Earth's dark gross frame, and plant a passion there, 
 In wood and sea a mystic life instil. 
 
 Give meaning to these crags so dumb and bare, 
 
 Bind good with all ; see Cytherea fair 
 Quiver o'er Silyn, and Jove's burning car 
 
 Roll o'er Lly welyn through the azure air ; 
 And know how strength— joy — beauty — doubly are 
 Linked to those glorious forms, the mountain and the star ! 
 
 Bat would' st thou feel the mountain-glory fold thee ? 
 
 When purblind Luxury to cities goes. 
 When not a foot will trace, or eye behold thee. 
 
 Come hither fearless in the time of snows : 
 
 When to a hundred peaks in white repose 
 The faint cold flushes of the dawn return, 
 
 When Nature like a classic marble shows 
 Her inmost form, until the bosom burn 
 With rapture that the world's poor painted toys can spurn. 
 
 Elen, or Helena, a British princess, was the mother of Constantine. whose 
 vision of the Cross, and the ' In hoc signo vinces,' is well known.
 
 142 SNOWDOX. 
 
 And I have couched above tlie broad abyss, 
 
 On the rock's jagged marge, when cloud o'er cloud 
 
 Dark-massing quenched the brightness that did kiss 
 Lone Llydaw far adown : then crashing loud 
 Came the -wild liurricane ; the sky was bowed 
 
 Upon the hills, and floods of loosened hail 
 
 Smote the unyielding crags ; while wrath-endowed, 
 
 The winds swept seaward rending spar and sail. 
 Or round my head intoned their long unearthly wail. 
 
 So lapsed the night ; a sea of mist upsurging, 
 
 Cut by the sluggish lines of chilling rain, 
 Holds the sad dawn oppressed and unemerg-ing, 
 
 And drifting columns pass in spectral train ; 
 
 Till, as the sickly shapes that cling to Pain 
 Are chased by rosy Health, the vapours glide 
 
 Before the strengthening Beam, and now the plain 
 Rejoices, and the beauteous bow hangs wide, 
 Arching from Aran's head to deep Cynghorion's side. 
 
 Then come, vain youth, who indolently wearest 
 
 Queen Fashion's livery ; daylight mummy rolled 
 In Form's strong swathings, come, for yet thou bearest 
 
 Within, a source of joy untried, untold ; 
 
 And come, thou poor mechanic slave of Gold, 
 And bring thine own pale slaves, nor let them steep 
 
 Tn Lust's mud-lethe the few hours doled 
 For breathing-time ; come all, and drink ye deep 
 From wells that purge the heart, and break the spirit's 
 
 sleep !
 
 SNOWDON. 14.-5 
 
 Yet flock not hither as to city show, 
 
 Nor herd carousing like a Bacchic band, 
 Nor weakly prate of sentiment ere glow 
 
 Imvard the image of the fair and grand ; 
 
 But on the mountains reverently stand, 
 Most holy by the Briton once confest. 
 
 And holy are they still, for hand in hand, 
 The Muses yet the favoured gTound invest, 
 With Heaven's Angel-forms that quicken themes more blest. 
 
 Alas for me who use a stranger tongue, 
 
 And touch with erring hand a humble lyre, 
 
 When Cambria's harp for Cambria should be strung, 
 And ^nbrate to her native words of fire ! — 
 Oh that the lay could hke the thought aspire, 
 
 That so my gratitude I might record 
 
 For hours of health and peace and pure desire, 
 
 And weave a song from all my heart hath stored — 
 Such song as Lly warch loved, or high Taliesin poured !
 
 144 
 
 WAR VERSES, 1854. 
 
 Odessa falls. Sunk ship, dismantled mole. 
 
 Wide-flaming arsenal, and shattered tower, 
 Massed in the mocking waves that o'er them roll, 
 
 Mark the base crime and well-aveng-ing power ! 
 
 No more a pirate-nest where dastards cower 
 To sweep the Euxine when our flag is far; 
 
 No more a sustenance for battle-hour 
 To nurse the frenzy of her maddened Czar ; 
 She lies beneath the feet of mighty Western War. 
 
 Odessa falls, as momently may fall 
 
 Sevastopol v^'ith all hei- armies girt ; 
 liut justice- win god upflew the fiery ball, 
 
 'Gainst one alone its quarrel to assert. 
 
 The armed imperial foe, nor carried hurt 
 "J'o peaceful arts and homes ; not ours to bend 
 
 A Nation's hosts to wrong, or so pervert 
 The spirit of our better Age to rend 
 A second Magdeburg, or raze a new Ostend ! 
 
 For as our War is nobler in its aim, 
 
 Thus be it ever nobler in its course ! 
 No province do we steal, nor fealty claim, 
 
 Nor treaty break, nor fraud maintain by force ; 
 
 With mercy let us use the last resource. 
 Our prowess old, and science-doubled might. 
 
 And show ourselves through all this dread divorce 
 ( )f States, to those unarmed whom battles blight. 
 Magnanimous as strong, firm arbiters of Right !
 
 WAR VERSES, 1854. 145 
 
 To rural uplands, mist- wreathed, glides the morn, 
 
 But pure and brightening, till with waving gold 
 Gleams the brown ripeness of the unsickled corn, 
 
 And myriad sheaves recline in graceful fold ; 
 
 Then Labour's sweetest, only task of old 
 Invites ; song-urged, moves on the harvest- wain ; 
 
 Day glows and sinks ; the kingly star behold 
 Beam o'er the village gleaners' humble train, 
 And Innocence and Mirth, and Peace and Plenty reign ! 
 
 Light struggles sullen through the poisoned air, 
 
 And sulphurous mist above the bastion spread ; 
 The work is done, the citadel lies bare, 
 
 And blood-stained ashes wrap the legioned dead ; 
 
 Havoc exults, and Carnage full has fed : — _ 
 But hark ! — the clang — the tramp — the boom ; again 
 
 Upleap the flames — the driving steel drips red, 
 Till Night's pure eyes look shuddering on the plain 
 Where mingle Famine, Death, and Misery and Pain ! 
 
 God's truth is broad. Let each September story 
 The bosom's noblest S3'TQpathies excite ; 
 
 Be ours alike the hate of War's false glory. 
 And of his infamy who fears to fight : 
 StiU pray that Time War's upas-tree may bHght, 
 
 Art bloom, and Heaven's blessings crown our need ; 
 But when our cause is Liberty and Right, 
 
 Come Battle's horrors ! Let us bear and bleed 
 Till peace be battle-won, which shall be peace indeed ! 
 
 L
 
 146 
 
 MEDITATIONS. 
 
 "Tis the calm of July midnight, and the world around me 
 
 sleeps, 
 Save where Wealth's pale priest Labour a fiery vigil keeps ; 
 And the gleam from his iron altars o'er the placid sky is 
 
 flung. 
 Ever of human sacrifice telling with blood-red tongue. 
 But I turn to the southern planets that in purer air outbend, 
 And I hear the breeze soft-flowing from their lucid founts 
 
 descend, 
 While I lie with cheek moss-pillowed, plaided 'gainst dewy 
 
 harm, 
 Waking the old dream-spirits by the well-remembered charm : 
 So have I pressed the mountain when the beating blood in my 
 
 veins 
 Throbbed over silent clouds and crags and glimmering lakes 
 
 and plains, 
 Till that pulse seemed the pulse of Nature, and her silence 
 
 and her glee, 
 Her beauty and power and passion, were upgathered into me ; 
 Then down the shelving granite through the mountain roots 
 
 I would glide — 
 Down where blind Earthquake nestles— down where the 
 
 Gnomes abide — 
 Down to the glowing chambers where the giant work is done 
 That shall whirl in the crowning Ages Earth's fragments 
 
 around the sun : —
 
 MEDITATIONS. 147 
 
 Thence forth to the ocean-gardens, to the tideless hyaHne, 
 Where mid the mazy corals the lights of emerald shine — 
 To the ghostly shell-paved cities where never may footstep 
 
 tread 
 On the spoils of human gi-andeur, on the bones of human 
 
 dead : — 
 And upward yet to the noonday, and upward thence afar, 
 Till upward and downward be not, but only ether and star, 
 Till I saw earth sphered and convex in her steady courses run, 
 And the first pale solar glory strike on her bosom dun. 
 Then drooped weak Fancy's pinions, and a loftier Spirit came 
 Who lifted my heavy eyelids, and lighted a purer flame ; 
 I looked on Life's narrow purpose, on Pleasure's phantom 
 
 goal, 
 I looked through the circling Infinite on the birthright of the 
 
 Soul, 
 I saw the dust-bent foreheads grope with the flickering torch 
 
 of Time, 
 And I prayed for the Kght eternal — the path and the faith 
 
 sublime. 
 The vision faded from me, but I bore to the world a boon 
 Wliich, long as night can awake it, shall never be quenched 
 
 by noon — 
 Sweet hope for the clouded heaven, sweet calm for the hour 
 
 of strife, 
 And an ampler rule of Duty, and a larger view of Life ! 
 ****** 
 
 Day after day the Sun's old splendours still 
 Rise opaUne, and fall in golden flame ; 
 The Moon puts on her beauty's changeful robe 
 In sure recurrence, and the solemn stars 
 
 L 2
 
 148 MEDITATIONS. 
 
 Watch o'er the city's throng as erst they watched 
 
 O'er scattered shepherds couched on Asian plains : 
 
 Earth spreads her lap to all the elements, 
 
 And flowers and fruits, and dews and rains, and snows, 
 
 O'erfiU it ; still her mountains stand, her rivers 
 
 Run ever, and her immemorial seas 
 
 Gird her, and cry with choral monotone ; 
 
 And she with all her life and wealth and beauty — 
 
 Parent and child as well as world and mother — 
 
 Obedient sweeps around the central Light, 
 
 While hours feed years, and ages centuries grow. 
 
 Man alone changes ; not alone wath change 
 
 From frail to strong, from misty morn to noon 
 
 Of shorter shadows ; not as grows the boy 
 
 To liis full heritage of nerve and brain, 
 
 Or as the savage comes from tangled Avoods, 
 
 And sluggish meres, and idols fire-enshrined. 
 
 To kneel upon the marble floor beneath 
 
 The Cross of Christ, and in the foram stand 
 
 Pre-eminent in letters, arts, or arms : 
 
 Such increase is all good, such change is glory, 
 
 Effulgence bom of the Promethean spark 
 
 To light and lift the world. It is not this 
 
 That moves to tears or scorn the heart which love 
 
 And exultation ought unmixed to fill ; 
 
 'Tis the dark shade where plants unlovely spring — 
 
 The Vice that trampling Virtue's fair white robe. 
 
 Puts on a gaudy veil and struts absolved ; 
 
 It is the lusts, lies, follies, sins and shames. 
 
 That grow with Man's advance, and day by day 
 
 Warp him the more from what he was when near
 
 MEDITATIONS. 149 
 
 To Nature he was nearer God ; — Oh why 
 
 Should Civilization, bringing precious gifts 
 
 Of knowledge, wealth, ease, beauty, power, bring too 
 
 What turns them all to lures and counterfeits ! — 
 
 Why set up idols false and frail as clay 
 
 To sit like adamant upon the heart — 
 
 Fashion, Convention, Habit — all that stands 
 
 Between us and our Maker ! Why with wants 
 
 And cares and aims innumerous oversow 
 
 The field of fellowship till man to man 
 
 Is enemy ! Why knit Earth's utmost bounds, 
 
 Yet dig a gulf within the walls of home ! 
 
 Alas ! we walk amid the flood of light 
 
 Dai'kliug, with footsteps base and foreheads bent, 
 
 Seeking some pleasure's gaud, or folly's toy. 
 
 Some golden profit, or some fortune-charm — 
 
 Selfish the search, and selfishness the end ; 
 
 We will not lift our eyes or lend our ears. 
 
 Though Nature from the circling universe 
 
 Call with her many voices grand and sweet ; 
 
 Though borne ou Time's swift car there pass us by 
 
 Great Destinies and lofty Needs demanding 
 
 Achievement at our hands, and human Love 
 
 Pass sorrowing, and Love divine reproach 
 
 In pity our lost worship ; — what to us 
 
 The old faith, and simple aims, and childlike trust, 
 
 And patriot virtue, and firm brotherhood, 
 
 Patience and self-denial ! — they are names ; 
 
 Their substance would but choke the stream of 
 
 life. 
 Let them then leave their semblance here and go 1
 
 150 MEDITATIONS. 
 
 Yet — yet, not all is fled, for though above 
 
 The smooth false levels of our social state, 
 
 Some crime colossal deep- engendered there, 
 
 As rise the corals in Pacific seas. 
 
 Rears oft its head to startle and annoy ; 
 
 Still see colossal Virtue rising too ! 
 
 Witness his honoured name^ who in a day 
 
 When Poverty is Vice, and Gold is God, 
 
 Stripped him of half his wealth's rich robe to clothe 
 
 His naked brethren : little need he care 
 
 For prudent^tongues that mid the forced acclaim. 
 
 Whispered — 'Tis strange — 'tis foolish — he is mad. 
 
 And he too, foremost hero of our time, 
 
 Hero of Aspromonte not the less 
 
 Than of Marsala ; they adjudge him mad, 
 
 The man of calm clear mind, because he went 
 
 Straight to his heart's pure purpose, heedless all 
 
 Of Statecraft's rule and Priestcraft's interdict ; 
 
 Because he trusted to his fellow-men, 
 
 Declared their right, asd bade them but assert 
 
 Their power to have whate'er their right comprised : 
 
 Go, measure then the Sun's ecliptic path 
 
 ^Vith your base ell-wand ere you measure him ! 
 
 Great now as ever when you deem him fallen ; — 
 
 He falls, and doth Italia rise ? Ye fools 
 
 Who sigh for Venice — Rome, yet dare not let 
 
 Your pulse beat warm enough to nerve your arm. 
 
 Talk on — wait on, poor diplomates, and dream 
 
 That to your feeble heads there will be given 
 
 Wliat with your craven hearts ye could not win [ 
 
 ' Geokge Peabody.
 
 151 
 
 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Sunset's ruby flames are glowing 
 
 In the tall and leafy limes, 
 While the south- wind softly flowing 
 
 Brings the Convent's vesper-chimes. 
 
 Sleep is nesthng in the flowers, 
 Coolness fans the level lawn, 
 
 And a veil of happy hours 
 
 'Tween the night and day is drawn. 
 
 Fair the mom will be to-morrow 
 By the evening's rosy sign ; — 
 
 Let us put by gloom and sorrow, 
 'Tis our birthday, thine and mine! 
 
 'Tis our birthday ! we will make it 
 Bright with song and game and glee ; 
 
 What's good for thirteen, I take it, 
 Isn't bad for thirty-three. 
 
 I must have them all about me — 
 All the rays that grace the Gem ; 
 
 Well I love my G. — don't doubt me — 
 And we both love E, and M,
 
 152 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Esther with that pretty fashion 
 
 In her looks and words and ways ; — 
 
 May those Norman eyes long flash on 
 Fair, if changeful, future days ! 
 
 Mabel, sterling little Saxon, 
 Quiet, loving, ai'ch and kind. 
 
 She will bear Time's worst attacks on 
 Life, with calm and cheerful mind ! 
 
 They shall come, and all the others. 
 
 Yours and theirs of home's sweet ring- 
 Good Papa, Mamma, and brothers — 
 I, alas ! have none to bring. 
 
 • Hail our Birthday ! we will show it 
 For a day of happiness. 
 And the marmalade shall know it, 
 And the ivory keys confess ! 
 
 II. 
 
 'Tis indeed our birthday, dearest, 
 Gertie, faithful little heart. 
 
 Here our lines of life run nearest. 
 But from hence how wide they part ! 
 
 From the summit of existence 
 Granite-bare, I look around ; 
 
 Thou art in the purple distance 
 Where the lihes deck the ground.
 
 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 153 
 
 I can see, wliere nought can hide them, 
 Peaks that kred me from the plain ; 
 
 Passion's mist had magnified them, 
 I have scaled them — they are vain. 
 
 Soon must I with swifter motion 
 
 Downward bend, and humbly go 
 To that shoreless silent ocean 
 
 Where is never ebb or flow. 
 
 Thou, fair child, shalt journey gently, 
 
 Only good as fair remain — 
 Only heed not too intently 
 
 Flowers of pleasure, thorns of pain. 
 
 Though our destined paths divide us. 
 
 Brighter, surer, still be thine ! 
 And the love that once allied us, 
 
 Long shall shed its light on mine. 
 
 III. 
 
 It is midnight ; clouds are flitting 
 Over heaven's sepulchral deep, 
 
 And the Moon, pale Witch, high sitting. 
 Counts the shadows as they sweep. 
 
 See, she calls them to their places, 
 Gliding ghosts of buried years. 
 
 Dim but unforgotten faces 
 
 Gray with smiles, or dark with tears !
 
 154 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Little Clarrie, little Clarrie ! 
 
 Come from midst them — it is thou ; 
 Thou wast angel here, or fairy, 
 
 Hardly more thou canst be now. 
 
 Oh those golden curls o'ershading 
 Dimpled neck and forehead white ; 
 
 Oh those eyes which, all-pervading. 
 Awed us with their mystic light ! 
 
 Oh that cheek's too changeful blossom, 
 Where the quick blood mantled wild, 
 
 As the restless little bosom 
 
 Heaved too proudly for a child ! 
 
 Well I loved thee in thy laughter 
 When the amber tresses shook, 
 
 Marking well, to mimic after. 
 
 Stranger's song, or speech or look ! 
 
 Well I loved thee in thy learnino- — 
 Loved that high and longing glance, 
 
 Still from Fact's cold noontide turninir 
 To the twilight of Romance ! * 
 
 Oh I loved thee beyond telling 
 When thy Genii from afar 
 
 Bore thee sleepbound to their dwelling, 
 Ocean cave or summer star !
 
 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 155 
 
 Little Clarrie, little Clarrie, 
 
 Dost thou now nnsleeping stand 
 Where the white-robed children tarry, 
 
 Leaning on their Father's hand ? 
 
 Where is Hght to fill thy vision — 
 
 Where is love to bless thy heart — 
 Beauty, like thy dreams, Elysian — 
 
 Joy that knows no after-smart. 
 
 rv. 
 
 Life, warm human life, is nearest, 
 And I clasp its ties again, 
 
 Clarrie lives in Gertie dearest, 
 And this birthday is not vain. 
 
 Year on year the summers golden 
 Bear her with them as they run ; 
 
 Hardly heeds she memories olden. 
 She is blooming twenty-one ! 
 
 Fair to gaze upon, but fairer 
 In the meaning of her eyes, 
 
 And a beauty subtler, rarer. 
 Every feature underlies. 
 
 Earnest-hearted, simple-minded, 
 Purpose pure, and speech sincere. 
 
 Not a word leaves pain behind it, 
 Not an action prompts a tear.
 
 15(> TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Loving still the dear ones round her 
 
 Deeply as their sacred due, 
 Home affections do not bound her, 
 
 Kind and Country loves she too. 
 
 No vain talent in her fingers, 
 No light skill of pen or tongue, 
 
 Marring life's matureness, lingers 
 From the days when life was young. 
 
 Well and early hath her spirit 
 
 Drunk of Art's unsullied springs ; 
 
 Genius through the fields of Merit 
 Bears her on with broadest w4np-s. 
 
 Gloom and glory of the mountain 
 
 Feed her with ethereal fire, 
 While, as from some wood-screened fountain. 
 
 Comes the influence of her sire. 
 
 All that music subtlest, finest. 
 
 All that song's sweet accents can, 
 
 Useth she for ends divinest. 
 
 Praise to God, and peace to Man. 
 
 Noble girl ! erect in duty, 
 
 Gathering still, as seasons roll, 
 
 Grandeur, melody, and beauty, 
 From Creation to her soul.
 
 TO GERTRUDE, ON OUR BIRTHDAY. 157 
 
 Now in all her birthday splendour, 
 
 Virgin- vestured see her stand, 
 Modest, candid, true and tender. 
 
 Mid the friends that press her hand ! 
 
 Be she always as this hour, 
 
 Wise and simple, pure and good — 
 'Tis the never-faihng dower, 
 
 Strength and charm of Womanhood ! 
 
 So shall birthdays ever^glowing 
 
 Bathe with hght the Past's grey urn. 
 
 So through change and fortune flowing, 
 Happier be in each return !
 
 158 
 
 A TRIAD. 
 
 Eirbc, ILitl)t, ILcbrn. 
 
 (On Herder's Tomb.) 
 
 Hail to the Life, the Light, the Love, that flows 
 Through eloquent marble, from the mute repose 
 
 Aix)und the poet's grave ! 
 A triple amaranth to wreathe his name — 
 Beacon for Time's dark stream — pure guiding flame 
 
 O'er the eteimal wave ! 
 
 Oh, beautifiers of the mouldering dust — 
 Oh, calm interpreters of joy and trust 
 
 From night to battling day ! 
 Still let us seek them though we never find — 
 Still let us woo them to oui" heart and mind, 
 
 And shun — not dare — the fray ! 
 
 Happy who can ! on whose sustained desiring 
 Possession waits — to meet whose high aspiring 
 
 The Empyrean bends : — 
 On whose first fervency, no growing chill — 
 On whose deep sense of good, no quenching ill - 
 
 As age, on youth — attends !
 
 A TRIAD. 159 
 
 II. 
 
 Life ! for the poor and mean a pregnant soil 
 Of weed and bramble — many- textured toil 
 
 To wring out daily bread ; — 
 Wring: out what serves but as the needed fuel 
 To wake again in ever-fixed renewal, 
 
 The power of arm or head. 
 
 Life ! for the rich and proud, a gilded net 
 By lust with suavities empoisoned set 
 
 To lure and leave the soul ; — 
 A morning's flirting with bedizened Fashion — 
 A noon's libation at the shrine of Passion — 
 
 A midnight's deathbell toll ! 
 
 Life ! ardent essence poui-ed into each mould 
 Of pleasure, knowledge, glory, art, or gold, 
 
 The choice or chance of all : 
 Ah ! none can satisfy and none can last; 
 Who doth not hate the idol he hath cast. 
 
 And fret from tlirall to thrall ! 
 
 The tender heart soon breaks, or hardens soon ; 
 The mind nods idiot-like to any tune. 
 
 Or maddens in resistance ; 
 Nerv^e, pulse, and bloom, an hour may blast or chill, 
 An atom blind, an inhalation kill ; 
 
 And this makes up Existence !
 
 100 A TRIAD. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yet Wisdom's fair imperishable glow ; 
 
 The world without, the world within, to know — 
 
 The depths of Being sound ! 
 Alas ! Light's high advance is Love's decrease ; 
 The more of eminence the less of peace. 
 
 Hushed voices breathe around. 
 
 What though some reflex of the mighty flame 
 Mav ffrace a brow and consecrate a name, 
 
 Some saddening shade it bears : 
 Oft the unearthly radiance waneth out, 
 Dimmed by the damps of uncongenial doubt, 
 
 Stifled by sordid cares. 
 
 Who points enraptured gaze the tube along, 
 Where growing stars on stars to meet him throng, 
 
 Soon the strained eye must rest ; 
 Who climbs above the clouds on mountain-steep. 
 Amid emotions manifold and deep 
 
 Draws pain with labouring breast. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Be Love then all our hope and best reward — 
 The one pure well, the harmonising chord 
 
 Linked with our dissonant strings ; — 
 A low- voiced teacher of the golden mean, 
 A saving shield to lift in battle keen, 
 
 Or balm that healing brings !
 
 A TRIAD. 161 
 
 Ask the warm Poet — he hath wrought the spell 
 That binds such beauty to our souls so well — 
 
 What is his own awaking 
 From rosy dreams of sympathetic bliss 
 Meet for the pure and delicate sense — it is 
 
 To feel his vexed heart breaking ! 
 
 Ask the high flaunter of ancestral blazon, 
 Who turns from Nature's solemn diapason 
 
 To Folly's tinkling strain ; 
 WTiat knows lie of the love that cannot palter, 
 Whom policy leads scheming to the altar 
 
 To meet a bride as vain ! 
 
 Still, though with diamonds, orange-flowers, crests, 
 Love simple, single-minded, rarely rests, 
 
 It Kghts the humblest lot ! 
 No ! envy, hunger, disappointment, debt. 
 Are clouds o'er many a home so densely set, 
 
 Love's beams can enter not. 
 
 Remain they then in middle paths that go. 
 Nor falsely great, nor languishingly low, 
 
 And Love to such may cling : — 
 But theirs the lifelong, headlong chace of gold, 
 And Love were welcome to be bought and sold, 
 
 But else an idle thing. 
 
 M
 
 162 A TRIAD. 
 
 Yet blooms a time when every girl and boy 
 Is firm in faith and prescient of joy ; — 
 
 The heart Love's spring-tides lave : — 
 Ah surer still there droops an aftertime 
 When Life's repulsive wrecks and ooze and slime 
 
 Mark the receded wave ! 
 
 Alas ! o'er these fair words the cypress weeps, 
 Nor thus can retrospect from him who sleeps 
 
 Survive of earthly hours ; 
 The fruit was there, but with the worm destroying ; 
 The gold was there, but with the dross alloying ; 
 
 And weeds oppressed the flowers. 
 
 Ah no ! with higher hope the legend burns, 
 And, as a talisman thrice holy, turns 
 
 The Tomb to Heaven's portal ; 
 Wlicre Love shall be one Catholic embrace. 
 And Light enkindled from the Giver's face, 
 
 And Life intense, immortal. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet — beautifiers of the mouldering dust, 
 And calm interpreters of joy and trust 
 
 From night to battling day ; 
 Still let us seek them though we never find ; 
 Still let us woo them to our heart and mind, 
 
 Nor wholly shun the fray !
 
 A TRIAD. 163 
 
 Still let us live to learn, and learn to live ; 
 
 Still of the kind affections freely give- 
 Requited well or ill ; — 
 
 And shape some end beyond our fireside bound, 
 
 And break the chains of Circumstance around, 
 With pure and lofty will ! 
 
 And strip Pride's rags, and purge besetting Sin, 
 And fondly, reverently, guard within 
 
 And nurse the undying germ ; 
 And seek Creation's many-lettered lore, 
 And work, and rest, and suffer, and adore, 
 
 Gentle, and wise, and firm ! 
 
 So may permitted storms of Fortune beat, 
 And Error's clouds perplex awhile our feet, 
 
 And Disa,ppointment sting ; 
 "With inborn force the outward counteracting. 
 From roughest herbs some anodyne extracting, 
 
 And clearing each dark spring ; 
 
 Live we undauntedly the life of years, 
 And while its eternal home the spirit nears, 
 
 Let it grow pure in this ; 
 Until at last, the sad novitiate ended, 
 Itself with Glory infinite be blended, 
 
 Omniscience, and Bliss ! 
 m2
 
 164 
 
 LOVE-RHAPSODIES. 
 
 From the quiet little chamber where I sit the most in summer, 
 Whence field and wood beneath me spread southward fair 
 and free, 
 Whei'e the pure winds cross my forehead, and the lark, a 
 frequent comer, 
 Pours out his soul's deep lyi'ic, I unveil my heart to thee. 
 
 Last night I met the darkening face of Auster in his anger. 
 When he whirled the sleet before him, when he chased the 
 spectral Moon 
 Through her multiform cloud-caverns, as Strength oppresses 
 Languor, 
 As demons drive some piteous ghost from Mercy's blessed 
 boon. 
 
 E'en such hath been the oracle of inauspicious seeming, 
 
 Forever when I would unlock Fate's Hps or Fortune's hand — 
 The thunder-throe of mountains, and the keen blue fire-bolt 
 streaming, 
 Or the sea's hoarse booming laughter on the drear death- 
 jagged strand : 
 
 Or the mocking cry of nightbird athwart the forest wheeling. 
 Heard shrilly through the tumult of the old Druidic pines. 
 
 Or the mist that swathed my spirit with a cold and corpse- 
 like feeling. 
 Or the rain that smote ray eyelids with its dull and rigid lines.
 
 LOVE-RHAPSODIES. 165 
 
 But impartial Nature ! who liast answered me austerely, 
 When with yearning strong I prayed to gain good omens 
 from thy smile, 
 These grandeurs were a recompense won willingly though 
 dearly, 
 And Thought hath risen clear and cold from Passion's 
 funeral pile. 
 
 And gently now thou soothest me with e'en a show of gladness, 
 And pointest to the promise of the hour newly born, 
 
 For Peace has stilled the weary Hps of elemental Madness, 
 And Light has kissed away the tears from the clouded eyes 
 of Morn. 
 
 From the pale green of the meadow to the azure of the zenith, 
 Thi-ough twig and bud and brooklet — through every sen- 
 tient thing. 
 Is shed the vital fervour of the season that beginneth. 
 
 The first self-conscious flushing on the maiden cheek of 
 Spring. 
 
 thou who art my better Spring, my newest hope and nearest, 
 Who breath'st thy beauty through the heaven, and o'er the 
 earth around. 
 In whom I sum up all delights — Cythna, ever dearest, 
 Without thine influence vain to me were vernal sight or 
 sound ! 
 
 Without thee, June's meridian glow were Zembla's arctic 
 morning. 
 Without thee, Autumn's lavish feast were Nubia's desert 
 bare ; 
 What were the queenly diamonds some festal hour adorning. 
 If on thy breast they sparkled not, nor gleamed within thy 
 hair !
 
 166 LOVE-RHAPSODIES. 
 
 See from his fleecy couch of cloud the ardent Sun-god 
 spiinging, 
 Withdraws the filmy curtain of day's ethereal dome, 
 And do^ATiward to the earth's pale floor his shafts of glory 
 winging, 
 Smiles on the spot most dear to me, the white walls of thy 
 home ! 
 
 Alas ! no glad responsive smile on that lonely mansion sitteth. 
 But mute and wan and cold, it meets my oft-directed gaze ; 
 
 A Grief is brooding over it, a dark-plumed Memory flittcth 
 Ever around the rooftree of the undivided days. 
 
 Oh would that I could comfort thee in this thy recent sorrow, 
 Could calm thy mind with lofty aims, and give a wider scope ; 
 
 Could bring thee consolations thou from kindred canst not 
 borrow. 
 Could soften for thee memory, and brighten for thee hope ! 
 
 Oh would that to my bosom, sweet Flower, I could fold thee, 
 That while, as roseate leaf by leaf, the life-joys droop and 
 part. 
 Watched, tended, blessed and blessing. Change and Fortune 
 should behold thee 
 Expanding still to happier bloom fx-om thy glowing central 
 heart ! 
 
 I know not what I write or hope — some witchery is o'er me. 
 And thoughts that once untrammelled roved, around the 
 enchantress throng ; 
 I summon the severer Muse, but thou art still before me — 
 I turn from life's free paths and aims, a thrall to love and 
 song.
 
 LOVE-RHAPSODIES. 167 
 
 It was not thus when long ago the fair false Dream, Ambition, 
 While the City roared beneath me, to my midnight chamber 
 came ; 
 With burning eye and tempting tongue she shaped a gorgeous 
 vision, 
 And filled my sight with fantasies, and fed my heart with 
 flame. 
 
 And Woman feared or mocked me then ; I paid her back by 
 scorning, 
 And worshipped an Egeria long, in secret and afar, 
 Whose bosom was the swelling hills, whose breath May's dcAvy 
 morning — 
 Wliose voice the streamlet's softest flow, whose eye the 
 twiliofht star. 
 
 o 
 
 And yet there came a gentle girl, a little while to be an 
 Inspirer and consoler from the vineyards of the South ; — 
 
 Her form matured to perfect grace in the mountains Euganean ; 
 And sweetest were the liquid tones breathed from her rose- 
 sweet mouth. 
 
 She passed ; and do my eyes grow dim before a second vision, 
 And deeper harmonies of love around my spirit roll ; — 
 
 Ah shadow vain and vacant as the offspring of magician — 
 Ah mocking music stifling not the dreary death-bell's toll ! 
 
 For what art thou, whom, smitten with the glorious name thou 
 bearest, 
 I Cythna call, and fondly clothe with all her light and grace ; 
 Say canst thou show the nympholept his deepest, subtlest, 
 rarest 
 Conceptions of true Womanhood reflected in thy face ?
 
 168 LOVE-llIIAPSODIES. 
 
 Art thou not moulded by the World, and tutored by Conven- 
 tion — 
 Bound by the laws which Folly makes, and Fashion coun- 
 tersigns ; 
 And could thy being ever know the soul's sublime ascension 
 From Life's debasing social flats, and weary level lines ! 
 
 Dost thou believe, and speak, and act, unslirinkingly appealing 
 To Grod's eternal tiniths in thee, as all Creation, set ? 
 
 Or dost thou take for arbitress of daily deed and feeling. 
 That haughtiest, falsest, meanest, of Man's idols, Etiquette ? 
 
 But oh I wrong thee, wrong thee thus ; what sullen cloud 
 was hiding < 
 
 Thy clear calm face that comes to me a blessing of the night, 
 "Where, fair as Dian mid her stars, is Womanhood presiding 
 
 Over the linked Spirits twain of power and of Hght. 
 
 Ah Cythna, with the introspect of love's quick looks of fire 
 That hardly dared meet thine, I long have marked thy 
 nature well ; 
 
 I know thy patience and thy faith, thy genius to aspire, 
 Thy sweet affections to endear, thy talents to excel. 
 
 I read thy love of noble things, thy prescience of all duty. 
 Thy will that moulds and conquers all, nor feeble nor 
 austere ; 
 These are the themes, and for the type have I not all thy 
 beauty 
 Whose exquisitcness renders them thrice eloquent, thrice 
 clear !
 
 LOVE-UIL\PSODIES. 169 
 
 What is't to me if brighter eye have traced these living pages — 
 
 If worthier heart have thrilled at them, if wealthier hand 
 
 have turned ; 
 
 Could I complain that other love thy queenly breast engages — 
 
 That deeper passion was outpoured — that better vows were 
 
 spurned ! 
 
 I say not I am worthy thee, for thou art best and highest — 
 I deem not I can win thee yet, for Fate is yet unkind ; — 
 
 But oh believe that whatsoe'er of great and good is nighest 
 Thy life and faith, around my heart with kindred growth is 
 twined ! 
 
 To search with me the mystic laws of Destiny and Being — 
 To tread with me familiar paths of Nature, wide and far — 
 
 To know the Almighty Infinite, indwelling, overseeing, 
 Alike in wood-anemone and world-composing star ; — 
 
 To range with me through vanished Time, whose teachings 
 vanish never ; — 
 Through Poesy's Elysian fields— through Wisdom's purer 
 part — 
 Is what I ask thee, Cythna sweet, that mind with mind may 
 ever 
 Be interfused in growing light, and knit us heart to heart. 
 
 And knowledge comes by love, and joy of God's own good 
 bestowing. 
 And, fanned by love, life's folded powers and instincts 
 chilled unclose, 
 E'en as to Zephyr's dewy breath, and June's caresses glowing. 
 Responds, with all her inmost charms, the Spring-neglected 
 rose.
 
 170 
 
 PR^LATA PUELLIS. 
 
 No starring charm in Beauty's list — 
 
 No meretricious grace, 
 But unpretending loveliness 
 
 Lives in her form and face. 
 
 Her mouth transparent candour marks, 
 Her eyes good humour's light ; 
 
 She only utters what she feels, 
 And only feels aright. 
 
 A soul from Nature fair and true. 
 
 To love the true and fair, 
 To shine in Art, yet value not 
 
 Its tinsel and its glare. 
 
 Knowledge more deep than loud, and wit. 
 
 But tempered to be kind, 
 And will to do Life's earnest work, 
 
 And Duty's straight path find : 
 
 With sympathy and sorrow there 
 
 For those that fall or flee ; 
 A heart whose love for all the world 
 
 Deepens its love for me.
 
 PR^LATA PUELLIS. 171 
 
 Dear friend and love ! whom once to know — 
 
 Wliatever then betide — 
 Through life, through death, is still to keep 
 
 Good angels at my side.
 
 172 
 
 TO CYTimA. 
 
 Cythna ! for thus I name thee, fair unknown, 
 Binding a double glory round thy head — 
 This from an ever- brightening memory shed ; 
 
 That from the soul's expression all thine own, 
 
 If well I read it in those calm eyes shown ; — 
 Comest thou to my heart, a garden dead, 
 With perished buds and wild weeds overspread, 
 
 As Cometh Spring with hope of flower and fruit ? 
 
 Com'st thou to wake in me the music mute. 
 
 By true love's touch, and while my spirit's bark, 
 
 Wearily tossing on a changeful sea, 
 
 Helmless and aimless drifteth through the dark. 
 
 Lured by false lights ; arisest ihou to be 
 
 A bright and blessed star to guide it to its mark ? 
 
 Ah me ! for what am I that know thee not 
 Save as a star is known ; nor word nor sign 
 Hath made thee conscious yet of me or mine, 
 
 And I am aKen to thy loftier lot ; 
 
 And thou perchance art other than I deem. 
 
 And could' st not wear the wreath my fancies twine, 
 Nor fill the Ideal of Youth's golden dream 
 
 That missed the human, shaping the divine : —
 
 TO CYTHNA. 173 
 
 No ! I will trust thee ; and as motintain grot 
 
 Embosoms some pure source, whicli soon, a stream 
 
 Of breadth and beauty, bids the world behold ; 
 
 So shall my secret heart thy name enfold, 
 
 And love thee, though thy smile on others beam — 
 
 Love thee unknown and mute, yet with a joy untold ! 
 
 Vain, vain the utterance ! thou art still before me. 
 
 Statelier and sweeter in thy sombre dress, 
 
 For all it adds of inner loveliness — 
 Ever a presence like the sky bent o'er me, 
 
 With more, alas ! of shade than Kght : I press 
 Gloomily on for life's most sordid needs, 
 Or haply rush to far off river-meads ; 
 
 To valley nestling deep ; to headland stormy ; 
 To savage mountain where the icewind speeds : — 
 
 In vain ! 'tis not enough that thou art there . 
 
 A brooding Thought, a goddess of the air ; 
 Passion for love unveiled and human pleads, 
 
 And Natui^e's Hps are dumb and (offerings bare, 
 
 Without thy mind to note — without thy heart to share. 
 
 But when the clear and choral hj^mn ascending 
 From holiest House asserts the holiest Day ; 
 When outward cares and pleasures fall away. 
 
 And purely longing, inly comprehending, 
 The soul may catch one empyrean ray ; 
 Then, Cythna, thou art near me, and we pray 
 
 Meekly before the common Father bending : — 
 Oh quicklier then Devotion's pulses beat 
 That thou art near ! since o'er the Mercy-seat 
 
 Of God, immortal Love's wide wings extending,
 
 174 TO CYTHNA. 
 
 Draw heart to heart, and Earth to Heaven ; — and thou 
 Wilt love, I feel, where love may be most meet — 
 Wilt tread calm Duty's heights, nor disavow 
 The pure within thine eyes, the noble on thy brow.
 
 175 
 
 ON REVIENT TOUJOURS. 
 
 The eve is come with glories bright 
 
 Of wave and cloud and star ; 
 The ship pursues her path of light ; 
 
 The winds are hushed afar ; 
 Mirth treads the deck, and Pleasure calls 
 
 Across the charmed sea ; 
 But unresponding sinks my heart, 
 
 Saddened for love of thee. 
 
 The morning glows on gorgeous Seine, 
 
 On palace, bridge, and tower, 
 And wakes the world of joy again 
 
 In hall and street and bower : 
 I Hsten to the eager speech, 
 
 And seem to share the glee, 
 But cold and calm my spirit sleeps. 
 
 Lonely for love of thee. 
 
 The noon is shed through arching boughs 
 
 In silent Fontainebleau ; 
 The deer flit forth across the glade ; 
 
 The shadows come and go : 
 The rocks in wizard forms are spread ; 
 
 The hills stand solemnly ; 
 I lie mid Nature's lavished wealth, 
 
 Careless for love of thee.
 
 176 ON REVIENT TOUJOURS. 
 
 Night steals through dim cathedral panes 
 
 On saints in sculptured sleep, 
 And arch and oriel bid the eye 
 
 To visions far and deep : 
 But marble floor and blazoned vault 
 
 And golden shrine to me 
 Nor charm the sense, nor lift the heart. 
 
 Restless for love of thee.
 
 177 
 
 ROBERT LUCAS CHANCE. 
 
 Not often, mid the ebb and flow of men, 
 
 Dies there a man like this : nor life nor death 
 Holds many sucb, in whom his Maker's breath 
 
 Was honoured, passing e'en famihar ken, 
 
 And all of him — heart, hand, voice, purse, and pen — 
 Obedient still to what the Master saith — 
 Work, pray, love, bless : tkls is the gold of Faith, 
 
 And all else dross ! Weep him who bear his name ; 
 
 He built your House erect in honest fame ; 
 
 Weep, and forget not : weep liim with true tears. 
 
 Children twice orphaned now ; ye sick, forlorn. 
 
 And fortune- stricken : weep him, friends and peers : 
 
 Yet, yet rejoice the good old man is born 
 
 To his undpng youth, and his Lord's Well done ! hears ! 
 
 March 7, 1865. 
 
 K
 
 178 
 
 ON THE EVE OF A REFORM DIVISION. 
 
 Gladstone ! reflect, repent ; the hour is brief 
 
 Which brings thee shame or glory ; scorn to bask 
 In passionate Folly's smiles, but earn and ask 
 
 Love from the Nation's heart that owns with gi'ief 
 
 Thine en'ors. Wouldst thou be her Council's Chief P- 
 Tear from thy darkening brows the graceless mask 
 Of right ; address thee to a loftier task. 
 
 With purer eyes ; and Time thy laurel-leaf 
 
 Will keep for ever. What ! when justly planned. 
 
 As boldly ventured, for the common weal. 
 
 Reform awaits their voice, shall Faction's sand 
 
 Engulf it ! Shall not statesmen own the appeal 
 Rock-based on Concord, nobly hand in hand 
 
 Crowning their work, and setting-to their seal ! 
 
 April 18, 1867.
 
 179 
 
 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE. 
 
 (Inscribed to A. A.) 
 
 An old grey stone near an old Church-tower, 
 In a pasture-mead, by a brooklet's brink, 
 
 With nothing of service or beauty or power, 
 Has Uttle to waken one's interest, you think : 
 
 And heedless we see it, when east \vinds blow 
 The factory- smoke from our winter air. 
 
 Lying formless and folded in unsmirched snow, 
 Or black on earth's bosom frozen and bare. 
 
 And heedless too in the golden time 
 
 When populous grows the meadow-path. 
 
 When round the rude angles June's wildings climb. 
 Or the clover-sweet wealth of the after- math. 
 
 Yet though all unnoted, uncared for, lone. 
 
 In our Vulcan- vowed district, and ' practical ' day. 
 
 There's something about this incongruous stone 
 That wit might guess at, and reason weigh. 
 
 How came it hither ? — the valley slopes 
 Upward and south to the woodland crest ; 
 
 Downward and north to the streets where mopes 
 The poor little stream by bricks oppressed. 
 
 n2
 
 180 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE. 
 
 Sunrise and sunset sliow nothing clear 
 
 Of quarry or hill to help our pains ; 
 No ice-rolled boulder rests, I fear, 
 
 Pace our Pastor, on Midland plains. 
 
 Well, was it dug from beneath the loam 
 
 When the land was levelled, or bounded, or 
 ploughed ? 
 
 Some relic of building or battering Rome 
 Among the Cornavii might be allowed. 
 
 But never a mark of chisel is there. 
 
 And fancy ballistce for such a ball ! 
 Each Iter is dumb, and these fields are bare 
 
 Of tomb and trench and mound and wall. 
 
 Did it come from the Moon ? Has she fires enough 
 To hurl, with a thousand Etnas' force. 
 
 The glowing granite from crater or trough 
 
 To the point where Attraction inverts its course ? 
 
 • 
 Or was it an Asteroid's shattered shell 
 
 That launched it afar in its flamiii"- flig-ht. 
 Till thundering and hissing to Earth it fell 
 
 Stunning the ear of om- calm Midnight ? 
 
 But if it came thus from above or beneath. 
 
 Why did not farmers clear it away, 
 Or savants impound it, and duly bequeath 
 
 Some certified note for the men of to-day ?
 
 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE. 181 
 
 A boundary-stone ? But the rivulet there, 
 As old as it, runs shining and straight — 
 
 A market- stone ? where the people in fear 
 Of plague or ravage were wont to wait. 
 
 Yet History fails, and Evidence quite, 
 
 And all that Tradition has to say, 
 Is that two horses brought the Stone in the night, 
 
 And twenty couldn't take it away ! 
 
 A marvellous pebble for growth, no doubt, 
 Like the three in Idris' the giant's shoe, 
 
 Who, finding they hurt him, kicked them out 
 To lie near grey summits and waters blue. 
 
 Or rather, when all was the Briton's land, 
 And Archdruid ruled, and Pendragon led, 
 
 Here did the gold- wreathed chieftains stand 
 To swear swift doom on the heathen head ? 
 
 And what if no mystic Stonehenge be here, 
 No Carnac's megaliths whose grey ranks 
 
 Rise hke a ghostly phalanstere. 
 
 Veiled in the fogs of Biscayan banks ! — 
 
 Yet kneeling here may the white-robed priest, 
 When solstice or equinox marked the time, 
 
 Have turned his deep-browed eyes to the East, 
 And offered a prayer to the Name sublime.
 
 ia2 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE. 
 
 Or while May-fires gleamed on the uplands gay, 
 And the harp rang clear to the nodding wood, 
 
 Was the Stone flower-decked for the festal day, 
 And ringed by a joyous multitude ? 
 
 Or marks it a spot which Battle shook, 
 
 And a warrior's rest, who, perchance when he fell, 
 
 Thirsted, but shrank from the blood-red brook. 
 Till Death poured him Heaven's pure cenomel ? 
 
 A glorious purpose ! but ' Omne,' 'twas said, 
 
 ' Ignotum est pro magnifico,' 
 And vulgarer uses come into one's head — 
 
 Though time has hidden them, time may show. 
 
 Perhaps 'twas flung from the dricd-up mere, 
 And left as a worthless and harmless thing ; 
 
 Perhaps — but I whisper you softly here, 
 'Tis a secret, this, for the innermost ring — 
 
 The fields are quiet when midnight rules ; 
 
 The fields are dim 'neath the summer stars ; 
 Shovels and picks are convenient tools ; 
 
 Good at need are ropes and bars ; 
 
 Nobles or guineas would still suit me ; 
 
 Gems — worth a hundred settings — suit you ; 
 Old plate becomes an old family — 
 
 (N.B. For your Marriage we'll melt it anew.)
 
 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE. 183 
 
 If you mark what these propositions show, 
 
 Let lis prove the reason of my rhyme, 
 And the buried treasures of long ago 
 
 Shall flash in the sunlight of our time ! 
 
 Ah well ! the old Stone is a sad one withal, 
 Discoloured and vexed by sun and storm — 
 
 No IcetKs lapis to make us recal 
 
 The Statesman who didn't give us Reform : 
 
 And ' Story, Sir' — it has ' none to tell,' 
 
 Like Canning's knifegrinder, but what of that ! 
 
 Its teachings are sound if you heed them well, 
 Though common — as life and death — and flat. 
 
 It has seen the pageant of Man pass by, 
 
 Joying and sorrowing to its goal ; 
 It has seen the pageant of the sky 
 
 Reflecting in airy types the whole : 
 
 It has seen Traders temples cumber the ground^ 
 
 And servile Poverty's pallid brood. 
 For ever launched in a vicious round 
 
 Of Food for Work, and Work for Food : 
 
 It has seen the graves thicken where com waved wide, 
 And the fields grow hallowed with praise and prayer, 
 
 And many that kept their tryst at its side, 
 And gathered the hay at its base, lie there.
 
 184 THE LAY OF THE OLD STONE. 
 
 Seasons and cycles and moons have rolled, 
 
 Circle on circle evolved and done, 
 The Past still locked in the Future's fold, 
 
 For ever finished, for ever begun. 
 
 Let Nature be ! In the world of Man 
 
 Is no mere reproduction hopeless and dim, 
 
 But circles -widening and widening in span, 
 Till they touch the eternal Heaven's rim. 
 
 And we thank thee, old Stone, for thou tellest not ill 
 Of the passing time, and the coming end ; 
 
 And we muse, while thou liest cold, changeless, and still, 
 Whence are we, what are we, and whither we tend.
 
 185 
 
 AURORA. 
 
 This world has no perdition, if some loss. 
 
 Casa Guidi Window). 
 
 No fond conceit of old funereal strain — 
 
 Dirge, requiem, threnody — for thee "we raise ; 
 No lily weep we, bowed by winter rain, 
 Or dawnlight missing the meridian blaze : 
 Death seals thy life's completeness ; love and praise 
 Wait thee through all humanity, all time ; 
 
 What though the flower from scent and bloom decays- 
 Fair springe th Egypt's lotos from her slime, 
 But fairer, surer, springs on Egypt's shafts sublime 
 
 , I 
 
 Full-statured Poet ; voice supreme of Art ; 
 
 And crown of Womanhood ! thy tale is told ; 
 Thy noble work is done ; the harpstrings part 
 
 No other hand may sweep : thou dost enfold 
 
 Thy being in Heaven's glory, having rolled 
 Earth's languors from thy spirit pure and white, 
 
 And wreathed the amaranth around the gold : 
 Yet mid the choral spheres of thy new sight. 
 Thy breast beats earthward still — love grows intense with 
 
 light.
 
 186 AURORA. 
 
 Aurora ! imaged by the mystic Sea 
 
 Self-poised, unfathomable, vast and wild ; 
 With giant march and prophet monody 
 
 Surging o'er countless -^ons underpiled ; 
 
 Yet glassing the cloud's bosom where have smiled 
 Red Sunset's amorous hps, as where in awe 
 
 Dark Thunder's feet have passed, and flowing mild 
 On smooth-ribbed sands which lapping wavelets draw, 
 And gravitating still to God and central Law. 
 
 Aurora ! on thy youthful brow was flung 
 
 Light from the Phidian mai'bles ; thy quick ear 
 
 Caught the great wood-god's music ; and thy tongue 
 Touched with Hymettian sweetness, warbled clear 
 The thunder-tones that else had been austere : — 
 
 Our nobler Sappho ! it alone was thine 
 
 To wreathe Dione's rose round Ate's spear ; 
 
 To fill with holier names each empty shrine, 
 And show of templed Greece how much is still divine. 
 
 Nor less the Ausonian glory moved thy verse, 
 
 And fired thine eye, but what Lucretius sang, 
 Or Seneca, became thee to rehearse, 
 
 And stainless thoughts in faultless accents rang 
 Through Sirmian ode as Tusculan harangue : — 
 juf^^^ rare interpreter of Artg' old charm — ' 
 
 Of Life's old meaning ! who without the pang 
 
 Hast seized the pleasure, and with pulses warm 
 
 Poured the old oenomel, nor mingled loss or harm !
 
 AURORA. 187 
 
 Thence down tlie lustrous Ages thou hast passed, 
 Drawing their light to thee, till Petrarch's fire, 
 
 And Camoens' grace, and Dante's gloom were massed 
 In one Immortal ; but thy soul's desire 
 Was not alone to sound a sensuous lyre — 
 
 Was not for wine or roses, though they be 
 Of Chios or of Paestum ;— higher, higher, 
 
 Thou soughtst o'er golden land and purple sea, 
 The beauty crowning all — a People one and free ! 
 
 And this hath been thy weak hands' latest task — 
 Thy life's maturest purpose ; even this 
 
 Hath dimmed thee to their eyes in ease who bask, 
 Non-interveners, whom the serpent's hiss 
 More than the serpent's wisdom, suits. It is 
 
 A glory and a joy that thou hast stood 
 In Casa Guidi when the near hour of bliss 
 
 Struck not ; and from the heights of womanhood 
 And song, hast poured thy wrath's and pity's lava-flood. 
 
 So in the triumph of the aftertime ; 
 
 Statesman's not less than Bard's, thy voice was heard, 
 When Florence told the world by shout sublime, 
 
 Babe Freedom in Itaha's womb had stirred ; 
 
 Thine was the loftiest, purest prophet- word : — 
 And art thou dead by Dante's Stone ! — Oh sure 
 
 As Dante's be thy fame ! A glorious third, 
 Live thou with Garibaldi and Cavour, 
 Deathless while Adria flows — while Apennines endure !
 
 188 AURORA. 
 
 And hath not England too a claim in thee, 
 
 True English Heart, and Queen of English Song ! 
 
 Loud-echoing from the Isles secure and free, 
 Unnumbered lips thy eulogy prolong : — 
 Yes, we are free, but Error, Pain, Lust, Wrong, 
 
 "Walk ghastly with us, and intrepid, thou 
 
 Hast dealt them anger high, and satire strong — 
 
 Hast plucked the social mask from Falsehood's brow. 
 And broken Fashion's wand, and laid Oppression low ! 
 
 Nor didst thou, hating more, love less, than she, 
 Felicia, thy sweet sister, but thy prayer 
 
 Rose ever thus — Let man and woman be 
 Gentle, unselfish, pure, that earth and air 
 Blush not for their weak lords ! Spirit fair, 
 
 Still as the suffering children's choral cry 
 Rings to the Mercy-seat in long despair. 
 
 Be thy most anguished pleading heard on high — 
 Be thou in angel-robes sent down to soothe their sigh ! 
 
 Yes, it will come ! the day for each and all — 
 
 For nation as for child ; though Misery's weeping 
 
 Blur yet the apparent dawn; and Doubt's cold pall 
 Would veil it ; and the Spheres sublimely sweeping, 
 Curving round God in music, find us sleeping. 
 
 Rocked on our petty groovelines to and fro : — 
 Yes, it will come ! and thou, great Poet, keeping 
 
 Watch on the crystal towers, shalt joy to know 
 The triumph thou hast helped and heralded below !
 
 189 
 
 AFTER CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Take the decorations down ! 
 
 Finished is the sacred show, 
 Leaves are limp and berries brown, 
 
 Christmas waned a month ago ; 
 Dim the Altar's blazoned dyes, 
 
 Dumb each monogram and scroll. 
 Stars no more detain our eyes, 
 
 Crosses move not now our soul. 
 
 As the symbols fade or die, 
 
 Fades their symbolism too ; 
 Heaven's shadowy pleasures fly, 
 
 Faith is old, but Fact is new. 
 So to the irrevocable years 
 
 Let our Christmas vision pass ; 
 Breath of storms, and blur of tears. 
 
 Fleet not faster o'er Life's glass. 
 
 Mid the lapsing rains and snows 
 
 Lapseth our high Festival ; 
 What to soul and sense disclose 
 
 Changeful moons, succeedeth stiU ; 
 Violets deck the Easter-time, 
 
 ROses warm the Whitsun days, 
 Duly with the accustomed chime 
 
 Rise the accustomed prayer and praise.
 
 190 AFTER CIimSTMAS. 
 
 Christmas cometh once a year, 
 
 Wide-acknowledged as the Lord's, 
 Twines the holly-garland dear, 
 
 Tunes the anthem's subtle chords, 
 Lifts the rustic carol's plaint, 
 
 Fills the winecup, feeds the flame, 
 Leads, in Fashion's robes of saint, 
 
 Her whom Charity we name. 
 
 It is acted. Illcet ! 
 
 Take the decorations down ; 
 Have we not devoutly met. 
 
 Owned the Cross, desired the Crown ; 
 Scanned our duty, mourned our sin. 
 
 Made our Christmas peace with Heaven, 
 Blessed our neighbour, loved our kin, 
 
 Warmly wished, and freely given ? 
 
 Now again in levels low, 
 
 (Who may bear the heights sublime !) 
 Chase we shapes that beckoning go 
 
 Down new vistas drawn by Time : 
 All the brood of Business wait. 
 
 Interests plot, and Passions burn, 
 Life delays not. Work is Fate, 
 
 Feasts and Fasts will have their turn ! 
 
 Would an Angel might descend 
 To our heart's weed-tangled pool ! 
 
 Well it were the proud to bend, 
 Punish knave, and quicken fool :
 
 AFTER CHRISTMAS. 191 
 
 Better, better were we stirred 
 
 From that state than Lethe worse, 
 Whereon the Almighty Word 
 
 Launched the Laodicean curse ! 
 
 Neither hot nor cold ! — Alas ! 
 
 'Tis the distemper of our time ; 
 What though ancient bounds we pass — 
 
 Sound Earth's deeps — mid Planets climb : — 
 Axe we nearer central God, 
 
 Or by devils less enticed ; 
 Tempt we not His fiery rod, 
 
 Keeping Christmas, spui-ning Christ ! 
 
 Keeping, for Convention's term, 
 
 Festively those hours august ; 
 Grafting pale Religion's germ 
 
 On the blooming tree of Lust ; 
 Spurning in the world's wide camps, 
 
 Footprints of the feet Divine, 
 And with Passion's gaudy lamps 
 
 Colouring the Light benign. 
 
 Steeped in Habit, swathed in Form, 
 
 Ever from our babehood's bands, 
 When do aspirations warm 
 
 Bend our knees or clasp our hands ! 
 Saintly windows stain the East, 
 
 Music's faultless notes enthral, 
 Languidly the white-stoled priest 
 
 Breathes his frigid rhytamic drawl :
 
 192 AFTER CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Unacknowledged idols plan 
 
 This our worship dim and pale, 
 Thrusting between God and Man 
 
 Rite on rite, and veil on veil. 
 Ah the solemn Litanies 
 
 That but choral lessons teach ! 
 Ah the prayers that cannot rise 
 
 Fettered at the gates of Speech ! 
 
 What though holy signs be worn — 
 
 Frontlets to the world professed ! — 
 Darker characters are borne 
 
 On our bosom's palimpsest. 
 Brain and heart we duly bring 
 
 To the temples Mammon rears, 
 In God's House but offering 
 
 Curious eyes and itching ears. 
 
 If mid consecrated walls, 
 
 O'er the Bible's open page 
 Rarely light of Heaven falls, 
 
 Pointing depths pure thoughts may gauge ; 
 Little force in house or street, 
 
 Dustbound and unused, it hath — 
 Flickering lamp unto our feet. 
 
 Doubtful light unto our path. 
 
 Half the Master's words we learn. 
 Slip from life like nursery rhymes, 
 
 Half, we dare to deem, concern 
 Other peoples, other times :
 
 AFTER CHRISTMAS, 193 
 
 Rendering them in every speech, 
 
 May we not interpret too — 
 Persons, nations, each for eacli — 
 
 What to credit, what to do ? 
 
 Letter here, and spirit there; 
 
 Human gloss, and text Divine ; — 
 Who shall purify and clear — 
 
 Who shall fix and disentwine ? 
 Though we heap our virtues high, 
 
 Circumstance the measure strikes ; 
 Hearts may yearn toward the sky. 
 
 Feet are cramped mid Fashion's dykes. 
 
 Peace ! for what avails to flino- 
 
 Censure at Convention's face ; 
 Let the crowd dance round their rinar. 
 
 Swell their chorus — run their race : 
 Be it ours to stand aside — 
 
 Not as stood the Pharisee — 
 Ours to make the Christmas-tide 
 
 One with life, whate'er life be ! 
 
 Valley, which green hills invest. 
 
 Crags and summits tempest- torn ; 
 River, from their twilight breast 
 
 Falling southward to the morn I 
 Haunts of voices manifold 
 
 Loud where human lips are dumb ; 
 Heights, whence pure eyes may behold 
 
 Ages vanished and to come ! — 
 

 
 194 AFTER CHRISTMxlS. 
 
 I have loved you long, nor less 
 
 For that in your midst there stands 
 One grey lowly Church to bless 
 
 Aran's legendary lands : — 
 Nestling 'neath the hill's sharp crest, 
 
 Girt by yews in solemn form, 
 Offering peace and faith and rest 
 
 In the solitude and storm. 
 
 When the summer cloud sailed by 
 
 O'er the mountain's purple bloom ; 
 When the tender April sky 
 
 Drew wild flowers from each green tomb ; 
 It was good to worship here 
 
 With the simple-hearted throng, 
 Whose glad voices rising clear, 
 
 Met the lark's descending song:. 
 
 But when Winter's seal was set 
 
 On all life save Dovey's flow, 
 When the midnight clouds were met 
 
 O'er the league-long wastes of snow ; 
 Gathered, braving toil and harm, 
 
 Dame and grandsire, youth and child, 
 From each far-off cot and farm, 
 
 Through the dark, across the wild ! — 
 
 Gathered where the glimmerinnf lio-hts 
 
 Marked the expecting Church, and where- 
 
 Voice the holiest that invites — 
 Rose the bell on the troubled air.
 
 AFTER CPIRISTMAS. 195 
 
 'Twas a joy to enter then — 
 
 What though faint and travelworn ! — 
 In His Name, Who died for men, 
 
 Who to-day 'mong men was born. 
 
 Earnestly the pastor spake, 
 
 Earnestly the people heard, 
 And all Nature seemed to wake 
 
 Heedful to the Angelic Word : 
 Thei'e no reason-maiming rite, 
 
 Soul-suppressing monotone — 
 Luxury's lures of sound or sight — 
 
 Ushered Sin before the Throne. 
 
 There no courtly Folly stalked, 
 
 Scowled not Envy, crouched not Pain ; 
 There no vows to Mammon balked 
 
 Prayers perfunctory and vain. 
 But the loud responses rose. 
 
 Where the heart responded first, 
 And when came the appointed close, 
 
 Every voice in carol burst : — 
 
 Singing mercies manifold, 
 
 Christ the crucified and crowned ; 
 Singing on through gloom and cold. 
 
 While the frostwind sang around. 
 What if verse and tune were rude, 
 
 More sublime the disaccord ; 
 All the theme was gratitude. 
 
 All the song was to the Lord ! 
 o2
 
 196 AFTER CHRISTMAS. 
 
 And when now, the Vigil done, 
 
 Ere they trod their homeward way, 
 Joined in greeting every one, 
 
 On the happy Christmas Day : — 
 Greeting, not Decorum's vest, 
 
 Not the mask of Selfishness, 
 But inspired by Him Whose best 
 
 Blessing is the power to bless. 
 
 Musing then I closed my eyes — 
 
 How these mountain children kept 
 Christmas in that simple guise. 
 
 While the City danced or slept : — 
 How, evolved from daily life, 
 
 And impressing life again, 
 'Twas no transient spirit- strife, 
 
 No excitement vague and vain : 
 Not the gala-fire exhaled 
 
 From Earth's darkness, dying soon. 
 But the Star the wise men hailed, 
 
 Rising to perpetual noon. .
 
 197 
 
 BARDSEY. 
 
 Beyond the extrernest bound of Arvon lies 
 
 Enlli, the Island of the Bards, the grave 
 
 Of saints and princes of the heroic time ; 
 
 Parted from Lleyn by seas that heave and pour 
 
 Implacable, and parted from our life 
 
 By the stern centuries' ever-restless flow. 
 
 It is a sad and lonely islet, girt 
 Westward with many a gaunt outlying rock, 
 Whose slimy clefts the seething waves o'erlcap 
 White-crested, wearing slow with hungry rage ; 
 And, pierced by many a cave, its wasted sides 
 Resound through night and day and moons and years, 
 Still wasting ; while to east and north the land 
 Is gathered to a mountain whose sheer steep 
 Defies the ocean, and whose stone-crowned head, 
 Though lashed by rain and smit by lightning, looks 
 Calmly across the Sound, as friend scans friend. 
 On the great clifi" that guards the sombre shore, 
 The Cangan Promontory of old fame.' 
 
 ' Braich y Pwll, the most westerly point of North Wales.
 
 198 BARDSEY, 
 
 Few be tlie tenants of the soil, and few 
 
 Their needs ; plain speech and simple ends, and light 
 
 To use the Present Avhich God gave, and trust 
 
 To Him the rest, unquestioning, content, 
 
 Is theirs. On the hill- slope their cottage walls 
 
 Securely nestling bound their utmost "v\'ish ; 
 
 And Nature satisfies from earth and sea 
 
 Whate'cr of daily human wants she wakes ; 
 
 And at the last their bones in faith are laid 
 
 At Aberdaron, and their island home 
 
 Holds scarce a trace of them or of their work. 
 
 Enlli is not to these, but to the dead, 
 
 The innumerable dead who crowd her shore ; 
 
 Who speak from the rude circle earthfast yet. 
 
 Of rolling spheres and circling Deity ; 
 
 Who tell from daisied barrows of their fame 
 
 And honour, chieftains of the old battle-time ; 
 
 Who write their legend on the abiding stone 
 
 Of sweet asylum, and of praise to God ; ' 
 
 Who throng above the sea-marge where the waves 
 
 Have bared the immemorial cemeteries. 
 
 And people our new day with storied shapes 
 
 Of monk flame-chased from books and cells ; and maid 
 
 Flying from Lust's swift feet, and childless sire 
 
 From trampled home ; and patriot overborne 
 
 By heathen hosts ; and interdicted bard ; 
 
 All finding sanctuary and solace here, 
 
 And recompense ; all mingling here their bones. 
 
 ' As appears from relics in my possession.
 
 P,Ar.DSEY. 100 
 
 But most from midst the ruined Abbey set 
 
 On the green hill in Mary's blessed name, 
 
 Come to our soul those voices eloquent : 
 
 What if the sea-storms maddening insult 
 
 The roofless Chapel, and the rising sun 
 
 Shine sadly on the degraded altar-stone ! 
 
 Yet, hallowed once, the desert spot remains 
 
 Holy for ever ; and who bends him now 
 
 In faith and love shall hear the matin-bell, 
 
 And the quick hastening feet, and then the psalm 
 
 High rolling, and the interceding prayer. 
 
 Mixed with the deep-toned cadence of the sea. 
 
 And clear across his vision there shall pass 
 
 The old heroic founders of the pile, 
 
 The lifelong guardians of the Faith it kept ; — 
 
 Einion the prince, who laid his coronet 
 
 Before the Lord with prayer for grace and Hght ; 
 
 Cadvan as nobly born, who from the towers 
 
 Of kindred Arvor led her valiant sons 
 
 To plant new Churches on the Cymric soil. 
 
 Strengthening by holier ties the ties of blood ; 
 
 And Djvrig,^ great Archbishop of the West, 
 
 Who having ruled in Llandaff's primal seats, 
 
 And ruled in Roman Caerlleon's Christian fanes, 
 
 Silenced Heresiarch, and fought for Truth 
 
 As stedfastly as Arthur, whose dear head 
 
 He crowned mid sounding harps and clashing arms ; 
 
 Passed hither to the lonely island's peace, 
 
 And thence passed gently to the peace of Heaven. 
 
 • Dubricius.
 
 200 BARDSEY. 
 
 Then came the long procession winding down 
 From Lleyn's unpeopled ways to Daren's strand ; — 
 Came ever winding throngh a thousand years. 
 From farthest Alban and lerne pressed 
 The pilgTims. On the beach their tents were white ; 
 Their sails thronged all the bay till east wiiids blew ; 
 And mid Saint Hywyn's columns rose their prayers, 
 And in Saint Mary's mountain Chapel ' hung 
 Their offerings, and before the expectant Isle, 
 On the great headland flashed their beacon-fires. 
 
 O ancient Abbey of the Sea ! 'twas thine 
 
 To enshrine and tend the sacred flame from God, 
 
 And dedicate its beams to distant hearts, 
 
 And rescue darkling lives, even as the Light, 
 
 The kindling eye of Science at thy feet, 
 
 Looks stedfast from its tower, in our time. 
 
 On far-off ships across the sunless waves. 
 
 Oh that my wandering steps might here be stayed — 
 
 Life's broken circle be completed here ! 
 
 That I might render back at last my soul, 
 
 Wiser, maturer, holier, to its Source : 
 
 That I might watch the process of the stars. 
 
 And tempests' birth, and flight of wings, and flow 
 
 Of many-coloured waters round my feet, 
 
 And the long lapse of seasonable change ; 
 
 Learning from all how all are part of Man, 
 
 Attuned to sense, and interfused Avith mind. 
 
 Formed for his good, and tempered by his will ! 
 
 ' Eglwys Fair.
 
 BARDSEY. 201 
 
 And here the sweet magic of my books should bring 
 
 Upon the mirror of the Present, stained 
 
 No more by Care's ignoble images, 
 
 A lucid reflex of the Past, and dim 
 
 Presentment of the Future, brig-htening still 
 
 As eyes grow purer ; and with these should come 
 
 A deeper knowledge, and a loftier hope. 
 
 Far, far from seats where wolf-eyed Vice exults, 
 
 And Folly in the dust her idiot trail 
 
 Makes and remakes for ever, I would rest ; 
 
 And far from regions where distempered Man 
 
 Draws o'er him smoke-clouds drear, and the swart earth 
 
 Vexes with passionate hunger for its wealth, 
 
 Or with dull apathy and silent hate, 
 
 As Circumstance hath made him slave or lord. 
 
 Yet not from Love's sweet sympathies remote 
 
 The hours should lapse : my fitting task were here, 
 
 A man of Enlli, to sustain my kind. 
 
 To mitigate for them laborious needs, 
 
 To help their interludes of harp and song, 
 
 To teach the youth their country's annals fair. 
 
 And what the double duties which beseem 
 
 Cambria's true children, and Earth's citizens ; 
 
 And prompt the old to gild life's narrowing track 
 
 With the near glories of the larger World. 
 
 Alas ! it cannot be. The Isle remains 
 
 A pleasant Autumn-memory, and no more.
 
 202 BAEDSEY. 
 
 Yet tempered was that pleasant Autumn-tide 
 
 By other themes than joy and holiday : 
 
 One left us then, stricken with languid death, 
 
 O'er his famed task of bardic study bent. 
 
 Ab Ithel ! sure no meeter soul than thine 
 
 The bright consummate Gwynfyd hath attained ! 
 
 A true embodiment of all of high, 
 
 Fervid, and pure, which Druid Culture held ; 
 
 A Christian priest clean-handed, self-restrained ; 
 
 Wise antiquary, stedfast patriot, bold 
 
 To speak, not less than generous to feel : 
 
 While Fashion piped her cuckoo-plaint, he tuned 
 
 His life to nobler harmonies ; when modes 
 
 And systems ruled by turns, he pleaded still 
 
 For changeless Law and archetypal Truth. 
 
 He should have slept in Enlli with his race 
 
 Whose earnest life he lived, whose speech he shared. 
 
 Whose learning he inherited. But no ! 
 
 More fitly rests he where the Sabbath bells 
 
 Call his familiar people to their Church, 
 
 Who point with love and pride his plain headstone. 
 
 That love, repaying his own love, may yet 
 
 Pass with the generation whom he blessed : 
 
 That pride shall live while Cymru keeps her name — 
 
 While the broad wave of Celtic Scholarship 
 
 Rolls over Europe backward to the East !
 
 ' Tri pheth sydd ymgadarnau bennydd, gan fod mwyaf yr ymgais 
 attynt : Cariad, Gwybodaeth, a Chyfiawnder.' ' 
 
 Cyfrinacli Bcirdd Ynys Prydain. — Triad 43. 
 
 The following Articles are intended to illustrate the facts, 
 or amplify the opinions, advanced in the preceding Verses. 
 Most of them are extracted and re-arranged from my ' Life 
 and Writings of Ab Ithel,' a portion of which has appeared 
 in the ' Cambrian Journal ' of 1862, 1863, and 1864. The 
 letters on the Welsh language and Welsh literary Societies 
 were addressed by me to the ' Caernarvon and Denbigh 
 Herald' in 1858. 
 
 ' Mr. Matthew Arnold would have done well to add ' Justice ' to the 
 ' Sweetness ' and ' Light ' of his perfect Humanity, and so to repro- 
 duce the better formula of this Triad.
 
 204 
 
 ART AND SCIENCE OF TPIE BRITONS. 
 'And Science then had half unveiled her face.'' — Page 4. 
 
 The speculations regarding the autochthonal settlements of the 
 Cymry in Britain, and the accounts of the Bruidic and Bardic 
 systems may, or may not, seem reasonable to the modern historian ; 
 and the authenticity of such documents as the Triads and lolo 
 Mss. may, or may not, be convincing to the modern critic. 
 
 But whatever may be said of the more recondite portion of the 
 themes traversed by such writers as Ab Ithel, there can be little 
 question of the genuineness and interest of his Annals when he 
 tells of the rural and civil arts of the Cymry ; and it is these that 
 I would more particularly commend to the calm attention of the 
 English student. 
 
 "Wiiatever may be thought of Tvdain and Bran ab Llyr, as to 
 when they lived, or whether thej lived at all, there can be no 
 doubt of the poetry and of the warlike valour of the sixth century; 
 apd however much the faith or practice of the Druids may be dis- 
 trusted or defamed, it is certain that pure Christianity, at first 
 blending with it, and at last displacing it, was maintained in these 
 Islands with more or less lustre, through four hundred years pre- 
 ceding the Saxon invasion. Again, the legislation of the wise 
 Alfred, founded upon that of Ethelbert and Ina, endeared him to 
 his people, and is remembered wherever the Saxon race prevails. 
 
 But the laws of Hywel Dda, derived from sources long anterior 
 to the rule of the Romans, and expanded from statutes binding 
 among the Cymry from'times when the ancestors of Ilengist were 
 rearing idols in the Germanian forests, are yet nobler than the 
 laws of Alfred, and enter more largely into the living jurisprudence 
 of Britain. To adopt the words of a learned writer, — * The Triads 
 and the Laws of lloel are as superior to the Anglo-Saxon Institute?
 
 ART AND SCIENCE OF THE BRITONS. 205 
 
 as the elegies of Llywarch Hen and the odes of Taliesin are to the 
 ballads of the Edda.' ^ It is indeed interesting to observe how 
 much of the code of Ilywel, especially in the law of property and 
 of evidence, remains in familiar practice. The mode of trial by 
 Jury, for which the Anglo-Saxons generally get exclusive credit, 
 appears to have been applied by the Britons, in all its fulness, to 
 nearly every description of civil and criminal procedure. 
 
 The industrial and material resources of Ancient Bi-itain are 
 exemplified in the Annals by well-chosen excerpts from classical 
 not less than from native records. Strabo says of the Island that 
 ' it produces corn and cattle, and gold, and silver, and iron ; which 
 things are brought thence.' Pliny gives like testimony. 
 
 Herodotus refers in a celebrated passage to the exportation of 
 tin from the Cassiterides. Ca3sar, along with numerous allusions 
 to the intellectual training of the higher classes, speaks of the 
 agriculture of the Britons, and of their war chariots, of which 
 CassiveUaunus alone had 4,000. Carriages imply roads and an 
 advanced state of handicraft in wood and metals. Propertius 
 sink's of the elaborate form and device of the British harness, for 
 the Britons were noted for the breeding and management of 
 horses, as well as for chariots. Cicero in his letters to his friends, 
 who were in Britain with Cajsar, bears witness to the mechanical 
 resources of the natives, when he speaks of the mirificis molibus, 
 with which the harbours were fortified ; and I need hai-dly name 
 the great megaliths of Avebury and Stonehenge as works of a 
 more difficult class.* The Tre'r Caeri on the Eifl mountains in 
 Caernarvonshire, the finest existing type of a British fortress, may 
 also be mentioned. "Wind-mills and water-mills belong probably 
 to a later date, as do the gay dresses, and golden armour and 
 ornaments, the glass drinking cups, amber beads, and instruments 
 of music, so freely named in the poetry of the sixth century. 
 A Bard was prohibited from three things — mechanics, war, and 
 
 • Flintoff, Bise and Progress of the Laws of England and Wales, p. 45. 
 Sir Francis Palgrave, in Bise aiid Progress of the English Commonwealth, 
 p. 37, adopts almost the same words. 
 
 * While I admire the learning and acuteness of Herbert, I must 
 utterly dissent from the theory in his Cyclops Christianus. that these 
 inonuments are the production of a race poaterior to the ivomans in 
 Britain.
 
 206 ART AND SCIENCE OF THE BRITONS. 
 
 commerce ;' but he was permitted to hunt, and cultivate his land, 
 five free acres being presented to him by the country in virtue of 
 his office, and testimony of his vi^orth. These reg-ulations show at 
 once the exalted conception entertained by the liritons of the 
 bardic dignities and duties, and the existence of a hig-h material 
 civilisation. 
 
 I mav glance also at medicine, in which it is certain that the 
 iJruids were prohciont — at least as regards the use of herbs. 
 Pliny particularly mentions the mistletoe as being called, in Druid- 
 ical language, omnia sanantem. It is curious that oU iach, heal- 
 all, is a modern name of this plant. In the traditional ac- 
 counts, too, of the use of letters, and of the Peitliynen, a wooden 
 book, or system of movable framed bars on which the letters were 
 cut, whence the alphabet was called Coelbren, or ' wood of credi- 
 bility,' there is a curious expansion of the well-known statement 
 of Caesar respecting the literature of the Druids. And as a proof 
 of the singular richness and refinement of the early Briti.-h tongue, 
 I may notice its power of expressing high numbers by vocables 
 evolved with accumulative force from the primitive roots, in 
 which it as far surpasses the English as the English does the 
 Polynesian. 
 
 In the most exalted subject of human investigation, astronomy, 
 the details of the Cymric study are full of interest, as witness the 
 names given to the constellations, and the celebration of the ' three 
 blessed astronomers, Gwydion, Idris, and Gwyn.' Cfesar says of 
 the Druids, that they taught ' multa prasterea de sideribus atque 
 eorum motu.' 
 
 The word for time, ain-ser, about the stars, has an excellence 
 both in philosophy and philology, hardly approached by any other 
 tongue, ancient or modern ; as similarly, the etymon Dmo (Dy-yw) 
 intensifies the Name of the Divine I AM in a manner not to be 
 paralleled iu any language nearer to us than those of primeval 
 origin. 
 
 ' Two, however, of the most eminent bards of that time, Anem'in 
 and Llywarch Hen, were warriors, though they fought not so success- 
 fully as they sang. Later names also are closely associated with lays 
 of battle. But the bards of the Druidic system were teachers and 
 philosophers, not merely poets.
 
 207 
 
 AXEUPJN AND THE GODODIN. 
 
 ' The hattle-harp of Bard ^ the torque of Chief tain free' — Page 8. 
 
 The great name of Aneurin will suggest itself here. Tlie battle of 
 Cattraeth, which he celebrates in the Gododin, was, indeed, fought 
 at about the same time as was Arthur's fatal battle of Camlan. 
 
 The Gododin is hardly yet kno^^^l as it ought to be to English 
 scholars. Ossian rests upon nothing older than Macpherson. It is 
 a work essentially and substantially of the eighteenth century, for 
 no sufficient account has ever been given of its origin, and no XS. 
 ever produced to justify its pretensions. As a modern poem the 
 work is sui ge7ieris, and deserves, perhaps, its extraordinary popular- 
 ity; as an ancient specimen it is well nigh worthless. On the other 
 hand the Gododin, in its rudeness and fragmeutar}- state, and in its 
 native original tongue, presents the best claim to our acknowledg- 
 ment of it as a true poem of the sixth century — unquestionably the 
 oldest in Europe, since the brilliant roll of Latin classics was 
 terminated hv" Clemens or by Claudian. 
 
 The earliest MS. existing of the Gododin is on vellum, and of 
 about the year 1200. This is of course a transcript of other older 
 transcripts, and the effect of these successive copies is plain in the 
 textual obscurities which prevail ; while the loss before the thir- 
 teenth century, of perhaps two-thirds of the poem, renders the 
 remainder very unconnected and abrupt. 
 
 But fragment though it be, it is a noble fragment. It stands 
 alone, a monument of the heroic Muse of Britain at the darkest 
 period of her history, stemming the oncoming tide of oblivion 
 which was soon to quench the voice of song on her lips. 
 
 The name of Chaucer is an immortal name, and the father of 
 English poetry is in some respects the father of English civilisation ; 
 but, 200 years before Chaucer, when the Saxon had yielded to the
 
 208 AXEURIN AND THE GODODIN. 
 
 Norman after one battle, and the old Teutonic tongue was breaking 
 up, the Cymric tongue rose to its highest development ; and 
 nurtured by a people's struggles and aspirations, which years were 
 needed to repress, and which centuries have not yet extinguished, 
 this tongue became the miglity exponent of martial prowess, of 
 social aiFection, and of religious fervour. Thus has it ever 
 remained down to the present day, and the mountaineer of Gla- 
 morg.m or Merioneth can still enjoy the glowing effusions of 
 Cynddelw and of Gwnlchmai, wliile (iower and Chaucer are sealed 
 books even to Englishmen of learning and taste. Yet although 
 the Augustan age of letters in Wales be more closely connected 
 with the present age, we turn with deeper interest to the old Bards 
 wlio laid the foundation of it five lunidred years before, and thinlc 
 how from the time that the verses of Ovid and Virgil ceased to be the 
 delight of the student of Caerlleon, and the solace of the legionaiyon 
 the Northern Wall, down to the day of the great princes Alfred and 
 Ilywel Dda; no poets save those of Celtic blood broke the savage 
 silence, or relieved the thick gloom. ^ 
 
 ' Perhaps I ought to except Csedmon. 
 
 (The two best — and indeed the only complete — translations of the 
 Gododin are both of our day, bei ng respectively the work of M. de la 
 Villemarque and of the Eev. John Williams ab Ithel.)
 
 209 
 
 THE EISTEDDFOD. 
 
 And in their r/rcat Eisteddfod to Jtonour Art and Sojir/.' — Page 22. 
 
 The bardic session, or congress, called the Eisteddfod, descends, it 
 is believed, to the Cymry of to-day, from the period of Owain ap 
 Maxen Wledig, or Owain Viuddu (the Blacldipped), who, accord- 
 ing to the Triads, was elected to the chief sovereignty of tlie 
 Britons at the close of the fourth century. The Eisteddfod has 
 always been devoted to the study and practice of the poetry, 
 music, and literature of the Cj'mry, to the preservation of the 
 national language and usages, and to the promotion of patriotism 
 and independence in the sons and daugliters of the soil. 
 
 Associated with the Eisteddfod, and having a yet remoter origin, 
 is the Gorsedd, which is more exclusively a convention of the 
 bardic fraternity (in the larger sense of the term hardd), who were 
 the depositaries of all poetic knowledge and historic tradition, the 
 preservers of genealogies, the directors of religious culture, and the 
 teachers of technical arts.^ 
 
 Thus the Gorsedd is virtually the ancient assembly of the Druids, 
 tempered by the holier principles of Christianity, and enlightened 
 by larger secular knowledge. 
 
 It cannot be doubted that, with such functions, the Gorsedd and 
 
 ' Properly speaking, the Eisteddfod is derived from the Gorsedd, as 
 is that branch institution the Chair, which is appropriated to certain 
 divisions of the country, as the Chair of Powj-s, of Gwynedd, of Mor- 
 ganwg. The well-known passage of Lucan pleasingly refers to one 
 practice of the Celtic bards : — 
 
 Vos quoque, qui fortes animas belloque peremptas, 
 Laudibus in longiim, Vates, dimittitis a^vum, 
 Pluriraa securi fudisiis carmina Bardi. 
 
 r
 
 2\0 THE EISTEDDFOD. 
 
 the Ei.ste(Ulfii(l acquired a considerable social power, and perhaps 
 played an ellective part iu certain critical epoclis. 
 
 P'ostered by tlie native princes, and loved by the nation, these 
 institutions helped to maintain both the power of the ruler and 
 tlie integrity of the people. When the great Llywelyu line passing 
 into the Tudor brancli, proved ratlier England won than Wales 
 lost, the bardic congresses were well supported by the two Henries 
 and by Elizabeth, and they have been continued, though under 
 more adverse conditions, down to the present generation. One of 
 the earliest meetings is tiuit recorded by lorwertli Deli, which was 
 lield upon the hill of Dyganwy, in the sixth century, by Maelgwn 
 «Twynedd, perhaps after he had triumphed iu battle in the marshes 
 of Creuddyn. 
 
 Cadwalair, wlio much improved bardism, held a celebrated 
 Eisteddfod in the seventh century. Bleddyn ap Cynfyn and 
 Gruffydd ap Cynan made further modilications, in the eleventh 
 century. They enacted that no person should follow the profession 
 of bard or minstrel but such only as were admitted by the Eistedd- 
 fi id, which was to be held once in three years. In 1170, Ehys, 
 Prince of South Wales, convened at Aberteifi, after formal notice 
 of a year and a day, a very complete Eisteddfod, the particular's of 
 which have been recorded. The prizes for poetry were here won 
 by North Wales, and those for music by South Wales — a distinc- 
 tion that has been maintained even to our day. Another great 
 Eisteddfod was held at Caermarthen in the iifteeuth century. The 
 town of Caerwys in Flintshire had long been famous as one of the 
 chief seats of the Eisteddfod, and in the fifteenth year of Ileniy VIII. 
 a meeting was held there at which the ancient bardic laws were 
 confirmed. But the greatest was held in 1508, under the direct 
 authority of Elizabeth, who acted with characteristic sagacity; 
 and the proceedings of this Eisteddfod — which is the last, I bi'- 
 lieve, held at Caerwys save one — liave been also recorded with 
 minuteness. 
 
 In tlie beginning of the second half of the eighteenth century 
 the Cymmrodorion Society was organised to promote Welsh 
 social and literary interests, and later on, the Gwyneddigion, 
 ( \vmreigyddion, and other societies co-operated in the work. 
 Under the auspices of these bodies, which numbered some of the 
 best scholars and ablest men that Whales has produced, many 
 Eisteddfodau took place, the most notable being Caerwys in 1708,
 
 THE EISTEDDFOD. 211 
 
 Caermartlien in 1810, Wrexham in 1820, London in 1822, Welsh- 
 pool in 1824, Denbigh in 1828, Beaumaris in 18:32, Cardiff in 
 1834, Swansea in 1842.^ In the following fifteen years there does 
 not appear to have been any Eisteddfod of note except AberfFraw 
 (1849j, or Rhuddlan (1852), and except the brilliant meetings of 
 the Cymreigyddion of Abergavemay ; the chief causes being the 
 gTOwing rivalries and dissensions of the parties into which AVales 
 is unhappily divided upon almost all questions, literature not ex- 
 cepted, and the growing pressure of the demands of business-life 
 upon the middle classes. Whatever was done was upon a local and 
 sectional, rather than on a national and comprehensive scale, and 
 w-as in little harmony with the typical idea of an Eisteddfod. 
 
 The Rev. John Williams ab Ithel conceived m 1857 the idea 
 of restoring the old Eisteddfod, and giving it place as a permanently 
 recurring festival. He found able and willing coadjutors in a 
 small group of clergj'meu, his personal friends, and it was deter- 
 mined to hold an Eisteddfod on the largest scale, in the following 
 year, at Llangollen. 
 
 The result was a festival which will long be remembered by all 
 who witnessed it — by the Welsh as a bright resuscitation of the 
 past, and an auspicious earnest of the future ; by the English as a 
 rare example of genius and ability, hitherto unsuspected or denied, 
 and of deep-seated and compact nationality unparalleled mider the 
 British Crown. 
 
 The great feature of this festival, however, was not the bards, 
 
 ' These gatherings were distinguished by the presence of many emi- 
 nent men in rank and talents, by the excellence of the compositions 
 invoked, and by the general attention excited. Mrs. Hemans wrote 
 some beautiful lines for tlie London Eisteddfod of 1822. Professor 
 Rees' celebrated Essay on the Welsh Saints was produced at the Swansea 
 Meeting. The Princess Victoria took part in the proceedings of the 
 Beaumaris Eisteddfod. Peers and prelates enrolled themselves among 
 the Cymmrodorion ; poets, antiquaries, and philanthropists gave them 
 sympatliy and support. The Eisteddfod became, in the slang of the 
 present day, respectable. Yet we do not find in it any statistics, or 
 • social science,' or encyclopsediologj-, or educational parade. Can ovr 
 Eisteddfod attain so brilliant a status, and grow in popularity without 
 declining in nationality? It is the problem whicii the new Permanent 
 Committee have to work out.
 
 212 THE EISTEDDFOD. 
 
 or thfi musicians, or tlie orators, or the visitors, but the audience, 
 the four or five thousand crowded within the spacious tent. 
 
 That a few enthusiasts shoukl meet together to rehearse the 
 ancient ceremonies of the Gorsedd, or invoke the competitive 
 Muses of the Eisteddfod, is perhaps neither surprising nor im- 
 portant. But that tliousands of the Welsh people should come 
 from the plough, and tlie loom, and the forge, and the shop, from 
 distant homes and daily duties, with little money, and with the 
 certainty of inconvenience and expense, in order to take part in a 
 celehration which, to an Englisli understanding, offers little more 
 than a concert mixed with recitations and speeches, is indeed a 
 convincing proof of the depth and extent of nationality in Wales. 
 As each vehement address was delivered, or clever enghjn exploded, 
 or well-contested prize adjudged, the appreciation of tlie audience 
 was emphatically marked ; nor seemed there less interest mani- 
 fested, though it was of a calmer sort, in the essays, poems, and 
 adjudications read. P)ut it was when the harpists struck together 
 some endeared household melodv, some ravishing strain of a thou- 
 sand years ago, as Gray said ; or when the master-hand among 
 them evoked some plaintive refrain of afflicted love or despairing 
 valour ; and chiefly when tlie trained singers of the Principality 
 greeted their countrymen and country-women in sono^s where all 
 Eisteddfodic elements were blended — poetry, music, eloquence, 
 ^vit — it is then that the vast assembly seemed to throb with one 
 pulse, cahn lorth f/ahm, heart to heart, and to glow with the inex- 
 tinguishable fire of the Cymric race. 
 
 The effect of the Llangollen meeting upon Eisteddfodic progress 
 was prompt and emphatic. 
 
 Stimulated by the unqualified success of Ab Ithfd's gi-eat expe- 
 liment, the other leaders of Cymric literature and song proceeded 
 to organise and perpetuate the old Institution thus auspiciously 
 revived. Denbigh, Conway, Aberdare, and Caernarvon Eisteddfodau 
 were the result, togetherwith a multitude of local ones; andatlen"-th 
 a measure, much discussed and often postponed, ripened into attain- 
 ment, the establishment of Yr Eisteddfod on a permanent basis in 
 Wales, subscribed to by a large and increasing list of adherents, 
 and managed by an evperieiiced and energetic staff. 
 
 ]3ut dear as was this object to Ab Ithel, the administration of 
 the Eisteddfod by the Permanent Committee— so far as it has pro- 
 ceeded—would hardly have realised his conceptions, or satisfied
 
 THE EISTEDDFOD. 213 
 
 his desires. The idea of the Eisteddfod pure and simple, a con- 
 gress for the promotion and practice of the Welsh language, lite- 
 rature, oratory, art, music, and song, has been largely sophisticated 
 by an admixture of subjects and pursuits foreign to its character, 
 and inconsistent with its aims. It has been thought right to graft 
 on it the fimctions of a Mechanics' Institute, or even of the British 
 Association, and to dilute it unsparingly with English studies, 
 English methods, and the English language. Such an Institution 
 may mean well and work well, but it is not an Eisteddfod. I 
 demur most heartily to the innovation. Eisteddfodau are not 
 schools for polyglotism and philosophy, or offices for industrial 
 training. To divide the proceedings into ' sections,' and to read 
 * papers,' never occurred to the Cymmrodorion. To substitute 
 English for Welsh, to a larger extent than is plainly necessary in 
 the conduct of the meeting, and in the language of the prize sub- 
 jects, is only worthy of Welshmen who are ashamed of their 
 name, their origin, and their mother-tongue. No reasonable per- 
 son would hesitate to encourage the Welsh youth to attain as 
 large a measure of English knowledge as their opportunities will 
 allow, or to arm themselves with as complete an experience of the 
 practical as their vocations require. But it is still to be shown 
 that the Eisteddfod is the only possible place for such education, 
 and that the perpetuation of the Eisteddfod in its genuine and legi- 
 timate character will in any degree impede the moral or material 
 advancement of the people ; make them less clever, rich, happy, 
 and loyal — less devoted to their families, less true to their faith. ^ 
 Ab Ithel's Eisteddfod of 1858 was, vdth one or two blemishes 
 and drawbacks, a true and good model of an Eisteddfod for the 
 people. It had few aristocratic supporters, and in no respect 
 courted them. It provided in its prize scheme a sufficient range 
 of ^r«^<("c«^ subjects, and it gave ample scope to the national genius, 
 and paid due respect to the national sentiment. Its faults are not 
 difficult to avoid, its excellences not impossible to attain. As a 
 splendid fulfilment of what it was designed to be, it must take 
 rank with the best of its predecessors, and far above any that have 
 followed it. Its good fruits are even now manifest, and its repu- 
 tation will grow as it recedes into the past. ♦ 
 
 ' The multiplication of literary Societies and middle-class schools is 
 an improvement of the right kind in the right direction.
 
 l'14 the eisteddfod. 
 
 In ppcaldng' of the EisttnLlfod I include llio Gorppdcl, wLicIi, 
 havinj,'- no longer any political or judiciul functions, but only the 
 control of the Bardic Order, and the enunciation of the principles 
 of progress and peace, may well be associated witl! the Eisteddfod 
 in all worthy operations and aims. 
 
 I earnestly recommend the Committee of Yr Eisteddfod to 
 support wisely and heartily tliese ancient institutions; to endea- 
 vour by them to move and stimulate, as well as to instruct, the 
 Welsh people ; and while adding to them what may be needed in 
 form and substance, according to the lights of the present day, to 
 take fi'om them nothing of the time-honoured character that has 
 descended to us, through so many eventful centuries, from our 
 foremost Princes and ]5ards.^ 
 
 ' The most recent Eisteddfodau lield under tlie auspices of the 
 Committee have Ijeen still further attenuated and distorted by the 
 copious introduction of English singers and English music, with the 
 object, or at least the result, of making the meeting ^ro tanto a fasliion- 
 able concert. It is quite time that the real Eisteddfod M'ere again 
 revived, and supported by the real Welshmen of the laud.
 
 215 
 
 WELSH STUDIES AND EXGLISII CRITICS. 
 
 'JVas't not enough tojfoid, ignore, witlmtand, 
 And mock our speech, our history, and our smig ? ' — Page 40. 
 
 It is a singular but well-ascertained fact, that critics and arclifeo- 
 logists who depreciate and ridicule British (and especially Cymric) 
 antiquities, are almost to a man unable to read, write, or under- 
 stand three words in anj^ one of the Celtic dialects, and are utterly 
 incompetent to form an original opinion on the date, character, and 
 authority of any Celtic MS. ; on the use of anj' difficult Celtic 
 relic ; or on the prevalence of any Celtic custom or practice ; so for 
 as these points may be illustrated by the historical and legendary 
 materials available in Britain and in Armorica. 
 
 On the other hand, it is equally true that those scholars and 
 archreologists w^ho have in the course of general study found it de- 
 sirable to acquire the Celtic idioms, have reported in very favour- 
 able terms of the contents of the museum which this key has 
 enabled them to unlock ; and in the key itself they have discovered 
 beauty, strength, and value, where deformity and worthlessness 
 bad been imputed. I would point to the little work of Mr. 
 "William Barnes, 'Notes on Ancient Britain,' as an excellent 
 example of what may be done by the knowledge of language. 
 The author says in his prefixce of six lines — 'If I have cast any 
 new light on the subjects under hand, it has been by a careful use 
 of my little knowledge of the British language, which, I believe, 
 antiquaries have too often neglected.' 
 
 To study tribes witliout their speech, 
 
 Is to grope for whiit our sight should teach. 
 
 In the pages of Turner, Pictet, Yillemarque, Nash, Borrow, and 
 many others, the same results are evident ; and we see also that
 
 21G WELSH STUDIES AND ENGLISH CIJITICS. 
 
 not only is the Cymraep:, as it were, a good telescope to make 
 clearer and more intelligible to us, some of tlio remote antiquities 
 of Western Europe, but also, as it -were, a good microscope to give 
 us a new insight into the sterling literature and living speech of 
 the day. 
 
 1 challenge the most abusive Saturday Reviewer, or the 
 acutest article-writer of the Times, to explain, without reference to 
 Celtic etymology, certain Shakspearian phrases, certain household 
 words, and common street sayings ; and I challenge Dr. Giles, 
 Mr. Thomas Wriglit, Mr. John Evans, and all who have compiled 
 adversaiia on this subject, to show that there is not, internally and 
 externally, sufficient evidence of the genuineness of the old Triads 
 and the old Laws of Wales, to justify our acceptance of the illustra- 
 tions they offer of the ancient history, manners, coinage, and religion 
 of our land. They may be assured that all the sarcasm and ridicule 
 which has been heaped since the time of Ritson upon those writers 
 who have advocated what is called the Welsh point of view, is of 
 little avail to overthrow it. The greatest respect is due to the 
 authors, whether English or Welsh, who, having furnished them- 
 selves with the needed weapons, meet the defenders of Cymru 
 upon their own ground, and refute them if they can ; but no 
 respect is due to those with whom a sneer is the principal argu- 
 ment, and the Roman historians the only possible court of appeal. 
 It mav, indeed, be well said, that if the motto of a too credulous 
 Middle Age was, ' Omne ignotum pro magiiifico est,' the motto for 
 nn age verging on the other extreme is rather 'Omne ignotum pro 
 faUo est ; ' a proposition at least equally unsafe. 
 
 It would lead nie too far to speculate much on the causes which 
 have created so bitter and intense a feeling of dislike for Welsh 
 archaeology and Welsh scholarship in the minds of some eminent 
 English writers. 
 
 I do not now speak of political prejudices, or political neces- 
 sities ; of the national question, as between England and Wales ; 
 but of the absence of cordiality, or rather the openly hostile spirit 
 which has marked, and which still marks, the Anglo-Saxon 
 literary treatment of nearly all Cambrian themes. Doubtless 
 something is due to the fact, that it is Anglo-Saxon, and that it is 
 Cambrian ; for a well known philosophic truth teaches how diffi- 
 cult it is to eliminate from the mind, tliat old indigenous sentiment 
 of ethnical hostility, which is as surely transmissible as are national 
 customs or family features ; and, despite the inlluence of social in-
 
 WELSH STUDIES AND ENGLISH CEITICS. 217 
 
 tercourse and political fusion, there yet remains ^enough of tins 
 sentiment to colour deeply the opinions of writers on both sides.^ 
 
 But such a cause of difference is disappearing with gradual acce- 
 leration, and, at the present day, other influences must be found if 
 we would entirely account for the animosity which misguides the 
 pens of English authors in their treatises on Wales — an animosity, 
 indeed, wholly one-sided and peculiar to themselves. The chief 
 causes I take to be these two : First, the imprudent conduct of 
 some Welsh writers in treating of their national history and anti- 
 quities from the inspiration of affection rather than judgment ; in 
 accepting, without due discrimination, a heterogeneous mixture of 
 facts and fancies, and in dogmatising on archaic difficulties, heed- 
 less of that calm and just critical spirit which, without rejecting 
 earnestness and zeal, suffers no ingenuity to pervert reason, and no 
 predilection to override evidence. 
 
 Unhappily, Wales has, among even her few distinguished 
 writers, and undoubtedly great Celtic scholars, too many who 
 misdevote their talents and their learning rather to the cause of 
 Cymru yn erbyn y byd, than of Gwir yn erbyn y bycl. Yet it is not 
 so with all ; and if we look with regret on the Druidic vagaries of 
 a Davies, or the historical fictions of a Morgan, we can dweU with 
 just pride on the varied and valuable researches of both a Thomas 
 Stephens and an Ab Ithel. 
 
 The cause in question, however, is of course obnoxious to the 
 scholarly instincts of our best English critics, who do not, in any 
 similar degree, err in their treatment of Saxon and Norman periods ; 
 and if this were the only cause, they would be, to a great extent, 
 justified in their antipathy. 
 
 But the other reason, equally cogent, lies in the very nature of 
 Welsh archaeology, poetry, and ecclesiology ; in the remoteness of 
 the theme in form and spirit from modern English sympathies; 
 in the difficulty (far less, indeed, than it seems) of the Celtic 
 dialects ; in the assumption, quite a gratuitous and false one, that 
 nothing relevant to existing English interests and to primeval 
 ages in general, can be extracted from the Cymric Past ; and it 
 must also be added, in the more discreditable feeling of jealousy 
 that there should be a system conterminous with the present law, 
 
 ' There are two authors, Eitson and Pinkerton, whose hatred of the 
 Celtic race amounts to monomania. The ludicrous aberrations of the 
 first may be pardoned ; but the scurrility of the ' Inquiry into the His- 
 tory of kjcotland ' is intolerable.
 
 218 WELSH STUIHES AND ENGLISH CRITICS. 
 
 literature, and religion of tlie Anglo-Saxon race, claiming to have 
 had a large share in the bases of all these ; that there should be a 
 tongue said to excel in structural capacity, copiousness, melody, 
 and strength, which tlio liighest resources of classical scholarship 
 are unable to master ; and lastl}', tliat there should be claimed for 
 Ancient Britain a moral and material civilisation unborrowed from 
 Home or Greece, which has left a distinct tliougli unrecognised 
 impress upon the best forms of the civilisation of to-day. 
 
 Why, it may earnestly be asked, do not our English men of 
 letters co-operate with, and aid, instead of obstruct and ridicule, 
 their literary brethren, whether Welsh, Irish, CJaelic, (Jermau, or 
 French, who devote themselves to Celtic studies? Why do they 
 not acquire the Celtic dialects, and principally the Cymric, now the 
 chief representative of the family ? ^ Why do they not help, by 
 supporting the Welsh Manuscript Society, to remove the veil of 
 obscurity, and to dissipate the cloud of error under wliich, as they 
 assert, the subject lies? Why do tliey not investigate for tliem- 
 selves, and help to discover, the many memorials of our British 
 forefathers, whether traditionary records or structural remains, 
 which exist, or are suspected to exist ; and thus develop and extend 
 the knowledge of the early history of mankind in general ? 
 
 Surely tliis is no unworthy aim for our most accomplished 
 scholars ! There have been few more accomplished scholars, or 
 men of larger experience, than he who has told us, ' NuUi quidem 
 mihi satis eruditi videntur quibus nostra ignota sunt.''' 
 
 When this happy end shall have been attained, we shall perhaps 
 have no more extreme theories on either side, but be equally freed 
 from Trojan dynasties and Druidical exaltations, and from the 
 ethnology of a Pinkertou and the antiquarianism of a Wright ; and 
 then, perliaps, the woad-stained I'riton may A-anish from our 
 schoolbooks, and the unlettered barbarian be no more heard of in 
 our college halls. 
 
 ' ' But ovou if tlie bingiuige of the Cymrj' were less ancient, or its 
 stores less valuable, yet so long as it is the living language of half a 
 million of our fellow-Christiiius and fellow-subjects, it must richly 
 deserve, and abundantly repay, whatever labour or encouragement may 
 be bestowed on its cultivation.' — Bishop Heher. 
 
 ' The Welsh may now be justly termed the primary and most impor- 
 tant Celtic dialect, and its cultivation is highly desirable.' — Bcah Fosic. 
 
 " Cicero, ' De Legibus.'
 
 210 
 
 WELSH AXNALS AXD ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 . . . . ' Madam, tlvj Cymry seek 
 Support in these that make their state unique — • 
 Tradition, custom, language;' .... Page 42. 
 
 Few persons, indeed, out of Wales, suspect tliat the Welsh have 
 any peculiar annals or traditions ; and of those that are at all 
 acquainted with the subject, the majority know only sufficient to 
 dispose their mind to ridicule and unbelief. Want of time, want 
 of candour or of patience, and, above all, the secular spirit which, 
 averse from introspection or retrospection, links itself only with 
 the present, and with what is called the practical, stand generally 
 in the way of such studies as those imder consideration. In par- 
 ticular it is voted very idle and ridiculous to claim any regard 
 for Ancient Britain. Critics petulantly evade a theme which 
 they cannot handle with intelligence, and ivill not with kindness ; 
 scholars sneer at a language and a literature not comprised within 
 their curriculum ; compilers of historic manuals vacantly copy 
 one another till the story of the idolatrous Druid and the rebellious 
 Prince is recited in every dame-school, and improved in every 
 Bible class. Journalists are never weary of declaiming on the 
 supremacy of the mighty Anglo-Saxon Race ; and innumerable 
 consulters of those national oracles — oracles indeed in the faculty 
 of dubious and double utterance — are never weary of listening to 
 the flattering statement. The student who would call attention 
 to forgotten facts, or unacknowledged conclusions, is pitied as an 
 enthusiast, or disliked as a bore. The age of steam and telegrams 
 is little disposed to pause at the beginnings of war chariots and 
 vocal song. Borne on the broad river of time we have no leisure 
 to look back on the fountain ever mistily receding from our gaze. 
 Archaeology is a harmless weakness, ethnology a speculative toy.
 
 220 WELSH ANNALS AND ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 Why should we lino the nests of our minds with decayed sticks 
 from the wood, or doubtful fossils from the quarry, when last 
 year's hay is at hand, and when penny newspapers are to be bad 
 at every corner ! It is true we may dive into fiithomless geologi- 
 cal depths, argue back for myriads of years the formation of the 
 world, and theorise on the Natural Selection of Man. We may 
 even descend to explore the mysterious cities of Mexico, the sub- 
 merged log-huts of tbe Swiss Lakes, or the flint implements in 
 the drift of Saint Acheul. But to examine records, traditions, 
 and vestiges nearer to us in time, and closer to us in relation, 
 is thought only in the smallest degree worthy of encourage- 
 ment. Thus it is that the past of the Welsh people and the 
 Welsh land is little cared for or comprehended by the nation 
 which has borrowed much from it, and benefited much by it, 
 but which now seeks only to absorb it, and strip it of its separate 
 characteristics'. 
 
 How more and more true become the words of Southey :— 
 ' One maxim of this age is that the past is good for nothing. I 
 wish it was not a corollary with those who hold it, that the future 
 is worth as little, and that the present is all that it behoves us to 
 care about.' 
 
 And indeed there is also an analogous prejudice or ignorance 
 respecting the Wales of to-day. Despite the many points of con- 
 tact with its people, the community of pursuits, the appreciation 
 of its tongue by continental scholars, its tourist-trodden and much- 
 painted valleys and hills, it seems to be regarded in the same 
 spirit though modernised, as that in which North Wales was once 
 regarded by the inhabitants of the South — as a region of mystery, 
 eccentricity, and superstition. 
 
 Results like these are produced and perpetuated by political 
 theories not less than by popular prejudices. Yet surely this 
 ought not to be so ! Surely the ties binding together England 
 and Wales, as England and Scotland, under one Crown and one 
 common name of Britain, are broad and general enough to admit 
 of the differences peculiar to the Celtic nationality, just as variety 
 in the scenery of mountain and plain produces the greatest natural 
 charm of the island; or just as dissimilarity in the complexion 
 and blood of its inhabitants promotes the superior strength and 
 beauty of the united race. And if also the individual leaders of 
 thought and action, and all intelligent and benevolent men,
 
 WELSH ANNALS AND ANTIQUITIES. 221 
 
 instead of standing aloof with indifference, or drawing nigh only 
 with the weapons of sarcasm and ill-will, would qualify themselves 
 to understand the antecedent literature and history of the Cymry, 
 and would sympathise with, and encourage, that love of liberty 
 and fatherland, of music, poetry, and song, of unformal religion 
 and home affections, of free movement and free breathing, which 
 gives nobility to character and refinement to manners, and which 
 counteracts the degrading effects of trade ; they would not only 
 advance a great divine principle, but promote their own intellec- 
 tual and social enjoyments in no ordinary degree.^ 
 
 ' ' Un singulier mauvais vouloir anime certains hypercritiqiies centre 
 les peuples d'origine celtique: on a tout dispute a ces peuples, leui 
 langue, leiu* poesie, leiirs lois ; voila qii'on se met a leur disputer leurs 
 tombeaux ! II est cependant assez probable qu'ils mouraient et qu'on 
 les enterrait.' — De la Villemarqiie, Memoire sur les Pierres et les 
 Texies ccliiques ; read at tlie Celtic Congress of St. Brieuc, 1867.
 
 oo> 
 
 WELSH COLLEGES, OLD AND NEW. 
 
 ' To watch o'er choir and coUeijc, cell and shrine, 
 Where burned through centuries dark, Song, Learning, Faith 
 divine.'' — Page 49. 
 
 The collog-es of South Wales, such as Llandovery and Lampeter, 
 claiui our particular regard as being in some measure the represen- 
 tatives of those ancient institutions to which the names of David, 
 Duhrieius, Padarn, Illtj-d, and Teilo have given imperishable re- 
 nown. Perhaps if we were to mark the two divisions of the Prin- 
 cipality by any broad characteristics, we must assign to' the 
 Deheuharth the pre-eminence in secular learning, and the glory of 
 first receiving and fostering the early Christian faith ; while to 
 the North belong the championship of the national liberty, and 
 the preservation of the purer forms of the national tongue. But 
 who shall venture to infer any meritorious distinction between the 
 lamp that lights and the sword that guards — between the valour 
 without which laiowledge is feeble and tlie knowledge without 
 which valour is bli)id ! Wales has too much reason to be proud 
 of the fair stream of lier history ever to uumingle its waters, or 
 analyse its springs ; and she has too much need of the services of 
 her united sons ever to inquire whose are of the head, and whose 
 are of the heart 5 an inquiry indeed which, in the present day, with 
 all the past for a basis, would be as impossible to answer, as it 
 would be ungracious to propose. 
 
 That a Welsh professorship at Oxford should be instituted is 
 move and more desirable every day ; but, with the growing need, 
 conies the gTowing difhculty of success. Oxford is one of the 
 centres whence are launclied the envenomed arrows of sarcasm 
 and slander from behind the safe shield of anonymous criticism ; 
 and the wliole range of Welsh subjects — tradition, history, archajo-
 
 WELSH COLLEGES, OLD AND NEW. 223 
 
 logv, scholarship, social and political interests — topics which few 
 Euglishmeu liave time to examine, or inclination to defend — are 
 singled out as convenient objects of attack, by the Ishmaels of 
 literature with whom not to abuse is not to exist. I by no 
 means believe that the general public mistake wit for reason, or 
 a,udacitv for power. I think that they merely seek what is 
 amusing and exciting, rather than what is philosophical or in- 
 structive. The present is an age which, wliile it sharpens thought, 
 deadens ieeliug, by the hard practicalities of life ; which in all 
 things finds it easier to laugh and to doubt than to believe and to 
 admire ; and which above all things consults the pleasure of the 
 hour and the profit of the individual. Thus it is that the same 
 craving for relief from daily cares, which, taking the debasing tone 
 of these cares, and vulgarising the word to express it, feeds upon 
 smsafion in a thousand forms, from the spangled rope-dancer to the 
 mitred bishop ; maintains also leading journals and critical reviews, 
 adapted to present that side of a subject which is the most ludicrous, 
 or the most bitter, and to sneer down any assertion of exalted 
 principle, profound thought, or generous feeling, which may be 
 at variance witli the selfish and superficial standaid that has 
 been set up.
 
 224 
 
 DURATION OF LANGUAGE AND NATIONALITY 
 
 IN WALES. 
 
 * The Briton s tongue shall cease not, 
 
 Kg?' the Briton's lineage faiV — Page 61. 
 
 The celebrated prediction of lonas Athraw (or Mynyw) in the 
 tenth century, long attributed to Taliesin (who certainly wrote 
 * Tra mor, tra Brython ' ), must always be refeiTed to when this is 
 the theme : — 
 
 Eu N^r a volant ; 
 Eu hiaith a gadwant ; 
 Ell tir a goUairt ; 
 Ondgwyllt Walia! 
 
 Their God they shall worship; 
 Their language they .shall preserve; 
 Their land they shall lose, 
 Except wild Wales. 
 
 Hardly less striking: is the reply made to Henry II. in 11G3, 
 reported by Giraldus Cambrensis, of an old Welsh nobleman, who 
 had forsaken the cause of his country and joined the army of the 
 king, and whose testimony, therefore, may be admitted to possess 
 considerable weight: — ' Unde et Anglorum rege Henrico secundo 
 in Australem Walliam apud Pencadair quod Caput cathedrce sonat, 
 nostris diebus in banc goutem expeditionem agente, consultus ab eo 
 senior quidam populi ejusdem qui contra alios tamen vitio gentis 
 eidem adha;serat, super exercitu regio, populoque rebelli si resistcre 
 posset, quid ei videretur, bellicique eventus suam ut ei declararet 
 opiniouem, respondit ; " Gravari quideni, plurimaque ex parte 
 dostrui et debilitari vestris, rex, aliorumque viribus, nunc ut olim
 
 LANGUAGE AND NATIONALITY OF WALES. 225 
 
 et pluries, meritorum exigentia, gens ista valebit. Ad plenum 
 autem, propter hominis iram, nisi et ira Dei concurrent, non 
 delebitur. Nee alia, ut arbitror, gens quam hsec Cambrica, .aliave 
 lingua, in die district! examinis coram Judice Supremo, quicquid 
 de ampliori contingat, pi"o hoc terrarum angulo respoadebit." ' — 
 Cambrics Descriptio, lib. il. cap. x. 
 
 The prediction of lonas Mynyw has been distinctly verified as 
 regards the worship and the language of the Brit.>ns; but if he 
 indeed wrote the Awdl Vraith, I cannot see the force of the hi>t 
 part of the prediction. A gollcmt, they -icill lose, should be, A 
 yoUasant, they have lost, for the subjugation of the Loegrian Britons 
 had been complete for at least two hundred years. It seems 
 difficult, however, to suppose that the writer could refer to accom- 
 plished facts, in the terms of the four prece Jing and the two suc- 
 ceeding stanzas. '0 Lord God ! how grievous and miserable will 
 be the fate of the Trojan race. A wily, proud, and cruel German 
 Serpent with her armed train, will overrun all South Britain and 
 the Lowlands of Scotland, from the German Ocean to the Severn. 
 Then will Britons be held, like captives, in the power of aliens 
 from Saxony. Their God will they worship, their language will 
 they retain, and their land will they lose, except the wildej-ness 
 of Wales ; until such time, after long suffering, that the sins of 
 both be had in equal balance. Then shall Britons recover their 
 territories and crown, and the strangers shall dwindle away." — 
 Myvyrian Arch<eoloyy, vol. i. Translation of Edward Jones, Bardic 
 yiuseum, page 33,
 
 226 
 
 HOME TRAVEL. 
 'Let others rove from foreign spot to spot.' — Page 133. 
 
 The more imposing dimensions of the Alps do not an that accornit 
 afford finer views, or threaten greater difficulties, than may be met 
 on our Scottish and Cambrian hills. It is not scale, but confor- 
 mation, season, and accessory groupings, that make up the beauties 
 and terrors of a mountain,^ and our Europe-roving tourists would do 
 well to remember that their native heights possess qualities in this 
 respect quite .as attractive as those for which they abandon them 
 in their annual flight. I could present our wandering ladies in 
 search of the picturesque, with Welsh extracts from the book of 
 Nature, so varied and so fair, that the single disadvantage attend- 
 ing them of being readable at home without a foreign translation, 
 may well be excused ; and I could introduce our ardent youths 
 of the Alpine Club who would consent, ;?o^//- la rarcte de la chose, 
 to forego for one season tlie expense of Chamouui, and their des- 
 perate attempts upon the tremendous and unconquerable Matter- 
 horn,^ to the incidents of a descent into the crater of Cader Idris, 
 under a thick autumn mist, or of twelve hoin-s' exploration of 
 Suowdon in a genuine freezing winter. 
 
 ' Mr. J. 0. Halliwell has some excellent remarks on this subject 
 at the commencement of his ' Notes of Family Excursions in North 
 Wales.' 
 
 - Written in 1862. The Matterhorn is now added to the conquests 
 of the Alpine men who, emulous of Hannibal, 
 
 Deem nothing done while aught remains to do.
 
 227 
 
 TWO WIXTER DAYS ON SNOWDON. 
 
 * Come hither fearless in tlie time of snoivs.^ — Page 141. 
 
 I HAVE long been of opinion, that the winter scenery of the North 
 Cambrian Hills surpasses in real grandeur, and in beauty not only 
 of form but of colour, any that is presented during the summer 
 and autumn months. And I therefore believe that touri&ts would 
 do well to diverge a little from the beaten track and fashionable 
 custom, and to extend the Welsh ' season,' or rather add a new 
 one, by exploring the country at a time when some of the most 
 impressive Alpine effects may be realised with all the enjoyment 
 they afford. It is true that for this purpose a real winter of snow, 
 frost, and ice, with clear skies and an equable temperature, is essen- 
 tial — conditions which of late years have not been easy to obtain ; 
 but it is always possible to select at least a few days when the 
 mountains wear the desired aspect, and do not threaten more 
 than an ordinary degree of danger or difficulty to the traveller 
 who would penetrate their recesses and conquer their heights. 
 
 Among seventeen distinct excursions in North Wales I look 
 back with the greatest satisfaction upon those made in Caernar- 
 vonshire and Merioneth at a period when the hotels were empty 
 and the coaches laid up, when a freezing north wind swept vainly 
 over the great tarn of Cader Idris, and when Eryri wore his coronal 
 of spotless snow. The last, however, of my excursions has been 
 the most gratifying of all, owing to the decided characteristics of 
 winter which will make the Christmas-tide of 1800 long memor- 
 able. And I propose to give an outline of this, hoping that many 
 may be induced to tread the same ground, and obtain the same 
 results. 
 
 In company with an esteemed friend, I left Caernarvon at five 
 o'clock on a cold starlit morning, and took the road to Beddge- 
 
 q2
 
 228 TWO WINTER DAYS OX SXOWDON. 
 
 lert. Passing the dark silent towers of the castle which stood 
 harmless over the sleeping town, we amused ourselves with con- 
 trasting the present with many a Christmas of the fourteenth 
 century, when strength and cruelty garrisoned these walls, and 
 overcame the desperate but weak efforts of native patriotism. 
 Further on we walked over the Roman city, of which hardly a 
 trace survives, and came to the mediieval church Llanbeblig with 
 its massive tower. Here, while we halted by the wayside to take 
 some refreshment after our long railway night-journey, there came 
 from the church a weird gleam of light over the snow, and sounds 
 which I was disposed to think might be connected with some pre- 
 mature riygain,^ until we resolved them into the utterance of a 
 pair of bellows with which the sexton was blowing up his early 
 fires. 
 
 As we proceeded the snow deepened, and it was over our ankles 
 when we ascended into the open country, and felt the keen moun- 
 tain breath on our faces. At daybreak the hills growing out of 
 the gloom, miveiled to us their familiar forms on either side of the 
 valley and in front. The Roman Uinas Diulle peered from the 
 right, still wet with the sea-mist, and recalled to us the celebrated 
 road to Ileriri Mous, in the direction of which we were travelling. 
 To the left, Eilio presented his great snow-slopes and broad bulk, 
 behind which Snowdon was concealed ; and Myuydd Mawr reared 
 his savage head and showed his ewwi-indented sides. Soon that 
 fair mountain triad, older than all bardism, and eloquent with the 
 undying language of Nature, Yr Eifl, lifted his peaks on the 
 western horizon, and we could hear in fancy the huUow sea sound- 
 ing in the depths of Nant Gwrtheyrn. 
 
 Next, the crags of Silyn rose before us, and the bleak expanse 
 of Llyn Cwellyn, guarded by its rock-rampart of Castell Cidwm. 
 It were vain to try to describe the varying effects of the clear 
 winter dawn upon all the peaks, crags, and waters now in sight. 
 Suffice it that we reached our breakfast place, the 'Snowdon 
 Ranger,' keenly impressed with the beauties of our walk, yet not 
 less keenly hungry; and we reached it just in time to avoid a 
 smart snow shower that suddenly swept down darkening the sky. 
 
 ' The early service on Cliristmas morning, in whicli carol-singing is a 
 coaapicuous element— an immemorial Welah custom. (See page 259.)
 
 TWO WINTER DAYS ON SNOWDON. 229 
 
 At noon came a burst of sunlight and a wide reach of blue, and 
 we were tempted to try the ascent of Snowdon from this point, 
 although the day was so far advanced. We started upon the track 
 well described of old by Pennant and by Biugley. The word 
 track, however, is not very applicable to the rough hillside we 
 traversed, covered with yielding snow, in which we sometimes sank 
 thigh-deep. But the splendid panorama that revealed itself as we 
 rose, comprising the dark grey sea, the gleaming Menai, the wild 
 white mountains of Lleyn, the near rocks of our valley, the slopes 
 of Moel Eilio, and, above all, the sterner side of Snowdon, Cwm 
 Clogwyn, with three lakelets lying frozen in its folds, more than 
 recompensed us for the difficulties of the ground. Skirting Maes 
 Cwm with Moel Cynghorion (Hill of Councils), now vacant of all 
 living sound, to our left, and Bwlch Cwm Brwynog before us, we 
 made for the dark precipitous ridge of ClogwynDu'r Arddu, which 
 should lead us up to Y Wyddfa, over the great hollow mentioned. 
 But in the words of the old ' pennill,' 
 
 Ha-wdd yw d'wedjd daccw'r Wyddfa, 
 Nid cir drosti end yn ara' ; 
 
 and on reaching with some labour the bosom of this ciom, and the 
 margin of the Llyn Ffynnon Gwas at the foot of Arddu, we were 
 overtaken from the north-west by one of those sharp sudden storms 
 which are so characteristic of mountain countries, and which, when 
 they occur in winter, can by no ingenuity be called agreeable. 
 The snow encrusted our clothing, the hail lashed our faces, the 
 wind howled sullenly around us, and, worst of all, a dense mist 
 enveloped us spreading up from the valley. To stand still in two 
 feet of snow was beyond endurance. To go back, beside being 
 inglorious, was more uncomfortable than to go on. But it was the 
 best thing to do as the mist was deepening. After gazing, then, 
 once more on Llj-n Gwas, and thinking of the poor farm servant 
 who was drowned in it on perhaps such a day as this, thus giving 
 its name to the tarn, we commenced our retreat. 
 
 At first we lost our bearings in the indistinguishable mass of 
 snow and sky, but soon recovering them by help of the compass, 
 we set out in a bee-line for Pont Ehyd du Gate on the Beddgelert 
 Road. The situation suggested to my companion one of his old 
 adventures on the Alpine cols or plateaux, while to my mind it
 
 230 TWO ^VINTER DAYS OX SNOWBOX. 
 
 vividlv recalled a four hours' imprisonment on Cader Idris,' and a 
 memorable Cliristmas uiirlit's -^-andering on the Glyder Vawr.* For 
 about an hour and a half we forced our way down, now struggling 
 over a stone dyke, now pausing behind some enormous fragment of 
 rock, through wood, and marsh, and brook, through mist, and hail, 
 and snow, until at tlio desired point we struck the road which was 
 become almost invisible in the advancing night and the blinding 
 drift. Thence to the mistress of three vales, the romantic village 
 of Beddgelert, was an easy descent ; and there, under the shadow 
 of Moel Hebog and Craigyllan, we enjoyed ten hours of uninter- 
 rupted sleep earned by hearty fatigue and free exposure to the 
 elements, in which, however, there was a rare mixture of pleasure 
 in the endurance, as there will always be in the recollection. 
 
 We awoke to iiud the sky stainless blue, and the earth locked 
 in frost, after the coldest night that the villagers had known for 
 twenty years. The little river Colwyn, which we had left spark- 
 ling and dancing to its own music in raoonliglit, now lay dumb 
 and still ; and the trees which we last saw swaying naked in the 
 storm, were now crisp and motionless with every bough beaded 
 bv glistening rime. A pale rose-tint suiTused the upper slopes of 
 the Hill of the Falcon, which gradually deepened into ruby as the 
 sun ascended over Aberglaslyn. All looked so promising that, 
 ■with a joyful impulse, we determined to attack Snowdon once 
 more, seizing at least the beginning of the day whatever might be 
 its end. 
 
 After two preliminary miles on the Caernarvon road, occupied 
 with encouraging views of Ilebog, Silyn, and the crags of Mynydd 
 Mawr towering over the Xantlle valley, we came in sight of Aran, 
 the southern outpost of Snowdon, and next, of the grander front of 
 Ervri itself stretching, in an unbrolven curve, from base to summit 
 an intense snow-line against the intense azure of the sky. Never 
 
 ' In July, 1856, I found myself among the splintorod basaltic crags 
 of Cader, unablo to see three yards around me, and I had no easy task 
 to extricate myself and the young friend accompanying me. But tho 
 view of the mist, boiling and surging up as from a cauldron, in that 
 fantastic ampliitheatre of black jagged rocks, as the eye peered over some 
 dripping precipice, while the foot, iirreste-d iu its progress, held fast for 
 life, would have been a rich recompense for even a longer imprisonment. 
 
 * See the poem ' Nant Ffrancon,' p. 71.
 
 TWO WINTER DAYS OX SXOWDON. 231 
 
 did we see the mountain more beautiful in form or hue, although 
 iu mere height it is considerably dwarfed on this side by the eleva- 
 tion of the road skirting its base. 
 
 Leaving the road at the Pitt's Head Rock, we passed through 
 the farm of Ffridd Uchaf, where the good people seemed astonished 
 to hear of our intention. Drawing a bee-line from this farm to 
 the lowest part of the Llechog, we pressed on through the snow, 
 which presented an unbroken even surface with a depth of about 
 two feet. An hours rather toilsome march bi-ought us to the 
 Llechog's side, and here was, perhaps, the hardest climbing of all. 
 We were obliged to grasp the rock and force a way over the rough 
 fragments that strewed tlie slope, and whose interstices were 
 filled with deep snow, in which the leg had to be plunged and 
 withdrawn in a very fatiguing succession. Often did we find the 
 supports tTeacherous and the foothold untertain, and slip back, or 
 tumble headlong, burying face and hands in the snow. But we 
 always came up likeAntfeus, fresher from the contact as from a bath, 
 and we had even here many sights and sounds of interest in the 
 faatastie wreaths overlapping the crags, in the miniature defiles 
 through which we waded, iu the breeze singing among the upper 
 rocks, and skimming off into vapour the fine powder of crystalline 
 snow, and in the faint bubbling run of the buried and unfrozen 
 rill heard beneath the feet, suggesting the fairy tales connected 
 with this part of the mountain. Icicles too, in every variety of 
 form and colour, adorned with their sparkling spear-fringes each 
 exposed little ridge. But our great icicle-picture was on the 
 following day, in the Pass of Llanberis, where they hung in 
 most gTand and romantic shapes — organ pipes — tilting lances — 
 cataracts. 
 
 It was a relief, however, to gain the crest of this troublesome 
 brae, and to step out upon the brink of Cwm Clogwyn, that fine 
 amphitheatre, whose walls form nearly one-half of the mountain's 
 vertical section, and above which, bending to the nortliward, is 
 piled the roeky fi-amework constituting the mural barrier of the 
 still greater Cwm Llan, and culminating in Y Wyddfa, the con- 
 spicuous type of dignity and repose. 
 
 This we seized at a glance, aud the eye then dwelt on the 
 rounded snow-slopes of the Llechog, seeming to stretch over Cwm 
 Craigog to the foot of Aran below, and on the domelike eminence 
 directly above us, melting into the calm blue heaven. The snow
 
 232 TWO WINTER DAYS ON SNOWDON. 
 
 had been here much blown about, drifted and sifted by the pre- 
 vailing winds, hanging sometimes on the very edge of the preci- 
 pice, then receding from it, leaving spaces of herbage where we 
 gathered mosses. The dark basaltic sides of the cwm were beau- 
 tifully flecked with snow and glazed with ice. The white covering 
 lay on the brow generally to the depth of from two to three feet, 
 and it had been formed into spicults and crystals of singular sharp- 
 ness and delicacy. There were snow-cornices too of indescribable 
 beauty, now resembling the fretted lines of the choicest stone 
 tracery, and now a frozen image of some deep-curving wave. 
 
 We doubted not that, after a few more days of frost, the snow 
 would be hard enough to bear our tread, which would make the 
 passage of the mountain far more easy, but much less safe, as the 
 snow is of positive service in detaining the foot and steadying the 
 body. We looked for a few minutes on the scene below, and 
 chiefly on the ' Rivals ' rising far in the distance, on the cwm of 
 Craig Silyn, down the rich mineral valley of NantUe, at the head 
 of which, upon Llyn Dywarchen, we saw the farmhouse where we 
 were hospitably treated in 1857, and at the notable mountain- 
 barrier Moelwyn, beyond Beddgelert. All these wera touched 
 with the last rays of the sun, and we hasted on eastward up the 
 steep side, bringing the sun up with us, to the sharp wedge-like 
 peak of Bwlch y Maen, and thence northward to the aiyuUles-^ior 
 such they almost are — of the Clawdd Coch. Here we overlooked 
 the great cwm of Snowdon, and here the moon came out to meet 
 us above the peak of Lliwedd. 
 
 From this ridge were visible Cader Idris, the Berwyns, and a 
 vast wilderness of hills to the eastward, the hills of Lleyn, Bardsey 
 Island, the Bay of Cardigan, with the tremulous fires of sunset 
 playing on it over Port Madoc, the entire plain of Anglesey, 
 Holyhead, the dark sea to the north, and the shining Menai on 
 the soutliern border. A bank of compact clouds was settling over 
 Caernarvon Bay, veiling distimce in that direction. Of the near 
 view of lakes and mountains, I will now only mention the magni- 
 ficent Lliwedd rising sheer from Cwm Dyli and Cwm Llan, juid 
 forming tlie bold eastern outwork of Snowdon. 
 
 But the fast sinking sun and the hazardous character of the 
 * Red Ridge ' made us push on for the summit. The real difficulty 
 was now, indeed, to begin in the passage of the Clawdd, which is 
 hardly anywhere more than three yards wide, and whicli pi'esented 
 a tableau of snow and crag mingled in the wildest miuiner, and of
 
 TWO WINTER DAYS ON SNOWDON. 233 
 
 ■wreaths and icicles fiintastically suspended over tlie abyss on each 
 side. Breaking through the breast-high cornices, sounding cau- 
 tiously every step with our sticks, holding on by the hands in 
 places where a slip would have sent us rolling hundreds of yards to 
 the right or left, one of us taking care to tread in the steps formed 
 by the other, we clambered slowly across the neck, and reached 
 the shoulder crowned bv the chief summit. During the hour 
 occupied by this part of our journey, we had the same splendid 
 weather that favoured the beginning and the end of it. Standing 
 in the centre between the two cwms, where we could plant our 
 feet against rock, with the faintest breeze from the north-west, in 
 the full glitter of the risen moon, with the keen frost deepening 
 the azure air and crisping the virgin snow, we were at liberty to 
 enjoy in tranquillity the wonderful beauty of the scene. But 
 if the snow had been wholly converted to ice, if a strong wind 
 had blown from any quarter, or if a close mist had enwrapped 
 us, our position would have been perilous, for tourists unacquainted 
 with the hills, or unsteady of foot and eye. If we had fallen 
 from this saddle in opposite directions we should probably, in a 
 few seconds, have been half a mile asunder. But we were both 
 fair cragsmen, accustomed to depend on our own resources, and 
 able to take the proper steps under most circumstances of mountain 
 danger. We had made a previous ascent on a winter night (in 
 1857), but the essential element of snow was then absent, and we 
 missed some other of the grander aspects of Eryri, although upon 
 that occasion, as upon this, we were deeply impressed with Clawdd 
 Coch and Bwlch y Maen (which we then approached by an ei- 
 tempoiised route from the foot of Aran), particularly as seen from 
 the end next the Wyddfa, for the skeleton of Snowdon is here 
 narrowed to a bone, and the rock-bridge of some four hundred 
 yards long seems absolutely aerial. 
 
 Passing to the summit we found no greater depth of snow. 
 The air was perfectly calm. The cold was intense. Our observa- 
 tions however, on this point, are valueless, as we had no instru- 
 ments with us, but the temperature must have been many degrees 
 below zero.' Its effect on our limbs was such that we could only 
 
 ' At Downham Market in Norfolk, on this Christmas Eve, the regis- 
 tered average temperature was 11° below zero ; and on the Yorkshire 
 Wolds it was 7° below zero.
 
 23-1 TWO WINTER DAYS OX SXOWDOX. 
 
 retain life in them by violent motion, while the •well-kuowu sen- 
 sation of sleepiness stealing through our veins made movement 
 difficult and wearisome. After a hasty refreshment, we paced 
 round the rocky knoll, surveying all the peaks and cwms grouped 
 about our central station. No picture could be more grand or 
 solemn. It can he but faintly indicated. Cwm Llan and the Vale 
 of Gwynaut lay in broad masses of light and shadow, the upper 
 part being snow-slopes of dazzling white, the lower part flecked 
 and intermixed with the signs of road, wood, and stream. Cwm 
 Dyli yawned still more precipitous, enclosing Llyn Llydaw, whose 
 deep pure waters of seeming inky l)lackness were .streaked with 
 one vivid shaft of moonlight. The great peaks Crib Goch and 
 Crib Ddysgyll stood out as the northern body-guard of the 
 monarch, while the savage head of Glyder "\'awr and the pic- 
 turesq[ue lines of Moel Siabod, seen across the respective valleys 
 of Llanberis and Mymbyr, formed on other sides the advanced 
 posts of Snowdonia. At our feet, seeming to defy access, lay tlie 
 Lliwedd, perhaps the finest single peak in Wales, Tryvaen ex- 
 cepted, and which, seen from Cwm Dyli or Gwynant, looks only 
 less imposing than the Wyddfa itself. The moon, nearly at her 
 full, flung over all these her whitest wintriest lustre, and the long 
 tracts of unspotted snow gleamed colder under that lifeless light. 
 Two or three of the greater stars burned sharply in a sky dark 
 with azure, and bared from horizon to zenith. One wide circle of 
 the world of Xature and Man was gathered into our vision, but 
 not the faintest human or elemental sound flitted across that 
 intense silence. 
 
 The very Winds, 
 
 Danger's grim pLaymates, ou that precipice 
 Slept clasped in liis embrace. 
 
 Imagination needed very little stimulus to realise the a=;pect of 
 Snowdon at the far-remote period wlien humanity was not, when 
 Cwm Dyli presented a vast basin of ice, and glaciers rolled down 
 from every side, encumbering the narrow gorges, and overflowing 
 into the deep valleys. 
 
 I have seen the best mountain beauty of Xorth Wales — Aran 
 Vowddwy from Bwlch y Groes; Cader Idris from Llauelltyd 
 Bridge, or from its own great tarn; Carnedd Llywelyn from 
 Bethesda; the Ehyuuog hills from Trawsfynydd; and the Eifl
 
 TWO WINTER DAYS ON SNOWDON. 235 
 
 group from Caernarvon Bay ; and I hare stood on all those peaks, 
 aul explored the recesses of Snowdon itself in all seasons ; but I 
 never looked on so impressive a scene as that spread before nie on 
 this memorable Christmas Eve. 
 
 The descent to Llanberis otfered few additional features beside 
 the increased depth of the snow over the Llechwedd, and in 
 Cwm Brwyuog where it had obliterated the horsepath. The 
 Glyders showed their rugged peaks for the last time ; Clogwyn Du'r 
 Arddu, the most savage, dark, and precipitous of the Snowdonian 
 crags, and a most striking object seen in approaching Llanberis 
 from Caernarvon, looked still blacker and ruder now ; and the 
 beautiful Llyn Padarn, almost constantly in sight during the 
 downward walk, lay fair in moonlight awaiting our coming. 
 
 The rest was desolation unrelieved by grandeur, yet not without 
 interest or meaning ; and passing through the little firwood, we 
 reached the Victoria Hotel, invigorated rather than fatigued by 
 the eight hours on Eryri, and with sincere emotions of love for the 
 country which had so often yielded us these pure pleasures, and 
 of veneration for Him Whose Almighty hand prepared the moun- 
 tain glory and the mountain gloom.' 
 
 January, 1861. 
 
 ' We were ^eeeisii in this excursion by Professor Tyndall, -who with 
 two companions and a guide ascended, a day or two earUcf, from the 
 head of Llanberis Pass. <i' -<'^^"^ 
 
 Dr. Tyndall, who is a practised Alpine traveller, and an excellent 
 a-uthority in mountain matters, scenic as well as geologic, said that 
 hardly on Monte Rosa, the Gornergrat, or Mont Blanc itself, had he 
 enjoyed such glorious moments as upon the top of Snowdon that day. 
 See his narrative of the ascent in the Saturday Beview of January 5, 
 1861.
 
 23G 
 
 THE VALE OF MOWDD^T. 
 
 ' Valley, which green hills invest, 
 Crags and stimmits tempest-torn, 
 River, from their twilight breast 
 
 Falling southivard to the morn!'' — Page 193. 
 
 Few even of ova hardiest pedestrian travellers are sufficiently 
 acquainted with this corner of Merioneth. The genius of guide- 
 books has fluttered over Gwynedd on very weak pinions indeed, 
 feeling most at ease when near the line of the Chester and Holy- 
 head railway, or the great Holyhead road, where he could get a 
 timely lift, and without fatigue describe glibly the beauties of 
 Eangor, or the amenities of Llangollen. The egregious swarm of 
 ' tourists ' whom * cheap excursions ' and summer skies draw annu- 
 ally to wild Wales, and who do the country, to its detriment with 
 closed eyes, yet to its advantage with open purses, are not exactly 
 authorities as to the Mowddwy district, though many of them 
 have been hospitably entertained at the table of its rector, while 
 on the way wearily sighing for the hotel at Mallwyd, Dolgelly, or 
 Bala. And the flippant book-makers of the Miss Louisa Stuart 
 Costello cliiss/ the feeders of the guide-books, who lisp out a 
 calumny against the music, or a protest against the language, 
 and without the head to perceive, or the heart to appreciate, any- 
 thing a little beneath the surface, complacently roll through the 
 turnpikes, thinking they do enough in collecting materials for a 
 few pretty pictures and anecdotes, need not be consulted for any 
 details of the Valley of spreading waters. But Pennant among the 
 old writers, and Clifle among the new, are well worthy of credit, 
 especially Clifle, whose Uook of North Wales had the advantage 
 
 • Falls, Lakes, and Mountains of North Wales. Longmans, 1845.
 
 THE VALE OF MOWDDWY. 237 
 
 of being revised by Ab Itbel. The reader, however, would do best 
 to judge for himself of this most remarkable little glen; and he 
 will not then accuse me of any attempt at ' fine writing ' if I seek 
 now to give him a verbal impression of its wildness and its beauty. 
 From the high ground eastward of Bala, on the Corwen Road, 
 the traveller to Dolgelly sees straight before him, rising afar in 
 picturesque grandeur, the two Arans, Benllyn and Mowddwy, and, 
 beyond them, he may even catch glimpses of the tall peaks of 
 Cader Idris, where the mountain gloom and the mountain 
 glory, to which Mr. Ruskin has devoted some of his most eloquent 
 chapters, find one of their fittest Cambrian illustrations. If that 
 gentle wind, from the 
 
 • • • • south-west, that blowing Bala Lake 
 Fills all the sacred Dee ; 
 
 be then prevailing, it will refresh his cheek with the pure coolness 
 of those hills, and woo his footsteps to seek their romantic recesses. 
 Ashepasses along the margin of the Llyn — it matters littlewhether 
 on the Llanycil or the Llangower side — the region he is approaching 
 assumes an aspect of most attractive mystery. Aran Benllyn, at 
 the head of the lake, which its name implies, grows more and 
 more imposing as a barrier or a guard. At Llanuwchllyn the 
 Dolgelly Road turns the west flank of the mountain, and soon 
 becomes uninteresting. Yet that of course is the popular road, for 
 does not a coach traverse it daily, and is not the Golden Lion at 
 the end ? I invite our traveller to another road, leading to 
 Bwlch y Groes, the celebrated Pass of the Cross, to the eastward 
 of the Arans. Like most celebrated things, this fine scenery has 
 suffered from over-statement. Too mucli has been said, even by 
 Pennant, of its difficulties and terrors ; too little by all writers of 
 its peculiar excellences. There are not many places in Wales 
 capable of presenting at all seasons a succession of pictures equally 
 vivid. The road, gradually growing narrower and steeper, ascends 
 the long valley of Cwm CyuUwyd,^ where, far down, the brawl- 
 ing Twrch ^ flows from its rocky fountain under Llechwedd Du, 
 
 ' Meaning, the hoary-headed hollow, or the primeval grey gorge. 
 * Burrower, mole. ' Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath.' — 
 Milton.
 
 238 THE VALE OF MOWDDWY. 
 
 leapirijcr, hirroivinff, and dashing on its way to LlynTegid. To the 
 right hand, opening into this valley, is Cwm Groes, one of the de- 
 solate vestibules of the mountain shrine. Bisecting it is a silver 
 threaded torrent which strugirles int) tlie Twrch. Above it, the 
 twin heads of Aran, massive and majestic, pierce the clouds. If, as 
 I would fain believe, the Twrch is the Dee, in, as it were, a state 
 of pre-existence, then the springs of the holy river are at our feet, 
 and the glorious verse of Spenser and of Drayton, mixed with the 
 Arthurian legends, fires our imagination.' 
 
 We turn awhile, and Arenig is before us, grandly filling the sk}-- 
 liue to the north-west. Descending the Bwlch on a clear autumn 
 mornin_', I have seen, across the white glitter of the lake, this 
 lofty hill struck by the early sun with such a roseate blaze, that it 
 resembled a floating golden cloud ever and anon streaked with 
 opaline bars, and wearing an aspect so unearthly in its beauty, yet 
 so vividly defined, as to suggest one of the fabled Islands of the 
 Blest. 
 
 Soon the track grows rude and tortuous and winds along the 
 shoulder of the hill beneath impending crags, into the Pass of the 
 Cross. The valley seems to retreat and deepen as we go, till at 
 
 ' However, the antdacustrine Dee has been alleged to be the stream 
 called indeed Dyvrdwj' in the Ordnance map, rising under Permaen 
 (where is a earn), near the eigluli milestone from Ikla, on the Dolgelly 
 Eoad. This stream is the Avon y Llan mentioned by Pennant, and 
 receives, not far from Llanuwcbllyn, the Avon Lliw, which has its 
 sources in the hill-waste between ^Vrenig and Cwm Prysor. These two 
 streams have been said to form the Dee. Eut it must be remembered 
 that, at a point near old Caer Gai, the waters of the T-nTch receive, or 
 are received by, those of the Lliw and Llan, and the united three pass 
 into Bala Lake. Which is the parent stream it is difficult to say. 
 Pennant somewhat confuses the question, and Black places the head- 
 waters of the Dee at the foot of the Berwyns, thinking perhaps of the 
 stream that falls into the lake at Llangower, but which can have no 
 better claim than the Llavar on the opposite side. Science may smilo 
 at the tale of a Welsh Arethusa (what could be better fitted than the 
 Twrch for such an exploit?), but it maybe substantially tnie, if wo 
 consider Llyn Tegid as an expansion of the triad of streams we have 
 been describing. I do not know what Catherall says on the subject. 
 He is reputed to be ' very learned on the sources of rivers.' I write from 
 personal observations.
 
 THE VALE OF MOWDDWr. 239 
 
 last it terminates in a true amphitlieatre of the vrilds. Tiiere ono 
 solitary farmhouse called Blaeu y Cwm from its position gives a 
 human interest to the spot, and, maybe, the faint cry of a sheep, 
 or the quick bark of a dog, breaks the ghostly silence with a pecu- 
 liar charm. I have passed over these hills in mid winter, when 
 the cwm was locked in frost and flecked -with snow, and when the 
 moon, labouring under great cloud-masses, broke out fitfully upon 
 the ancient region, iliugiug alternately broad shadows and piercintr 
 shafts of light. Arrived at the summit of the Bwlch, we Snd, 
 instead of the old cross which gave a name to the pass, a earn 
 placed by the Ordnance surveyors on the exact confines of Mont- 
 gomery and Merioneth. Without entering the former eountv, we 
 proceed along the swampy level, whence the peaty substitute for 
 coal, called mawn, is procured ; and, turning suddenly, descend into 
 a completely different district, that of Mowddwy. Koiv the 
 mountain side is on our right hand, and on our left a deep ravine, 
 w^hiu-h encloses the tiny river Ilhiwlach, with the mural ramparts 
 of Moel y Gordd towering over it. 
 
 As the rough track leads us down between these and the green 
 ridges of Yr Eryr, into recesses more and more secluded and over- 
 shadowed, a feeling of oppression and sadness steals over the mind, 
 and we doubt for a moment whether the district we are approach- 
 ing be like the happy valley of Easselas, or rather like that brooded 
 over by the dread lethiferous win^s. 
 
 At the bottom, however, gloomy thoughts take flight. The re- 
 joicing little Rhiwlach is content to blend its existence with that 
 of its infant playfellow Dyvi, who, as if conscious of the more 
 brilliant destiny in store for it, of traversing pastoral plains and 
 bearing ocean-spanning ships, comes dancing from the lonely tarn 
 hid in the heart of Aran Vowddwy, down Llaithnant,' the broad 
 cu-m opening on the right hand at the foot of Bwlch y Groes. 
 Turning also to the left, we follow Dyvi into the valley of Llany- 
 mowddwy,- at this spot fitly called Vale-head {Pe'n-nant), and 
 become acquainted with an almost unique combination of scenic 
 
 ' The moist ravine, if the Ordnance map is correct; but li Llacthnant 
 be the right orthography, as local legends indicate, the meaning ^ould 
 be the viilky brook. The Dyvi, however, was once called Llaith. 
 
 * Accurately Llanym.awddwy— the sacred inelosure (or church) of 
 diffused waters.
 
 240 THE VAI.E OF MOWDUWY. 
 
 sublimities. Frontinf^ us, or a little to the right, is Moel Ffridd, 
 a hill now utterly jmwooded, of the boldest outline, presenting on 
 this side a wedge-like or pyramidal section quite as picturesque, 
 though hardly so grand, as Trivaen in Nant Ft'rancon. To the left 
 the still descending road develops a lofty barrier of hills rising 
 witli every variety of slope and contour, and broken in the nesir 
 distance by two civms penetrating them at an angle, as savage 
 and romantic as any I have seen. These are respectively Cwm 
 Cerddyn and Cwm Llygaed. Each is traversed by a torrent, and 
 inclosed by dark discoloured precipices. Between them is Moel 
 Vryn, a round picturesque lull, outjutting like a promontory, easy 
 of access, and affording a curious view of the valley and of the 
 distant moimtains to the north and west. 
 
 The valley is here, and at Llanymowddwy itself, contracted to 
 very narrow limits, being almost a mere gorge, marking the descent 
 of the Dovey. It expands very gradually with the river, and may 
 be said to he terminated by the fine bluff hill Moel Dinas, beneath 
 which the ancient capital city Dinas Mawddwy cherishes in its 
 street of hovels, its mayor, corporation, and all privileges apper- 
 taining ; and the Dovey, which has flowed past all the grandeur 
 and all the decay, flows on as ever, widening and deepening, in 
 the open valley to Machynlleth. 
 
 Llanymow^ddwy Cliurch, a very small and utterly plain building, 
 and the rectory adjacent, a low rustic cottage, stand at about a 
 mile from the foot of ]5wlch y (iroes. 
 
 The living, when Ab Ithel was preferred to it, was in the diocese 
 of St. Asaph, but it had been, before he left it, transferred to that 
 of Bangor. Its yearly value is little more than 200/. The parish 
 embraces a wide circle of hill country, which Ab Ithel's high re- 
 putation and character practically much extended, for the people 
 flocked to him from Dinas, Mallwyd, and Montgomery parishes, 
 as to a loved pastor, who sympathised at once with their personal 
 interests and their national predilections. 
 
 The patron siiiut of Llanymowddwy is the great Tydecho,' of 
 
 ' Soe the Cyitydd Tydecho Sant yn Amser Mae/gum Gwyncdd, by Davydd 
 Llw}d. 'This illustrious bard informs us that Tydecho had been an 
 abbot in Armorica, and came over in the time of King Artliur ; but, after 
 the death of that hero, when the Saxons overran most of the kingdom,
 
 THE VALE OF MOWDDWY. 241 
 
 whose residence and actions here some curious leg-ends survive. In 
 the churchyard stand two yew-trees, reputed to be older than the 
 more celebrated ones at Mallwyd. They give to the enclosure an 
 air of weird antiquity somewhat inconsistent witli the modern 
 little church, but quite in harmony with the surrounding scene. 
 The little rectory, like the church, nestles under the bold masses 
 of Moel y Fl'ridd, where it is well protected from north-west 
 winds. In front of it, stretching to the Dyvi, are the few glebe 
 fields, and opposite, beyond the river, yawns another fine cwm, that 
 of Pen y Gelli.^ 
 
 The great precipice of Cwm Pen y Gelli forms a deep indenta- 
 tion of tlie mountain wall, closing the valley of Llanymowddwy 
 on the eastern side. 
 
 Well worth regard is the aspect of this ctvtn from the Rectorv, 
 or from the Manor-house of Bryn. Deeply recessed in the hill, and 
 seldom penetrated by the sun, it has more to do with shadow than 
 with light, and whether half-veiled by the thin mists of morning, 
 or sunk in the glooms of eve, or tinted by the fleecy clouds of 
 noontide, there seems a curious constant horror upon it — some- 
 thing which moves the mind to images of pain, cruelty, and despair. 
 But it is when winter settles within it, sharply defining the dark 
 steep crags against the freezing sky ; spreading sheets of snow 
 
 the saint retired, and led here a most austere life, lying on the bare 
 stones, and wearing a shirt of hair ; yet he employed his time usefully, 
 was a tiller of the ground, and kept hospitality. Prince Maelgwa 
 Gwynedd, then a youth, took offence at the saint, and seized his oxen ; 
 but wild stags were seen the npxt day performing their office, and a 
 grey wolf harrowing after them. Maelgwn enraged at this brought 
 his milk-white dogs to chase the deer while he sat on the blue stone to 
 enjoy the diversion, hut when he attempted to rise, he found himself 
 immovably fixed to the rock, so that he was obliged to beg pardon of 
 the saint, who on proper reparation was so kind as to free him from his 
 awk^rard pain.' — Pennant's Tour in Wales, vol. ii. p. 227. 
 
 Tydecho's chair (the blue stone) is still visible at the top of the 
 wooded ravine of the Pymrhyd, close to the rectory. There is also 
 Tydecho's bed un the cold flank of Aran, approached from the same 
 direction. 
 
 ' The head of the hazel grove. — As little wood remains as upon Moel 
 Ffridd. This inconsistency, so frequent in Welsh names, proves their 
 antiquity. 
 
 R
 
 242 THE VALE OF MOWDDWY. 
 
 along the stony slopes, like cerements on the face of death ; hang- 
 ing giant icicles adown the mural front, and bright bands of drift 
 in every crevice ; trampling into muddy ruin the hardy mosses and 
 lichens ; binding the torrent between the shapeless stones . of its 
 bed, save only in its impetuous sweep over the crag, which not 
 even winter can arrest ; and in fine, transfusing all with a spirit of 
 dumb and utter desolation ; it i? then that Cwm Pen y Gelli puts 
 on its most awful aspect, and most resembles a vast lair where 
 couches some gigantic wild beast, fierce habitant of a world from 
 which human life lias died out. 
 
 Above this romantic hollow, upon Carreg y Vran, runs the divi- 
 ding line of the two counties. To the left hand, the valley seems 
 closed by Moel Vryn, where, in autumn, a good example may be 
 seen of those beautiful tints in wliich the hills of Meirion in 
 general excel the hills of Arvon, as the latter excel the former in 
 crag. To the right hand, the group of humble tenements along 
 the road, forming the village of Llanymowddwy, redeems the pros- 
 pect from utter loneliness. The population is small, poor, and 
 widely scattered ; speaking only Welsli, and living (Mily by agri- 
 culture and sheep-farming. They are of simple life and manners, 
 fond of music and song, warm-hearted, hospitable, superstitious, 
 and devout; and in short, exhibit the typical Welsh mountain 
 character as it has been from the days of Giraldus to the days of 
 Pennant, and thence to our own time. 
 
 In all respects is the Mowddwy district worthy of more atten- 
 tion than it has received. To every class it offers attractions 
 hardly to be met elsewhere, grouped within similar bounds. The 
 student may find a harmonious sphere for quiet thought. The 
 man tired of the pleasure or busiiiess of cities may enjoy pure re- 
 laxation and undisturljed repose. The pedestrian may discover 
 splendid employment for his legs and lungs. The lover of field 
 sports may harass to his heart's content the trout on the river, and 
 the game on the hills : and if he liave strong limbs and steady eyes 
 he may follow the fo.x in places which would try the mettle of a 
 Leicestershire squire, and shatter the nerves of a pigeon-shooter 
 of London. • 
 
 Nor is the valley less eligible for intellectual tastes and uses. 
 Art may delight in several picturesque water-falls and river- 
 reaches, as well as in grand mountain gi-oupings. Geology and 
 Botany may find in the noble sections of Cowarch and Aran, and
 
 THE VALE OF MOWDDWY. 243 
 
 on the ■wild summits around Carreg y Big, much to enrich the; 
 cabinet, of moss and of rock. Romance may have ample materials 
 in the fairies and eUt/Unn born of the winds, woods, and waters, 
 who hauiit tliis region ; in the tales, legends, and even relics, of 
 saints, princes, banditti, and wizards, and, above all, in the wild 
 and wayward ghosts whom no power ecclesiastical or mechanical 
 can lay} Archagology may find suggestions in abundance, of 
 Roman roads, and Celtic cams and circles; with some curious 
 medioeval traces. And Poetry may dream at midnight in those 
 secluded dells, when nothing is visible but the keen stars burning 
 above the black mountain-crests, and nothing audible save the 
 faint song of the river flowing over the polished stones. Or she 
 may take her stand upon Moel Ffridd on an autumnal morning of 
 sunny promise, and watch the surging columns and wreaths of 
 mist in the valleys, and tlie multitudinous hills tumbled about in 
 all shapes of grandeur and grace over the horizon, with their tops 
 islanded in a milk}^ sea, or their dusky backs upheaving like 
 uncouth monsters of the Pleiocene. Or she may listen to the 
 rolling thunder, and the fierce north wind sweeping down from the 
 caves of Aran through the shivering firs ; scattering the lingering 
 berries of the ash, loosing the secret springs, maddening the tor- 
 rents, wreathing the cwnis wdth feathery snow, or hurling a deluge 
 of rain upon the fields. 
 
 Of atmospheric vicissitudes, indeed, vulgarly called * changes of 
 weather,' Mowddwy has had always more than its share, even 
 for a hilly country. However sublime it maybe to the mind, it is 
 by no means comfortable to the body to be caught in a sudden 
 storm on the Welsh hills. It is a fine thing to be ' a portion of 
 the tempe.st,' but it is peculiarly pleasant to be so from a snug 
 
 ' The pi'psiding ghost of MowddM'y keeps his courf at the okl manor- 
 house of Bryn. The writer, who has a considerable sympathy for 
 ghosts, once passed a winter's night in the room ; but he is not at liberty 
 to say more. As to fairies, he does not insist that the Tylwyth Teg still 
 occupy their ancient ball-room in the great cwm of Aran, tlioiigh he 
 knows some persons who do. Ho is, however, quite willing to believe 
 that an old patriotic grey wolf, the same that did the harrowing for 
 Tydecho, lurks still in C\vin Llygaed, and often casts a wistful eye to the 
 sleek Saxons who admire the cw7n from the road in the autumn twi- 
 light. 
 
 b2
 
 244 THE YALE OF MOWDDWY. 
 
 study-window, or a balcony well sheltered and lightning-proof. 
 Experto crede. One of my keenest enjoyments of a storm night 
 was at trite over-thronged Llangollen, where I watched the 
 glorious play of the elements from a window of the hotel. And 
 one of the most wretched nights I ever passed, was amid the 
 solemn wildness of the Carnedd Llywelyn range, where the day 
 had closed magnificently, and the highest poetical stimulants 
 abounded. But it ht^t/an to rain. A little while before, I had 
 found a delicious spring, and had quailed, and quoted with 
 fervour, 
 
 solicito bibant 
 Auro superbi : quam juvat inidA nianu 
 Captasse fontem ! 
 
 But noiv I had to turn for safety to a stimulant the reverse of 
 poetical — which, however, our Armorican cousins call, with a fine 
 accumulative significance, gioinardan,^ and their Gallic neighbours 
 as emphatically eau de vie. 
 
 That Mowddwy has been afflicted with an excess of rain from 
 an early date, appears from the adage of the three things which 
 she wishes to send out of the country, namely, detested people, 
 blue-marking earth, and rain.'^ 
 
 This great humidity, and the extreme contractedness of the 
 valley, which hardly permits the sun's direct rays in winter to 
 penetrate the houses before noon, are the chief disadvantages of 
 Llanymowddwy as a place of residence. For temporary seclusion 
 or holiday resort, there are few more eligible spots on Welsh 
 soil. 
 
 ' Gwin-ar-tdn, wine on fire. 
 
 - Vowddwy ddu ni ddaw, dim allan 
 A ellir 'i rwystraw, 
 Ond tri photh helaeth hylaw, 
 Di/n aiffas, nod glas, a Gwlaw. 
 
 Quoted by Pennant, Ihurs in Wales, ii. p. 234.
 
 245 
 
 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 
 
 ' And oh the dear speech of the Awen and Altar J ' — Page 33. 
 
 Sir, — Li your paper of November 20 there appeared a letter 
 from Ab Ithel justly reprehending the remarks of a Mr. Miller, of 
 Aberystwyth, in disparagement of the Welsh language, and propos- 
 ing a prize of 10/. to be given for the best essay upon the most 
 effectual means of maintaining and extending the Cymraeg. In 
 your paper of the follo.wing week, ' Mervinian ' suggested that the 
 prize should be 100/., and offered some practical suggestions as to 
 the manner of raising the money. 
 
 As a sincere lover of Wales, I beg heartily to respond to Ab 
 Ithel's call for assistance and co-operation in this matter ; and if 
 the humble comments I am about to make from my own point of 
 view — that of an Englishman and a student — serve to awaken or 
 increase attention to the subject, either in England or Wales, 
 I shall welcome the result with the warmest satisfaction. 
 
 It is not to be denied that the Welsh language is declining in 
 respect to the area over which it is spoken. But while admitting 
 what is a plain fact, let us not be supposed to admit what critics 
 and reporters, more or less prejudiced or ignorant, are in the habit 
 of affirming to the world. Welsh is not declining so fast as they 
 suppose, or choose to assume. Welsh is not dying from inherent 
 weakness, or from inability to breathe nineteenth-century air and 
 to crawl out of the way of the wheels of Civilisation's car. It is 
 weak and languishing truly, but its sickness need not be unto death 
 if only the proper remedies be administered : and it is in the 
 power, as it is the plain duty, of Welshmen, of those who speak 
 it, have spoken it, or ought to speak it, to support and strengthen 
 their mother-tongue against both external animosity and internal 
 indifference.
 
 246 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 
 
 * The Cambrian idium,' says the historian of the Norman Con- 
 quest, * is still spoken by a sufficiently extensive population to 
 render its future extinction very difficult to foresee.' And if that 
 population do their duty with their idiom, it may be that the 
 possible future historian of another conquest of Great Britain ■v\'ill 
 have to repeat the same words, and, let us hope, in the same spirit. 
 But admitting that the "Welsh language is now geographically 
 declining, I would glance at the causes and the cure. 
 
 The most obvious causes are the overt interference of the State : 
 the influence of manufacture and commerce ; and the too habitual 
 indifference of large classes of the Cymry themselves — the last the 
 most lamentable of all. It behoves every Cymro to keep steadily 
 in view these main facts. 
 
 It is well known that under the Hanoverian dynasty, a policy 
 not less shortsighted than oppressive, has for the most part been 
 pursued towards the Welsh language, literature, and institution- ; 
 and though of late years, open coercion has been in some degree 
 replaced by more insidious measures, the animus of the Executive 
 jias continued to bear most hurtfully upon the nationality of 
 Wales. In the present Ministry, however, we may discern better 
 tendencies, and we have ground for believing that the time will 
 soon arrive when just views will prevail in the seats of power, or 
 when the enemies of Cambria will at least refrain from accelerating 
 the extinction of her language, which, they profess to think, can 
 be effected by the lapse of time. 
 
 1 have called the repressive policy, however it be exercised, 
 short-sighted, and it is so, because it is based on erroneous assump- 
 tions and ridiculous apprehensions ; because it seeks to obtain a 
 small good at the price of a great evil ; and because it works 
 unaided by the light of experience or the sanction of truth. What 
 is really comprised in the phrase ' Welsh nationality ? ' I am 
 sure the majority of intelligent Welshmen are agreed on the 
 question. Is it a reverting to tilings past — an archaic curiosity — 
 an antique fossil to be unearthed and unmuseumed for the learned 
 delectation of the few, or the vulgar gaze of the many ? Is it an 
 ode or an epic — something to be shouted from the platform, or 
 sentimentally wept over in the drawing-room? Is it, in its 
 separation and difference, anything antagonistic or inimical 
 to the country at large ? Is it, in short, something half-bar- 
 barous, half-romantic, a sort of dangerous impossibility? Not
 
 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 247 
 
 so indeed ! It is a rig:ht, a truth, and a privilege. It is %That no 
 Government can justly take away, because no Government lias 
 given it. It seeks no disunion from the State of which it can be 
 an independent yet harmonious element. Far from cherishing 
 hostility to the British Constitution or Crown, it would always be, 
 as it often has been, its defence and ornament. It looks with an 
 eye of respect and affection upon its own history, and would con- 
 serve all that comes from the past, stamped by the impress of true 
 nobleness and freedom. It remembers the long struggle for liberty 
 during ] 500 vears, agtiinst invading nation after nation, and while 
 venerating the devotion, bravery, and genius of those who fought for 
 it, wrote for it, and died for it, it cannot refuse to reg-ard with repro- 
 bation the names of those, whether Roman, Saxon, or Norman, who 
 oppressed, injured, and insulted it. But it nurses no resentment 
 against the great Empii-e of which it is now an integral part, with 
 which it is bound by community often of blood, always of interest, 
 and which it is proud to acknowledge to the world under the 
 common name of British. It asks only to be respected and recog- 
 nised in those circumstances wherein it is different from England, 
 and by means of which it has preserved its characteristics, while 
 other Celtic nations have lost them. It aslis only to be left to 
 enjoy its comparative simplicity of manners, its attachment to the 
 soil, its genealogical honours, and its own form of worship. Above 
 all it claims to keep its language — the great cabinet which alone 
 holds what it possesses of most valuable and most dear — the voice 
 that can alone interpret its aspirations — the power that alone can 
 perpetuate its existence. Is there in all this anji;hing inimical 
 to England — anything incoasistent with public virtue, order, or 
 security ? But it is said that the existence of two languages under 
 one Crown is an unmixed evil — I deny it. In respect of whom is 
 it an evil ? Is it against the State ? The Cambrians have spoken 
 their language for centuries under the British Constitution as they 
 now speak it. Have they been, or are they now distinguished by 
 disloyalty and discontent ? Have they used their language for 
 seditious purposes, or indulged other habits and pursuits than 
 those of peaceable and obedient subjects.^ No ! Is it then against 
 Society.^ Consult the records of crime and vice, and you will 
 find no undue proportion of Welsh offenders. But the Welsh (I 
 quote from Government authority) is a language of old-fashioned 
 agriculture, of theologj', and of poetry. Indeed I Why the in-
 
 248 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 
 
 t-pector wlio made the remark thought it peculiavly so, T am at a 
 loss to tell, since he probably understood not a word of it. \ et 
 if it were so ? Get rid of the old-fasliioned farming by all means, 
 if it is unproductive and exliausts the land, and you can find bran 
 new English names for the new tools and processes. But keep 
 the rest with lioartnnd soul. Long may religion be associated in 
 this honourable manner wnth the Cymraeg ! God grant that the 
 language which first in tiiese islands was vocal with the one true 
 faith, may long dt-epen and preserve among the worship])(>rs in 
 Wales that faith which it is so eloquent to interpret ! ^\'e know 
 that religion has reacted on the language and given to it depth 
 and vigour. Ought we not to regard this as a Divine blessing ? 
 If Dissent have effected such a result rather than the Established 
 (Church, it is owing to reasons not perhaps wholly creditable to 
 the latter, and as a critic I am bound to acknowledge what as a 
 churchman I must deplore. 
 
 Then the Cymraeg is accused of poetry. Poetical and nothing 
 •dse ! As if that were not the Alpha and Omega of a language — 
 as if that which expresses eternal truth and eternal beauty, which 
 is laden with the deepest emotions of the heart, and is prolific of 
 all that is most manly in man, should not endure the longest as 
 it is uttered the first ! In a poetical language there must be vigour, 
 nervousness, strength ; qualities that will keep it living, if only its 
 people be true to it, w^hen the superimposed refinements and 
 technicalities, which lime drafts in, shall be blown out by the 
 breath of change to make way for new modifications. But it is 
 true that this is not a poetic age ; and the inspector telling us in 
 liis categorical way that the Cymraeg is a language of poetry, is 
 only a product of the age. We blow away the envelope of 
 the sneer, and seize the jewel of the truth. Tlie Cymry will 
 keep their agricultural, theological, and poetical language, and yet 
 be as good ' men of business ' as the inspector. XuUinn numen 
 alfisf si sit prvdcntia. 
 
 And this leads me to consider wdiether tlie ' unmixed evil ' dis- 
 covered by another ' authority,' and before spoken of, be against 
 the Welsh themselves as regards their material interests ; and 
 how far, and why, the undoubted influence of trade and commerce 
 lias caused the language to decline. I shall only allude in gene- 
 ral terms to the over-trading tendencies of the day, and to the 
 spirit which practically teaches that to be rich, is to be happy and
 
 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 249 
 
 good. I could wisli that Trade were less dominant in Britain, 
 because I am quite sure it is, in one form or other, using up the 
 intellect, the manliness, and the virtue of the land. It monopolises 
 the choicest hours of life ; it imprisons the aflfections, and distorts 
 the judgment ; it grasps both brain and muscle, strikes at thought, 
 health, and repose, and looses some of the most mischievous pas- 
 sions from the guard of reason and temperance. It buys up science 
 and art, and makes marketable commodities of virtue and genius. 
 It converts man into a machine to drive or to be driven ; woman 
 it prostitutes ; childhood it destroys. It draws a smoky veil be- 
 tween our eyes and the dome of heaven, as between our minds 
 and the light of truth. It pulls down the standard of simplicity, 
 humility, and contentment, and sets up a luxurious and inflated 
 idol to be worshipped at the sacrifice of first principles and home 
 aflfections ; of our duties as Christians, and our privileges as men. 
 And it does all this, not because it is bad in itself, but because it 
 is abused, and made the end, instead of the means, of existence. 
 It is not for a moment to be supposed that trade is not necessary 
 and honourable, and may not, when conscientiously and temperately 
 used, be fruitful of blessings. And in pursuing trade as a means 
 of satisfying the physical needsof an increasing population, the 
 Welsh people are of course only acting agreeably to the dispensa- 
 tion of Providence. It would no doubt be better that agriculture 
 were more largely developed, and that the thousands of barren 
 acres in the Principality, capable of cultivation, were made pro- 
 ductive. But looking at things as they are, what is there in the 
 mine, in the warehouse, in the forge, or in the workshop, that 
 should hinder a Welshman from cherishing his native language ? 
 That there is something is evident, and I doubt not that this exists 
 because the sordid, and not the humanising, spirit of commerce has 
 been too much invoked. 
 
 The English tongue is certainly well adapted to business, as it 
 has grown up with business, and the English people must, of 
 course, be gradually brought by time into closer connection with 
 the Welsh people. But, at best, this is an argument for learning 
 English, not for neglecting Welsh. I do not even admit that 
 Welsh is not adaptable to modern business, and I think it ought 
 to be universally spoken in Wales among Welsh people. As to 
 new terras and technical phrases, for which the Cymraeg has no 
 equivalent, it seems easy to adopt the needful English words, just
 
 250 THE WELSH LANGUAOE. 
 
 as tlic Eng-lisli language adopts classical words for purposes of art 
 and science, or the woids of some continental idiom, to render 
 certain expressions with more clearness or force. But even sup- 
 pose that English were to be made the general language of com- 
 mercial dealing in the I'rincipality, will tliat include necessarily 
 the laying aside of Welsh P Wiiat is thereto hinder us from 
 retaining one as the idiom of the shop and factory, the other of 
 the home and heart? Nothing, I apprehend, unless it be that 
 we too often place our home and our heart in the factory and the 
 shop. Is it not practicable to use two languages, one as acquired, 
 the other as native ? The example of continental nations, where 
 two idioms prevail — as Belgium, Holland, Bussia, Poland — is 
 before us, and countless domestic instances of the advantages of 
 a double utterance must occur to us. I^et every child in Wales 
 be taught Welsh first — this is essential — as the mother tongue. 
 Bet him be instructed in English and everything beside, through 
 the medium of Welsh, and let him be accustomed to Welsli only 
 in his intercourse with home and his prayers to Heaven. No per- 
 son in Wales ought to be ignorant of the English, since, quite 
 apart from the purposes I have been considering, there is the 
 sterling value of the language itself, and the treasury of literature, 
 art, and science to which it is the key. Let the two languages 
 flourish together on, a common British soil, and minister to the 
 true happiness and prosperity of the united subjects of one Sove- 
 reign. 
 
 I am aware that this course is to some extent now adopted as 
 circumstances compel, but owing to political repression, to native 
 inertness, and to a want of agreement on the subject, and of system 
 in working out a plan of counteraction, the English element is 
 preponderating, and the Cymraeg is only tolerated, not encouraged. 
 The danger, of course, is the most pressing along the coastline, 
 and in the border counties, some of which, as Badnorshire, have 
 almost lost their national speech. The continued introduction of 
 railwaj's will operate largely in the degradation of the language, 
 and be a potent agent of densitionalisation. Bringing some un- 
 questionable benefits, will not this also bring grave evils ? I call 
 upon the young men of Wales to rise energetically to meet the 
 present emergency. Bo not believe that the existence of two 
 languages in our country is an unmixed evil, any more than that 
 the existence of two climates or_ two kinds of scenery is one.
 
 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 251 
 
 You vrlu) are born and also live on Cambrian soil, be tlie earnest 
 and consistent advocates of your nation's rights, tlie vindicators of 
 its fame, tbe representatives of its genius and wortb. 
 
 Be assured tlaat it is possible to fulfil an boncst calling, and to 
 perform all tbe duties of social life, without ceasing to be patriotic 
 Welshmen, or losing a syllable of the noble language which ought 
 to be endeared to you by so many national and personal associa- 
 tions. Be zealous in promoting Eisteddfodau, and every other 
 means of strengthening the Cymraeg, and guarding all that it 
 enshrines of music and of song. Support any Society that will 
 multiply Welsh books, deliver Welsh lectures, promote the free 
 colloquial use of Welsh, and obtain the mitigation of the disabili- 
 ties which exclude it from too many churches and schools, and from 
 all courts of justice. Use well the English language too, not only 
 for the purposes of life and knowledge, but to vindicate and popu- 
 larise your cause among your English neighbours. Multiply and 
 support Sunday Schools, those instruments at once of piety and 
 patriotism, which aid and extend the language, while training it 
 to the glory of God. Do all things according to your ability and 
 opportunity for your country and your countrymen, and do it 
 unitedly and unanimously, remembering that Nid cadarn ond 
 brodijrdde. Wales can only save her language through the efforts 
 of her people. Be it your glory to make that efibrt — your happi- 
 ness to secure that triumph ! 
 
 I would beseech the great families of the land to help this 
 movement ; not to throw the weight of their influence into the 
 wrong scale ; not to live isolated from national interests, and cold 
 to national inspirations ; but to use their responsible power in the 
 service of Wales, never forgetting that they are Welsh by descent 
 as by possessions, and that it is the Welsh whom they are called 
 on by the highest motives that may animate the breast, to respect, 
 to support, and to benefit. Xothing in all Wales strikes a think- 
 ing Englishman more forcibly than the apathy and isolation of 
 too many of the noble houses, in regard to questions which even 
 Englishmen can admit to be vital to the national welfare. 
 
 In conclusion, I would say a few words to my own countrymen 
 in and out of Wales. Abandon the ignorance, correct the preju- 
 dice that has so generally obscured your perception of Wales and 
 the Welsh. In the face of contrary evidence and probability, do 
 not believe that the early Britons were painted savages, or the 
 Druids heathen monsters, as your nursery histories teach. Rely
 
 252 THE WELSH LANGUAGE. 
 
 upon classical authority if you will, but accept it in its fullest 
 extent, not from the point of view of a particular author ; and 
 bear in mind too, that much of classical history was written from 
 hearsay, much with the conqueror's animus, much with the rhe- 
 torician's passion for effect. Do not despise oral tradition, or 
 accuse the Welsh annalists of mendacity and corruption. Why 
 cannot you accept at once the spirit of the Triads and of the Saxon 
 chronicle ? How can you believe in Homer if you doubt Taliesin P 
 Study Cambrian history, not only in the pages of ' standard ' Eng- 
 lish writers, where it is either distorted or suppressed, but also 
 from the sources supplied by the great body of bardic, theological, 
 and historic literature existing on the subject, but most of which 
 is unknown or misunderstood by English critics and readers. Do 
 this in no captious spirit, but philosophically and candidly. And 
 in order to do it well, study the Welsh language. Do not look 
 upon Wales as a pleasure ground for excursions only, or as a field 
 to make money in, or as a place for enjoying the beauties of nature 
 and the amenities of life. Mingle with the people — interest your- 
 self in their welfare, support their institutions. And in order to 
 effectually do this, I again say learn the language. In every re- 
 spect it will amply repay you, and you will bo glad to aid the 
 endeavour now about to be made for its preservation. 
 
 To the scholar, I would especially say, How can you look with 
 complacency upon the decay of this, which, with its congeners the 
 Irish and the Erse, is the only remaining healthy branch of the 
 great Celtic idiom ? For the Breton dialect is rapidly losing 
 purity and territory, and few traces remain in any other part of 
 Europe. And even more than the Erse or the Irish, interesting 
 as the remains of tbcse are, is the Cymraeg worthy of preserva- 
 tion, by reason of its more perfect structure, its superior strength, 
 flexibility, and melody (let who will, deny), as well as the service 
 it has rendered to the literature and history of mankind. 
 
 I do not presume to offer to tlie Welsh people any scheme of 
 my own for giving effect to Ab Ithel's appeal. I merely second 
 that appeal as an Englishman. Whatever course be chosen, it 
 should be adopted speedily, for every day the necessity for action 
 becomes more urgent ; and earnestly, for coldness and hesitation 
 would destroy our chances of success. Let us by union and 
 energy do all that can be done, remembering always that ' the 
 disgrace of defeat is not so great as the glory of endeavour.' 
 yon tain turpe vinci qunm conte/idisse decorum !
 
 253 
 
 WELSH LITERARY SOCIETIES. 
 
 Sir, — I have attentively read the letter of Ab Ithel ia your 
 impression of the 15th ult., and the replies of ' Clynnogian ' and 
 ' Gwyneddon ' in that of the week before last, and I beg leave to 
 offer some remarks on the subject, with the endeavour to show 
 that the general view taken by Ab Ithel of Welsh Literary 
 Societies is perfectly just and reasonable, and also that there need 
 be no real impediment to the cultivation of the English language 
 and literature, in strict harmony with that view, and with the 
 fundamental principles of nationality which ought always to be 
 remembered and respected. 
 
 Ab Ithel, I conceive, was very praiseworthy in resenting what 
 he supposed to be an attempt to alter the exclusive national cha- 
 racter of the Bangor Society. It is the spirit of this attempt, 
 rather than the particular direction it assumed, that lies open to 
 reprehension. The principle of nationality affirmed by Ab Ithel 
 to be the guiding principle of a Welsh literary society, has my 
 cordial concurrence as an Englishman viewing the whole subject 
 dispassionately and at a distance, but animated by a warm feeling 
 of regard for the interests of the coimtry in the highest and best 
 sense. If there is anything in Wales — language, institutions, 
 traditions, privileges, usages — worthy of respect and conservation ; 
 if there exists a known tendency to decay or change, which ne"-li- 
 gence and dissension may increase, but vigilance and united action 
 arrest ; if influences are openly at work on the degradation of 
 what all profess to admire, and hope to retain ; surely it is time 
 to organise efficient means of grappling with such evils, and surely 
 it becomes all persons who are not timeservers or egotists, but 
 patriots, however despised be the word, to support in the most 
 unreserved mannei', and with the most hearty unanimity, those 
 institutions that were established, and continue to exist, for the
 
 2o4 WELSH LITERARY SOCIETIES. 
 
 plain purpose of strengthening the hands of Welshmen for the 
 service of Wales. 
 
 The most important and valuable of all things connected with 
 Wales is her language. I have heard of no native so base or 
 foolish as to deny the mci'its of his language per se. Scholar 
 and peasant are agreed on this point, though unhappily there is 
 a variety of opinions about its comparative value and the policy 
 of retaining it. 
 
 Now, what is the state of the language in tlie Principality ? 
 The question has been asked and answered many times. Yet 
 there are sonic wliom no evidence seems to satisfy, and no danger 
 to warn. The language is, indeed, losing ground — passing gradu- 
 ally out of the minds and hearts of the people — declining not from 
 internal weakness, but from external neglect. And what are the 
 comments of a large section of Welshmen who stand by and watch 
 tliis state of things ? Hear Clynnogian, ' It has braved the battle 
 and the breeze for centuries, and it is as likely now as ever to 
 continue. If it be a language to die, any attempts to preserve it 
 will be in vain ; but if it be to continue, the oilering of prizes at 
 literary societies will do it no harm,' &c. &c. Would anyone 
 but a helpless fatalist entertain such a sentiment ? Does Clynno- 
 gian apply this axiom of his to every day affairs ? His trade is 
 depressed; his health is declining. Never mind. If it is to sink 
 his attention cannot save it ; if it is to revive, his neglect cannot 
 injure it! So he will not call in the physician, or examine his 
 accoimt books. And he vN-ill calmly let the Cymraeg take its 
 chance, no matter how diflerent its present may be from its past 
 — no matter how evident it becomes, day by day, that it is as 
 necessary to use the proper means to retain, as to acquire, a liin- 
 gtiage. 
 
 Now I thoroughly agree witli Ab Itliel, that the Welsh Literary 
 Societies are the natural and only powerful guardians of the native 
 tongue, and it is there that the Cymraeg should sit as upon 
 an hereditary throne. Whatever mutations prevail out of doors, 
 whatever Fashion insinuates, or Trade demands, the Societies ought 
 boldly and persistently to pursue their course, and radiate 
 throughout the country as from so many centres, the influences 
 able to support, revive, and extend the language of the Bible and 
 the heart. 
 
 The highest in rank and mind in the Principality should gladly
 
 WELSH LITERARY SOCIETIES. 255 
 
 unite as their leaders and defenders. The lowest'in station should 
 be invited to share in the benefits open to all. Above all things, 
 there should be union and co-operation. 
 
 "What should be the plan and basis of action for such Societies ? 
 They are by no means designed to fill the office of schools, though 
 education is a main feature. Lectures, essays, papers, the editing 
 and printing of MSS., an ample library, classes of a high character, 
 are among the most obvious of their resources. All the proceed- 
 ings should be conducted in the Welsh language, and the "Welsh 
 language should be the groundwork and medium for every kind of 
 study and business. Not an iota should be abated in this respect 
 from their nationality. Now, surely, Ab Ithel and EbenFardd can 
 agree in this view. Let the latter eminent man insist on retain- 
 ing the purely Welsh character of the Society, as to language, 
 and I doubt not that Ab Ithel will gladly consent to the teach- 
 ing of English composition to all who need it, hy means of prize 
 essays or otherwise. For it is not I who would question the ex- 
 cellency of my native language, or its value to the young men of 
 Wales. 
 
 Much has been said, and said justly, on this topic. There can 
 be no doubt that, both socially and intellectually, an ample know- 
 ledge of English is of advantage to Welshmen. It is merely to 
 assert truisms to say that Wales is so connected with England, 
 that many interests are common to both, and that so long as the 
 natives of one country mingle with those of the other, a knowledsre 
 of both languages is essential to both parties, though in a greater 
 degree to the Welshman. I have ever been, since I first knew 
 Wales, an advocate of the duality of language for purposes of 
 business and literature. 
 
 Fully admitting the value of English to the youth of Wales, I 
 am bound to express my conviction that the value has been by 
 writers and orators in the Principality much overstated, and tliat 
 the advantages held out as accruing from a knowledge of our lan- 
 guage are neither in quantity or in number entitled to the advo- 
 cacy they have received. Gwyneddon wisely remarks that Welsh- 
 men are not generally great and successful, because they are 
 acquainted with English, but that they are not recognised as such 
 without at least some knowledge of it. And I will further beg 
 him to remember that the knowledge of English which, under 
 ordinary circumstances, a young Welshman may hope to attain,
 
 256 WELSH LITETIARY SOCIETIES. 
 
 is by no means calculated to advance an Englishman himself far 
 in the world. 
 
 Thousands of our young men in shops, factories, and counting- 
 houses; thousands more working at handicraft trades ; who have 
 been educated in national and commercial schools, and have, per- 
 haps, in addition, attended Institute-classes and evening schools, 
 are barely competent to perform their duties as far as knowledge 
 is concerned. Very few are able to do more. Knowledge is 
 undoubtedly extensively and generally spread over the community, 
 but it is superficial in the same ratio. There is little time to 
 instruct — less still to educate. The study which is not long cannot 
 be deep. Trade interrupts and engrosses all. 
 
 Yet I quite admit there is no reason why the youth of Wales 
 should not acquire the knowledge of their English brethren, wliat- 
 ever that may be. Only do not let them be misled by higli- 
 coloured representations of gaining distinction in England, or by 
 statements tliat the literary Societies of their country would be 
 acting against their moral and nuiterial interests by declining to 
 teach Englisli on any predominant scale. It is not the proper 
 office of a literary Society so to teach it. Clynnogian has many 
 remarks on the necessity of retaining and extending the young 
 man's knowledge of English after he leaves school. Uut are there 
 not, or ought there not to be, evening schools in Wales and 
 special classes open, as in England, for this purpose ? Cannot the 
 literary Societies, without excluding the study of languages, be of 
 a higlier character and for a higlier purpose, as tliey are in Ger- 
 many, Poland, Sardinia, and some parts of England P I lament 
 most of all that such unworthy stimulants are offered to the 
 AVelsh youth by so many of their countrymen. Gain, worldly 
 interest, distinction, are given as far greater incitements to learn 
 English than the merits of the language itself, and are put forward 
 and dwelt upon as the chief ends of life. Vulgar epithets are 
 .showered on those who dare to question the alleged desideratum, 
 and who strive to mod(>rate the fever, or, as it has been called, tlie 
 mania. I, as ;in JMiglisliman living in a groat trading district, 
 knowing what my young countrymen in the mass are, what know- 
 ledge and opportunity they possess, and what are their position 
 and prospects, cannot join in this too popular cry. I love nation- 
 alities of all kinds if they be consislput and virtuous, and I desire 
 to see Wales distinct from England in all that ia which she has
 
 WELSH LITERARY SOCIETIES. 257 
 
 received a distinct impress from Heaven, and yet united to Eng- 
 land in all tliat concerns the real interests of both countries. And 
 I would far rather see developed the native resources of AVales, 
 especially her agricultural resources, to meet her increasing popu- 
 lation, and her young men kept upon the soil, than I would witness 
 the extension of trade, the ramifications of railways, the introduc- 
 tion of English usages and mannei-s, and the dispersion of the 
 Cymry over the kingdom and abroad. I believe that the one 
 policy leads, perhaps, to riches, though that is doubtful, but cer- 
 tainly to national disorganisation and decadence, and to individual 
 deterioration of mind and heart ; while the other policy strengthens 
 and consolidates the national cause, and denying no mental or 
 social blessing, gives to the individual that contented mind which 
 enables him to live happily in an unquiet and feverish world. 
 
 Much cant is uttered and circulated about the English language 
 and the English race. The current phrases of the day tell of 
 ' Anglo-Saxon predominance ' and of the ' Anglo-Saxon language, 
 the language of civilisation ; ' and I lament to see that not only 
 Englishmen, but also Welshmen in and out of Wales, are taking- 
 up the cry. 
 
 The ' language of civilisation ' means the language of commerce 
 and monej'-power. We carry those principles into all the ,»orld, 
 China and Japan being the latest instances. We make the term 
 * civilisation ' cover a multitude of sins. The English language is 
 not in itself, I believe, superior to the Welsh for any purpose save 
 that of business. Nor is it improving in quality. Plow much 
 better is the language of Milton and Addison than that of the 
 House of Commons and the ' Times ' ! English is said to be the 
 gate to the art, science, and literature of the world. It is a gate 
 truly, but why say the only one ? Doubtless the greatest works 
 have been produced in English, as I rejoice to affirm, but cultivate 
 the Cymraeg, and you will produce great works in it also. 
 
 The English has borrowed largely from all languages to inter- 
 pret art and science — so let the Welsh. As to the acquisition of 
 other languages, Welsh is at least as eligible as English. It is 
 indeed not so available, but make it so by cultivation. Support 
 your bards and scholars, promote cordiality and union among them, 
 establish and extend literary Societies. They are the instruments 
 of power and good. Give to them a distinct national character. 
 I appeal to the literati of Wales to enter into this great question 
 
 S
 
 258 WELSH LITERARY SOCIETIES. 
 
 of literary Societies with one mind and one heart. Why is it, 
 asks the Englishman, tliat North and South Wales are opposed so 
 much ? Why are accidents of religious persuasion, of profession, 
 birth, habit, locality, suffered to mar the success which united 
 action is certain to eventuate ? Why do you uot erect among you 
 one great parent Institute to which Cymmrodorion, Welsh MSS., 
 and archajological societies, the Cambrian Institute, and other 
 existing associations, may give support and look for support ? As 
 it is, an Englishman wisliing to cast in his lot with Welsh interest, 
 is distracted and disheartened by the dissension everywhere pre- 
 valent. 
 
 In England our literary Institutes are on the whole decaying, 
 but it is for want of a high scope and purpose, and of one common 
 bond of nationality. In Wales you have that bond and that pur- 
 pose — why will you not avail youi'self of it ? 
 
 These letters of ten years ago are still entirely relevant to the present 
 day. 
 
 What I have written of the necessity of arresting the decay of the 
 language may, a /oriliori, be re-written now. That this language will, 
 or ca7i perish, I do not believe. But that it may be injured by the 
 neglect, or strengthened by the support, of the Welsh people, needs no 
 demonstration. Let the Youth of Wales remember this. The splendid 
 example of the Bretons is before them. The International Congress 
 hold last year at Saint Brieuc has revived the enthusiasm that slept, and 
 encouraged the hope that languished, in our Celtic Arvor. Poets, histo- 
 rians, and antiquaries, have led : an earnest-hearted people has followed. 
 The Congress will again meet. May it become more and more interna- 
 tional ! Let the Welsh depute good and true men to attend it, and let 
 it in return bo held on their own soil. 
 
 They have especially three things to promote : Devotion to country 
 and language ; Unanimity of purpose and action ; Sympathy with the 
 Celtic brotherhood of other lands. Let this be stedfastly done, and the 
 words of Taliesin will be verified — Cymry vu, Cymry vydd ! (1868.)
 
 259 
 
 THE PLYGAIN. 
 
 * And when came the appointed close 
 Eoery voice in carol burst. ' — Page 195, 
 
 Among tlie popular customs wliich Ab Ithel encouraged as favour- 
 able alike to piety and to patriotism, the Plyyain well deserves 
 mention. The word, little euphonious, doubtless, to Saxon ears, 
 for no gentle onomatopceia is in it, means early dazvn,^ and is 
 applied to the special service of Christmas-eve or Christmas- 
 morning, held in many churches and chapels in Wales, and which 
 is peculiarly grateful to the Celtic character. A religious service 
 on this vigil is indeed common to nearly all Christian countries, 
 and carol-singing, which always forms the essential portion of the 
 Welsh observance, is imiversal in some form throughout the 
 Christian world. But it is only in the Principality, where reli- 
 gious feeling acquires an intense development, and where the love 
 of vocal sono: is ineradicable, that the celebration of the Nativity 
 exhibits the characteristics of the Ply gain. I have been present 
 at these meetings in diflerent towns and villages, but uowhere 
 have I seen the typical Plygain so fully marked as at Llany- 
 mowddwy. 
 
 Let me snatch from the receding years some memories of Christ- 
 mas-tide in that quiet valley, while as yet the Genius of the place 
 was present in Ab Ithel, and no railway works abraded the meads 
 of the lower Dovey, or polluted the borders of the free lake of 
 Bala. 
 
 Night has long gathered over the Pass of the Cross. The 
 church bell of Llanuwchllyn, feebly ringing welcome for the great 
 Advent, has died away below. The last light has faded from the 
 
 Ply-cain. Owen Pughe. (The)/ has the sound of the English tt.) 
 
 s2
 
 260 THE PLYGAIN. 
 
 lonely farmhouse of Blafin Cwm. We rise into the spiritual 
 darkness of the hills. Broad tracts of table-laud broken by 
 shelving ridges and abrupt peaks, stretch around us in distances 
 not measured by the eye, but felt by the mountain instinct. The 
 pure frost-wind flows steadily without pause or gust from over the 
 double crest of Arenig, and the remote crags of Snowdon, on 
 across the Berwyns and many a Montgomeryshire moel, down to 
 tlie pasture levels of Tanat, Vyrnwy, and Severn. Great belts of 
 cloud swathe the moonless slcy, and oppress the stars, save when a 
 chasm of intensest azure cuts their black edges, and some separate 
 star liangs tremblingly in it. As we climb the diilicult path under 
 the dripping rock-wall on the left hand, and above the deep civtn 
 to the right ; or stride freely across the open ground on the 
 shoulder; or wind down tlie dark recesses of the Bwlch into the 
 Mowddwy Vale; there rises in the bosom that rare and joyous 
 .sense, physical in part, intellectual in greater part, revealed not 
 amid the haunts and employments of men ; the sense of unfettered 
 movement and self-reliance, all vacantof fear, unconscious of fatigue, 
 keenly alive to the subtle manifestations of nature, and eager to 
 meet the shadowy fancies and far-reaching meditations that then 
 come forth, cleared of the dull passages of frivolity and care which 
 too thickly overlie them in daily existence. 
 
 And when the site of the vanished Cross gleams on the 
 summit of the Pass, a frozen area of peat ground, the heart swells 
 with holier emotion, and the religion of Him Who was tempted in 
 the wilderness, and transfigured on the mountain, sheds a better 
 blessing on the hour and on the scene. 
 
 For surely no fitter time than the eve of His Nativity, and no 
 fitter spot than one into such as which He was wont to go up to 
 pray, could be chosen wherein to express our thankfulness for the 
 Divine Incarnation that has taught the dust of Adam to contem- 
 plate its immortality, or wherein to utter our trustful prayer for 
 the coming and crowning perfection of the hunum race ! And 
 under the shadow of the Araus, and around the desert springs of 
 Dyfi, may not the Omnipresent receive that true praise and prayer 
 equally as within gorgeous cathedrals and amid choral crowds, for, 
 in the beautiful words of Gray, 
 
 Praesentiorfim ct conspicimus Dcum 
 Per irivias nipes, fVra per juga, 
 Clivosque prseruptos, sonantes
 
 THE PLYGAIN. 261 
 
 Inter aquas, nemorumqiiP noctem ; 
 Quam si repostus sub trabe citrea, 
 Fulgeret iiuro, et Phidiac^ maim. ' 
 
 Here, however, is no ehurclile^ wild, and the mountaineers are 
 not left to the teachings of natural religion, influential though 
 these be upon their simple lives ; and now as we skirt the grounds 
 of the silent BrjTi-mansion of ghostly reputation — and cross the 
 Pymrhj'd, where, gliding down under thick foliage from Tydecho's 
 Chair, it cuts the road in the bottom ; the little bell of the unseen 
 church fills the clear air, and we overtake a mixed company of 
 peasants hastening to the holy tryst. 
 
 Some have crossed the Bwlch from Llanuwchllyn, some the 
 Dovey from the hill-farms on the east side. All are gay and 
 hilai'ious but without any boisterous merriment, nor i.-5 there the 
 slightest sign of intemperance. We follow them into the Rectory, 
 where before Ab Ithel's hospitable fires they shake off the mid- 
 night cold and mingle with the large company gathered there. To 
 many, Ab Ithel is pastor and friend, and to all, the good Welsh 
 patriot and preacher, whom it is well worth a long and difficult 
 journey to see and to hear. 
 
 And now all are bidden into the Church which is hardly dis- 
 tinguished by its dim lights through the black arms of the great 
 secular yews. It is a small undecorated place, yet large in the 
 ungrudging devotion of its people, and rich in the virtues and 
 talents of its minister. 
 
 Candles glimmer in the windows and along the seats ; wreaths 
 of evergreen mark the season, and the taste of the ladies of the 
 Rectory. As much warmth as could be attained in such a place, at 
 such a time, has been given to the interior. But light and warmth 
 and ornament are in the audience, not the edifice. The people 
 supply all that is deficient and ennoble all that is mean. The Church 
 is tilled, for nearly all the parishioners are there, and many belong- 
 ing to other districts have wended their various way from mountain 
 villages and scattered farms, to hear the Bishop of Mowddwy," and 
 to sing their Christmas song. There are old, very old men and 
 women present, for as Churchyard long ago sang, and as the Regis- 
 trar-General certifies, the peasantry of Merioneth enjoy great lon- 
 
 ' Ode written in the album of the Monastery of the Grande Chartreuse. 
 ' As Ab Ithel was familiarly styled.
 
 262 THE PLYGAIN. 
 
 gevity, fhe obvious result of very pure air and temperate habits. The 
 dames, who perhaps excel in this respect, wear the linsey woolsey, 
 the hose, and the coarse flannels of their counti-y, together with the 
 ample frilled cap carefully whitened for. the occasion, and crowned 
 by the imposing beaver, (the hete noire of modern masculine costume, 
 and certainly not less unbecoming to the gentler sex,) or by the 
 simpler round felt hat which is more generally used in North Wales. 
 The old men — and indeed all the men — are clad in a garb without 
 any character save roughness and plainness for the hard uses of life. 
 The young Cymry are lall and well moulded, though having the 
 air of reserve or diffidence which is associated with mountain 
 training, and which often covers high mental capacity, while the 
 obtrusive assurance of the townsman as often displays the want 
 of it. Of young girls there is an ample attendance, and the 
 beauty of the ' Morwynion glan Meirionydd ' is well indicated by 
 the rounded form, dark Silurian eye, clear-cut features, and glowing 
 cheek. Nor should the crowding, joyous, carol-burdened, wea- 
 ther-careless children be disregarded, the plant ani\ plantach o^ t]\e 
 parish, whether llodesi or bechjyn, to whom Christmas is a deliglit, 
 and church-going not a weariness ; who grow up under the shadow 
 of their hills, and in the practice of the religious customs of their 
 country, credulous, it may be, simple-minded, and unskilled in the 
 ephemeral babble of the ' certified ' schools, but with unloosened 
 hold on a true faith from which modern youth is drifting, and 
 with a clear conviction of first principles, which sordid habits shall 
 not debase, nor shallow sophistries darken. 
 
 But Ab Ithel takes his surplice from beside the reading-desk — 
 the church has no vestry — and the service begins. He reads in a 
 low earnest tone, and the Liturgy loses nothing in its Welsh setting. 
 The congregation join with fervour in the responses, lead by an 
 ancient grey-haired clerk, who most carefully and emphatically 
 marks the time and the sense. There is a plaintive character, almost 
 a sadness, in the AVelsh responses, especially in the Litany, that 
 seems very appropriate to the confessions of sinners, and, in general,' 
 there is no better language for rendering the utterances of religion 
 with clearness, solemnity, and strength. Religion, indeed, has 
 done much for the Welsh language, and the Welsh language has 
 done much for religion. In this poor primitive Church of course 
 no organ is found, but the musical service is well conducted by 
 Miss Williams, on a small harmonium belonging to the family.
 
 THE PLYGAIN, 263 
 
 Tlie grand old Gregorian chants and the immemorial hymns of 
 Cambria, rise eloquently from this humhle instrument, hearing 
 with them all voices and all hearts in that unsophisticated assembly. 
 
 After prayer and praise follows the sermon, a plain setting forth 
 of the blessings of Eedemption, a loving exhortation to seize the 
 great opportunity of life which grows more fleeting with each 
 revolving year. And now the benediction is pronounced, and 
 there is a stir among the people, not of departure, but of prepara- 
 tion and expectancy. The carol-singing is to begin. And first 
 Ab Ithel, divested of his gown, standing before the congregation, 
 and his two daughters with him, lead ofl" with a carol, doubly their 
 own in music and in words. This short and simple song over, the 
 old clerk advances, and with him two other singers, a ruddy 
 stripling of twenty, and a weather-bronzed farmer of middle age. 
 They group themselves before the altar-steps. The old man, the 
 central figure, bears in one hand a candle and in the other the 
 manuscript carol. The three bend over the paper. Though the 
 voices are unequal and the tune monotonous, a reality and intensity 
 of purpose stamps the performance with no common interest. 
 Their carol is a long one of old verses connected and completed 
 by original additions. It tells of the Divine dispensation on earth, 
 from the fall of Adam to the Eesurrection of the Messiah, It 
 dwells on the persons, places, and events of Gospel history. It is 
 briefly the universal carol recast into a Cymric mould. As it pro- 
 ceeds, the singers do not modulate their tone or alter their em- 
 phasis. The strain rises and closes throughout stanza after stanza 
 in what seems an interminable equal flow. There is no attempt 
 at effect or self-exhibition. It is a duty and a delight, not a task 
 or entertainment. The three stand quiet and patient, the flicker- 
 ing light playing across their faces, and chant to the end the high 
 burden of their song. At length it ceases with a long-drawn 
 Ame7i. They glide into their places; but immediately another 
 singer starts up and bursts into vigorous carol, taking a more joy- 
 ous note than that of his predecessors, but with as little variety 
 of expression or air. While he sings there is an anxious unfolding 
 of papers and shifting of positions among the audience, and when 
 he subsides satisfied, there is a springing forward of two groups 
 simultaneously, of which one is selected, that of a boy and a girl, 
 and their timid and sweet voices clothe the recurring carol with 
 an interest that checks the longing for the end, inspired sometimes
 
 264 THE PLYGAIN. 
 
 by the male performances. And now there is ajrain a pause, and 
 ao-ain a vocalist rises with a book or manuscript, or with only an 
 exuberant memory ; and again, and again, until at last the carol 
 culminates in the votive offering of two stalwart mountaineers, 
 who pursue it in mutual excitement through a maze of amplifica- 
 tions, heedless of passing hours and sleepless eyes. The winds 
 rising in their strength sweep moaning round the church, laden 
 with the funeral breath of the yews. Cold December darkness is 
 outside, the feeble gleam of a few candles within. Heavy shadows 
 flit along the walls, and over the faces of the people. The cliill 
 of the early morning creeps through your frame, and a weird rest- 
 less feeling weighs upon your soul. But finally the tones fall 
 away from your dreamy ear. The programme is ended. Ab Ithel 
 dismisses the assembly. Then follow greetings and gratulations. 
 All press around their pastor, and with many a Nos dda ! and hearty 
 grasp of the hand, the people separate. The rector and his family 
 go to rest, as do most of his parishioners, but a strong band of all 
 a"-es, with bosoms yet glowing witli Christmas fervour, and with 
 feet that spurn fotigue, march towards Mallwyd Church, five miles 
 distant, where another Plygain awaits them— a service, a sermon, 
 and a carol-singing, as earnest, as consentaneous, and as long. 
 
 All this is doubtless very simple, and may be deemed very un- 
 interesting to witness, or very unnecessary to describe. But if the 
 philosophic mind do not find in it some gratifying transcript of 
 national character, something that indicates qualities honourable 
 to humimity, and tastes which no wise social economy could advan- 
 tageously discourage, then it would be vain to seek better ex- 
 amples among the Cambrian hills and valleys. And whatever may 
 be the state of this Country when the wave of Anglo-Saxon assi- 
 milation shall have rolled over its boundaries, it is at least doubt- 
 ful whether any of the new customs can compensate the blotting 
 out of the old ; and whether the new ' progress " of the people can 
 bring them nearer to that substantial happiness which is neither a 
 slave prostrate at tlie feet of Fashion, nor im infant pui-suing the 
 chai'iot- wheels of Time. 
 
 SpoUisuoode <t Co., Printwi, Ncw-streel Square and 30 Parliament Street.
 
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