Beavers.- - XII. p. 348, col. 1. When Giraldus Cambrensis wrote, that is, at the time whereof the poem treats, the only Beavers remaining in Wales or England were in the Towy. Inter universos Cambria, seu etiam Loegria fluvios, solus hic (Teivi) castores habet. The Beaver is mentioned also in the laws of Hoel Dha, and one of those dark, deep resting-places or pits of the river Conwhich the Spaniards call the remansos del rio, is called the Beavers' pool. way, The Great Palace, like a sanctuary, Dinas Vawr, the Great Palace. It was regarded as an asylum. Goagan of Powys-land. - XII. p. 349, col. 1. nearly oval. These boats are ribbed with light laths, or spli twigs, in the manner of basket-work, and are covered with a raw hide or strong canvass, pitched in such a mode as to prevent their leaking; a seat crosses just above the centre, towards the broader end; they seldom weigh more than between 20 and 30 pounds. The men paddle them with one hand while they fish with the other, and when their work is completed, they throw the coracles over their shoulders, and without difficulty return with them home. "Riding through Abergwilly we saw several of these phenomena resting with their bottoms upwards against the houses, and resembling the shells of so many enormous turtles; and indeed a traveller, at the first view of a coracle on the shoulders of a fisherman, might fancy he saw a tortoise walking on his hinder legs."— WINDHAM. Andrew Marvell, in his poem called "Appleton House," describes the coracle as then used in Yorkshire : And now the salmon-fishers moist How Tortoise-like, but not so slow, Properly Gwgan; but I have adapted the orthography to an English eye. This very characteristic story is to be found, as narrated in the poem, in Mr. Yorke's curious work upon the Royal Tribes of Wales. Gwgan's demand was for five pounds, instead of ten marks; this is the only liberty I have taken with the fact, except that of fitting it to the business of the poem, by the last part of Rhys's reply. The ill humor in which the Lord of Dinvawr confesses the messenger had surprised him, is mentioned more bluntly by the historian. "Gwgan found him in a furious temper, beating his servants and hanging his dogs." I have not lost the character of the anecdote, by re-iards; perhaps the coracle succeeded the canoe, implying more lating the cause of his anger, instead of the effects. The bay whose reckless waves Roll o'er the plain of Gwaelod.-XIII. p. 349, col. 2. A large tract of fenny country, called Cantrev y Gwaelod, the Lowland Canton, was, about the year 500, inundated by the sea; for Seithenyn, in a fit of drunkenness, let the sea through the dams which secured it. He is therefore distinguished, with Geraint and Gwrtheyrn, under the appellation of the Three arrant Drunkards. This district, which forms the present Cardigan Bay, contained sixteen principal towns of the Cymry, the inhabitants of which, who survived the inundation, fled into the mountainous parts of Meirion and Arvon, which were till then nearly uncultivated. Gwyddno Garanhir, one of the petty Princes, whose territories were thus destroyed, was a poet. There were lately (and I believe, says Edmund Williams, are still) to be seen in the sands of this bay large stones with inscriptions on them, the characters Roman, but the language unknown. E. WILLIAMS's Poems. — Cambrian Biography. The Saxon pirates ventured to sea in vessels of basket-work covered with skins: they were used also by the ancient Span skill than is necessary to scoop out a tree, or hollow it with fire, and less than is required to build a boat. The boats of bark, which the savages of Canada use, are equally ingenious, and possess the same advantages. My choice is a lady, elegant, slender, and fair, whose lengthened white form is seen through the thin blue veil; and my choicest faculty is to muse on superior female excellence, when she with diffidence utters the becoming sentiment; and my choicest participation is to become united with the maid, and to share mutual confidence as to thoughts and fortune. I choose the bright hue of the spreading wave, thou who art the most discreet in thy country, with thy pure Welsh speech, chosen by me art thou; what am I with thee? how! dost thou refrain from speaking? ah! thy silence even is fair! I have chosen a maid, so that with me there should be no hes 2. The two other arrant Drunkards were both Princes; the one set fire to the standing corn in his country, and so oc-itation; it is right to choose the choicest fair one; choose, casioned a famine; Gwrtheyrn, the other, is the Vortigern of fair maid! Saxon history, thus distinguished for ceding the Isle of Thanet, in his drunkenness, as the price of Rowena. This worthless King is also recorded as one of the Three disgraceful men of the Island, and one of the Three treacherous conspirators, whose families were forever divested of privilege. Cambrian Biography. Bardsey.-XIII. p. 349, col. 2. "This little island," says Giraldus, "is inhabited by certain monks of exceeding piety, whom they call Culdees, (Calibes vel Colideos.) This wonderful property it hath, either from the salubrity of its air, which it partakes with the shores of Ireland, or rather from some miracle by reason of the merits of the Saints, that diseases are rarely known there, and seldom or never does any one die till worn out by old age. Infinite numbers of Saints are buried there.' On his back, Like a broad shield, the coracle was hung.-XIII. p. 350, col. 2. "The coracles are generally five feet and a half long and four broad, their bottom is a little rounded, and their shape I love the white glittering walls on the side of the bank, clothed in fresh verdancy, where bashfulness loves to observe the modest sea-mew's course; it would be my delight, though I have met with no great return of love in my much-desired visit on the sleek white steed, to behold my sister of flippant smile; to talk of love since it has come to my lot; to restore my case of mind, and to renew her slighted troth with the nymph as fair as the bue of the shore-beating wave. From her country, who is bright as the coldly-drifted snow upon the lofty hill, a censure has come to us, that I should be so treated with disdain in the Hall of Ogyrvan. Playful, from her promise was new-born expectation; she is gone with my soul away: I am made wretched ! — Am I not become for love like Garwy Hir to the fair one of whom I am debarred in the Hall of Ogyrvan! 3. I love the castle of proud workmanship in the Cyvylci, where my own assuming form is wont to intrude: the high of renown, in full bustle, seek admittance there, and by it speaks the mad resounding wave. It is the chosen place of a luminary of splendid qualities and fair; glorious her rising from the verge of the torrent, and the fair one shines upon the now progressive year, in the | its fair landscape, its dales, its water, and its vales, its white wild of Arvon, in the Snowdonian hills. The tent does not attract; the glossy silk is not looked on by her I love, with passing tenderness: if her conquest could be wrought by the muse's aid, ere the night that comes, I should next to her be found. 4. I have harnessed thee to-day, my steed of shining gray; I will traverse on thee the fair region of Cynlas; and I will hold a hard dispute before death shall cut me off in obstructing sleep, and thus obstructing health; and on me it has been a sign, no longer being the honored youth, the complexion is like the pale blue waves. Oppressed with longing is my memory in society; regret for her by whom I am hated; whilst I confer on the maid the honored eulogy; she, to prosper pain, deigns not to return the consolation of the slightest grace. Broken is my heart! my portion is regret, caused by the form of a slender lady, with a girdle of ruddy gold; my treatment is not deserved, she is not this day where my appointed place was fixed. Son of the God of Heaven! if before a promise of forbearance she goes away, woe to me that I am not slain 5. When the ravens rejoice, when blood is hastening, when the gore runs bubbling, when the war doth rage, when the houses redden in Ruzlan, when the red hall is burning, when we glow with wrath; the ruddy flame it blazes up to heaven; our abode affords no shelter; and plainly is the bright conflagration seen from the white walls upon the shore of Menai They perished on the third day of May, three hundred ships of a fleet roving the ocean; and ten hundred times the number the sword would put to flight, leaving not a single beard on Menai. 6. Five evening tides were celebrated when France was saved, when barbarian chiefs were made to fly, when there was pressure round the steel-clad bodies; should a weapon yet be brandished round the beard, a public triumph would my wrath procure, scouring the bounds of Loegyr, and on her habitation hurling ruin; there should be the hand of the hastening host upon the cross, the keen edge slaughtering, the blade reeking with blood, the blood hue over the abject throng, a blood veil hiding its place of falling, and a plain of blood, and a cheek suffused with gore. 7. I love the time of summer; then the gladly-exulting steed of the warrior prances before a gallant chief; the wave is crowned with foam; the limb of the active more quickly moves; the apple-tree has arrayed itself in another livery; bordered with white is my shield on my shoulder, prepared for violence. I have loved, with ardency of desire, the object which I have not obtained. Ceridwen, fair and tall, of slowly languid gait, her com plexion vies with the warm dawn in the evening hour, of a splendid delicate form, beautifully mild and white hued presence; in stepping over a rush nearly falling seems the little tiny fair one; gentle in her air, she appears but scarcely older than a tenth year infant. Young, shapely, and full of gracefulness, it were a congenial virtue that she should freely give ; but the youthful female does more embarrass good fortune by a smile, than an expression from her lips checks impertinence. A worshipping pilgrim, she will send me to the celestial presence; how long shall I worship thee? stop and think of thine office! If I am unskilful through the dotage of love, Jesus, the well-informed, will not rebuke me. 8. Fair foam-crowned wave, spraying over the sacred tomb of Ruvon the brave, the chief of princes, behold this day I love the utmost hate of England, a flat and unergetic land, with a race involved in every wile. I love the spot that gave me the much-desired gift of mead, where the seas extend a tedious conflict. I love the society and thick inhabitants therein, and which, obedient to its lord, directs its view to peace. I love its sea-coast and its mountains, its city bordering on its forest, sea-mews, and its beauteous women. I love its warriors and its well-trained steeds, its woods, its strong-holds, and its social domicil. I love its fields clothed with tender trefoil, where I had the glory of a mighty triumph. I love its cultivated regions, the prerogative of heroism, and its far-extended wild, and its sports of the chase, which, Son of God! have been great and wonderful: how sleek the melodious deer, and in what plenty found! I achieved by the push of a spear an excellent deed between the chief of Powys and happy Gwynez, and upon the pale-hued element of ever-struggling motion may I accomplish a liberation from exile. I will not take breath until my party comes; a dream declares it, and God wills it to be so, fair foam-crowned wave spraying over the grave. Fair foam-crowned wave, impetuous in thy course, like in color to the hoar when it accumulates; I love the sea-coast in Meirionyz, where I have had a white arm for a pillow. I love the nightingale upon the privet-brake in Cymmer Denzur, a celebrated vale. Lord of heaven and earth, the glory of the blest, though so far it is from Ceri to Caerliwelyz, I mounted the yellow steed, and from Maelienyz reached the land of Reged between the night and day. Before I am in the grave, may I enjoy a new blessing from the land of Tegyngyl of fairest aspect! Since I am a love-wight, one inured to wander, may God direct my fate, fair foam-crowned wave of impetuous course! I will implore the Divine Supreme, the wonderful in subjugating to his will, as king, to create an excelling muse for a song of praise to the women, such as Merzin sung, who have claimed my bardic lore so long, who are so tardy in dispensing grace. The most eminent in all the west I name, from the gates of Chester to the port of Ysgewin: The first is the nymph who will be the subject of universal praise, Gwenliant, whose complexion is like the summer's day. The second is another of high state, far from my embrace, adorned with golden necklace, fair Gweirvyl, from whom nor token nor confidence have I obtained, nor has any of my race; though 1 might be slain by two-edged blades, she whose foster brother was a king, should be my theme. And next for the handsome Gwladys, the young and modest virgin, the idol of the multitude, I utter the secret sigh; I will worship her with the yellow blossoms of the furze. Soon may I see my vigor rouse to combat, and in my hand my blade, bright Leucu, my companion, laughing, and whose husband laughs not from anxiety. Great anxiety oppresses me, makes me sad; and longing, alas! is habitual for fair Nêst, for her who is like the apple-tree blossom; and for Perwewr, the centre of my desire; for Generys the chaste, who grants not a smile for me; may continence not overcome her! for Hunyz, whose fame will last till the day of doom; for Hawis, who claims my choicest eulogy. On a memorable day I had a nymph; I had a second, more be their praise; I had a third and a fourth with prosperity; I had a fifth of those with a skin white and delicate; I had a sixth bright and fair, avoiding not the temptation, above the white walls did she arrest me; I had a seventh, and this was satiety of love; I had eight in recompense for a little of the praise which I sung; but the teeth most opportunely bar the tongue. Ere ever Saxon set his hateful foot Upon the beautiful Isle. — XV. p. 354, col. 1. The three names of this Island; the first, before it was inhabited, it was called the Water-guarded Green Spot; after it was inhabited, it was called the Honey Island; and after its subjection to Prydain, the son of Aedd Mawr, he gave it the name of the Isle of Prydain. - Cambrian Register. This name was appropriately given to it, for Ynys Prydain signifies the Beautiful Isle. - - Cambrian Biography, E. WILLIAMS. The contumacious Prince of Powys-land. - XV. p. 354, col. 1. Oenum de Cevelioc, quia solus inter Walliæ principes Archipræsuli cum populo suo non occurrerat, excommunicavimus. Oenus iste præ aliis Cambria principibus, et linguæ dicacis extiterat, et in terræ suæ moderamine ingenii perspicacis. —GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS. Even as Owen in his deeds The Church disowned him dead. - XV. p. 354, col. 2. Owen Gwyneth was buried at Bangor. When Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, coming to preach the crusade against the Saracens, saw his tomb, he charged the Bishop to remove the body out of the Cathedral, when he could find a fit opportunity so to do; in regard that Archbishop Becket had excommunicated him heretofore, because he had married his first cousin, the daughter of Grono ab Edwyn, and that notwithstanding he had continued to live with her till she died. The Bishop, in obedience to the charge, made a passage from the vault through the south wall of the church, under ground, and so secretly shoved the body into the churchyard. — ROYAL TRIBES. From the HENGWRT MS. One of the first things we asked to see was the tomb of Potemkin. All Europe has heard that he was buried in Cherson; and a magnificent sepulchre might naturally be expected for a person so renowned. The reader will imagine our surprise, when, in answer to our inquiries concerning his remains, we were told that no one knew what was become of them. Potemkin, the illustrious, the powerful, of all the princes that ever lived the most princely, of all imperial favorites the most favored, had not a spot which might be called his grave. He, who not only governed all Russia, but even made the haughty Catherine his suppliant, had not the distinction possessed by the humblest of the human race. The particulars respecting the ultimate disposal of his body, as they were communicated to me upon the spot, on the most credible testimony, merit cursory detail. The corpse, soon after his death, was brought to Cherson, and placed beneath a dome of the small church belonging to the fortress opposite to the altar. After the usual ceremony of interment, the vault was covered, merely by restoring to their former situation the planks of wood belonging to the floor of the building. Many inhabitants of Cherson, as well as English officers in the Russian service, who resided in the neighborhood, had seen the coffin: this was extremely ordinary; but the practice of showing it to strangers prevailed for some years after Potemkin's decease. The Empress Catherine either had, or pretended to have, an intention of erecting a superb monument to his memory; whether at Cherson or elsewhere, is unknown. Her sudden death is believed to bave prevented the completion of this design. The most extraordinary part of the story remains now to be related: the coffin itself has disappeared: instead of any answer to the various inquiries we made concerning it, we were cautioned to be silent. No one, said a countryman of ours, living in the place, dares to mention the name of Potemkin. At length we received intelligence that the verger could satisfy our curiosity, if we would venture to ask him. We soon found the means of encouraging a little communi cation on his part; and were then told, that the body, by the Emperor Paul's command, had been taken up, and thrown into the ditch of the fortress. These orders were implicitly obeyed. A hole was dug in the fosse, into which his remains were thrown with as little ceremony as if they were those of a dead dog, but this procedure taking place during the night, very few were informed of the disposal of the body. An eyewitness of the fact assured me that the coffin no longer existed in the vault where it was originally placed; and the Verger was actually proceeding to point out the place where the body was abandoned, when the Bishop himself, happening to arrive, took away my guide, and with menaces but too likely to be fulfilled, prevented our being more fully informed concerning the obloquy at present involving Potemkin. CLARKE's Travels, vol. i. p. 602. Winning slow Famine to their aid. - XVII. p. 357, col. 1. "I am much affected," says old Fuller, "with the ingenuity of an English nobleman, who, following the camp of King Henry III. in these parts, (Caernarvonshire,) wrote home to his friends, about the end of September, 1243, the naked truth indeed as followeth: We lie in our tents, watching, fasting, praying, and freezing; we watch for fear of the Welshmen, who are wont to invade us in the night; we fast for want of meat, for the halfpenny loaf is worth five pence; we pray to God to send us home speedily; we freeze for want of winter garments, having nothing but thin linen betwixt us and the wind." " Be not thou As is the black and melancholy yew, That strikes into the grave its baleful roots, Like the black and melancholic yew-tree, WEBSTER'S White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona. Never shall her waking eye Behold them, till the hour of happiness, When Death hath made her pure for perfect bliss. XVII. p. 358, col. 2. The three Restorations in the Circle of Happiness; Restoration of original genius and character; Restoration of all that was beloved; and the Restoration of Remembrance from the origin of all things; without these perfect happiness cannot exist. Triads of Bardism, 32. I have thought it unnecessary to give a connected account of the Bardic system in these Notes, as it has been so well done by my friend, Mr. Turner, in his Vindication of the Ancient British Poems. PART II. MADOC IN AZTLAN. 1. THE RETURN TO AZTLAN. Now go your way, ye gallant company; Fair blew the Winds, and safely did the Waves His tent, and blest his lot that it had fallen Yet to achieve, worse danger to endure, No watchman had been station'd on the height To seek his sails, - for with Cadwallon's hope Too much of doubt was blended and of fear: Yet thitherward, whene'er he walk'd abroad, His face, as if instinctively, was turn'd; And duly, morn and eve, Lincoya there, As though religion led his duteous feet, Went up to gaze. He on a staff had scored The promised moons and days; and many a time Counting again its often-told account, So to beguile impatience, day by day Smooth'd off with more delight the daily notch. But now that the appointed time was nigh, Did that perpetual presence of his hope Haunt him, and mingle with his sleep, and mar The natural rest, and trouble him by day, That all his pleasure was at earliest light To take his station, and at latest eve, If he might see the sails where, far away, Through wide savannahs roll'd the silver stream. Oh, then with what a sudden start his blood Flow'd from its quicken'd spring, when far away He spied the glittering topsails! For a while Distrustful of that happy sight, till now Slowly he sees them rise, and wind along Through wide savannahs up the silver stream. Then with a breathless speed he flies to spread The joy; and with Cadwallon now descends, And drives adown the tide the light canoe, And mounts the vessel-side, and once again Falls at the Ocean Lord's beloved feet. First of the general weal did Madoc ask; Cadwallon answer'd, All as yet is well, And by this seasonable aid secured, Caermadoc-by that name Cadwallon's love Call'd it in memory of the absent PrinceStood in a mountain vale, by rocks and heights, A natural bulwark, girt. A rocky stream, Which from the fells came down, there spread itself Into a quiet lake, to compass which Had been a two hours' pleasurable toil; And he, who from a well-strung bow could send His shaft across, had needs a sinewy arm, And might from many an archer, far and near Have borne away the bell. Here had the Chief Chosen his abiding-place, for strength preferr'd, Where vainly might a host in equal arms Attempt the difficuit entrance; and for all That could delight the eye and heart of man ; Whate'er of beauty or of usefulness Heart could desire, or eye behold, being here. What he had found an idle wilderness Now gave rich increase to the husbandmen, For Heaven had blest their labor. Flourishing He left the happy vale; and now he saw More fields reclaim'd, more habitations rear'd, More harvests rising round. The reptile race, And every beast of rapine, had retired From man's asserted empire; and the sound Of axe, and dashing oar, and fisher's net, And song-beguiling toil, and pastoral pipe, Were heard, where late the solitary hills Gave only to the mountain-cataract Their wild response. Here, Urien, cried the Prince, These craggy heights and overhanging groves Will make thee think of Gwyneth. And this hut, Rejoin'd Cadwallon, with its roof of reeds, Goervyl, is our palace: it was built With lighter labor than Aberfraw's towers; Yet, Lady, safer are its wattled sides Than Mona's kingly walls. - Like Gwyneth, said he? Oh no! we neighbor nearer to the Sun, So thus did they Will well remain,- Thy father? quoth the Prince. Where every dwelling had its guest, and all Gave the long eve to hospitable mirth. II. THE TIDINGS. BUT when the Lord of Ocean from the stir When we had quell'd The strength of Aztlan, we should have thrown down Her Altars, cast her Idols to the fire, And on the ruins of her fanes accurs'd Yet I had hope Mightier in war; and Aztlan could not choose Among the Gods of yon unhappy race, And pomp of hellish piety, is held. Therefore the Priests combined to save their Him whom they judge, for comely countenance, craft; And soon the rumor ran of evil signs And tokens; in the temple had been heard Wailings and loud lament; the eternal fire Gave dismally a dim and doubtful flame; And shapely form, and all good natural gifts, And from the censer, which at morn should steam Be as the Idol's living image held. Sweet odors to the sun, a fetid cloud, Black and portentous, rose. Approach'd our dwelling. Prince And now no Priest Yuhidthiton was at Caermadoc now But I the while Garb'd therefore like the Demon Deity, Before the bloody festival arrive, As 'twere to make the wretch in love with life, And pray'd with him, and talk'd with him of He learnt to love, so excellently good death And life to come. O Madoc! those were hours I think of them in solitude, and feel The comfort of my faith. But when that time Was she; and she loved him and pitied him. I oftentimes have seen her; and in truth, Thou know'st how manfully And free them from their bondage. Didst thou It hung, it press'd upon him like a weight hear How from yon bloody altars he was saved? On one who scarce can struggle with the waves; |