I saw in Rhuddlan the rushing of flames before Owen, and spearpierced carcases and red lances, &c. I listened to the nightingale, and melancholy makes me wakeful, &c. I love the bird with its brilliant voice, solacing the wood with its chant of powerful impulse, &c. I have been lulled to sleep by the green wave at Aberffraw, &c. I have heard the eagle at his repast, when Gwynedd added blood to his banquet, &c. I have been lulled to sleep by the green wave at Aber Dau, where the clear pellucid streams do meet, where unceasingly the voice of the bird is heard, &c. I have drank mead from golden cups in the court of Owen. In the battle of Maesgarneth I earned from nobles rewards poured into my hand, &c. To what extent this composition may be formed of consecutive ideas, the lapse of time will scarcely admit of our forming an opinion. But whether it consists of a series of thoughts whose connection cannot now be traced, or is merely a concatenation of rambling and disjointed sentences, strung together according to the whim and eccentric humour of the Bard; one thing is certain, that the language is highly cultivated, the diction exceedingly choice and poetical; and we can only lament the apparent absence of unity of design, and the obscurity which pervades the whole. CYNDDELW. ONE of the next Bards in point of time is Cynddelw, who wrote between 1150 and 1200. Many of his Poems are preserved, consisting of Odes of Eulogy addressed to several chieftains of the time, and also of Elegies. The style of this Bard is so exceedingly sententious and abrupt, and his language, from the absence of connecting particles, leaves so much to be supplied from the context, that in rendering the real meaning in another language, so much circulation must be used, that the work would be rather an interpretation than a translation. The following verses are less intricate, and also containing an original and striking idea, are here selected they refer to the Death-wail, raised by the household of Madoc ap Meredith, Prince of Powys, throughout his territory, on the death of that Prince. ENGLYNION A GANT CYNDDELW I DEULU MADAWC MAB MAREDUDD, PAN FU FARW MADAWC, AM GLYBOD EU GODWRYP. VERSES COMPOSED BY CYNDDELW TO THE Household OF MADOC, SON OF MEREDITH, ON THE DEATH OF MADOC, WHEN HE HEARD THEIR WAIL. A murmur I hear over the region of Maelienyth, the strong land of Elfan the powerful, the Household of Madoc, the beneficent and active, like the mighty household of Benlli Gawr. A murmur I hear throughout the region of the long extending Ieithon; bold were his men against the Saxons, the Household of Madoc the protecting chief, like the tumult of the hosts of Cynon. A murmur I hear, a tumult of pointed spears, woe to the men of Lloegyr in the day of arraying; the Household of Madoc, the bulwark of Britain, once harnessed, and aluring the ravens. A murmur I hear throughout the land of those of martial renown, and energetic; the Household of Madoc, the chief of extensive fame, like the shout of tumult of the host of Arthur. A murmur I hear along the region of the beauteous Vaga; it is that of the valiant Madoc, in the full assembling in marshalled order.The third of the three faithful tribes-Broken are their shields in the great encounter of hosts." Cynddelw appears to have been himself an eye-witness of some of the conflicts which he describes; as in an Eulogy upon Rhys ap Gruffydd, Prince of South Wales, he says: *The river Wye. "Gweleis i gleis a threis a thrallawd O beleidr a rheeidr rhudd o gnawd." I saw glory, and advancing, and the charge Of spears, and crimson cataracts gushing from the flesh. Again, in his Elegy upon Owen Gwynedd, he gives a description of one of that Prince's battles, though exaggerated, yet so graphic as to authorize a presumption that he had witnessed that, or some other similar scene. "Gwyrd heli Teifi tewychai The green sea-brine of Teivy thickened, The blood of warriors, and the ocean wave swelled its tide; On a surge of gore it swam. OWEN CEVEILIOC.-PRINCE OF Powys. 1150-1197. COTEMPORARY with the last two Bards was Owen Ceveilioc, Prince of Powys; a very extraordinary man, being a most spirited and gallant warrior, and also a Bard of the highest order of genius. Giraldus Cambrensis describes him as eloquent of speech, and ruling his territory with discretion. It also appears from this writer, that when Owen Ceveilioc was at peace with Henry the Second, he enjoyed the acquaintance of that accomplished monarch, which is no trifling pledge of his mental cultivation. There are but two compositions of this prince extant, one of them is the Poem called the Hirlas, or Drinking Horn; this Poem is supposed to have been composed after the battle of Crogen, in which Henry the Second was defeated by the confederate Princes of Wales, of whom Owen Ceveilioc himself was one. The subject is this: After the battle, the prince assembles his warriors at a banquet, and sends the Horn, filled with mead, Chwyrnawd? and wine to all of his warriors separately, with a complimentary address to each separately. The opening stanza is exceeding beautiful and striking. THE HIRLAS OF CEVEILIOC. This Poem is rather too long to be given entire, but a few extracts will be inserted as specimens of the style, and there is one passage so exceedingly beautiful and original, so dramatic and effective, that it must not by any means be passed unnoticed. The real sense of the passage, appears to have been first pointed out by Sharon Turner, and it is surprising, &c. HYWEL AP OWAIN. ONE of the next Bards in point of time, is Howel the son of Owen Gwynedd, who, on the death of his father in 1169, claimed the throne of North Wales, and after occupying it about a twelve-month, was slain in battle. He was a warlike and enterprising character, and celebrated for his skill in conducting sieges, and the taking of castles. Cynddelw alludes to his taking the castle of Cynfael : "Twrwf Tonn Torchawe Hael trwm oedd y glywel Twr Cynvael yn cwyddaw A flameu odrum yn edrinaw Like the tumult of the wave was that of the torquesed chief, heavy was the sound Of the tower of Cynfael falling; And the ridgy flames loud echoing, And vehemence, and the spear in hand. The Poems of Hywel ap Owain, are but few in number, and those but short, and obscure; yet from the style, we may conclude that he possessed a cultivated taste, together with considerable genius. It has been supposed that this prince cherished some of the tenets of Druidism, and that he alludes to them under the description of beautiful females: but others think, with greater probability, that the objects of the Bard's devotion were not so spiritual and abstracted. The Poem of the greatest length is that called his Gorhoffedd, i. e. his Delight, or Favourite, and which like that of the same title by Gwalchmai, already referred to, appears to be an See pages 198-9.-EDITOR. incoherent and unmeaning concatenation of poetic expressions; such as to make one suspect that the Gorhoffedd was a mere rhapsody, formed of unconnected thoughts, the favourite ideas of the Bard, thrown together without regard to any consecutive order. The difficulty is to reconcile this confusion with the elegance of diction, and poetic excellence which each sentence possesses in itself. The following is the beginning of this Poem: GORHOFFED HYWEL AP YWEIN. Tonn wenn orewyn a orwlych bet Myn y dyhaet myr meith gywrysset Ae chaer ger y choed ae chein diret Ae gwylein gwynnyon ae gwymp wroget THE GORHOFFEDD OF HOWEL SON OF OWEN. The white wave, high-covered with foam, drenches the grave, the tumulus of Rhufon Befyr, Chief of Kings. I love this day the bright region of the north, the land hated of Lloegyr, the territory of the chieftain of the prudent multitude. I love the land where I was supplied with the wished for mead, by the worthy bulwark of wide spread contests. I love its people and its dense dwellings within it, and under the sway of the prince ruling in prosperity. I love its sea-marsh, and its mountains, and its castle by the wood, and its valleys; and its white sea-mews, and its brilliant dames. |