We have two other poems by Meilyr, one an elegy on the death of his second patron Gruffydd ab Kynan, and the other on the near approach of his own. Meilyr must have been an old man when he wrote the latter; a wide gap of fiftyseven years separates the dates of these and his former poem; but as has been clearly shown by the author of Hanes Cymru, there is no difficulty here presented which may not be explained on the assumption that he was a young man at the death of Trahaearn. The battle of Carno was fought in 1080, and the death of Gruffydd ap Kynan took place in 1137. Now if we assume that Meilyr was twenty years old at the former period, he must have been seventy-seven at the latter; and when we know that the king himself was quite as old, an octogenarian poet is by no means an unaccountable phenomenon. However I am less solicitous about the age of the poet, than about the very striking difference which appears between the poems of the same man. What his first poem was, we have seen; the first was tame and uninteresting; the latter are full of poetic traits, vigorous thought, and weighty observations. Youth is impressed upon one, the others indicate maturity. We shall select as an example the poem entitled the Death Bed of the Bard, for we shall have elegies on monarchs in abundance as we proceed.1 The King of kings is accessible to be adored;- Sovereign of the region of necessity, The most exalted circle of bliss, Returning memory iterates a groan, that thou should'st I deserved shame, In the presence of God the universal Ruler, In not serving truly In my devotion! Thou wilt serve me nevertheless, my Protector and King, Ere I am become an earthly clod! A faithful prediction To Adam and his race, Foretold in ancient days The prophets. The being of Jesus in the womb of martyrdom; The good Mary the burden did sustain. A burden have I accumulated Of tormenting sin: Severely have I been agitated By its perturbations. Sovereign of all life, how good art thou when worshipped! May I worship thee; may I become pure before I am tried! The king of all chiefs Knows that he will not refuse me, But after the gifted muse I feel another impulse; There waiting for the call To strive and win the goal In time of need: And let that be a solitude, by passengers not trodden, The holy isle of saints, The type of renovation, There to rest in happiness. Christ the predicted Cross, Will recognize me there And guard me from the rage of hell, A place of exiled beings;— The Creator who formed me, will give me room among Creawdyr a'm crewys a'm cynnwys ym plith Plwyv gwirin gwerin Enlli! 1 For much of the above translation, I am indebted to the Cambrian Register. "The region of necessity," is a phrase from the bardic mythology; and "the circle of bliss" is a term for heaven in the doctrine of transmigration. "Enlli" was the Welsh name for the isle of Bardsey. There was formerly a religious This poem is infinitely superior to the preceding. It contains poetical sentiments, a mastery of the metre, and skill in the use and application of the language; and if we subtract the bardic colouring, the conception of the attributes of the Deity would not discredit a more enlightened age. His chosen resting place is quite a poet's thought; and I should like the reader to peruse the verse a second time. A very striking improvement had taken place in Welsh poetry during the life of Gruffydd ab Kynan; and the muse which limped so lamely in 1080, after a lapse of fifty years, takes such flights, that but few succeeding bards have been able to equal them. Upon the causes which had a general tendency towards improvement, we shall hereafter treat; but much of the excellence exhibited is owing to the individual capacities of the poets themselves. Favourable circumstances may afford facilities for the exhibition of original powers; but general causes cannot produce genius. Meilyr in his latter poems shows great ability; yet he was greatly distanced by his son. Few men have ever shown a greater mastery over the Welsh language than Gwalchmai, and he has left us fourteen pieces, most of which are excellent. We shall draw attention to two of them. The poem called "Gorhoffedd Gwalchinai" shows a love of nature, which reminds one of passages in "l'Allegro," and of some of the sweet small poems of Wordsworth,-so natural are the sentiments, so smooth and flowing the diction, and so poetic the ideas. We shall quote a few of the lines,1 GWALCHMAI'S DELIGHTS. Thou early rising summer sun! hasten, The melodious talk of birds-the glorious season of song. house in it, where it was customary for people of note to be buried; and the bards in prticular. The Celtic people seem to have had a general desire of being interred in solitary islands; for we find similar burying grounds on the coasts of Ireland and Scotland. 1 Mochddwyreawg huan ddyfestin I am of the golden order fearless in battle, I am a lion in the front of the army,-ardent in my advance, Fords of the murmuring waters of Dygen Vreiddin,1 Where the untrodden grass was supremely green, the water And excessively talkative the nightingale well versed in odes. I love the nightingale of May, with its long white face, At the break of day, and at evening's close; I love the sweet musicians, who so fondly dwell On clear plaintive murmurs, and the accents of woe, Lines such as these have at this day a double merit, that of being in themselves poetical, and of shewing that occasionally the Bards turned from war and turmoil to commune with the sweet choristers of the grove. Many of the bards were men of good social position; and from such examples as are furnished by Gwalchmai, we may infer, that some of them were men of learning and of cultivated tastes,-men with eyes to see the beauties of nature, and minds to appreciate them as objects worthy of the poet's affection. There is a world of poetry and truthfulness in that little line, "Cathl foddawg coed." the epithet "soothing" as applied to the "lays of the wood" Mi ydwyf eurddeddf diofn fy nhrin Gorloes rydau dwfr Dygen Freiddin Gwylain yn gware ar wely lliant Carafi yr ednan, a'u llarian lais Cathl foddawg coed. 1 Dygen Vreiddin was not far from Shrewsbury, but within the Radnorshire boundary; and the name remains to this day attached to the Breiddin Hills. D |