Vechan, a beautiful lady, of the house of Tudor Trevor, who, about the year 1390, resided there. In all probability it was intended merely for her to whom it was addressed, as the fashion of writing an ode nominally to a mistress, but in reality for the public, was not so much in vogue in those early times as since. Accident, however, ordained it otherwise, and the old manuscript was snatched from that oblivion where sleep the loves and wars of earth Before Pelide's death, or Homer's birth-" It is no easy matter to translate a Welsh lyric poem into octosyllabic English verse, as the former language, like the Greek, frequently throws a considerable concentration of meaning into one or two words. The following passages are selected, not to show any excellence in the version, but merely to give a slight idea of the sentiments of the original : "Grieving I strike the plaintive string, "How swift on Alban's steed I flew Than new-fall'n snow on Aren's brow! * * "Alas! no words can speak my pain, "Oh fairer than the flow'rs adorning So Howel's name may live with thine." An elegant Welsh writer thus speaks of the minstrels of his native land :— "They inhabited a country where they found in the works of Nature-what they afterwards copied into their own-the sublime and beautiful." Perchance the above extracts may, in some measure, attest the truth of his observation. Howel appropriately and artfully commences his address to the haughty beauty, or" princely maid," as he calls her, with an allusion to his harp,-the truly national musical instrument of their common country,—and makes more than one allusion to its fine mountain scenery. These two lines "Fairer and colder, too, art thou Than new-fall'n snow on Aren's brow" * A high, and generally snow-clad mountain in Merionethshire. I consider beautiful. This Howel is, I believe, the same to whom Gray alludes in his celebrated ode, "Lewellin's harp and Howel's lay-" Not far from Llangollen are the remains of an ancient abbey, so that the stranger, should he incline to meditation, may descend from the ruins of lordly power to ponder over the time-worn abode of a departed priesthood, and moralize on the mutability of mortal institutions. It was more suitable to my inclination to wander along the banks of the Dee. Like several other and greater rivers, the origin of its name is enveloped in mystery and fable. As it arises from two springs at its source, or rather sources, many imagine it to have been derived from the Welsh word dwy (two); but others assert that it took its title from dhu (black), its waters, from the shade of the neighbouring trees and mountains, or perhaps from some mineral ingredient, appearing very dark. A third party of antiquarians say, that it comes from the word Dwy (God,) in token of its divine origin, in which many of the ancient inhabitants of the country are said to have religiously believed. There is nothing singular in this. The Egyptians, Hindoos, Greeks, and Romans,-the most enlightened nations of antiquity,—did the same. Mankind are apt to look upon any thing that ministers to their enjoyment in this checquered scene of life, as a special gift of Providence. But besides that a river is both a beauty and a benefit to the district through which it rolls, the ancient Cambrians had, doubtless, another and a very good reason for looking favourably upon the Dee. With its swift waters and its rocky banks, it formed a barrier against their hostile neighbours, ere the two countries were happily united under equal laws and equal liberties. A glance at its course upon the map, may convince the tactician that this is probable; he who has marked its often precipitous banks, and the neighbouring hills by which it is overlooked and commanded, will deem it something more than probable. Moreover, the records of history, legendary tales, and oral traditions of this country, alike strengthen the suppo sition. No great way hence is Glendur Wye, the patrimonial estate and residence of the renowed, and (to his enemies) terrific Owain Glendwr.* There he first unfurled the standard of revolt, and called upon his countrymen to assist him in the expulsion of their oppressors; and during the struggle that ensued, many were the conflicts and skirmishes that are said to have taken place along and near the sides of the Dee. In those strifeful times were its dusk waters, which now flow only through vales of peace, dyed with the blood of the brave, and the echoes upon its banks heard to repeat the dissonant war-cries of the combatants. But of such scenes is not half the history of the world composed? On the banks of the yellow Tiber it hath been so in times past; on the banks of the Vistula it is so at the present day; and unless the calm voice of Philosophy shall hold more potent sway over the fierce passions of mankind than it hath hitherto done, at some remote period thus will it be where the waters of Columbia now fertilize the wilderness. But, at all events, let us trust that the banner of freedom will soon triumphantly traverse every clime. If it be permitted to flutter peacefully in the breeze, it is well; but still let it wave on, though the wrath of the tempest burst around it. There is another subject that ought not to be passed silently by in a description of the River Dee-viz, the coracle fishermen. Should any one feel disposed to pronounce it too trivial and uninteresting, I would remind him that a certain commander of the Roman Legions, yclept Julius Cæsar, thought differently; and that art and enterprize ought not to be solely estimated by the greatness of the undertaking, but by that greatness when duly compared with Most commonly spelled Owen Glendower, but I believe erroneously at all events the other is the way in which it is written in the ancient MSS. the means of the projector. Considered in this light, the manner in which the natives of this part of the country navigate down a swift and uncertain stream, in so slight a canoe, is not a little remarkable. A coracle is a kind of boat, the shell, or skeleton of which is formed of light twigs in the manner of basketwork, and this is covered over with a hide so thoroughly pitched that it becomes quite water-proof. It is generally about a yard in breadth, and four feet in length, having a single seat so situated that the weight of the person resting upon it may not disturb its equilibrium. It is composed of such light materials, that it is easily borne on the fisherman's shoulder to any part of the river he pleases. Having launched it, and seated himself, he suffers it to go gently down the stream, guiding it when needful by means of a paddle, which he holds in his left hand, while he throws the fly with his right. There is no other mode by which a great part of this river could be successfully fished, owing to the great quantity of wood on its banks. It may easily be conceived to be a very different occupation from that of "patience in a punt," as cockney fishing in the Thames has been very appropriately denominated. I never saw one of these coracle men use anything but the artificial fly, the only kind of angling that deserves the name of art, and that is not tame and disgusting. The manner in which, by the aid of the little paddle, they propel themselves from side to side, and hasten or delay their course, is curious, but it is really an astonishing sight to behold them passing over some of the most rapid streams and dangerous eddies. The pilot, or rather the captain, of the tiny vessel sits quite motionless, until perchance the current throws the bark upon one side, when, by inclining his weight in a due degree towards the other, he saves himself from wreck. Experience and presence of mind are both requisite, and if it be a pastime not absolutely "dignified by danger," it is only not so because no reasonable person would be so rash as to trust himself on a deep stream in a coracle, who could not swim, and, more than that, swim pretty well, as an indifferent swimmer suddenly immersed in running water, with his clothes on, would be in a perilous predicament. As a wetting was the worst that I had to apprehend from an upset, I have, when a boy, amused myself with steering one of these coracles while in some of the more tranquil parts of the river, but even there I had enough to do to keep all right; and, had I attempted to take the rougher water, I should doubtless have been as thoroughly shipwrecked as ever was Sindbad the Sailor, or Robinson Crusoe. The most singular fact relating to these coracles, is, that they exactly answer the description given of them some eighteen hundred and fifty years ago. Cæsar, in the CIV. chapter of the first book of his Commentaries, after having related that, while engaged in his Spanish expedition against Pompey, his bridges over the Segre had been suddenly swept away by the floods, thus 5 proceeds: "Imperat militibus Cæsar, ut naves facient cujus generis cum superioribus annis usus Britanniæ docuerat. Carina primum ac statumina ex levi materiâ fiebant: reliquum corpus navium viminibus contextum coriis integebatur.” It cannot fail to be observed how nearly this account tallies with the one which I have given from ocular demonstration. What a proof it affords of the comprehensive mind and ready genius of that great man? We find that, even while commanding a Roman army, he minutely examined the mode of navigation practised by a barbarous people, and at the favourable moment turned his information to good account. He does not mention the size of the coracles then in use, which was probably various, as those used upon the inland lakes and rivers would be too small for the open sea, where it is certain that the Britons navigated in them. Pliny, in his History of Britain, confirms this, as he makes mention of a six days' voyage being performed by them. It seems indisputable that in those early days they formed the navy of Great Britain. How are the times changed? The proud gallies and armaments of imperial Rome have vanished from the ocean, while the descendants of those very Britons, whose only means of navigation consisted of a few open boats, now triumphantly bear the flag of their native island over every sea, and to every clime. It is time to bring these rambling thoughts and vague descriptions to a close. Let us imagine that the shades of evening are descending over the wild and romantic scenery, whereof I have been discoursing; that, first of all, a few light and shadowy clouds collect around Castell Dinas Brân; that they descend gradually towards the vale; that the last beams of the departing sun are growing fainter and fainter on the verge of the horizon; that they depart, and that the empire of night extends over flood and fell. HERCULES PACIFICATUS. A TALE FROM SUIDAS. IN days of yore, ere early Greece And held that all things were in common; Of these, more desperate than others, In secret ambuscade join'd forces, These Robbers' names, enough to shake us, Who can 'scape fate, when we're decreed to't? C. And sneer'd with modern infidelity It proved all true tho', as she'd mumbled— Thinking that they sans price or hire wou'd They found it heavy-no slight matter— Now Hercules, we may suppose, Was no great dandy in his clothes; In calimanco, or nankeen; On anniversaries would try on A jerkin spick-span new from lion; Went bare for the most part, to be cool, And save the time of his Groom of the Stole; Besides, the smoke he had been in In Stygian gulf, had dyed his skin To a natural sable-a right hell-fit That seem'd to careless eyes black velvet. |