Wild Wales | Page 4

being as daring and enterprising as the
Welshman, but a monster without ruth or discrimination, terrible to
friend and foe, who perished by the hands, not of the Spaniards, but of
the Indians, who tore him limb from limb, burning his members, yet
quivering, in the fire - which very Indians Morgan contrived to make
his own firm friends, and whose difficult language he spoke with the
same facility as English, Spanish, and his own South Welsh.
For men of genius Wales during a long period was particularly
celebrated. - Who has not heard of the Welsh Bards? though it is true
that, beyond the borders of Wales, only a very few are acquainted with
their songs, owing to the language, by no means an easy one, in which
they were composed. Honour to them all! everlasting glory to the three
greatest - Taliesin, Ab Gwilym and Gronwy Owen: the first a professed
Christian, but in reality a Druid, whose poems fling great light on the
doctrines of the primitive priesthood of Europe, which correspond
remarkably with the philosophy of the Hindus, before the time of
Brahma: the second the grand poet of Nature, the contemporary of
Chaucer, but worth half a dozen of the accomplished word-master, the
ingenious versifier of Norman and Italian tales: the third a learned and
irreproachable minister of the Church of England, and one of the
greatest poets of the last century, who after several narrow escapes
from starvation both in England and Wales, died master of a paltry
school at New Brunswick, in North America, sometime about the year
1780.
But Wales has something besides its wonderful scenery, its eventful
history, and its illustrious men of yore to interest the visitor. Wales has
a population, and a remarkable one. There are countries, besides Wales,
abounding with noble scenery, rich in eventful histories, and which are
not sparingly dotted with the birthplaces of heroes and poets, in which
at the present day there is either no population at all, or one of a
character which is anything but attractive. Of a country in the first
predicament, the Scottish Highlands afford an example: What a country
is that Highland region! What scenery! and what associations! If Wales
has its Snowdon and Cader Idris, the Highlands have their Hill of the

Water Dogs, and that of the Swarthy Swine: If Wales has a history, so
have the Highlands - not indeed so remarkable as that of Wales, but
eventful enough: If Wales has had its heroes, its Glendower and Father
Pryce, the Highlands have had their Evan Cameron and Ranald of
Moydart; If Wales has had its romantic characters, its Griffith Ap
Nicholas and Harry Morgan, the Highlands have had Rob Roy and that
strange fellow Donald Macleod, the man of the broadsword, the leader
of the Freacadan Dhu, who at Fontenoy caused, the Lord only knows,
how many Frenchmen's heads to fly off their shoulders, who lived to
the age of one hundred and seven, and at seventy-one performed gallant
service on the Heights of Abraham: wrapped in whose plaid the dying
Wolfe was carried from the hill of victory. - If Wales has been a land of
song, have not the Highlands also? - If Wales can boast of Ab Gwilym
and Gronwy, the Highlands can boast of Ossian and MacIntyre. In
many respects the two regions are equals or nearly so; - In one respect,
however, a matter of the present day, and a very important matter too,
they are anything but equals: Wales has a population - but where is that
of the Highlands? - Plenty of noble scene; Plenty of delightful
associations, historical, poetical, and romantic - but, but, where is the
population?
The population of Wales has not departed across the Atlantic, like that
of the Highlands; it remains at home, and a remarkable population it is
- very different from the present inhabitants of several beautiful lands
of olden fame, who have strangely degenerated from their forefathers.
Wales has not only a population, but a highly interesting one - hardy
and frugal, yet kind and hospitable - a bit crazed, it is true, on the
subject of religion, but still retaining plenty of old Celtic peculiarities,
and still speaking Diolch i Duw! - the language of Glendower and the
Bards.
The present is a book about Wales and Welsh matters. He who does me
the honour of perusing it will be conducted to many a spot not only
remarkable for picturesqueness, but for having been the scene of some
extraordinary event, or the birth-place or residence of a hero or a man
of genius; he will likewise be not unfrequently introduced to the
genuine Welsh, and made acquainted with what they have to say about

Cumro and Saxon, buying and selling, fattening