I told her
he was a great bard, and was buried in the abbey. She said she had
never heard of him, but that she could show me the portrait of a
great poet, and going away, presently returned with a print in a
frame.
"There," said she, "is the portrait of Twm o'r Nant, generally
called the Welsh Shakespeare."
I looked at it. The Welsh Shakespeare was represented sitting at a
table with a pen in his hand; a cottage-latticed window was behind
him, on his left hand; a shelf with plates, and trenchers behind
him, on his right. His features were rude, but full of wild,
strange expression; below the picture was the following couplet:-
"Llun Gwr yw llawn gwir Awen;
Y Byd a lanwodd o'i Ben."
"Did you ever hear of Twm o'r Nant?" said the old dame.
"I never heard of him by word of mouth," said I; "but I know all
about him - I have read his life in Welsh, written by himself, and
a curious life it is. His name was Thomas Edwards, but he
generally called himself Twm o'r Nant, or Tom of the Dingle,
because he was born in a dingle, at a place called Pen Porchell, in
the vale of Clwyd - which, by the bye, was on the estate which once
belonged to Iolo Goch, the poet I was speaking to you about just
now. Tom was a carter by trade, but once kept a toll-bar in South
Wales, which, however, he was obliged to leave at the end of two
years, owing to the annoyance which he experienced from ghosts and
goblins, and unearthly things, particularly phantom hearses, which
used to pass through his gate at midnight without paying, when the
gate was shut.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118