Then saying something
in Welsh to the pretty damsel, at which she started, and putting
something into her hand, at which she curtseyed, I hurried out of
the church.
CHAPTER XXXVII
Mental Excitation - Land of Poets - The Man in Grey - Drinking
Healths - The Greatest Prydydd - Envy - Welshmen not Hogs -
Gentlemanly Feeling - What Pursuit? - Tell him to Walk Up - Editor
of the TIMES - Careful Wife - Departure.
I REGAINED the high road by a short cut, which I discovered, across
a field. I proceeded rapidly along for some time. My mind was
very much excited: I was in the birthplace of the mighty Tudors -
I had just seen the tomb of one of them; I was also in the land of
the bard; a country which had produced Gwalchmai who sang the
triumphs of Owain, and him who had sung the Cowydd of Judgment,
Gronwy Owen. So no wonder I was excited. On I went reciting
bardic snatches connected with Anglesey. At length I began
repeating Black Robin's ode in praise of the island, or rather my
own translation of it, executed more than thirty years before,
which amongst others, contains the following lines:-
"Twelve sober men the muses woo,
Twelve sober men in Anglesey,
Dwelling at home, like patriots true,
In reverence for Anglesey."
"Oh," said I, after I had recited that stanza, "what would I not
give to see one of those sober patriotic bards, or at least one of
their legitimate successors, for by this time no doubt, the sober
poets, mentioned by Black Robin, are dead.
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