Musical and Poetical Relicks of the Welsh Bards

I had twenty-four sons;
All leaders of armies, all adorned with golden torques original: "torques"; these were heavy gold neck rings worn by Celtic nobility as a sign of status.:
Gwên was the bravest of them all.

I had twenty-four sons,
All princely chiefs, all adorned with chains of gold.
But compared with Gwên, the rest were children.

These were my sons,
The favorites of Bards;
And fair is their renown.

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The British language referring here to the Welsh language, in which rhyme is as old as poetry itself, had, by the sixth century, attained such richness and musical refinement that the Bards commonly composed in unirhythm original: "unirhythm"; a poetic form where every line in a long stanza ends with the same rhyme. stanzas of many lines. The rhymes of modern Italy are as famous for their number as its language is admired for its flexibility in yielding to all the modulations of the voice. Yet the Italian poets are forced to change the rhyme more than once in a stanza, producing no effect other than confusion from the variety. The old performances of the Bards were, therefore, perfectly designed for accompanying the harp.

For this quality, none of the remains from this remote period are more remarkable than the works of Myrddin son of Morfryn, often called Merlin the Wild. His reputation as a Bard is not inferior to the prophetic and magical fame of his great predecessor, Myrddin Emrys q. Merlin Ambrose, the prophet and reputed magician born at Carmarthen, was the son of a Welsh Nun, the daughter of a king of Dyfed original: "Demetia". His father was unknown. He was made king of West Wales by Vortigern, who then reigned in Britain. His prophecies, which were written in prose, were translated into Latin and published by Geoffrey of Monmouth.. He was born at Caerwerthefin, near the forest of Celyddon The Caledonian Forest in Scotland. There he possessed a large estate, which he lost in the war of his Lord, Gwenddolau son of Ceidio, and Aeddan the Treacherous against Rhydderch the Generous. His misfortunes in Scotland drove him to Wales, and there is still an existing poetical dialogue between him and his teacher, Taliesin. He was present at the Battle of Camlan in the year 542, where, fighting under the banner of King Arthur, he accidentally killed his own nephew, the son of his sister Gwenddydd r. Dissertation on the Bards, p. 77. Lewis's History of Britain, p. 206..

In consequence of this tragedy, he was seized with madness, which affected him every other hour s. "An hour of his mind from God he would have / Occasionally an hour he would be insane." original Welsh: "Awr o'i gôf gan Dduw ry gai / Awr ymbell yr anbwylhai." S. Deifi to Myrddin. Manuscript.. He fled back into Scotland and concealed himself in the woods of that country where, in an interval of clarity, he composed the following poem. It has many beauties and is strongly colored with the passion of his madness. He probably returned to Wales later, where, in his mental disorder, he uttered those poetical prophecies that pass under his name; these were translated into Latin and published by Geoffrey of Monmouth. He was buried on the Isle of Enlli t. Sir William Glynn, in The Poem of the Red Dragon. Manuscript., or Bardsey, on the coast of North Wales, where there was a college of Black-cowled Monks.

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THE APPLE TREES OF MERLIN original: "AFALLENAU MYRDDIN" which he received from his Lord Gwenddolau son of Ceidio.

Was ever given to anyone in a single morning, original: "A roddaid i neb yn un plygaint"
What was given to MERLIN before old age:
Seven score and seven sweet apple trees; original: "Saith Afallen bereint a faith ugaint"
Equal in age, height, and size,
Growing through the ridge of princes;
One arching high and overhanging;
GLOYWEDD was her name, with shining teeth.

Sweet apple tree! A tree that is fair,
Not small is the load of fruit upon you;
And I am fearful and anxious for you,
Lest the woodcutters come, the wood-felling men,
To dig up your roots and spoil your seed:
So that no apple may ever grow on you again.
And I am a wild, wandering one
In my distress; grief does not hide me in clothes.
GWENDDOLAU gave me treasures freely,
And today he is as if he never was.

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THE ORCHARD.

Was ever given to man so acceptable a gift as that bestowed on Myrddin before age had overtaken him? A fair orchard, seven score and seven sweet apple trees, all equal in age, height, and size. They occupied the slope of a majestic hill, branching high and wide, crowned with lovely foliage. A lovely nymph, whose hair flowed in beautiful ringlets, guarded them; her name was Gloywedd, she of the pearly teeth.

Sweet and excellent apple tree! Your branches are loaded with delicious fruit. I am full of care and fearful anxiety for your safety, lest the destructive woodman should dig you up by the roots or otherwise injure your fertile nature, so that apples would no longer grow on your branches. For this, I am wild with grief, torn with anxiety, and anguish pierces me to the heart; I allow no garment to cover my body. These trees are the priceless gifts of Gwenddolau—he who is now as if he were not.