It was granted, upon hard, upon humiliating conditions; and in compliance with two of them, Prince Llewelyn delivered up his brother, the deposed Prince Owen, into King Edward's hands, and for himself consented "that he should for his own life enjoy the name of prince, and none of his heirs after him.”

In the following year, heart-broken and in bitterness of spirit, Prince Llewelyn, no longer careful of his life, went, at the invitation of King Edward, to espouse the fair Eleanor de Montfort at Worcester. The marriage was celebrated with great pomp in the presence of the king and queen, and the chief nobility of England; but Prince Llewelyn afterwards complained, that, amidst King Edward's fair words and rich promises, he forced upon his guest and virtual prisoner, even before mass on his wedding day, a private document subversive of his personal liberty and dangerous to his safety, although an article of the recognised treaty of peace had expressly provided that the king should require nothing besides the things therein specified. Prince Llewelyn brought home his wife, and for a while remained a passive spectator of his country's sufferings. Burdened with exactions contrary to the customs of Cambria, and provoked by the cruel tyranny of the king's officers, the Welshmen, assembling together in council, entreated David ab Gruffydd to compassionate their misery, to be reconciled to Prince Llewelyn, and to become their captain. David yielded to their request, and on his promising never more to serve the King of England, but to become his utter enemy, Prince Llewelyn restored him to his friendship and confidence. In the year 1281 they jointly commenced the death struggle of liberty. It may be inferred from a certain passage in the history of this period that Prince Owen, or Roderic, or both of them, came likewise in this extremity to their country's aid. David promptly besieged and took the Castle of Hawarden, slaying all who made resistance, and spoiling all that neighbourhood. The castle of Aberystwith, and many other castles in South Wales, were likewise taken by various Welsh nobles, who devastated the land of their oppressors. Prince Llewelyn, assisted by his brother David, laid siege to Ruddlan, but King Edward hastening thither with a large army, raised the siege. A whole nation, aroused to fierce desperation, appears to have been an appalling spectacle even to King Edward; and his prudence either authorised or allowed the timely mission of John Peckham, Archbishop of Canterbury, who, coming into Wales, now forwarded certain remonstrances and articles of peace to Prince Llewelyn. In the midst of the archbishop's reproaches there occurs a remarkable paragraph, stating that the Welsh "were ever wont to be esteemed, and to reverence God and ecclesiastical persons ;" but his 17th and last article threatens, "That unless they will now come to peace, they shall be resisted by decree and censure of the church, besides war of the people!" Appended to the high-spirited and pathetic reply of Prince Llewelyn hangs a fearful catalogue of his people's griefs and injuries. The archbishop, after a conference with the king, came again to Prince Llewelyn, who then professed his willingness to submit himself to the king, reserving only two things-his conscience towards his people, and the dignity of his state and calling. A treaty of peace was consequently sent by King Edward in council, through the mediation of the same archbishop to Prince Llewelyn, together with private articles severally

addressed to him and to his brother David, in which it was proposed that Llewelyn should exchange his principality for an English county, and that Ďavid should depart for the Holy Land. Their respective answers, and those of the Welshmen in council, declare with one accord their resolute rejection of King Edward's offers, as tending to the immediate destruction of the Cambrian sovereign and his people.

Having failed to procure a peace, Archbishop Peckham next proceeded to denounce Prince Llewelyn and his confederates as accursed. Following up the terrors of his primate's spiritual ban with the force of secular power, King Edward embarked an army for the Isle of Anglesea, which he won, being aided by some native chiefs. From Anglesea King Edward's foreign mercenaries formed a bridge of boats and planks across the Menai Strait at a place called Moel y donn, where Agricola had effected a passage more than a thousand years before. Sir William Latimer, with some chosen troops, and the famous Sir Lucas de Thany, with a band of Spaniards and Gascons, having passed over this bridge, were surprised that they met with no enemies to encounter them; but as soon as the tide flowed in, and the rising waters left the short bridge like an island in the midst of them, down rushed the watchful Cymry from their ambush, and, fiercely attacking the astonished invaders, slew some of them where they stood, chased others into the sea, and left not a living man to return and tell the tale, except Sir William Latimer alone, whose horse swam with him to the bridge, and thus enabled him to escape. There perished in this engagement no less than thirteen eminent knights and seventeen gentlemen, besides 200 footmen. Then, and in some other battles which occurred a little before, King Edward lost no less than fourteen banners, many of his chief nobility were slain, and he was himself constrained to seek personal refuge in the castle of Hope: a name of good omen to him in that transient adversity!

Meantime the Earl of Gloucester, with many of the king's friends, fought a battle against the friends of Prince Llewelyn at Llandeilo Fawr. Several illustrious knights, and a kinsman of the king, lost their lives there; but the friends of Prince Llewelyn were worsted. While various fortunes thus attended his arms, Prince Llewelyn, after overcoming Rhys ab Maredydd-a retainer of King Edward-in Cardiganshire, left his army there, and came with a few followers to Builth. Sir Roger Mortimer was lord of that cantref in right of his wife, a coheiress of De Breos, and Prince Llewelyn had wrested it from him some years before, as a punishment for having broken his oath of fealty, and taken part with the English king against his country. Actuated by sentiments of compassionate kindness, the prince even then had spared the life and liberty of Sir Roger.

Prince Llewelyn went to Builth, we are told,* "thinking to remain there quietly for awhile." This castle of Aberedwy was his private property, and is reputed to have been one of his favourite places of residence; and hither he now came, intending, doubtless, apart from the hurry of events and the strife alike of arms and of opinions, calmly to survey the position of his affairs, and carefully to provide against the country's dangers. The narrative of this fatal incident is variously and obscurely

* Powel's History of Cambria.

given in history, but, aided by tradition and local geography, some few particulars may be ascertained with tolerable distinctness. Prince Llewelyn does not appear to have been aware that De Bohun, Lord of Brecknock, actively canvassing in King Edward's cause, had wrought an extensive defection among the chieftains of that county. Certain neighbouring lords, in whom the prince placed perfect confidence, had appointed to meet and confer with their sovereign in a secluded grove a few miles above the town of Builth, on the way towards Llanwrtyd, and on the 11th day of December, in the year 1282, Prince Llewelyn went forth from Aberedwy to keep his appointment, accompanied by his escort. He probably travelled along the Radnorshire side of the Wye, and, on approaching that river more closely, he encountered, suddenly and unawares, some forces of the king: mutually surprised at the meeting, both parties immediately withdrew. Prince Llewelyn, however, went on his way, and presently afterwards crossing the river Irfon, and leaving his guard near the bridge, he, being plainly dressed and unarmed, and taking with him only his esquire, proceeded to the rendezvous to confer with those lords of the country upon whose faith he so vainly relied. Meanwhile some of his watchful guards espied their enemies coming down from the Radnorshire hills; those enemies soon came forward, and violently attacked Prince Llewelyn's little band of warriors, who manfully and successfully defended the passage. At length a certain man, predestined to infamy, informed the Englishmen of a safe ford through the river a little lower down. Still maintaining the contest for the bridge, a select number of King Edward's men, led by Helias Walwyn, was secretly detached from the party, and, coming through the stream, passed behind Prince Llewelyn's warriors, and divided them from their ill-fated sovereign. The prince stood waiting in the grove, and, being absorbed in thought, did not remark, till his esquire informed him, that there were sounds of tumult and outcry near at hand. He instantly inquired "Whether his men had seized the bridge?" Yes," answered the esquire. "Then," said Llewelyn, "I should not care if all the power of England were on the other side!" He trusted securely to the strength of the position, and to the truth and valour of his men. Suddenly, however, the grove was approached and encompassed by horsemen, and Prince Llewelyn desperately attempting to escape from thence and to rejoin his party, the adverse horsemen pursued him so closely, that one, named Adam Francton, ran him through!

Francton passed on with his fellow troopers; and the prince's men, still looking for that prince's return, maintained the struggle, until the English archers, mingling with the cavalry, succeeded in overcoming the faithful Cymry, who, standing their ground, were cut off to the last man.* As the horsemen were returning after this success, Francton stopped to spoil the unknown person whom he had slain; and when he saw the face he recognised at once the well-known features of the Prince of Wales. Francton struck off the royal head and sent it to King Edward at Ruddlan, who received it with exultation. Causing it to be crowned with ivy, in mockery of Merlin's prophecy, he ordered it to be set upon the most conspicuous part of the Tower of London.

* Vide Leland, Collect. tom. i., 247, as quoted by Hoare, Itiny, Giraldus i., 19.

It was probably here, at Aberedwy, and perhaps upon this very spot, that Gruffydd ab yr Ynad Coch, the bard of Cymru's last native prince, poured forth the lost hero's

MARWNAD.*

A voice of wailing through the land is heard,
And comfortless in woe her mourners weep;
Such sounds of old the bard's sad spirit stirred
In praise of Arthur lost the chords to sweep.

For Cymru's hero, for Llewelyn dead,

We pour with mournful heart the plaintive song;
None, none is left us in Llewelyn's stead

Strongly to shield his native land from wrong.

My soul with anguish pain'd, my life-blood chill'd,
All nature changing darkens round my eyes,
And every object to my sense is fill'd

With kindred gloom and awful sympathies.

For him the howling wind forlornly sighs,
For him the rains in gushing floods bemoan,
For him deep voices from the mountains rise,
For him the forests of his country groan.

Symbols of British strength, the oaks that stood
Untouch'd by axe whilst ages passed away,
With mingling boughs bend down the crashing wood,
And rushing fall, diffusing wild dismay.

And hark! lamenting loud the tempests roar;
Behold! the foaming waves in breakers rise,
The sun in dim eclipse stands shrouded o'er,
And stars shoot glaring down the blacken'd skies.

Oh ye incredulous! believe and fear

That Power Divine which thus in terror speaks,
And o'er thee, guilty land, at length severe,
Destruction vast in scathing judgment wreaks!

Ah why, Almighty maker of the world,

Delays the stroke of thine uplifted hand?
Why are not now consuming lightnings hurl'd,
And whelming seas let loose at thy command?

Why are we left, in vain, in vain to mourn,
No place of refuge ours, no home of rest,
The brave defender of our country gone,
Bereft of liberty, and sore oppressed?

Homeless, enslaved, to whom shall we complain,
Since he can listen to our griefs no more?
And for our prince, beloved Llewelyn slain,
The hopeless strains of tenderness we pour!"

* Jones's Bardic Museum, vol. ii., p. 42.

THE CLERKSHIPS AT SPICE'S.

BY E. P. ROWSELL, ESQ.

I REMEMBER how I started, when, one morning, my father informed me that a gentleman having inquired of him whether he had a son with qualifications for a junior (clerkship in his office, he had answered the querist that he was wanting just such a birth for his boy Tom (my unworthy self) who, having left school, must now enter on the business of life.

It was what I had been dreading. I hated the name of business. I loathed the notion of becoming a clerk, sitting perched on a high stool for seven or eight hours a day, and being occupied incessantly on what seemed to me a low degrading manner, quite disgusting to think of.

"You must write the gentleman a letter, Tom," added my father, "in your very best hand, asking for the situation."

Accordingly, after breakfast, there being no help for it, I wrote such an epistle, and the same having been duly despatched, the result was an intimation that, if I attended at a certain hour at his office, No. 9, Coffin Alley, I might have an interview with the wealthy Mr. Spice, West India merchant.

Precisely at the time named my father and I presented ourselves at 9, Coffin Alley. It was an appropriate name for the place. I should say it furnished a good business for the coffin-makers; the tall houses were only a few yards apart; and the bright sunbeams were never known by any chance to penetrate into Coffin Alley. There was a frightful air of business about the locality. Business was clearly imprinted in every face we met; and there were numbers of people bustling along as if they had not a moment to live, yet would do as much as they could ere the last sand run out. My father had pointed out to me as we came along the offices of different well-known merchants.

"That, Tom," said he, as we passed a house with such a dingy aspect that the dirt and filth of the great city seemed almost to have had a spite against it, and settled upon it with more than usual malignity, "that is Mr. Sharpman's. He's very rich; his business is enormous." "Is he much liked?" I asked.

"Why," said my father, "a-hem-not particularly, perhaps; but he's very rich, Tom, very rich, indeed. That is Mr. Closefellow's."

"I've heard you speak of him, father, as a mean old vagabond." "God bless my soul, Tom, don't repeat here what I say at home. Why, Mr. Closefellow's worth I don't know how much-he's tremendously rich, Tom. But here we are at Mr. Spice's."

A few minutes and I stood before Mr. Spice. He was a hard-featured self-important-looking man, and there was a peculiar expression on his countenance that made me dislike him immediately.

"Oh, this is the young gentleman, is it ?" he said, in a rough bullying way. "Well, boy, what can you do?"

My father replied for me that I was an excellent youth, could write an admirable hand, was a capital arithmetician, was very quick, intelligent, and ready-was in fact a prodigy of talent and acquirement. Mr. Spice was evidently incredulous.