the "Englynion Eiry Mynydd" to the ancient Druids; it is very probable that they are in the manner of our ancient bards and Druids. This manner has been retained through all ages down to nearly the present time; but those who think that the aphoristically moral stanzas of Eiry Mynydd," &c., are of very ancient date, are greatly mistaken beyond the least doubt, and show clearly that they are ignorant of the state of the language, and of the principles of versification that prevailed in different ages.

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"Englynion y Misoedd," attributed to Aneurin Gwawdrydd, are certainly none of his, but were written by some bard of the fourteenth century. They have neither the language. nor the versification of Aneurin. His internal rhymes that every where occur, and his assonances terminating the lines instead of perfect rhymes, which very frequently occur, with many other peculiarities, never occur in " Englynion y Misoedd."

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Englynion Eiry Mynydd" were written about the beginning or middle of the fourteenth century at furthest ; most of them are indeed attributed to Mabclaf ab Llywarch, a Southwallian bard of about the year 1360. I have seen some of them attributed to Rhys Goch Eryri. Perhaps the idea of Eiry Mynydd, in the beginning of each stanza, originated with him. It appears from some passages in his "Cywyddau," that he had a cadair, or gorsedd, on SNOWDON, which is a literal translation of Eiry Mynydd. He says,

There are

"Mae main mawrwyrthiog i mi
Yr awrhon yn yr Ýri."

Englynion Eiry Mynydd" attributed to Ystyffan Bardd Teilaw. I hardly believe that this Ystyffan (Stephen), Bard of Teilaw, lived in the time of Teilaw, Bishop of Llandaff, but that he was one of his devotees in a much later age. Teilaw was greatly venerated and worshipped in the diocese of Llandaff, of which he was the tutelary saint.

66

Englynion Marchwiail" were most probably written

by one, or partly by each, of those three brothers who lived at Marchwiail about the year 1360, or a little later perhaps; their names were Ednyfed ap Gruffudd, Madawc Benfras, and Llywelyn Llogell. They were amongst the most celebrated bards of that age. The sentiment on which these englynion turn is a caution not to reveal a secret to any one whatever, not even to utter it, or trust it to the voice-a sentiment very well adapted to the tumultuous and dangerous time of Owen Glyndwr's in

surrection.

Sippyn Cyfeiliog lived about the same period. He wrote many pieces of aphoristical poetry; amongst others, a poem, in triplets, descriptive of every part of Wales, the character of the inhabitants, &c. This poem has been with extreme ignorance attributed to Aneurin Gwawdrydd, but copies of better authority attribute this piece to Sippyn Cyfeiliog. Robert Vaughan, of Hengwrt, and Dr. Davies, of Mallwyd, give " Englynion y Misoedd " to Sippyn Cyfeiliog, and I think very justly. The three bards of Marchwiail were the sons of Gruffudd ap Iorwerth ap Einion Goch o Farchwiail ym Maelor.

The real name of Sippyn Cyfeiliog was Dafydd Bach ap Madoc Wladaidd, called also Dafydd Maelienydd; he also assumed the fictitious name of Cneppyn Gwerthrynion.

I have somewhere read that Mabclaf ab Llywarch, otherwise called Mab Clochyddyn, was the same as Casnodyn, a Southwallian bard, but I am not clear that it is so. The bards of the age of Owen Glyndwr gave out their pieces under fictitious names, for reasons that are sufficiently obvious. Amongst those are, Casnodyn, Cneppyn Gwerthrynion, Sippyn Cyfeiliog, y Crach, y Cyw, Mabclochyddyn, Mabclaf ab Llywarch, Y Posned, and many others; the real names of those are for the most part unknown now.

Many pieces of that period were fictitiously attributed to Taliesin, Merlin, &c., most of them prophecies, some of them mythological, and druidically theological; a great number of pieces, such as those of "Eiry. Mynydd,"

All of

&c., consist of fine moral aphorisms in verse. those pieces under the names of Taliesin, Cattwg, &c., are such attempts as the bards of that period were able to make to imitate the manner of the ancient bards, of whose works we have many pieces remaining.

I admit the probability that a bard of the name of Ystyffan lived in the time of Teilaw, whose bard he might have been; but I greatly question whether the pieces that are now to be met with under his name are genuine; they are so much in the manner of pieces that are well ascertained to be of the fourteenth century, and differ so widely in language, style, and versification from our genuine ancient poems, that no doubt can remain as to their being of a comparatively recent period. Edward Llwyd, whatever some may think, was extremely ignorant of the Welsh language, of Welsh versification, and of the ancient Welsh mythology, and so are all those who adopt his sentiments. Let any judicious and unprejudiced critic compare the language of the poems under present consideration, with the authentic pieces of Aneurin, Taliesin, Llywarch Hen, the ancient charter of Llandaff, which is the oldest specimen of Welsh prose extant, and he will be, I think, clearly convinced of the justice of my observations.

LLYWELYN THE LAST.

By LADY MARSHALL.

(Continued from page 135.)

CANIAD II.

PEARL OF DAYS-the mystic SEVEN

Effluence of creative breath

When the voice "TIS MORN AND EVEN"
Broke the silence deep as death!

Glorious was thy first creation-
Brighter far thy second birth,
When the AUTHOR OF SALVATION
Burst the trammels of the earth!

Welcome ever be thy presence,
Heritage of heavenly love,
Joy and triumph are thine essence—
Foretaste of the joys above.

If thy cycling turns are balmy,
That return is yet more sweet
Which commemorates the palmy
Garlands strewed at JESUS' feet.

If a Sunday yet more holy

Circles in the annual round, It is that on which the lowly

CONQUEROR trod the palm-strewn ground.

Peal the organ-pour the voices

Lift the censer-wave the palm—

All the world this Day rejoices
In its holy, heavenly calm!

The day thus feebly hymned had set :-
Its holy usage had been met

As duly, and its sacred rite

As well performed and graced as might

In troublous times-debateful site-
At HAWARDEN Castle in a year
Now past six centuries or near.

That stronghold's noble remnants show
Its proud pretensions long ago,
When Kings and Chiefs of rival powers
Attacked in turn its warlike towers.

Now from its "ivy mantled" keep
The eye delighted takes its sweep
O'er favoured regions-bounteous soil,
Inviting and rewarding toil.

Above-beneath, it teeming thrives,
Alike to those industrial hives.

The fires on Buckley heights that glow
No more presage the mustering foe:
The shafts that whistle from the bow1
Upon the smooth glacis below

Those rampired mounds, no longer rive
The steel-clad breasts of men who strive
For deadly stakes, but harmless fly,
At aim of gentle arm and eye,

In gay encounter-graceful sport—

Where now our "Marcher Lords" resort.

Hail then-united BRITAIN-Hail!

The useful-peaceful best avail

For everything, except―A TALE!

The day on which our story opes

How different looked those turfy slopes,

From whence the fair Bow-maiden's hopes
Follow the arrow's flight:

On them no longer must I dwell—
Inviting episode, farewell-

My sterner purpose is to tell
At Hawarden Castle what befell
On that Palm Sunday night!

The day, I said, had been observed,
But yet a heart of stronger mould
Than RALPH the Sexton's, dry and old,

Might well have owned itself unnerved,
When up the narrow winding stair,
Within the castle chapel fair,

He clomb to ring the bell for prayer:
The slender turret swayed and jerked.
Beneath the raging of the wind,
Till Ralph believed some demon worked
The airy engines from behind.

It slipped the functionary's mind
Perchance that oft with such-like shocks
Comes on the vernal equinox.

"Now foul befall this outland place," He muttered-not between his teethHe had none-but below his breath; "I would St. Roque had given me grace, Instead of following Father BLAISE