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Hicbtefos. I +. CYFANSODDIABAD BUDDYGOL, A ClililtDBI EREILL. Gan IAGO EMLYN. [Poems, &e. By the Hev. James James.] Cardiff: Owen and Roberts. IT appears, hot infrequently, tliat a large book deserves a short review; and, conversely, a small book, on account of its intrinsic qualities, as well as attendant circumstances, lenders necessary, and justifies, a lengthened notice. The small volume now before us invites us to dwell somewhat at length on at least three matters :-the author; this work of his and the present state of Welsh poetry. On the latter we have as yet made no deliverance" since we have occu- pied the throne of "Uhadamanthus" in the PRINCIPALITY. We gladly avail ourselves of this tempting occasion to make a clean breast" of it on this question but we must begin with our worthy compatriot Iago Emlyn." It was in the year 1831, that, as far as we can now remember, we. first met his name in print; or, perhaps, we should say, first ob- served it. It was his Blodau y Fynwent" (" The Grave- yard Flowers"), which appeared in two or three successive numbers of Sercn Gomer. Having from early boyhood read every sort of book to be found in dear, dear Cwm-, and being adepts in the Pilgrim's Progress," the Death of Abel"-bot,h read by us in Welsh (and, indeed, never read since)-as well as "Valentine and Orson," "Cinderella," Blue Beard," and Baron Munchausen" (" Gulliver's Travels" never visited Cwm——• in our day, but that is a a long time ago")—we were much struck with the metre, and unusual character, of this poem. It was not blank- verse-it was not a series of sonnets—it rhymed, and still was free; we read, committed to memory, and were happy. Then came Marwnad Glandyfroedd," in the course of the same year, and our enjoyment was intense again. Still we had no idea who Iago Emlyn" was, and wondered how such poetry should come from Caerodor" (Bristol). At length we found out that the poet, who had delighted us so much, was a young man, a native of Newcastle-Emlyn, or its immediate neighbourhood, and was at this time a draper's assistant in Bristol. Since, he has, by his industry, intelli- gence, and good character, became a useful, as he must al- ways be, a devoted minister of the gospel. All honour to such men. And all gratitude to God for raising so many such in our beloved country.* Almost all the great bene- factors of the Welsh people, during the last one hundred and fifty years, have been men, who have thus,"m the develop- ment of their own genius, and in self-devotement to their country's weal, arisen from the plough, the loom, the carpen- ter's bench, the shoemaker's seat, &c., and have become the chosen and admired teachers of the people. This is so much the case as to make Wales stalld alone at this moment in the civilised world, as having, beyond any other nation, and without any material assistance from the aristocratic owners of the soil, provided itself—and, to an incredible extent, fur- nished England also—with able ministers of the New Testa- ment. We most heartily wish Mr. James all good speed and success, with more than -one spark of old Aneurin's fire, To animate his English prose Bv the bye, as we have quoted from the English verses at the close of this little work, we may as well say at once, that we are strongly inclined to quarrel with that "said mor- sel of poetry. It is headed, Bydd wych aweni. e., Farewell muse and here it is:- My Cambrian Muse, to thee I bid farewell; Give me my freedom from thy magic spell; My understanding thou hast swayed too long, Whilst I, enrapt, confess'd the power of song. Separate we must the Preacher and the Poet,— The rugged English and the Welsh adroit; Alliterative verse of Celtic lore With Saxon lectures must combine no more. Around my temples—long they cannot last; The wreath is yellow—once so fresh and green- And silvery locks begin to grow between. "But Oh my Muse, one thing I rnu-t desire- Leave me one spark of old Aneurin's fire To animate my English prose instead, That men may feel that' Arthur is not dead !I "And like the fabled swan, my breast inspire Once more, that I may sing as I expire, To tune my soul before we soar away To join the anthem of eternal day." Now, we have sundry grave reasons against this seeming n determination of lago Emlyn to bid farewell to the glorious awen of his country. Is he going to spend the remainder of his life heb na chynyanedd na chan ? Or is he going to pay his court to the Saxon lady, who inspires favoured men to build the lofty rhyme?" We do most devoutly hope not, for really Iago is too far the wrong side of twenty to succeed with the English goddess. She is a supercilious personage, and has had, and still has, so many admirers and devotees, that it is a hard and painful process for one of her natural- I-K>rn subjects to receive a nod from her; while a smile is reserved for the few, and now rests complacently, and almost exclusively, on William Wordsworth. Let our good Iago ciipc to "awen law en Cymru Hen." She is maternal, kWdlyi a*id graeious and is, moreover, very fond of him. Really! we must have every now and again an Englyn" from "kvo Emlyn ;sometlms a poem, the composition of which will be a relief to him in the intervals of study and pastoral care. We have, however, no great fear on this point; we leave him with the awen, and with Goronwy Owen. 14 Dioleh it, Awen dawel, Dedwydd wyf deued a ddel; Heb Awen baieh yw bywyd, A'tli rhocld yw rhyngu bodd y byd." Gaox. OWEN. LITERAL TRANSLATION. "I thank thee, gentle muse, Whatever happens, I am happy; Without thee life is a burden, It is thine to gratify all men." We must now come to the book. It is Iago Emlyn all ever. It is a fair imprint of his own peculiar character as a poet. Our looking over it has excited many interesting re- collections. There is the. Englyn i Ffynon" (to a Well). Mr. Williams, of Aberpergwm, offered a prize for the best Jvi^lyn to be inscribed on a stone above a well in his own ground. Iago Emlyn sent in the following i £ Sychedig !—Oes iechycllOr-i'th dwyrnyn Boeth-dyma oer lovw-ddwr Diod groyw, Duw dy Grewr,- Yf o gawg Efa a'i gwr. LITERALLY THUS. > Thirsty one!—There is a deliverer,- From thy heated fever-cold crystal water; Translucent drink, God thy Creator, Take of the fount of Eve and her husband. We happen to know that Iago repeated this Englyn to a. most gifted bard, "I tcrtli, fraint a defawd" and who in- tended competing for Mr. Williams'? prize, but who at once said, "There is an end of the matter; that Englyn must have the palm;" and he did not send in his own. When the judgment was read,. it was not Iago Emlyn but "Tegid" had the cup- (for the prize was a cup), and prodigious dis- content ensued- As far as we are advised, Iago himself never did anything; but sundry of his friends created quite a hubbub on the occasion; and we admit that we were our- selves among the sturdiest of the complainants. We had then small respect for Tegid; we have now profound ad- We are assured from a highly respectable quarter that Sir Francis Palgrave is about bringing out a work, in which justice is 1. Bilceiy to be done to all the self-educated Welshmen,, who have dis- fcagyished themselves. miration of his varied acquirements, and his iaribicilcliiiir 'I nationality but as Homer nodded sometimes, So Tegid d'oes not always, and of necessity, make a good Englyn. And with reference to this particular one, we have just this to say, that, although we have seen it inscribed on. the prize cup itself, and have read it on the Garreg wochbm y Ffynon" in the Aberpergwm grounds, still Ave cannot re- member it, while we never have been able to forget Iago Emlyn's. The thought in the last line is itself enough to make an ordinary, man's fame, and, we believe, perfectly original. We are by no means sure as to the judge at that eisteddfod (it was one of the Abergavenny meetings), whe- ther it was Cawrdaf or Taliesin ab Iolo; but we feel per- fectly certain that in either case, honest judgment was honestly given. Indeed, we can now conceive somewhat of the ground upon which Iago's Englyn was rejected. Ex- ceedingly beautiful as it is-perfect music as the third line is, "Diod groyw Duiv dy Grewr"—and unquestionably original as the idea, and the form of its expression, in the last are-there is a confusion of persons in the Englyn, which would be fatal to it before a truly critical judge. Ditiv dy Grewr"- (God thy Creator) may mean the Creator of the thirsty man approaching the fountain (which, according to grammatical construction, it does), or, as the bard obviously intended, the fountain itself. Mr. James yielded such implicit obedience to the metrical rule as to lose that lubricity of conception, which, with true cyngan- edd, forms the perfection of this remarkable kind of verse.* The collection before us we consider to be of great value, and think Iago has conferred a real favour on his country by its publication. Of course in such a case many of his most intelligent readers will differ from him as to the inser- tion of some pieces, and the omission of others, winch they happen to remember well, and wish others, their juniors, to become acquainted with. We ourselves strongly wish Blodau'r Fynwent" had been in, and almost as strongly that the Elegy on Daniel Ddu had been omitted. It is far from being to our taste in the religious sense. When such events occur as his lamentable exit, we believe that solemn and unbroken silence is the fitting attitude of survivors, un- less there be inexorable reasons for publicity. Nor do we much like the preface. To us it seems one of the most remarkable exemplifications of the word truism that we have ever met with. It proves that the book answers to its name; i. e., A collection of prize and other poems." Besides, Iago Emlyn might as well have left good old Davies, Castellhywel, alone. These are. small opinions of little im-I portance, and do in no wise detract from the great and real value of the book. It contains much to interest the most in- telligent reader, and much that the (comparatively) un- learned will intensely enjoy. Some of the pieces must have been composed when Iago was very young. The first in the volume, on Y Llifeiriant," won the prize at the Car- digan Cymreigyddion. meeting, in 1824, twenty-four years ago. We are not going to be so rude as to endeavour to ascertain Iago's age; but we had the pleasure of seeing him at the Abergavenny Eisteddfod, and know that he must have been almost a boy when lie wrote these englynion. Thus it begins "Uwchben mae'rwybren hoyw-bryd-yndywyll, Duodd yn anhyfryd, Nifwl cymyIau hefyd A'i todd, ffromodd ei phryd. But we must not indulge in quotation, as we cannot trans- late such verses with any satisfaction to ourselves, or inter- est to our readers. Two scries of Englynion oh the Morn- ing" are very beautiful and bewitching although we differ from him when he says, in a note, page 11, that he does not believe in ghosts, having ourselves a very firm faith in the excellence of such interesting personages! "Gwladgarwch" is capital; Cywydd y Nant" reminds us of Cywydd i Ddwyfach," by R. ab G. Ddu; the flow of composition is exquisite, and entitles Iago to the epithet Gwawdrydd. The single Englynion are very happily conceived and expressed, and once committed to memory, stay there evermore. The song on a Girl who has Lost her Sweetheart" we have quite enjoyed, and much admire Mr. James's courage in publishing it. We hope to live to see more of this—men of established character publishing songs or poems on all ques- tions, which most deeply interest the heart of man—so that our young folks, as they grow up, must not go to the public

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