Carnarvon and Denbigh Herald and North and South Wales Independent

The Cfrwyneddion for Z832, Containing the Prize Poems, &c. of the Beaumatis Eisteddfod, and North Wales Literary Society. Edited by W. JONES, Esq., Abchurch-lane, London, 1839. Judex damnatur cum nocens absohitur.—PBELIUS TYR us. Mer. And is he a man to encounter Tyhalt1 Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. 0, be is the courageous captain of compliments,—a gentleman of the very first bo'-se, -of the first and second cause. Ah, the immortal passado, the punto reverso the hay I Ben. The what 1 Mer. The pox. of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes these new tuners of accents I By Jesu, a very good bladft -a very tail mart. Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion- mongers. these pardvnnez moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old benchl 0, their bans! their boas!—SHAKESPKARE. Our attention has lately been drawn to the work which heads this article. )t is not often that we feel any great in- terest excited in our mind, at the appearance of the p-ize popms, &c. of the Welsh Eisteddfodau, as we have not unfre- quently found it a sheer waste of lime to wade through the dark dismal agglomoration of hard, barren, and barbaroas eplhets which constitute generally the sole stoci. in trade of the writers of these productions. We i.re by no means to be understood, as trealin with indifference, much less contempt, the institution of Eisteddfodau. We believe they were in- tended by the noblemen and gentlemen who so liberally sup- port them, to resuscitate the dying embers of the literature of f'r counlry and if the bards, and other candidates for the uriz -s,acted upon rational principles, listening o the mighty ,P,' of nature, seeking irulb .oti benucy, in every shape and every form, anJ spurning in the spirit of true genius, any, ê lJd every, obstacle which the ill-enlightened minds of darker ages, may have thi-ist in their path,-thls institution might ruler the most essential service to the poor man of gellins, uo- successfully contending against his hard and remorseless fate. But alas! the patriotic pu/po;es of these individuals are too t quf-ntly rendered of uoavail, by the monstrous system a by the bards, of confin ng the pruductions of their u within the despotic rules of the mesurau cuethitn. The a1 iteration of words is he omnipotent monster, at whose shrine must he ruthlessly sacrificed all that is beautiful ia poetry, or valuable in sentiment, at,(i the compositions of our bards are thrust before the public gaze, ribbed of their chiefest excellen- ce s, and presenting to the mental vision of every man of taste, alight most uninviting, "void, dark, and drear." It is true, that some few, like Goronwy Owen, Dafydd lonawr, DewiWjrn. &c., have by the omnipotence of their genius, produced splendid specimens of Welsh poetry—poetry deserving that high and ambitions name but these men have triumphed not thiough, but in spite of these metres. And, too frequently, we find even their consummate talents clogged, and miserably encum- bered, by the weight of these ponderous poetical dru-chains. Too frequently in their productions, sense and feeling are sacrificed to the alliteration of hard, unintelligible words, Mid as if spell-bound by this dark and despotic enchantress, they for a time lose their wonted ldstre, and appear before ua de- spoiled of all their strength and majesty, sans thought, sans j idgment, sans imagination, sans reason, sani everything. But without referring to works of &n earlier date, we cau fully illus- trate our present propositions by very cursorily inspecting a few of the poetical effusion", contained in the work now before us. And fir,t and foremost, we would draw ou. .eaders' attention to fuur englynion," On the marriage of Sir R. B.W. Bulkeley," by the Rev. J. Blc.ekwell, and which obtained for the bird, an elegant silver-gilt medal, presented by their Royal High- nesses the Duchess of Kent, and the Princess Victoria! The Rev. gentleman is a man whose genius, as a Welsh poet, we cannot tor a moment doubt; on the contrary, we have perused some specimens of his poery, with feelings of highest admira- tion, and unfeignedly sorry are we, on this occasion, to be CC compelled from a sense of justice to the best interest of Welsh litt-ralwire, tocondemn, and that in the most unqqialiifed terms, this jejune, and puerile production. These englynion contain not oue line, or even a single idea, that might not have been produced by a school-boy, of some fourteen or fifteen years old, possessing the ordinary share of wit given to ordinary OnEals of that age. And yet so ambiguous and unintelligible are they, that we have lately seen two eminent Welshmen— one possessing a fame as a prose writer co-e::te¡:¡ve with the Welsh language itself, and the o'her a gentleman of mighty gfnius, and the author of some of the most exqui ite and beau- tiful specimens of Welsh poetry (mark, n-it bardic master- pieces, so called) that it has eyer been our good fortune to see —compelled to pause at every second or third line to consult Dr. Hughe's great lexicon, as to the meaning of the many ob- solete terms by which these verses on Sir R. B. W. Bnlkeley's marriage are so wantonly disfigured. What should be thought in England of four verses on a subject of this nature, written, we will suppose, by Wordswortli,(ampbell, or Thomas Moore, puzzling the critical acumen and E glish se holarsliip of a Pro- fessor W".son, or a Lord Jeffrey, and compelling these critics to ha e r,-coxir e to some glossary of antique words or;1 Latin transition, for the solution of the latent and hidden meaning line ,q;- en on so unatnbi>ion« a tert. IR-d sd. v. at ui \v cisu aciroiars. »>imwe fo uivzne tti* I poet's overclouded th ughts in the ancient British, they sought I for a solution of their difficulty bv a reference to Dr. Pughe, and the English translation—or rather translation, with addi- tions and mproveinents. And then, lo, and behold, presented to their nonce, after all this mystery, the simplest of simple tales-a story as dry and devoid of general interest as an old tithle of logarithms. We have in the work now under our notice two productions, by the Rev. J. Blackwell, and these presenting the most marked contrast to each other, of any co i.positions by the same author that it has ever been our business to no ice. The one, a fine speech delivered at the Beaumaris Eisteddfod, abounding in poetical imaginings, and there clothed in eloquent, and appro- priate diciion; the other, the miserable dogjrel already no- ticed, wholly destitute of one redeeming point, and deserving, had not the kindiy fe lings of tin learned editor over-mastered his better judgment, to descend at onre, and for ever, to that oblivious land of clouds and darkness, from whence it sprung, H Unwept, unhonoured and unseen." We are told, in the account given in this w.xk, of the decision of the judges in reference to Mr. Blackwell's verses On the Marriage of Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley," that, "ten excellent (?) compositions had been sent in, and the award of the jodges .,a, declared in favour of the composition, signed Dewi," alias J. Blaekwell, as being the best We cannot helo considering it as a most unior1 unate circumstance ihat these 11 ten excellent compositions" had not been preserved in p int, or manuscript, and sent to the British Vluseum, as a unique specimen (for stich m >st undoubtedly 'hey would he) of -he figure of speech. Called BY rheToricians "lhthos." M r. Black well's verses, as a inatter of course, forming the climax, to this descent of poetry But proceed we wi h our task. vtre next call the attention of our rf aders lo two poems—sulject, "David playirg the Harp before S..ul." The firs', by the lat.c Mr Robert Davies, ( Beii-dd Nantglyn,) and the other, by Mr. W. E. Jones, (Caurduf.) iniv. Davies's poem possesses very considerable tnerit. The language is pure, and uiipedan-ic, except when the bard is driven, from the confined construction of the metre, to havi; recourse to any terms that will answer the grind and primary oljpct to all writers of the twenty-four Welsh bardic metre' viz. 'he alliteration of words. But this dire necessi'y drives him (as we shall i)re-c-iri,i), prove) to have recourse to the in ,t riiiicu ous, and sense'ess eo-.nbi :a ions, of the tn.st heterogenous elements. We meet not unfr-quently, ill the course of 'he poem, true poetic imagery and sentiment. His description of Saul's pers nal quali ies and virtues is very graphic, and the effect of David's playing on the Harp, on the on 1 of the Jewish monarch is truthfully, and poetically given. So far our commendation of the poem is freely and frankly given. But as the chief purpose we have in view in the present ait cle, is to illustrate the folly of Welsh poets shackling tluir genius so unnecessarily with the arbitrary fetters of the twenty four meties," we are compelled to draw attention to some of the many absurdities which mar the beauty of this piece. We are continually reminded in reading the poem, that not a few words are in,i-otiticed, -il)t on account of their superior beauty, or excellence, but that the bard has no choice -lie must adopt them, or transgress the sacred canons of Welsh bardisin, and thus lay himself open to the animad- versions of every shallow, one-idea'd rhymster, who has ac- quired a smattering knowledge of the merely mechanical con- struction of the twenty-four metres. ( We have often been astounded at the audacious coolness with which every black- imith, pedler, calico-seller, tailor, quarryman, et hoc omne genus, in the Principality, impudently and ignoran'ly mount the critic's chair.) We find in this poem a notable specimen of the rrally awful dtlemma into which their crabbed metres frequently drive our Welsh bards. When the people of Israel are calling for a king, the poet describes the prophet Samuel as reasoning with them, and pointing out the unhappy con- sequences that would follow the attainment of this, their desire. We may be mere tyros in our knowledge of natural history, as compared with the deceased bard, but we must can- didly confess that the following lines appear lo us, absolute, drivelling nonsense. Mark how the most incongruous of ideas are unmercifully jumbled together. Eicli meirch teg-eich merched da, Wedd iesin fe ddewisa, I'w gosod yn gogesau I fyddin y breuin brau." The Welsh classic scholar will, we fear, deem these linps, not the veritable production of the Bard of Nantglyn, but a specimen of our skill in the manufacture of "• nonsensical lines;" but may we be doomed to the sole and perpetual perusal of mesurau caethion poetry, during the remainder of our mortal life, if these lines be not a verbatim et literatim copv of those found in the printed copy of this Cyveydd ar Dafydd yn caml, Sfc." The" good ladies" of Israel must feel themselves (were 'hey not past all feeling) highly flattered by being" permitted neighbourhood so close," to the" fair horses" of their fathers and husbands. But we imagine they would lie possessed by som ominous forebodings at the thought of having these same "fair hurses," for companions and assistants in the art of cookery, unless indeed nature had granted to them a far greater share of courage and intrepid;ry, than that which has been transmitted to their degenerate descendants of the present day. And vet such undoubtedly would lie the intention of the future king, according to the Welsh bard, as no other k ;u will the e lii.es aliow r* to indulge in. 11 Eich meirch tegeqitai: y w th <i," merched da" form patt of the ari'eeedent :o tin v-rb dewisa, I and therefore the construction which we have given to the poet's meaning is correct, and must indeed in that case, follow as a matter of course. As we are pressed for space, we cannot enlarge on these very remarkable lines, else our love of natural history would induce us to make a few enqniriet, as to the fact not previously known in the history, of either the habits, or the accomplish- ments of the hoise, viz. its capability of serving kings, or even, in the same character, as that in which Dr. Kitchener has so distinguished himself. But necessity has no law, and we must deny to our readers the gratification of seeing our ruminations on this interesting phenomenon. We had marked out several other passage-, which we de- sired to comment upon, but must pass them by to notice Cawr- daf's Cywydd, on the same subject. This gentleman, we imagine, has not been drilled for an equally prolonged number of years with the Bard of Nantglyn, in this species of pseudo- poetical performance, and hence we find this heavy arm was sitting upon him with a far less becoming, and less imposing grace. He appears iike a young animal unused to the yok-, restive, and ill at ease under his heavy, excruciating harness. In every line we perceive the spirit of the young creature, anxiously, though vainly striving 10 burst asunder its galling bonds, to regain once more its natural freedom of will, and of action. But, alas, all his struggles are utterly unavailing. There beams not across the poet's present dismal path, scarcely one streak of light, or hope, for," to adopt the language of an ancient, and inspired bard, "he cometh in with vanity, and departeth in darkness. Moreover he hath not seen the sun, nor known any thing. Vea, though he live a thousand jears, twice told, yet hath he seen no good." He has taken upon himself a slave's task-work, and a slave's task-work he must, aau shall, perform. And yet this unfortunate bard is not destitute of some of the primary elements that enter into the formation of the true child of poetry. There is nothing spurious in the following lines save the stupid, anu consiantly- reenrring alliteration of the words, of which it is composed, The thoughts are purely poet'.caU and prove jthe baurd of a sensitive sou fruitful iiinagiuatiun. Wele wvneb Saul wena, Y bybyr gin ddifyr dda Ddyddr.nwodd wraidd ei enaid, Mewn llawenydd newydd naid A mclus sain y mawl sydd Ar gaerau y fagwrydd, Wna'r galon yn dirion deg, A'r adar ar ehedcg, Eilwaith, gyweiriant wely, Yn eu taith, ar nen y ty; Ni huna un o honynt Gan sain a si gain y gwynt Gostwng ei phen wna-r wenol, Nid a fyth i'w nyth yn ol, Mae'n hwyrol yma'n aros Ar y nen, dros hanner ncs Ni nesha yn y nos hon I'w gwtsly, un pruddgalon." In this collection, we next have two elegies on the death of Ifor Ceri, and b3th written in blank verse. The circumstance of their being composed in blank verse considerably heightened our curiosity to make ourself acquainted with tht: nature of the materials which entered into their formation. We naturally said, here we may rationally expect to find poetry properly so called, provided there be no deficiency of the vision and the faculty divine," in the mental constitutions of the bards them- selves, forin this case, they are happily rid, of the iron shackles, of the mesurau caethion. In these expectations we have not been altogether disappointed. The elegy written by Tegid, we much admire for the beautiful simplicity, and appropriate- ness of its language, and the deep, and heart-felt intensity of its feeling. Of all imaginable subjects, this must surely be the last, in the treatment of which, the poet can be allowed the introduction of high-sounding, ambitious phrases, or of any words not intelligible even to the very infant in literature. And such appears to be the conviction in the mind of our bard while composing this elegy. We do not perceive in this pro- duct ion proofs of the bard's possessing any very high order of imaginative faculties; nor do we beii, ve this to be apparent in any of his other, and earlier, poetical compositions. Still in these lines, there is a chasteness and elegance in the lan- guage, and its peculiar construction, that well deserves the deep attention of the Welsh poets, even of a far higher order of genius, than that to which the Rev. J. Jones belongs. The other elegy, and that which obtained the chief prize was written, we are told, by a young man, (Thomas Jones, Holywell,) posessing very considerable talent, but who has since paid the debt of nature, and now rests far from his mountain laud- Yn mron llatvr estron." In p?rusing this elegy your mind is atome, and forcibly con- vinced, that the young bard was a mere tyro at this species of composition. He is not wanting in language, or imagination. Indeed his imagination appears to be of a bolder, and brighter character, than that of his competitor for the prize. But his artistical skill in the construction of blank verse, as well as' judgment in the selection of chaste, and appropriate language, is to our mind very inferior to that of Tegid's. We find here some very slovenly, and clumsily constructed lines, and in not a few instances, we are pained at the unnecessary ob- trusion of hidden, long-forgotten, seldom-disturbed phiases and epithets into a composition where the heart rather than the head should dictate th: language tobe a'i^pted. The you^fr hard .t.J-t;1:ttl :I.}: iiiu .u~.ux\ roft»«ilie^ tt.iaw lete,and mystic phraseology, so extensively and lamentably pre- valent, amongst those who call themselves pur excellence, Welsh scholars, that he appears to labour under the impression, that it would he undignified in him, or any of his tribe, to descend to the ordinary language of men, even in an explanatory note at the bottom of the page, and that w-itten in vulgar prose! It is our solemn, and deliberate conviction that those who claim to themselves solely, and somewhat offensively, the title of Welsh scholars, and noddwyr of the Welsh language, have generally been the greatest, the most fatal obstructors to the progress of Wrelsh literature among the mass of the people. ( It is true that there are a few splendid exeeptions.) We do not douhtthe purity, or the goodness of their intentions, but however pure, and however good their intentions, they have acted a most suicidal part, both as regards their own fame, and usefulness, as well as the highest, and dearest interests of thpir country. Is it not as notorious as the sun at noon-dav, that the great bulk of the works of ou bards, and chief writers in a large majority of our periodicals, as well as authors of more elaborate works (saving and excepting those only of a strictly religious, or devotional character) are sealed hooks to all intents and purposes to nine-tenths, aye, to nineteen-twentieths of the inhabitant of the country And why in the name of common sense—in the name of all that is rational, or valuable, is this monstrous anomaly generated, and encoura-ed ? Can we find a parallel to this miserable, pitiful, degrading lierary slavery in the annals of either an, ient, or modern nations- in the history of the most civilized, or the most savage of the many tribes of human kind ? We hesitate not to state our de- cided unbelief in the existence of another such instance in the whole of the world's history. We highly appreciate the her- culean labours of Dr. Pughe, as displayed in his Dictionary; and for that labour, that labour of love," his name ought ever to be dear to every lover of his country and language. Bat we dissent toto coelo from the extravagant praises which have been so lavishly poured on his tame, cold, dry, uninviting, unintelligible, and almost absolutely worthless, and insufferable transition of Milton's great and glorious poem. Any school- boy who understands the language of the translators of the Scripture to the English languase, will be able to comprehend, generally, Paradise Lost" in-the original but he would be a bold and reckless man indeed who would dare assent that one in every six of the extablished. and dissenting clergy of onr country, conjointly with the members of the two other learned professions, could read with any advantage, or pleasure, any single book of Dr. Pughe's translation of the same poem? And yet this is your excellent, unequalled, never-to-be-surpassed translation of 1, Paradise Lost! Does the excellence of a translation consist, then, in rendering a work less intelligible to those into whose native tongue the translator has rendered it, than they find it to be in the original itself? Verily, these redoubted scholars and critics have to teach the world a new born, an original philosophy! Far be it from us to judge uncharitably of any person, or class of per- sons, but when we hear an assertion like this made, and so confidently maintained, and that in the face of the most direct and palpable evidence to the contrary-we cannot help dJubt- ing the sincerity and candour of such men. Wre cannot close our eyes to the possibility of the fact, that these individuals have, peradventure, never taken the trouble to cut open the pages of this their so-much vaunted translation. At some future period, we may lay before our readers a few specimen* of another translation of Paradise Lost," and allow them to decide whether it or Dr. Pughe's be the truest, the most poeti- cal, the most intelligible. We have been drawn a little aside from the immediate sub- ject of our preent ciiiicisms, and yet we can scarcely be charged with having introduced by this digression any matter of a foreign nature. We now return to notice another ode, which we shall dismiss in a velY few words—subject, On Pyers Mo tvn, Esq., ar- tiving at his Majority." Suffice it to say, that ibis ode is not devoid of talent, though its poetical mer.ts are not of a very high order. Still the bard is animated throughout by a chi- valrous, enthusiastic spirit. And he appears in love with his subject, though it might not appear to some the most favour- able to poetical excitement. We believe tbat the honourable family to which the subject of this ode belongs, has been more distinguished than many others for its patriotism, and love of liberty, yet we have had at the Welsh Eisteddfodau, one time after another, more than enough of vapid, coarse, overdone, fulsome flattery. Surely the Welsh nohility and gentry can- not intend to impose so cruel a tax as this on the bards of our country, as payment for their patronage of their favourite in- stitution It is most assuredly derogatory to the character of the true poet to gloze, and bend the knee at the shrine of every brainless, fameless automaton, whose only claim to be renowned, in immortal verse," is that his pockets are full of silver and gold." There is a heattiness and enthusiasm of soul in the following lines, which we much admire and we found ourselves wholly unable to resist its contagious effects. Tunell a haner taiijwch- weis gwiwdeg, o losgadwy ffiamlwch Ac wedi llosgi y iicb, Wyr gweddus, Hwre' gwaeddweh. Yna taniweh lonaid certwvni O lwyr bydus hylor heb ordt, Ne, nen h) d r-, tfno i ^wawi, A mawr hyl orawr Eryr. W e at last cctne to consider those parts of the pr-sent work, which in our judgm-nt constitute its chief, and proudest ornantent. We allude to we Two Odes 011 the WYeck of -he Rothsuy Castle. One by the Rev. W. W illiams, or Ciledfryt, the other by the late Mr. G. Williams, or Gutyn Peris. That by Gutyn Peris contains detached pieces, neither few, nor, far between," of great beauty and power, but as a whole Caledjbyn's ode has moat justly, most deaervedly, taken precedence. A part of the description (in Gutyn Peris's ode) of distress, and fearful movements of the vessel, in the midst of the merciless tempest, is written with geeat power, and terrible thoughtfulness. Mark the following lines A hon trwy for cryf yn tryferwi Yu gynddeiriog, donog o dam, A hynt echrysawl wynt i'w ehroesi, Ysgwyd yr oedd, ysigau drwyddi j. Hydreiddiodd y dwr.iiidi ;-arafoad Ac anhwyliodd uwch eigion heli." The thoughts in the lines that follow- A rhai bonedd arbenig-a sonient," &c. are mere common-place, ordinary truisms, and it would be na, difficult task to point out the introduction in them of many terms, solely for the sake of their alliterative virtues. But ia the following lines, the bard "is himself again." Gan echlau rhodylau daeth Dwr j*w hulio'n dra helaeth, » „ A threidcliodd yn nthr iddi Bistyll, rhwng ei hestyli hi: O'r un-llwybr i'r peirianlle Darweiniodd, llyniodd y lie. Anwadal ai'r sugniedydd Siai, gwnai rwngc, heb sugn rhydd, '7 A dwfr tew yn difa'r tan, » Yr agerdd ái'n rhy egwan. Y Hong a ymollyngai-gan Ilesgedd. A rhyfedd arafai; Mean awr, t-r rL fawr foriai "Ki.T Cwr.W1' nit* ai. ii. »*»•»•• r— Hin hell,-nos dywell a d-i- Yr awyr a ruai o ddeutll- Aco eigion yn gygu Y morei roch, mawr ei M1. Ar haner y nos, y Ilonig, wrib drosi. Gerllaw yr Ynys, gan echrys ocbri, Ary draethell hell aeth hi-heb obaith Ei chodi eilwaith goruwch y dyli. Yno taer gydlefant bwy, Yn nerthol, am gynnorthwy Angladdawl, egrynawl gri, Gwaedd, heb waedd ateb iddi." The two last lines convey to the mind so fearful, at the same time, so true a picture, that we have read them with feelings akin to that of profoundest horror. Angladdawl egrynawl gri." What a world of deepest, darkest, most hopeless despair, is conveyed to the heart in these three words. These two inea alone entitle Gutyn Peris to take a high rank indeed among the true poets of our country. We fear our quotations may he considered, too long, but we are anxious to prove the propositions we lay down, by illustra- tions and examples. In the next quotation, our bard displays a fine, bold, daring imagination, and a spirit equal to his fear- fully interesting subject. Mor yno welid fel mawrion waliau, Gwanai yn danawl frig-wynion donnau, Gan ddygyfor, ac agor eu cegau, Treiglent, ac arloesent eu geirw leisiau Gwaeddent mewn agweddau,—ni aVh llyngcwn, Yn chai ny fyddwn i chwi yn feddau. Ar bye, bu awri bynod, O aethus, gwynofus nad Yn y fan, meddyliwn fori Ynys Seiriol yn siariad. Ei chraig fawr, ochrog a fu, Tybiwyf yn eu hatebu Ond diobaith un atebiad—gan bon I eg wyddorion eu gwaedd irad," The incident of the separation from each other of a father and son, and the forcible sweeping. of both to the angry ocean, their salvation, their separate lamentation, and ultimate happy re-union, is a beautiful episode, to be found in this able poem. We have said that we consider the Rev. W. Williams's ode as justly entitled to superiority over that of Mr. G. Wiilirims, and we shall now offer a few observations, explanatory of our reasons for arriving at this conclusion. While the isolated beauties of the Rev. W. Williams's ode is certainly equal, if not superior, to that of Mr. G. Wil!iams's, the poem as a com- flete poetical performance is undoubtedly far beyond the other in merit; and this in the eyes at least of our English, and more highly cultivated, neighbourt, would be considered no mean superiority. To produce any poem of great and primary merit, there must be possessed this first requisite, the power of forming a well-constructed fable. And we have this faculty displayed, perhaps, in as remarkable degree ic the ode, now under our notice, as in any poem that has appeared for a num- ber of yeaca past in the Welsh language. To our mind there is no small degree of artistical skill displayed (wp&n the whole) in the construction of this ode, and the aianirfffn wtiwh tbw action it is conducted. Veris r:-once »*wt .iJi »w-jffagea prectpitmcy, to Ilm tnari ot itis subject, <_ 1 is afterwards compelled to begin with the beginning. But mMk the superior skill of Caledfryn-he is a more thrifty and skilful, and yet not less effective, manager of the materials at his com- mand. Can any one deny that the following is not the most natural, the most truthful, and consequently the most poetical introduction, in the formation of a poem on a subject like the present. Wyllt wenwr hallt ei waneg, I& Llawn o dwyll yw ei wen deg; Llyfn iawn ydyw heddyw, heb rw don ar hyd ei wyneb Y don flin, erwin, orwyllt, Effro'i naws gyffroai'n wylit, Nes yJoedd yn arswydaw, Pob bron, llenwi pawb a braw, Sv heddyw, mewn naws addien, Yn Ile c'yffro, 'n gwi.-go gwit);- Och ffalsder, digter y don, A'i dinystr ar feib dynion," &c. In this strain the poet proceeds through several lines more, accomplishing his work with a master's hand. Yet we are not about to offer entire, and indiscriminate, praise to this ode, but shall attempt to act fairly, and justly, as we have attempted in the others which have preceded. We have already observed that the bard introduces the subject of his ode in a dexterous and skilful manner, and sorry are we to observe him immediately after led astray. He is unable to resist the temptation to indulge in poetry of a de- scriptive kind, which the scenery, and peculiar circumstances of place and situation, bring before his imagination. But bad we sat in judgment on this beautiful ode, we should have omitted altogether all the verses from Lie i dawel ymneillduo o boenau," &c. to at lead Rhai ereill oedd am forwrio-o Loegr." We consider the allusions to the victories and trophies of mawr Lew Mon,"as especially in very bad taste. We are fully sensible to the high and transcendent merits of this distinguished General, but this is neither the time, nor place, to write the noble Marquis's eulogies. The bard might have been justified in making a passing allusion to Menai Bridge, but there is something approaching the puerile in his wondering, and lengthened praises, even of this noble structure, on such an occasion as the present. The hnes about Rhydd ei thiroedd lleoedd lion Deg olwg, gwyd y galon," &c. and Dringo'r Wyddfa gopa gwyn," flee, are all to our judgment out of place, and destroy very mat, rially the unity and beauty of the poem. Do we mean by this, that these passages separately, and in themselves, are wi bout merit? Far from it-they abound in graphic description, and beautiful imagery, and we have marked out not a few lines that we consider beautiful exceedingly and should we be ever so fortunate as to be able to visit th.s interesting district, we shall take care to have by us, this now rejected, but delightful episode. But what we complain of, is the poet's allowing other, and irrelevant topics, to occupy in his mind, that place which ought now to be wholly, and alone engaged with the grand catastrophe of his ode. 'Having thus candidly given our judgment as to the portions of this ode which we consider objectionable, we now come to the more delightful work of offering our e irnest commendation of this splendid poem. In reading it we marked as we went along those passages which appeared to us of most surpasing beauty, but in reviewing it again we feel that to attempt pointing out individual parts as of higher merit, is nearly as idle a task, as to point out any one feature of prominent, or primary excellence, in a painting by Raphael, or Michael Angelo, or any of the other great masters, where each, aud every line is perfection itself. To give here the many passages that we had marked is utterly impossible, but who can deny the terrible fidel ity of this descriptiou- Weithiau i frig dig y don—y dringai, Drwy angawl ymdrechion, Wed'yn lluchid, byrddid hon I'r gwgus, ferwawg eigion. Ymroliodd drwy'r mor heli,—ac eilchwyl Golchai yntau drosti; Ail ydoedd, yn ei ch'ledi, I fiewyn llesg o flaen Hi*. Gwibiai'r dyfnfor, gefnfor gwyn, Anfoddog fel hurt feddwyn E lynai ei holwynion, Eu tro chwai a dagai'r don; Cryfder yr ager a'i waith, A'i hoffer yn ddieffaith Hi droe o'i phwynt, yn dra phell, Dan ysgwyd ri bun asgell; Yua ,n ol i hwn eilwaith, Yn erbyn y moryn maith, Nes syrthiai' i lif, gel.ilif gwyn, Erch arti'hr ar e; ehoi-yn r Ysigwvd hi nes agor v OcLran ei muriaa, i'r rrfcr, I Ac e iaDwyd ca'.ona'i —y dynion, I Ag ofn dinystr anpau ) Gwvi'd ei sain anfmh, gertb, g*vr Yn 3gor drwy'r gv.anegau! A', a, Myu'd waelach, waelach eilwait Read egain this awful picture of the vessel viith it« 6 « Llwyth gwerlbfawr odrysawr drud Anhefelydd,-prif olud