territories, the governor of the men
of Powys, and the South, who hath a general assembly of his armed troops
at Chester, who ravageth Lloegr to amass spoils. In battle his success
is certain, in killing, burning, and in overthrowing castles. In Rhos,
and Penfro, {40c} and in contests with the Normans, his impetuosity
prevaileth. The offspring of Griffydd, of worthy qualities, generous in
distributing rewards for songs. His shield shines, and the strong lances
quickly meet the streams of gushing gore. He extorteth taxes from his
enemies, and claimeth another country as a sovereign prince. His noble
birth is an ornament to him. He besiegeth fortified towns, and his
furious attacks like those of Fflamddwyn {41} reach far. He is a
prosperous chief with princely qualities, his Bards are comely about his
tables. I have seen him generously distributing his wealth, and his
mead-horns filled with generous liquors. Long may he live to defend his
borders with the sharp sword, like Arthur with the lance of steel. May
he who is lawful king of Cymru, endued with princely qualities, have his
share of happiness at the right hand of God.

A POEM

_Entitled the Ode of the Months_, _composed by Gwilym Ddu of Arfon_, _to
Sir John Griffydd Llwyd_, _of Tregarnedd and Dinorwig_.

Why the Bard called this piece the "Ode of the Months" I cannot guess;
but by what he intimates in the poem, which is that when all nature
revives, and the whole animal and vegetable creation are in their full
bloom and vigour, he mourned and pined for the decayed state of his
country. The hero he celebrates made a brave but successless attempt to
rescue it from slavery. It will not be amiss to give a short account of
the inhuman massacre of the Bards made by that cruel tyrant Edward the
first, which gave occasion to a very fine Ode by Mr. Gray. Sir John
Wynne, of Gwydir, a descendant in a direct line from Owain Gwynedd,
mentions this particular, and says he searched all the records in the
Exchequer at Carnarvon, and in the Tower of London, for the antiquities
of his country in general, and of his own family in particular. I shall
set down his own words, as I find them in a very fair copy of that
history lent me by Sir Roger Mostyn, of Gloddaeth and Mostyn, Bart., a
person no less eminent for his generous communicative temper, than for
many other public and private virtues.

"This is the most ancient song (i.e. one of Rhys Goch of Eryri's