ther my own translation of it, executed more than thirty years before,
which amongst others, contains the following lines:--

"Twelve sober men the muses woo,
Twelve sober men in Anglesey,
Dwelling at home, like patriots true,
In reverence for Anglesey."

"Oh," said I, after I had recited that stanza, "what would I not give to
see one of those sober patriotic bards, or at least one of their
legitimate successors, for by this time no doubt, the sober poets,
mentioned by Black Robin, are dead. That they left legitimate successors
who can doubt? for Anglesey is never to be without bards. Have we not
the words, not of Robin the Black, but Huw the Red to that effect?

"'Brodir, gnawd ynddi prydydd;
Heb ganu ni bu ni bydd.'

"That is: a hospitable country, in which a poet is a thing of course. It
has never been and will never be without song."

Here I became silent, and presently arrived at the side of a little dell
or ravine, down which the road led, from east to west. The northern and
southern sides of this dell were precipitous. Beneath the southern one
stood a small cottage. Just as I began to descend the eastern side, two
men began to descend the opposite one, and it so happened that we met at
the bottom of the dingle, just before the house, which bore a sign, and
over the door of which was an inscription to the effect that ale was sold
within. They saluted me; I returned their salutation, and then we all
three stood still, looking at one another. One of the men was rather a
tall figure, about forty, dressed in grey, or pepper-and-salt, with a cap
of some kind on his head, his face was long and rather good-looking,
though slightly pock-broken. There was a peculiar gravity upon it. The
other person was somewhat about sixty--he was much shorter than his
companion, and much worse dressed--he wore a hat that had several holes
in it, a dusty rusty black coat, much too large for him; ragged yellow
velveteen breeches, indifferent fustian gaiters, and shoes, cobbled here
and there, one of which had rather an ugly bulge by the side near the
toes. His mouth was exceedingly wide, and his nose remarkably long; its
extremity of a deep purple; upon his features was a half-simple smile or
leer; in his hand was a long stick. After we had all taken a full view
of one another I said in Welsh, addressing myself to the man in grey,
"Pray may I take the liberty of asking the name of this place."

"I