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Updated: May 11, 2025
His opinion of the four-and-twenty measures the Archdeacon has given to the world in four cowydd lines to the following effect: "I've read the master-pieces great Of languages no less than eight, But ne'er have found a woof of song So strict as that of Cambria's tongue."
"You say right," said I; "the 'Cowydd of Judgment' contains some of the finest things ever written that description of the toppling down of the top crag of Snowdon, at the day of Judgment, beats anything in Homer." "Then there was Lewis Morris, your honour," said the old man, "who gave Gronwy his education and wrote 'The Lasses of Meirion' and "
My mind was very much excited: I was in the birthplace of the mighty Tudors I had just seen the tomb of one of them; I was also in the land of the bard; a country which had produced Gwalchmai who sang the triumphs of Owain, and him who had sung the Cowydd of Judgment, Gronwy Owen. So no wonder I was excited. On I went reciting bardic snatches connected with Anglesey.
"And 'The Cowydd to the Snail," said I, interrupting him "a wonderful man he was." "I am rejoiced to see your honour in our house," said boots; "I never saw an English gentleman before who knew so much about Welsh poetry, nor a Welsh one either.
"I have," I replied, "and yesterday I visited his birth-place; so you have heard of Gronwy Owen?" "Heard of him, your honour; yes, and read his works. That 'Cowydd y Farn' of his is a wonderful poem."
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