Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 4, 2025
A man now coming in who lived at the next door, she said I had better speak to him and tell him what I wanted to know, which he could then communicate to her, as she could understand his way of speaking much better than mine. Through the man I asked her whether there was any one of the blood of Gronwy Owen living in the house. She pointed to the children and said they had all some of his blood.
"I go to buy neither hogs nor cattle," said I, "though I am somewhat of a judge of both; I go on a more important errand, namely to see the birth-place of the great Gronwy Owen." "Are you any relation of Gronwy Owen?" said the old man, looking at me more inquisitively than before, through a large pair of spectacles which he wore. "None whatever," said I.
"Then," said I, "there was Gronwy Owen, one of the greatest bards that ever lived. Out of reverence to his genius I went yesterday to see the place of his birth." "Sir," said the man in grey, "I should be sorry to leave you without enjoying your conversation at some length. In yonder house they sell good ale, perhaps you will not be offended if I ask you to drink some with me and my friend?"
"You are alluding to Black Robin," said I, "who wrote the ode in praise of Anglesey yes, he was a very clever young fellow, but excuse me, he was not half such a poet as Gronwy Owen." "Black Robin," said Mr Bos, "and Gronow Owen, who the Devil were they? I never heard of either. I wasn't talking of them, but of the clebberest man the world ever saw. Did you never hear of Owen Tiddir?
says poor Gronwy in one of the most affecting elegies ever written. After a little farther conversation I bade the family farewell and left the house. After going down the road a hundred yards I turned back in order to ask permission to gather a leaf from one of the sycamores.
It is true that he was told that he might go to Llanfair, his native place, and officiate there at a time when the curacy happened to be vacant, and thither he went, glad at heart to get back amongst his old friends, who enthusiastically welcomed him; yet scarcely had he been there three weeks when he received notice from the Chaplain of the Bishop of Bangor that he must vacate Llanfair in order to make room for a Mr John Ellis, a young clergyman of large independent fortune, who was wishing for a curacy under the Bishop of Bangor, Doctor Hutton so poor Gronwy the eloquent, the learned, the meek, was obliged to vacate the pulpit of his native place to make room for the rich young clergyman, who wished to be within dining distance of the palace of Bangor.
This she presently brought me in a teacup, I drank it, the children amounting to five standing a little way from me staring at me. I asked her if this was the house in which Gronwy was born. She said it was, but that it had been altered very much since his time that three families had lived in it, but that she believed he was born about where we were now.
Eventually he arrived at Chepstow, having learned a great deal about wild Wales. One of the excursions that Borrow made from Bangor was to Llanfair in search of Gronwy, the birthplace of Gronwy Owen. He found in the long, low house an old woman and five children, descendants of the poet, who stared at him wonderingly. To each he gave a trifle.
"No," said I; "I am come to see the birth-place of Gronwy Owen;" he stared at me for a moment, then seemed to muse, and at last walked away saying, "Ah! a great man." The miller presently joined me, and we proceeded farther down the hill. Our way lay between stone walls, and sometimes over them.
"The Red Tavern?" said I. "How is it that so many of your places are called Goch? there is Pentraeth Goch; there is Saint Pedair Goch, and here at Llanfair is Tafarn Goch." The miller laughed. "It will take a wiser man than I," said he, "to answer that question." The repast over I rose up, gave my host thanks, and said, "I will now leave you, and hunt up things connected with Gronwy."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking