Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 13, 2025
My mind for the last half-hour had been in a highly excited state; I had been repeating verses of old Huw Morris, brought to my recollection by the sight of his dwelling- place; they were ranting roaring verses, against the Roundheads.
Huw wrote on various subjects, mostly in common and easily understood measures. He was great in satire, great in humour, but when he pleased could be greater in pathos than in either; for his best piece is an elegy on Barbara Middleton, the sweetest song of the kind ever written.
Telling me to wait, he went to the house, and asked some questions. After a little time I followed him and found him discoursing at the door with a stout dame about fifty- five years of age, and a stout buxom damsel of about seventeen, very short of stature. "This is the gentleman" said he, "who wishes to see anything there may be here connected with Huw Morris."
There it was, a kind of hollow in the stone wall, in the hen ffordd, fronting to the west, just above the gorge at the bottom of which murmurs the brook Ceiriog, there it was, something like a half barrel chair in a garden, a mouldering stone slab forming the seat, and a large slate stone, the back, on which were cut these letters signifying Huw Morus Bard.
He was loyal to James the Second, till that monarch attempted to overthrow the Church of England, when Huw, much to his credit, turned against him, and wrote songs in the interest of the glorious Prince of Orange. He died in the reign of good Queen Anne. In his youth his conduct was rather dissolute, but irreproachable and almost holy in his latter days a kind of halo surrounded his old brow.
There it was, a kind of hollow in the stone wall, in the hen ffordd, fronting to the west, just above the gorge at the bottom of which murmurs the brook Ceiriog, there it was, something like a half barrel chair in a garden, a mouldering stone slab forming the seat, and a large slate stone, the back, on which were cut these letters signifying Huw Morus Bard.
When the chair of Huw Morus was wiped and he was about to sit down in it, he uncovered and said in his best Welsh: "'Shade of Huw Morus, supposing your shade haunts the place which you loved so well when alive a Saxon, one of the seed of the Coiling Serpent, has come to this place to pay that respect to true genius, the Dawn Duw, which he is ever ready to pay.
He replied that I should be quite right in doing so, and that no one should come to these parts without visiting Pont y Meibion, for that Huw Morris was one of the columns of the Cumry. "What a difference," said I to my wife, after we had departed, "between a Welshman and an Englishman of the lower class.
"But I do," said I; "one Lewis Morris wrote it. "Oh," said she, "I have heard all about Huw Morris." "I was not talking of Huw Morris," said I, "but Lewis Morris, who lived long after Huw Morris.
"I never was in such a wilderness in my life," said I to John Jones, "is it possible that the chair of the mighty Huw is in a place like this; which seems never to have been trodden by human foot. Well does the Scripture say 'Dim prophwyd yw yn cael barch yn ei dir ei hunan."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking