ised in pages 4 and 48. It is, perhaps, hardly worth remarking on the unsettled opinion, as to the identity of the hero; a quodam Bruto' is the expression. He is Decimus Brutus, who subdued Spain, ac detraxit eam in servitutem Romæ ;' he is the grandson of Eneas; and in a subsequent pedigree Brutus is grafted on the line of Japhet, and not 'many removes from that Patriarch. The lines in italics, from obliteration in the copy, whence the present was made, have been supplied by a later though an ancient hand; who, being unacquainted with the subject, breaks the thread of the narrative, and fills up the chasm with something of his own. The sense is restored from Berham.

"Mark.

"Et filius esset omnium Hytalorum fortissimus amabilis omnibus hominibus.' Proper hanc vaticinationem, &c.

"Bertram, c. 3. p. 99. 1. 9.

"Et fœtus ejus erit fortis, quia occidet, inquit, patrem et matrem suam, et erit, exosus omnibus hominibus.' Propter hanc vaticinationem, &c.

"Mark.

"Omnes superabat ut omnium dominus videretur; idcirco, autem invidia," expulsus est ab Italia, &c.

“Bertram, c. 3. p. 99. 1. 25.

666 'Inopino ictu sagittæ occidit patrem suum, non de industriâ sed casu.''—'Propter hanc causam expulsus est ab Italia,' &c."

The length of the last two extracts has made it impossible to transfer any other parts of Mr. Gunn's production to these pages. But the reader is referred to page xxi. of the Preface, and to page 133. of the work, for two other valuable notes, one, by Mr. Owen Pughe, on the meaning of the word Bangor, and on the various places distinguished by that name, and the other, by Mr. Gunn himself, on the conversion of the British king Lucius, and the banishment of the British families to Rome, a subject which has already undergone a partial investigation in the CAMBROBRITON *. In conclusion, it may be said, that those, who feel a delight in investigating the ancient historical records of this country, are under considerable obligation to Mr. Gunn for the task he has now executed. And it were to be wished, that a little more care had been observed in the correction of the press, and especially in the Welsh names, many of which are greatly disfigured. However, this blemish may have arisen from accidental causes, and, although not to be defended, ought not to affect the character of a work, of which the design is commendable, and the execution, for the most part, creditable to the author's ability and research.

* Vol. i. p. 288.

AWEN CYMRU.

A'th rodd yw athrwydd Awen."---EDM. PRYS.

PENNILLION.

LXI.

Mi af oddi yma i'r Hafod Lom,

Er bod yn drom fy siwrnai,
Mi gâf yno ganu cainc,

Ac eiste' ar fainc y simnai;

Ac ond odid dyna'r fan,
Y byddaf dan y borau.

LXII.

Yfais atod, glas dy lygad,
Trwy bur serch a ffyddlon gariad;

Yfa dithau, dwy ael feinion,
At a mwya' a gar dy galon.

LXIII.

Mae'r coedydd yn glasu,
Mae'r meillion o'm deutu,

Mae dail y briallu yn tyfu 'mhob twyn,
A'r adar diniwed yn lleisio gan fwyned,
I'w clywed a'u gweled mewn gwiw-lwyn.

LXIV.

Gwych yw y dyffryn, y gwenith, ac yd,
Mwyn dir, a maenol, ag aml le clyd,
Llinos, ac eos, ac adar a gân;

Ni cheir yn y mynydd ond mawnen a thân.

LXV.

Tra bo Mon a mor o'i deutu,
Tra bo dwr yn afon Conwy,
Tra bo farl dan Graig y Dibyn,
Cadwaf galon bur i rywun.

LXVI.

Dy ddwy wefus, Besi ber,

Sydd iraidd dyner aeron,

Ac mor felfedaidd, gainwedd, gû,

Fal gweunydd blu dy ddwyfron;

Ond yw ryfedd, teg dy liw,

Mor galed yw dy galon!

ENGLISH POETRY.

TRANSLATIONS OF THE PENNILLION.

LXI.

To Havod-Lom I'll bend my way,
Though full the road of sorrow,
And there, to chaunt a merry lay,
The chimney-seat I'll borrow;
And in that spot, I dare to say,
You'll find me on the morrow.

LXII.

Thee I've toasted, blue-eyed lass,
Truest love inspir'd the glass;
Drink to him, then, maiden sweet,
Whom thy heart doth chiefly greet.

LXII.

The trees are fast blowing,

Flow'rs around us are growing,

The leaves of the primrose on each hillock spring,
While the birds on each spray,

Full of glee, chaunt away,

'Till the groves, as you hear, with their melody ring.

LXIV.

How gay seems yon valley with rich waving wheat,
Fair lands, and fair houses, and shelters so neat,
While the whole feather'd choir to delight us conspires;
There's nought on the mountain but turf and turf fires.

Thy sweet lips, my Betsey dear,

Are like the juicy pear,

And thy breasts,—they do appear

As downy meadows fair :

But, how strange these charms should shine

With a heart so hard as thine!

ABER-EDW.

ARGUMENT.

[Aber-Edw is a small and obscure village, built on the site of an ancient town of that name, the only vestige of which is its castle in ruin, on the banks of the river Edw, near where it falls into the Wye, on the Radnorshire side, about four miles from Builth; the natives of which, at this distant day, are jocularly called traitors, in allusion to their forefathers, who are said to have betrayed Llywelyn, the last native Prince of the Welsh, in the manner set forth in the following ballad, into the hands of the English, by whom he was consequently overtaken in his flight, after a defeat in battle, and savagely mutilated and murdered by a troop of horsemen, just as he had crossed the river Irvon. Alone, wounded, forsaken, but still a royal fugitive, he chose ruin and death rather than hold a disgraced and tributary crown in vassalage to his faithless and sanguinary enemy Edward the First.]

I.

Oh know ye the spot, where the Sevi* of Cambria
Withers in grief for her children's misdeeds?
Oh know ye the spot, that the Patriot of Cambria
With a brow of disdain and resentment e'er heeds?
Know ye the village, that's named from its river,
That runneth thro' rocks, and the Wye's its receiver?
Albeit, its streams, tho' received by the Wye,
She shuns as pollution, recedes as from dangers-
Unmixed are their waters, they move as two strangers,
Who dart on each other suspicion's dark eye:

One moves as Satanic malignity hastens,

And one with bold course that true dignity chastens,
The black Aber-Edw-the silver-bright Wye!

II.

When the Sais'st carnivorous monarch, so gory,

'Gainst the brave son of Gruffydd his thousands did bring, When Cambria's sons fought with gusto for glory,

When hundreds and hundreds fell dead 'round their king,

* The Sevi, or Sive, or, as it is more generally called in South Wales, Serillan-Gwy, (as immense quantities of this herb grow wild on the banks of the Wye,) tradition says, was once the Welsh national emblem, and not the leek, as vulgarly adopted. The Sevillan-Gwy has been chosen as the subject of a long poem by the author of the above.-J. LL.

†The Saxons or English, so called to this day.-J. LL.

When their bright star of fortune wax'd pale and grew fickle,
When the mountain-men fell like the blade to the sickle,

(Can a rivulet stand 'gainst a torrent's dread might?) From Henfordd Llywelyn, o'er hill, road, and meadow, His swift courser spurr'd towards strong Aber-Edw,

When the armourer mail'd his worn hoof for fresh flight.
Backwards the shoe to the king's horse was fastened;
The fugitive prince from his seeming friends hastened,
But his crown'd head was sold ere he fell in the fight.

III.

Aber-Edw, curst spot! that thro' each passing season
Meets scorn, and will meet it for ages to come;
Aber-Edw, ill-famed for thy armourer's treason,
Aber-Edw the silent, deserted, and glum !

O'er thy glories of yore there's a fiend hath been ploughing,
The spouse of Destruction, his wild name is Ruin.
Thy castle he battered, thy turrets struck low;
Dark infamy now thy renown hath supplanted,
A village of cots now the town, which erst vaunted

Castle, rampart, and tower, to ward the strong foe; To the stranger thou'rt pointed, thy story discovering,"There stood Aber-Edw, that sold it's true sovereign, "Where nestles the adder, where rank nettles grow." JEFFREY LLEWELYN.

The Welsh name of Hereford, and signifies "The Old Road."-J. LL. This is the theme proposed for the prize Englyn at the approaching Eisteddfod, or Congress of Bards, at Wrexham; and, no doubt, the mountain genius of Cymru will do ample justice to the subject. Awen, the English reader should be informed, means, properly and emphatically, poetical genius, a quality, which the Welsh language alone expresses by a single word.