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Na byddo i chwi gadw y rhai cyflogedig
Pob un wrth ei enw, yn hynod ei hunan
Morgan, a Marged, a Sioned, a Siwsan;
Am fraint y Briodas, yn frwnt na fwriadwch
Dewch'n wych addas mewn urddas a harddwch

Neswch bawb attaf, ni chlywsochwi etto,
Mo hanner yr eithaf, sydd genyf i areithio;
Dewch beirdd Gamp hono, i harddu'r Cwmpeini
Ac Arian'n eich pyrsau, ac Aur wrth y pwysi;
Er cariad i'r unlle, cariwch yr enllyn,
Rwy'n gwa'dd Gwraig y Ty yma, a chowlaid o Gosyn;
Basgedaid o Fenyn, yn nesaf os ewyllysiwch;
I ddangos blaenorol, ragorol, hawddgarwch,
Dewch bawb ach Seigiau, rhowch dorthau o Siwgir;
Gwin yn Alwyni, a Brandi, a Seidir,
Ychydig o bysgod, ac Ych wedi'i besgi,
Maenllwn yn enllyn, Porcyn a Thwrci;
Ystlys o Facwn, Gwydd a Cheiliogwydd,
Wyau rifedi, ieir yn ddiwradwydd :
Ac fel y galloch rhanwch y rheini,
Nid ydym ni'n disgwyl eich trysor na'ch tasgu
Yn gynysgaeddiad gwell ydyw geno'n
Eich’ wyllys a'ch cariad, a'ch cwmpni na'ch rhoddion.

Diwedd y Gân
Diod i Forgan,

ADIEU to the village! adieu to the cot!
And shall I then never revisit the spot ?
Which clings to remembrance with fondest delay,
Thro' the dreams of the night, and the cares of the day.
Yes, yes, I will hope that again I shall hear
The voices of friends to remembrance so dear;
And still do I hope that again I shall see
The smiles that once gave a sweet welcome to me.
And yet how I fear to revisit the spot,
To steal through the village and gaze at the cot:
For the pleasure and rapture that swell in my heart
Cannot equal the anguish I feel when we part.

Bydd wych! y cain Vwthyn; Bydd wych! lonwych làn,
A gav vi byth eto ovwyaw y

Yr hon yn vy meddwl à lyna heb ludd :
Trwy hunvre y nos a govalon y dydd.
Cav eto, gobeithio, lon wrando ar lu
O vwynion gyveillion, argovion mor gu,
A gweled yn hapus wen weddus heb wad,
Mewn cariad mwyn cywir a llwyr arvollâd.
Er hyny, mae ynov ddwys ovnau nesâu,
Byth eto i sylwi dy deios clud, clau:
Y meddwl o adu mwy briwaw vy mròn,
No chanvod uwch gwynvyd yr hyvryd vro hon.--Caervallwch.

* By Miss Williams, Aberpergwm. XVII.




GENTLEMEN, I have been both instructed and gratified by the perusal of many articles in your Welsh Quarterly: the more especially with that department of the work you name Olion. While other magazines which abound in political subjects tedious from their interminable appearance and repetition, both of language and sentiment, the reader in vain looks and longs for something different to that madness of party, which not only excites the mind sometimes with interest, but also often calls up feelings of acrimony and ill-will; looks in vain, I say, for some literary glade where his mind may rest from worldly turmoil; your “ Magazine of the Mountains” comes to the weary-minded with its wildness; the very thing one stands in need of, some legend, or mayhap some love tale, some mountain omen, some carn of grey antiquity, “where sleeps the warrior chief,” all these,

say, do restore a man to good humour, who is sick of party, and party writing.

Among other morceaux, I was exceedingly pleased with half a dozen stanzas of very sweet poetry in your last October number, beginning with:

“ There comes a fearful sound at eve o'er many a sleeping vale." “ The Whistlers,” said I; this is funny that our Welsh friends should possess among their mountains the very same legend that our Scottish highlander has in his; surely these people ought to be better acquainted with each other, and yet they are virtually as much apart as the African from the Icelander. This evil-omened bird,” I do assure you, gentlemen, is, or at least was within a few years, as much the dread of the shepherd of Ben Nevis, as of the mountaineer of Gwynedd, and if any Scottish or Welsh antiquary will undertake to expound, why the same superstition (and there may be many more) prevails in both countries, I am sure that he will confer a lasting obligation upon both Scotland and Wales.

In Wales, it appears, the belief is that nothing short of death is foretold by the Whistling Plover; in Scotland the belief is that some calamity, in which death is not necessarily included, will follow the ominous whistle; however, that the superstition is one and the same, and common to both countries, is too obvious to require a word on the subject.

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Similarity of Welsh and Scotch Superstitions.
I have often, in the darkest nights, heard the wild slurring
whistle of the plovers high in the air, as they pursued their
mysterious course, guided in their aerial journey, by Him
who protects the very sparrow, and I confess that inter-
course with the world, coupled with the advantages of edu-.
cation, could not prevent my mind from wandering into
reflections bordering upon the superstitious, but of course
in which veneration of the Deity occupied the greater
portion. No wonder then that the mountain shepherd
should rank the plover's wild music as an ominous sound,
for the times and places where it is generally heard are
sufficiently inductive to superstitious veneration; a visit to
a ruined abbey or a midnight wander in some large gothic
cathedral, would produce thoughts, distinct from those of
worldly occupation; but to be alone in a mountain pass
rugged with gorges, and immense misshapen rocks, the dim
reflection of waterfalls or lakes far up in the hills of Scotland
or Wales, and there to hear the plaintive unearthly lament
of the plovers, must be experienced for the effect to be

I cannot quote any old Gaelic authority in support of this
superstition, but I shall refer you to the words of the im-
mortal Scott, who writes of it in his Tales of a Grandfather:
speaking of the persecutions of the Scottish nonconformists,
when they retired to the mountain recesses, in order to
worship their God in form as their forefathers had done, in
order to avoid the attacks of the Cavaliers, he says, (Galig-
nani's edition, vol. 2, p. 52,) “The country people retained
a strong sense of the injustice with which their ancestors had
been treated, which showed itself in a singular prejudice:
they expressed great dislike of that beautiful bird the Green
Plover, in Scottish called the Pease-weep. The reason
alleged was, that these birds being by some instinct led to
attend to and watch any human being whom they see in
their native wilds, the soldiers were often guided in pursuit
of the wanderers, when they might otherwise have escaped
observation, by the plover being observed to hover over a
particular spot.”

The plover, in some parts of the Highlands, was not only considered a bird of ill omen, but when calamity befel a family, recourse was had to the bird itself for deliverance from sickness, as, in the plague of serpents in holy writ, when the brazen serpent restored to health the dying suppliant. A very old woman in the Highlands

68 Similarity of Scotch and Welsh Superstitions. several years ago related to me the manner in which she restored one of two children who were ill of the smallpox; the other died in consequence (of course) of some informality in administering the incantation, &c. and not from any inefficacy of the charm; the old lady learnt the witchery from an ancient sibyl who had departed beyond the pale of superstition and knavery more than half a century before. -These were her words.

“ Ye man knaw that some nene and twanty years ago, we had mickle pestilence i’ the land, and the smallpox raged sairly among the bairns : Mikael Andrew's eldest chiel, ower savin years, was taen ill,- I tacked the chiel up to Craigy Muir, (I ken it was na on a Friday, for the charm availeth not then,) an I laid him before midnight in a swine trough, wi his feet to the east, an his mither was to tack na rest that night, but was to employ hersel in pious reading, wi plenty of the blude of the bease weep (for 'tis a bird of na look, but the blude keepet a evil spells awa.) I anointed the pretty bairn, then laft him on Craigy Muir for tha night, placed doon i' the trough wi the blude, and wi sweet herbs; the charm was done an the chiel was fully restored i’ the morning, but a little weak fra the chilly night, to the arms o' Michael Andraw.” This ancient woman has also been dead for several

years; superstition is fast disappearing, and I have merely communicated the above specimen of ignorance and folly, in order to record an instance of superstition which, in the present day, is almost beyond belief.

Having given you these examples of superstition respecting the “ill omened bird" in Scotland, I have only to assure you, that the belief regarding it is a very old one in this country, and has existed not only before the reign of Charles the Second, but from time unknown.

I remain, Gentlemen,

Your Brither Celt, Invernesshire:

OCHILTREE. 21st Nov. 1832.



GENTLEMEN, I am induced to offer you the following account for inser-tion, in consequence of seeing, in your Numbers, occasiona' papers on natural history. Wales furnishes such an inexhaustible store of subjects, as well for the naturalist as the antiquary, that your numerous readers, who live in the midst of such treasures, might greatly advance the cause of science by recording what falls under their observation, and, through your medium, imparting the result of their knowledge to the world.

Britain has been famed for its pearls from a very early period; it is known from history, that Casar was induced to invade this island in consequence of exaggerated accounts which he had received of the pearls in the British rivers. Suetonius expressly mentions it. When compared, however, with the oriental pearls, they were found to be very inferior, and of little value, on account of their dark and livid colour and small size. Good pearls have occasionally been obtained from the muscle in many of the British rivers, but never in quantity so as to be worth the search. In the last century, several of great size were found in the rivers of the county of Tyrone and Donegal, in Ireland. One that weighed thirty-six carats was valued at £40, but being foul lost much of its worth. Other single pearls were sold for £4. 10s., and even for £10. The last was sold a second time to Lady Glenlealy, who put it into a necklace, and refused £80 for it from the Duchess of Ormond. In his tour, in Scotland, our illustrous countryman, Pennant, (of whom we may well be proud,) also adds, that there existed a considerable pearl fishery in the vicinity of Perth, from which £10,000 worth was sent to London, from the year 1761 to 1799; but, by the indiscriminate destruction of the muscles, the fishery has become exhausted. The only pearl fishery at present in the British isles is at the mouth of the river Conwy, in Arvon, and the Menai Straits. This fishery has been carried on for many years, and affords employment to numbers of industrious persons. There are, however, two very different kinds of muscle in the Conwy; the one a freshwater muscle, mya margaritifera, Cragen y dylu, and the mytilus edulis, Cragen las. The former are procured high up the river, near Llanrwst; and pearls are sometimes obtained from them little inferior to the oriental

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