"I shall say nothing of the curious collections our friend. Evans has in his budget. I have moidered my head in copying some of them, and I can write no more but that "I am, yours sincerely, "LEWIS MORRIS." (To be continued.) EPIGRAMS FROM THE OLD POETS. No. 1. GWGAWN AB RHYS. Deunaw o gampau dawnus NOTES OF AN ORATION, DELIVERED BY GWALCHMAI AT THE WREXHAM EISTEDDFOD, IN 1876. (WE are indebted to Mr. W. Cadwaladr Davies, of Bangor, for the following carefully prepared transcripts of portions of the Oration.) Every age and country has its own national customs and institutions. Whether their tendency be for good or evil, they so intertwine themselves with the affections of the people as to render it impossible to uproot or destroy them. Nor are the Welsh in this respect less impressible than other nations. They have had their peculiar observances and customs from the earliest period of their history; and it is acknowledged by every credible historian that the Eisteddfod is one of the oldest literary institutions in existence. Its gatherings were the Olympian festivities of Britain. The Cymry, we repeat, had their bardic and musical assemblies while as yet the nations by whom they were surrounded lay buried in the depths of heathenism and degradation. The Eisteddfod, by its very name, introduces us to the seat of judgment and the senate of the nation. In accordance with our Cymric laws, it was of a three-fold character—a triad in its constitution. There was the Royal, where laws were enacted; that of Justice, where criminals were tried and lawsuits decided; and the Bardic, established in accordance with the chartered rights and customs of the bards of the Isle of Britain, and held for the purpose of promoting the cultivation of poetry, music, and high art. In the time of Edward I, according to the statute of Rhuddlan, enacted at the union of the two countries under the same sovereign, the functions of the first named were handed over to the Lords and Commons of England in Parliament assembled; those of the second passed to our Courts of Judicature for administration; but those of the last remain to the present day unalienated, and form an integral portion of our national constitution; as was proved in the reigns of Henry VII, Henry VIII, and Elizabeth, as well as in later times. The Gorsedd was the original institution; and it may be compared to a tree dividing into two branches. These are the Eisteddfod and the Chair. The Gorsedd was the stem; the Eisteddfod and the Chair, the branches growing out of it. And yet, as of yore, they form but one institution. The Eisteddfod was established in the reign of Owain Finddu ab Macsen Wledig, on the departure of the Romans from Britain. But the Gorsedd dates as far back as the time of Prydain ab Aedd Mawr, about a thousand years before the Christian era. There were three kinds of Eisteddfodau: Gorsedd Gyfarch, Gorsedd Hawl, and Gorsedd Gyfallwy. The consent of the nation could be determined and ratified only by this threefold council. There were four Bardic Chairs established-the Chair of Morganwy, Gwent, Euas, and Ystrad Yw; the Chair of Deheubarth, Dyfed, and Ceredigion; the Chair of Powys and Gwynedd above the Conway; and the Chair of Gwynedd, Mona, and Manaw. London, Armorica, and Devonshire, were included in the district of Morganwg. Each had its motto or pass-word and was held on one of the albanau, when bards, ovates, and druids graduated according to their respective gifts and offices. Here it was that the competitive principle was brought into play and carefully introduced into every department. We shall not be trespassing too far, perhaps, if we here point out, with respect to the development of the competitive principle, introduced into so many organisations in England and other countries, that all are indebted for the idea to the old Cymric Eisteddfod, however loth they may be to acknowledge the source whence they derived it. We must add a word or two on the continuance of our language and national customs. The question is often asked, "How long will the Welsh language continue to be spoken?" By some, the number of its days is glibly predicted; while by others, the cry is vociferously raised: "Oes y byd i'r Iaith Gymraeg." We reply: Language is the gift of God; and He only who gave, can take it away. Its annihilation is not to be effected by means of human laws. When its usefulness is gone, it will be annihilated,-but not till then. And when the work is to be done, it will be done almost imperceptibly. The speech of a people will linger on after its fate is sealed. Even when in a moribund condition, it will still struggle for renewed vitality. And when at last it has ceased its utterances, its echoes will continue to resound amid the mountains and valleys of its ancient home. The machinery of Providence-so large is it-takes a longer period to perform one revolution than the petty machinery of man to make a hundred. Many and various have been the attempts to extirpate the Welsh language. There was the irruption of the Roman conqueror into our land, about the time of the introduction of Christianity, and his powerful sway here for at least four centuries. What prophecies were then uttered respecting its extinction! But they proved false, in the event. The Roman was powerless, as far as we can learn, to change the name of even sea or hill, valley or plain, lake or river. It is true that an exception or two may be found here and there. We have Gallt Domi, from Domitian, and Aber Swetan, from Suetonius. But what are these, if we contrast them with the myriad names throughout the country? The Romans departed to their homes scarcely leaving one word behind as a record of their invasion. There was afterwards the attempt of King Edgar in the tenth century. He instituted a law, forbidding the Island of Mona to be called by any other name than Angles' Isle, under the penalty of treason. But the ancient Mother of Wales' is still known as Mon, the Island of the Mighty, the Dark Island, the Island of Hu, etc., just as in the days of old. There was again the landing of the Norman barons in the eleventh century, many of whom, as petty princes, lorded it over the length and breadth of the country. Great were the expectations that they would stamp the language out of the land. But how different again was the event. Their sons married Welsh heiresses, and their descendants became Cymric in affection as well as in language. And there was yet a fourth attempt at the work of destruction in the harsh laws made by Edward I; but with no better success. Harsher still were the edicts of Henry IV. He enacted that the Welsh language should cease to be spoken at noon on a certain day, under the pains and penalties of high treason. But the old language has laughed them all to scorn. hundred and twenty years have elapsed since Wyndham, the tourist and historian, after a visit to South Wales, declared that in a century the language would be extinct. The century has come and gone; but the language remains firmer than at the time of the prediction. And where is the Eisteddfod? It is at this moment making Moel Fama and Dyffryn Maelor to resound with its harmonies, as the strains of Dafydd ab Gwilym and Iolo Goch rise upwards, or the poetry of Williams of Pantycelyn, Edmund Prys, Goronwy Owen, and Dewi Wyn, cleaves the air. But where are the Romans and their language? our oppressors and their bonds? Gone. Gone as One |