wild wales-第125章
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described。 Any common man who would expose to each other and the
world a number of hapless； trusting females who had favoured him
with their affections； and from the top of a tree would feast his
eyes upon their agonies of shame and rage； would deserve to be …
emasculated。 Had Ab Gwilym been so dead to every feeling of
gratitude and honour as to play the part which the story makes him
play； he would have deserved not only to be emasculated； but to be
scourged with harp…strings in every market…town in Wales； and to be
dismissed from the service of the Muse。 But the writer repeats
that he does not believe one tittle of the story； though Ab
Gwilym's biographer； the learned and celebrated William Owen； not
only seems to believe it； but rather chuckles over it。 It is the
opinion of the writer that the story is of Italian origin； and that
it formed part of one of the many rascally novels brought over to
England after the marriage of Lionel； Duke of Clarence； the third
son of Edward the Third； with Violante； daughter of Galeazzo； Duke
of Milan。
Dafydd Ab Gwilym has been in general considered as a songster who
never employed his muse on any subject save that of love； and there
can be no doubt that by far the greater number of his pieces are
devoted more or less to the subject of love。 But to consider him
merely in the light of an amatory poet would be wrong。 He has
written poems of wonderful power on almost every conceivable
subject。 Ab Gwilym has been styled the Welsh Ovid； and with great
justice； but not merely because like the Roman he wrote admirably
on love。 The Roman was not merely an amatory poet： let the shade
of Pythagoras say whether the poet who embodied in immortal verse
the oldest； the most wonderful； and at the same time the most
humane； of all philosophy was a mere amatory poet。 Let the shade
of blind Homer be called up to say whether the bard who composed
the tremendous line …
〃Surgit ad hos clypei dominus septemplicis Ajax〃 …
equal to any save ONE of his own； was a mere amatory songster。
Yet； diversified as the genius of the Roman was； there is no
species of poetry in which he shone in which the Welshman may not
be said to display equal merit。 Ab Gwilym； then； has been fairly
styled the Welsh Ovid。 But he was something more … and here let
there be no sneers about Welsh： the Welsh are equal in genius；
intellect and learning to any people under the sun； and speak a
language older than Greek； and which is one of the immediate
parents of the Greek。 He was something more than the Welsh Ovid：
he was the Welsh Horace； and wrote light； agreeable； sportive
pieces； equal to any things of the kind composed by Horace in his
best moods。 But he was something more： he was the Welsh Martial；
and wrote pieces equal in pungency to those of the great Roman
epigrammatist； … perhaps more than equal； for we never heard that
any of Martial's epigrams killed anybody； whereas Ab Gwilym's piece
of vituperation on Rhys Meigan … pity that poets should be so
virulent … caused the Welshman to fall down dead。 But he was yet
something more： he could； if he pleased； be a Tyrtaeus； he was no
fighter … where was there ever a poet that was？ … but he wrote an
ode on a sword； the only warlike piece that he ever wrote； the best
poem on the subject ever written in any language。 Finally； he was
something more： he was what not one of the great Latin poets was；
a Christian； that is； in his latter days； when he began to feel the
vanity of all human pursuits； when his nerves began to be unstrung；
his hair to fall off； and his teeth to drop out； and he then
composed sacred pieces entitling him to rank with … we were going
to say Caedmon； had we done so we should have done wrong； no
uninspired poet ever handled sacred subjects like the grand Saxon
Skald … but which entitle him to be called a great religious poet；
inferior to none but the protege of Hilda。
Before ceasing to speak of Ab Gwilym； it will be necessary to state
that his amatory pieces； which constitute more than one…half of his
productions； must be divided into two classes： the purely amatory
and those only partly devoted to love。 His poems to Dyddgu and the
daughter of Ifor Hael are productions very different from those
addressed to Morfudd。 There can be no doubt that he had a sincere
affection for the two first； there is no levity in the cowydds
which he addressed to them； and he seldom introduces any other
objects than those of his love。 But in his cowydds addressed to
Morfudd is there no levity？ Is Morfudd ever prominent？ His
cowydds to that woman abound with humorous levity； and for the most
part have far less to do with her than with natural objects … the
snow； the mist； the trees of the forest； the birds of the air； and
the fishes of the stream。 His first piece to Morfudd is full of
levity quite inconsistent with true love。 It states how； after
seeing her for the first time at Rhosyr in Anglesey； and falling in
love with her； he sends her a present of wine by the hands of a
servant； which present she refuses； casting the wine contemptuously
over the head of the valet。 This commencement promises little in
the way of true passion； so that we are not disappointed when we
read a little farther on that the bard is dead and buried； all on
account of love； and that Morfudd makes a pilgrimage to Mynyw to
seek for pardon for killing him； nor when we find him begging the
popish image to convey a message to her。 Then presently we almost
lose sight of Morfudd amidst birds； animals and trees； and we are
not sorry that we do； for though Ab Gwilym is mighty in humour；
great in describing the emotions of love and the beauties of the
lovely； he is greatest of all in describing objects of nature；
indeed in describing them he has no equal； and the writer has no
hesitation in saying that in many of his cowydds in which he
describes various objects of nature； by which he sends messages to
Morfudd； he shows himself a far greater poet than Ovid appears in
any one of his Metamorphoses。 There are many poets who attempt to
describe natural objects without being intimately acquainted with
them； but Ab Gwilym was not one of these。 No one was better
acquainted with nature； he was a stroller； and there is every
probability that during the greater part of the summer he had no
other roof than the foliage； and that the voices of birds and
animals were more familiar to his ears than was the voice of man。
During the summer months； indeed； in the early part of his life； he
was； if we may credit him； generally lying perdue in the woodland
or mountain recesses near the habitation of his mistress； before or
after her marriage； awaiting her secret visits； made whenever she
could escape the vigilance of her parents； or the watchful of her
husband； and during her absence he had nothing better to do than to
observe objects of nature and describe them。 His ode to the Fox；
one of the most admirable of his pieces； was composed on one of
these occasions。
Want of space prevents the writer from saying as much as he could
wish about the genius of this wonderful man； the greatest of his
country's songsters； well calculated by nature to do honour to the
most polished age and the most widely…spoken language。 The bards
his contemporaries； and those who succeeded him for several hundred
years； were perfectly convinced of his superiority； not only over
themselves； but over all the poets of the past； and one； and a
mighty one； old Iolo the bard of Glendower； went so far as to
insinuate that after Ab Gwilym it would be of little avail for any
one to make verses …
〃Aed lle mae'r eang dangneff；
Ac aed y gerdd gydag ef。〃
〃To Heaven's high peace let him depart；
And with him go the minstrel art。〃
He was buried at Ystrad Flur； and a yew tree was planted over his
grave； to which Gruffydd Gryg； a brother bard； who was at one time
his enemy； but eventually became one of the most ardent of his
admirers； addressed an ode； of part of which the following is a
paraphrase：…
