DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61904#0132
120
CONWAY AND ITS CASTLE.
tages—it breaks down the barriers of filence and diftance which
ftranger feels with ftranger; and, huddled under the broad green
tapeftry of an ivied buttrefs, above which the rain had not yet
penetrated, we flood befide an intelligent Welfh gentleman,
whofe enthufiafm no rain could damp, and from him learned
various details of the gathering which otherwife we might not
have known. “ See, yonder intelligent-looking middle-aged
Welfhwoman, in the handfome gold-coloured fhawl, and the
black flraw hat worn above the lace, pink-trimmed cap,—fheis
a Welfh bardefs from South Wales, who has carried off already
feveral prizes at former Eifteddfods, and is here perhaps for
new honours.” And what a fingularly acute countenance hers
was, with the clear brown eyes and well-cut Roman nofe !
“ And yonder young peafant man, with the fenfitive and almoft
refined features, and the thin yellow beard,—he alfo is a bard,
Llewelyn Twrog by name—who has juft read a very clever
poem addreffed to the Eifteddfod by another bard, quite a
patriarch, Abfolom Vardd, upwards of eighty years of age.”
We turn now to the platform. The great harp conteft was that
morning to have taken place, and as more than the ufual prizes
had been offered for the occafion, the excitement and expecta-
tion were proportionately great. The time was almoft at hand,
but the pitilefs rain came down fafter than ever. “ Look now
at yonder pale, thin boy,” faid our friend ; “ he is not fo tall as
his harp, but he is a marvellous performer, and probably will
carry off the chief prize.” We had already noticed him, and
efpecially becaufe fome defeCl of fight, apparently almoft blind-
nefs, had awakened our fympathy. It was a grave, melancholy
face, though fo young, with little of a boy’s joyoufnefs, and
nothing of his reckleffnefs about it; the young foul of which it
was the outward index dwelt in an inner world brighter than
this—a world of harmony and higher vifion. A fimple peafant-
CONWAY AND ITS CASTLE.
tages—it breaks down the barriers of filence and diftance which
ftranger feels with ftranger; and, huddled under the broad green
tapeftry of an ivied buttrefs, above which the rain had not yet
penetrated, we flood befide an intelligent Welfh gentleman,
whofe enthufiafm no rain could damp, and from him learned
various details of the gathering which otherwife we might not
have known. “ See, yonder intelligent-looking middle-aged
Welfhwoman, in the handfome gold-coloured fhawl, and the
black flraw hat worn above the lace, pink-trimmed cap,—fheis
a Welfh bardefs from South Wales, who has carried off already
feveral prizes at former Eifteddfods, and is here perhaps for
new honours.” And what a fingularly acute countenance hers
was, with the clear brown eyes and well-cut Roman nofe !
“ And yonder young peafant man, with the fenfitive and almoft
refined features, and the thin yellow beard,—he alfo is a bard,
Llewelyn Twrog by name—who has juft read a very clever
poem addreffed to the Eifteddfod by another bard, quite a
patriarch, Abfolom Vardd, upwards of eighty years of age.”
We turn now to the platform. The great harp conteft was that
morning to have taken place, and as more than the ufual prizes
had been offered for the occafion, the excitement and expecta-
tion were proportionately great. The time was almoft at hand,
but the pitilefs rain came down fafter than ever. “ Look now
at yonder pale, thin boy,” faid our friend ; “ he is not fo tall as
his harp, but he is a marvellous performer, and probably will
carry off the chief prize.” We had already noticed him, and
efpecially becaufe fome defeCl of fight, apparently almoft blind-
nefs, had awakened our fympathy. It was a grave, melancholy
face, though fo young, with little of a boy’s joyoufnefs, and
nothing of his reckleffnefs about it; the young foul of which it
was the outward index dwelt in an inner world brighter than
this—a world of harmony and higher vifion. A fimple peafant-