Frequent is heard the voice of woe,
Frequent the tears of sorrow flow;
Such sounds as erst, in Camlan heard,
Roused to wrath old Arthur’s bard;
Cambria’s warrior we deplore;
Our Llewelyn is no more.
Who like Llewelyn now remains,
To shield from wrong his native plains?
My soul with piercing grief is filled;
My vital blood with horror chilled:
Nature herself is changed, and lo!
Now all things sympathize below.
Hark! how the howling wind and rain,
In loud symphony complain!
Hark! how the consecrated oaks,
Unconscious of the woodman’s strokes,
With thundering crash proclaim he’s gone;
Fall in each others’ arms and groan!
Hark! how the sullen tempests roar!
See! how the white waves lash the shore!
See! how eclipsed the sun appears!
See! how the stars fall from their spheres!
Each awful Heaven-sent prodigy
Ye sons of infidelity,
Believe and tremble! Guilty land,
Lo, thy destruction is at hand!
Thou great Creator of the world,
Why are not thy red lightnings hurled?
Will not the sea, at Thy command,
Swallow up this guilty land?
Why are we left to mourn in vain
The guardian of our country slain?
No place, no refuge for us left,
Of homes, of liberty bereft;
Where shall we flee, to whom complain,
Since our dear Llewelyn’s slain?

Translated from a Welsh poem.

It was a calm and balmy evening in the month of July, 18—, when all nature appeared hushed in still quietude and death-like repose, when not a zephyr breeze, causing the leaves of the trees to murmur or wave, was felt: such was the character of the lovely and sunny evening on which I left the beautiful valley in which the little village of Llanwrtyd nestles among the hills, for the purpose of paying a special visit to Cefn-y-Bedd, the spot to which the finger of tradition points as the resting-place, the sacred ground, the hallowed earth in which were deposited—amid the universal wail and lamentation of the Cambrian people, when widows, fathers, brothers and sisters, heroes not a few, men who never dreaded danger, and who were always foremost in battle—strong, fearless, and valiant warriors, wept and sorrowed, and refused to be comforted because their Prince, their champion, and their idol was not. It was at Cefn-y-Bedd, which is now a respectable farm homestead, where no monument of any kind marks the spot, that the mortal remains of Llewelyn ap Gruffydd, the last reigning sovereign of Wales, were interred. If no Parian marble marks the ground beneath whose sacred sod lies the dust of the dear departed, his name still survives, his virtues still live, his memory is still fondly cherished by hundreds and thousands of his descendants; and though nearly six centuries have come and gone since the fall of our great captain, prince, and patriot, he still speaks to the people and the nation. Yes; his name is still dear to Cambria’s sons and daughters. His memory is even now, after the lapse of so many years, fresh and green. If the poor flesh, which contained one of the purest and manliest souls that ever dwelt in a tabernacle of clay, has long, long ago crumbled into dust, the man, the hero, and the patriot survive, and will live in the annals of his country, and be an idol in the heart of his descending race until time shall be no more.

I have remarked that the above visit was a “special visit.” A few days previous I had passed Cefn-y-Bedd, on my way to the little border town of Builth, but in passing by the sacred shrine of our illustrious ancestor, I knew not that I was on hallowed ground. A lady companion called my attention to an admirable husbandry arrangement of the homestead, the like of which I had not previously seen in Breconshire. The observation of my companion and the scene around led me into a train of thought relating to bygone years, to the deeds of old, the revolution of kingdoms, the decline and fall of empires, and the changes which are daily taking place in families, in governments, and in the homes of both rich and poor. I said to myself, every house, every cottage, every mountain and valley has a history peculiar to itself—a history full of interest, replete with romantic doings and sayings far more wonderful,—embodying events and circumstances of more profound interest and of deeper and far more pathetic story—than is often found in the works of fiction. Who can tell, for I am sure I cannot, but that, perhaps, that house, with its farm-yard and out-buildings, its garden and flowers, possesses a history peculiar to itself? and it may be that long, long ago heroes and mighty men of valour took shelter here from the fury of the tempest or from the burning sun of mid-day July heat, in their march from one battle-field to another. But why travel to the land of shadows? Why draw ideal pictures of events that are past, of heroes, warriors, and statesmen, of battles, conquests, and defeats? The dead cannot be called to life. The past cannot be revived. The work done cannot be undone. The past can never be recalled. Well, if these things are among the impossibilities of life, there is one thing at any rate which I can do. I can drop a tear on the grave which contains the hallowed dust. I can recall the memories of the dear departed; I can paint and set forth their virtues, can photograph their manliness and bravery, can sketch and limn their life and deeds; so that this and succeeding generations may learn to live more wisely, be more true, more faithful to the dearest interests of their country, especially with reference to those measures which lie at the basis of national progress and the comfort and weal of the people.

The situation of Cefn-y-Bedd is exquisitely beautiful, and the scenery is richly diversified. From it one beholds a wide expanse of country, with varied and magnificent views, which are finely alternated with luxuriant fertile meadows, groves of thriving timber, and flourishing plantations. In the distance we have views of the rocky hills of Llanelwedd, at whose base flows the poetic and majestic Wye, the beautifullest of rivers. To the south-east is the far-famed Eppynt Forest, and down through a luxuriant sylvan dell runs the meandering Irvon. From this sacred spot one beholds at a glance scenery in which are combined the bold and soft, the sterile and woody, bare and rocky hills and verdant glades. It is a scene on which the eye delights to dwell. In the far distance the bald rocks of Aberedw appear in view. It was among those rocks that Llewelyn encamped before his departure for Builth. Little did he fancy when he left that stronghold on the cold winter’s morning that his life was so near its close. That he was surrounded by enemies, he was well aware. That the armies of King Edward were in the immediate vicinity of his camp he was fully cognizant of. His spies had brought him information of the several posts occupied by the English, and of his being in imminent danger of an attack from various quarters of the combined hosts. Aberedw, though admirably formed by nature for resisting an attack, when directed from the Wye banks, was yet wholly untenable in the face of the terrible odds with which he had now to cope—a combined army moving from various military posts. Seeing his danger, the Cambrian prince resolved to break up his camp, and march along the sylvan Wye to Builth. Crossing the bridge, he moved on in a southwesterly direction to Pont Orewyn, where the Prince, unarmed, received the deadly spear. He was killed on the 10th of December, 1282.

Having introduced to the notice of my readers the hero of my story—the man whom Heaven, in its wisdom, specially raised up to meet the demands of the most trying emergency which had befallen a great and an heroic people—the man who, when placed at the head of affairs, found his country prostrate, the national treasury empty, and the people dispirited by reason of sad reverses—I shall proceed now to sketch the career of the man; to set forth his virtues; to paint, but with no exaggerated colouring, his character as a prince, as a ruler, as a military commander, and as a friend; and shall show, what history clearly proves, that he inspired his countrymen with an amount of confidence and trust which no previous sovereign had been able to infuse into them; that the veneration with which his name was so universally held was traceable to virtues in his public acts and private life; further, that had it not been for the treason of the faithless few, Llewelyn would have transmitted the sovereignty of Wales to his posterity. He died, not on the field of battle, but alone and unarmed was he when the fatal blow was struck. By-and-by I shall show that he had done his work, and for him to die was gain.

On the right bank of the sylvan Wheeler,—a small crystal stream which flows through the luxuriant and richly wooded vale of Caerwys,—there stands the modern mansion of Maesmynen. In a meadow near the present hall there was, in the thirteenth century, an ancient palace, which from time immemorial had been one of the royal residences of the Cambrian Princes. Beautiful was the situation of this ancient mansion. All that the eye loves to rest on could be seen from the elevated spot on which it stood. This palace was the favourite residence of the unfortunate Prince Llewelyn. Here he spent his boyhood. Here he principally lived until his country called him to occupy a more conspicuous and more prominent position. In the neighbouring woods of Yseiefiog, Caerwys, Trev-Edwyn, and Bodfari, he and his trusty friends were accustomed to follow the chase. Indeed, he lived here among friends and dependents, for the circumjacent cantrevs of Rhos, Dyffryn Clwyd, Rhyfoniog, and Englefield—which cantrevs included the country between Conway and Chester—were his own property and possessions. About midway between the two extreme points was the royal palace of Maesmynen. Here he breathed the pure air of heaven. Here he was free from the turmoil of life’s cares and life’s battles. Here he felt but little anxiety in connection with the terrible war then being carried on between his countrymen, headed by Llewelyn the Great, and, subsequent to the death, in 1240, of that illustrious monarch, by his son and successor, Prince Davydd; because the Prince of Maesmynen felt that the right men were at the head of affairs, and that Heaven would defend the cause of the just. Though Llewelyn, the last prince, was not anxious as to the result of the struggle, yet that he was not an indifferent spectator of the scene, and its consequences to the nation, is evident from the annals of those momentous times. Why then did he keep aloof from the struggle? Why did he remain inactive? Why did he continue to live a life of ease and pleasure, when duty called him to the front? The reason is apparent when we consider the then existing relation between members of the royal house. His father had been cruelly treated, and had been made a prisoner by his own brother Davydd; and when liberated, through the intervention of mutual friends, he simply exchanged the castle of Criccaeth for the Tower of London. In that stronghold he was securely guarded by King Henry’s soldiers. Some of his noble compatriots, illustrious Cambrian chieftains, successfully effected his release from the Tower, but Prince Gruffydd, the father of our hero, in an endeavour to accomplish his own liberation, fell from a great height and was killed on the spot. It appears that that prince had made a cord with the linen of his bed and table, and when he had descended about midway between the window and the ground, the cord broke, and the unhappy prince was precipitated into the Tower ditch, and was killed. This sad event took place in the year 1244. During the two following years, King Davydd, being wholly free from anxiety on account of his brother’s superior claim to the throne, which his death had annulled, pursued a vigorous policy, displaying traits of character and versatility of genius of the highest order. He was brave as a lion, and was ever foremost in the struggle; thus he secured the confidence of his friends, the admiration of his followers, the love of his soldiers, and the dread of his enemies. His reign, however, was but of brief duration. In 1216 he died at Aber Palace. Though this prince was hated by many during his reign, his death was generally lamented.

When the solemn obsequies connected with the funeral of the deceased prince were over, the Cambrian barons and chieftains met in a national congress, and unanimously elected Prince Llewelyn-ap-Gruffydd and his brother Owen as joint sovereigns of Wales. The decision of the barons was hailed with the liveliest satisfaction by the Cambrian people. The reason of the existence of this feeling in favour of the two princes is obvious. Their father had been the idol of the Welsh. The people in both North and South Wales had felt that he had been cruelly treated by his brother, that he had been unjustly deprived of his inheritance, that his birthright had been taken from him by unfair means (for he was the lawful successor to Llewelyn the Great, the heir-apparent to the throne on his decease), and hence that the crown belonged to him by seniority. The people now rejoiced that the sons of the boy hero who in his youth had made King Henry’s army feel his power, were about to be placed in possession of their lawful inheritance as rulers and sovereigns of the Cambrian nation. In the following pages I shall place before the reader facts which show the wisdom of the choice which the national congress made.

But I have no intention, indeed it is wholly foreign to my present purpose, to write a life of Llewelyn, that is, a consecutive narrative of his deeds and acts, and his grand military achievements. In 1856 I compiled a biography of my hero, but it still remains in manuscript. Briefly stated, my present purpose is to paint a likeness of the last prince of the Cymru in three different aspects, that is, as a military commander and tactician, as a Cambrian patriot, and as a citizen and friend. Regarded in these several aspects, I shall, from reliable data, make it perfectly clear that the prince was as just as he was generous; that he commanded the respect, the love, the affection and the admiration of all who came in contact with him; that moreover, by his deeds of prowess, by the manifestation of great skill and eminent military tactics, by the rapidity with which he moved his army from one part of the battle-field to another, from one point of attack to another place which he regarded as vulnerable, he gained a title to be regarded as one of the greatest generals of those eventful times. He successfully resisted, and more than once conquered, the bravest army then existing in Europe.

Immediately after the Welsh princes ascended the throne of their ancestors, King Henry of England, at the head of a powerful army, invaded North Wales. For this attack the Welsh princes were wholly unprepared; and rather than risk an engagement with such terrible odds against them, they prudently retreated before the enemy, retiring to the mountain districts, from which the English king failed to dislodge them. Subsequently, but before Henry returned to England, a treaty of amity and peace was concluded between the Cambrian and Saxon monarchs. The conditions of this treaty were, first, that Llewelyn was to give up possession for ever of his patrimony, the four cantrevs; secondly, that he was to serve in Wales, or in the Marches, with one thousand foot and twenty-four horse,—this at his own expense; thirdly, that all the Welsh barons were to do homage to the English monarch. That the conditions of this treaty were most humiliating, we must at once admit; but under the circumstances there can be no doubt that Llewelyn acted wisely in acceding to them, for had he defied the enemy then, the struggle would have proved a hopeless one. The peace which he by the treaty secured, lasted for a period of nine years, when Llewelyn became (1254) the sole sovereign of Wales. From that time until his untimely end, he reigned alone: nobly and magnanimously did he wear the crown. His was a life without a stain of dishonour, as pure and bright as the crystal fountain; and he has left a name which will never die. Magnanimous was he, generous and noble was he, chivalrous and princely in mien and heart was he: hence the reason why he was almost worshipped by all who came within the sacred circle of his influence; and had he had a moiety of the power possessed by the English monarchs, the issue of the struggle would have been widely different. However, an all-wise Providence willed it otherwise, and it is our duty to bow our heads without a murmur, for He does all things in infinite love and wisdom.

After securing such important concessions from Llewelyn, the English king, if be had been wise, would have pursued a mild and conciliatory policy towards the nobles and barons of the Welsh nation: unfortunately for his reputation and statesmanship, good-will towards the conquered formed no part of the imperial virtues. He ruled with a rod of iron, the olive-branch forming no part of the device upon the king’s banner. Thus the fruit of his policy soon became apparent. It would be expecting more than human nature to suppose that the Cambrian chieftains and barons would remain peaceful and quiet on seeing their estates seized by lords Marchers. Moreover, the greatest oppression was practised by minions of King Henry, and for the most trivial offences the proud barons of Wales were subjected to cruel and extreme punishment. As was natural, his cruelties and his policy of confiscation produced everywhere disaffection, and ultimately a spirit of implacable hate was engendered. The people, to a man, were in the end ready to rise in order to throw off the bitter yoke. They had their leader, the brave prince Llewelyn; but the fruit was not yet ripe. But while he urged delay, he did not neglect preparation for the conflict, for he knew that the day of conflict must come. When the hour arrived, Llewelyn took the field, and his achievements far surpassed the most sanguine expectations of both himself and his brave followers. In the space of a single week he recovered from the enemy the possessions they had acquired by war in North Wales and Cardiganshire. Wherever he and his little army went, the enemy was compelled to yield, and to retire from the battlefield as defeated hosts.

Soon after these successes, Llewelyn led a large army into South Wales. Before Dynevor Castle, near Llandilo, he encountered the English forces, which were commanded by Rhys Vychan. The battle was conducted with great skill and bravery on both sides; but at last the king’s army was thoroughly beaten and retired from the field. Immediately after this splendid victory, the Cambrian prince returned in triumph to the North, where his subjects received him with universal acclamation and heart-felt gratitude. But his work now had only just commenced. On his arrival at Aber, he found awaiting him a deputation from the four cantrevs,—tenants and chiefs residing on lands within his patrimony,—who had come to lay before their prince and friend the terrible wrongs they had to endure from the exactions of Geoffrey de Langley, who farmed the crown lands under Prince Edward of England. “Llewelyn, to avenge their injuries, crossed the frontier, carrying fire and sword to the very gates of Chester, from the walls of which, Edward himself is said to have been a galled witness of the havoc.” On this defeat Edward sought his father’s aid, but he sought it in vain: he then applied to his uncle, the king of the Romans, for assistance; but the forces he was thereby able to bring to the field were found either too cowardly or too weak to attack the Welsh. “The Cambrian prince with his army then took a dÉtour, they entered the territory of Gruffydd ab Madog, lord of Dinas BrÂn, a chief who had formed a hostile league against Llewelyn and his native land,” upon whom he took ample revenge. On returning, he suddenly met the English army, which was commanded by Prince Edward in person. A terrible battle was fought between the Welsh and English armies; but at every point of the line Llewelyn’s troops were victorious. In this conflict, Edward’s forces were badly beaten, a small remnant only escaping with their life. After a brief repose, Llewelyn renewed his operations against the domains of Edward, and these he carried on without meeting with any serious opposition; but Llewelyn did not love war: in the hour of his most splendid triumphs he was anxious for peace. Immediately after his recent grand achievements, he wrote to King Henry offering, “if a peace were concluded, and the Welsh restored to their ancient laws, to give a sum of money to Henry, and to acknowledge his sovereignty.” Considering his late successes, we are surprised at his thus humbling himself to his foe. Doubtless he made this offer because of the deep solicitude he felt for the lives and property of his people. This generous offer was rejected with scorn by Henry, whereupon hostilities were recommenced with great and increased vigour by both of the contending parties.In reviewing thus far the life and character of the Cambrian prince, we have seen that his decision was always followed by prompt and energetic action. Whenever he resolved to do a special thing or to gain a certain point, he at once set about its accomplishment. To this characteristic of the man is traceable the secret of some of his mightiest achievements. In the present case Llewelyn gained important victories before the English monarch could collect his forces and approach his—Llewelyn’s—dominions. During the lull the prince moved his army against the Lord of Powys, whom he easily defeated. The tidings of this victory having been carried to Gruffydd ab Madog, that chief felt that it would be madness on his part to resist the Cambrian prince, and he therefore sought and obtained a treaty of peace. Llewelyn then marched against the Earl of Gloucester, whom he defeated in a general battle. These successes and achievements roused the Welsh to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. Accordingly we find that the Cambrian barons and chiefs entered into a solemn league to defend till death the independence and freedom of their country. This confederacy was formed in the year 1258. On its being ratified the Cambrian prince commenced to march southward, and gained easy victories over the forces that were thrown forward to impede his progress. In a subsequent campaign in South Wales he took the castle of Maelienydd, in Radnorshire. Afterwards he invaded the English borders on the west side of Shropshire and Cheshire, where he gained important advantages over the lords Marchers. From thence he proceeded to the castles of Diserdd and Diganwy, which he besieged and destroyed. On being apprised of these fresh disasters, Prince Edward marched against Llewelyn, who retired to, and took refuge among, the “mountain bulwarks” of Carnarvonshire. As Edward dared not follow the Welsh prince there, he returned to England, “if not disgraced, at least without any particular honour.”

I pass over, as forming no part of my design, the insurrection of De Montford, that nobleman’s success against Sir Roger Mortimer, and his triumph over Prince Edward, whom he kept a prisoner in Hereford Castle. Further, I shall content myself with a passing reference to the invasion of Glamorganshire by Llewelyn, the important treaty of Montgomery in 1267 between Henry and Llewelyn, and the death of the former five years afterwards.

When Edward ascended the throne, be called upon Llewelyn to do homage at his coronation. The Welsh prince replied that he was prepared to comply with the mandate, provided some English noblemen of distinction were sent to the Principality as hostages for his security. The negotiations respecting the question of homage, and the correspondence relating to the imprisonment of Eleanor de Montford, Llewelyn’s betrothed, were carried on until the summer of 1277, when Edward, at the head of a numerous body of vassals, invaded North Wales. Llewelyn’s army being small, he dared not risk a general battle, so he retired and took refuge among the inaccessible defences of Snowdon—a safe asylum, a secure retreat on all occasions when the commissariat department of the army was attended to. Anglesey being now in the hands of the English, and there existing disaffection among some of the South Wales chieftains, the prince found himself so hemmed in that supplies could not be obtained. “Urged by the sufferings of his famishing soldiers, and without any chance of relief,” and his betrothed still being a prisoner, Llewelyn was compelled to sue for peace; but King Edward refused to entertain any proposal short of an unconditional surrender. Under the treaty which was then agreed to, it was stipulated that Llewelyn was to do homage in London annually, to deliver up all prisoners, to restore all forfeited lands, to resign the feudal supremacy over his barons; and all the Welsh chieftains, excepting the five barons of Snowdon, were to hold their lands direct from Edward. The conditions of this treaty were strictly observed by the Welsh prince for a period of about four years. To his subjects those were years of suffering. The administration was corrupt; gross frauds were practised on the Welsh; while oppression, tyranny, and cruelties characterized the proceedings of the representatives of the Government. The people complained of the wrongs which they sustained, and mildly but firmly asked for a redress of their grievances; but a deaf ear was turned to all the representations which were made. At last the yoke became intolerable; they appealed to Prince David for assistance, and that prince renounced his “unnatural allegiance to Edward,” and became reconciled to his brother Llewelyn; and the two princes and a number of powerful and influential chieftains organized a concerted movement with a view to drive the English from their land and to re-establish the freedom and independence of their country. Their cause was good, and their object just and noble; but, ah me! they lacked the power and resources necessary to accomplish their grand and holy purpose.

Llewelyn and his brother, having matured their plan of action, at once commenced the campaign. They jointly invested the castle of Flint, on the estuary of the Dee; and from thence they marched to and successfully attacked the castle of Rhuddlan. The Cambrian army then moved along the coast, and were hotly pursued by Edward, who overtook the retreating forces near Conway. Here a general battle was fought between the contending forces, in which the Welsh were victorious. On his defeat the English king retired to Hope Dale, from which he soon recommenced operations, and re-occupied Rhuddlan without experiencing any opposition. From Rhuddlan he “despatched a part of his army by sea to take possession of the Isle of Anglesey,” and from thence, by means of a bridge of boats, this section of the army crossed over the Menai and landed at Moel-y-Don, near Bangor. When the reflux of the tide had broken the communication between the artificial bridge and the mainland, the Welsh army rushed from their hiding-place, and nearly the whole number of the enemy were either killed by the sword or perished in the waves. To Edward this was an unexpected disaster. For a moment it paralysed his operations. He felt that he had underrated the strength and undervalued the generalship of Llewelyn, and to make up for the losses he had sustained he raised fresh levies throughout his dominions.

During the preparations which were being made by Edward for another campaign the Cambrian princes were not idle. They arranged that the younger brother, Prince David, should be entrusted with the defence of North Wales, while Llewelyn would march against the English forces in South Wales. In the county of Cardigan Llewelyn gained important victories against the enemy; with a small body of troops he proceeded to the vicinity of Builth, with a view to consult some chieftains of that locality; and here, unattended and alone, this great, brave, manly, heroic, and magnanimous prince fell by the hand of an assassin. Thus perished, in the year 1282, after a reign of twenty-eight years, Llewelyn, the last native prince of the Cymry!Having reviewed the military career of Llewelyn, I shall proceed to make two or three observations respecting his character as a ruler and citizen. We have abundant evidence to prove that he was a profound lover of his country. He loved her hills and dales, her mountains and valleys, her alpine heights and cwms, or dells, with all the strong passion of a warm and generous heart. Deeper than the love of home, of wife, of kindred, of lands and possessions, was his affection for wild Wales and its people. Of all countries in the wide world, Wales was to him the brightest and fairest, and its people the bravest and best. For her welfare, he sacrificed all he had, all he possessed; and at last his life was immolated on his dear country’s shrine. As a citizen, he was generous and kind. His heart was full of human sympathy, while his spirit was one of the gentlest that ever dwelt in a tabernacle of clay. Although he raised his country to a position of military fame which she had not occupied in previous history, yet war, in his view, had no glory. He loved peace. He desired to live on terms of amity and friendship with the English people and their rulers. But alas! alas! those rulers were bent on the destruction of the independence and freedom of his country. To prevent this, he led his army against the foe, and for a time war smiled upon him; but at last he fell, not in battle, but unarmed and alone, stricken to the earth by an assassin.

Brief, comparatively brief, was the public life of Prince Llewelyn; but grand, noble, and heroic were his deeds. He lived for others, not for himself. For the welfare of his country he laboured, not for personal aggrandizement. The mainspring of his actions was the deep and intense love of Fatherland. The great object for which he worked and fought and suffered, for which he became a public man, the leader and chief and ruler of a brave, a virtuous, an heroic people, was, to secure the independence of his country, the freedom and liberty of its people, and the blessing of permanent peace. To the interests of the land of his birth, the home of his father’s sepulchre, he was ever true, ever faithful, ever unswerving in fidelity and loyalty. If others proved faithless, not so this patriotic prince. If others of his countrymen forsook the true standard of national independence, if they joined the ranks of the enemy with a view to aid in crushing the liberties of an ancient people—a race who could trace their history, without a single break in the narrative, hundreds of years before the appearance of the Divine Teacher on earth—Llewelyn felt it all the more necessary for him to be more fearless in the fray, to put on a bolder and a manlier front, to toil and to work more incessantly in the cause which he felt was founded upon justice, upon right, and equity. For a period of thirty-six years he carried on a successful though an unequal struggle with the English monarchs Henry and Edward. But few, very few, was the number of his soldiers compared with the hosts who made up the armies that fought under the banner of his country’s foes. His were brave men, and they were engaged in a struggle which was dearer and more sacred to them than life itself. They were true soldiers. To fear they were strangers. Deeper than the love of life, than the love of kindred, than the love of estates and possessions, was their love and affection for Fatherland. We hardly know which to admire the more, the people or their leaders, the soldiers or their brave chiefs, the Cambrian army or their lawful prince. They were exposed to temptation, but they yielded not to its alluring charms. Bribes were freely offered to many a Cambrian chieftain, but these offers were made in vain. When at last treason achieved the work which a far more powerful nation than the Welsh failed to accomplish on the battle-field, let it be proclaimed to the world, and let the fact be known to all ages to come, that the traitor was a border man, and not a man in whose veins flowed Cambrian blood. But he accomplished his work, and Llewelyn was no more. His death was the direst calamity that had ever befallen the Cambrian people. Strange as it might appear, nevertheless it is an historical fact, that when Llewelyn’s compatriots found that their brave prince had fallen by the hands of an assassin, the spirit of heroism and bravery appears to have forsaken them. Hence to the best, and to the bravest of the brave, the struggle now appeared hopeless, notwithstanding that Prince David still lived and was free. Though that prince was as brave as his deceased brother he did not command the same amount of confidence which was reposed in the slain Llewelyn. Thus we find, that though the struggle was continued, it lacked the boldness, energy, and high military tactics which had characterized the generalship of the martyred chief. Hence it soon became evident to the enemy that the death-knell of Cambrian freedom and independence had sounded, and that in a few days, or at any rate in a few months at most, this ancient Principality would cease to occupy a separate and distinct place in the annals of the world. That the people in those times should have regarded the downfall of their country, the loss of their freedom and independence, as a terrible calamity, was but natural. In King Edward’s promises and generosity the Welsh people had no confidence. To him and to his immediate predecessor they traced, and correctly traced, most of their troubles with the English nation. They had desired to live in peace; war they did not invite. They took up arms, not for conquest, not to extend their dominion, not to annex new counties to the Principality, but simply in defence of the rights and liberties of their country, which they desired to transmit and hand down to their children and their children’s children. But Providence had, for some grand purpose and design, willed that the weaker nation should be united to the stronger and more powerful people. In this age we behold and recognise the wisdom of His purpose. Though a distinct race, in language, feeling, and mental and physical idiosyncrasy, yet we unitedly admit that the benefits which come to us by reason of our union with the Saxon, are neither few nor unimportant. Happily, too, the ancient feuds between the two races are forgotten. We now live as brethren. The rivalry between us is no longer on the battle-field; we contend not with sword and bayonet. No! the contest is shifted to a more noble, a more beautiful, and a grander scene, with a sublimer aim and object than ever has characterized broad fields of battle; namely, the advancement of material civilization; the triumphs of art and the conquests of science; and the social, intellectual, moral, and religious welfare of the people. May the standard of our contention ever be towards this high ideal! then a glorious future awaits the union of the Cambrian and Saxon peoples.

If now and then we of the former race drop a tear when the shadows of our country’s martyred princes pass by, it is with no feeling of bitterness towards those into whose hands the sceptre of our land has passed. On the contrary, while we remember with pride and gratitude the heroic struggle of the “last of our native princes,” we admit that it is infinitely better for Wales that she should be united to England under the beneficent sway of Victoria, and we have still a Prince of Wales to whom the Cambrian people are as loyal as their fathers were to Prince Llewelyn.

Note.—The historic facts embodied in the preceding sketch are taken from “Carnhuanawc’s Hanes Cymru,” “Warrington’s History of Wales,” the “Cambrian Plutarch,” and “Welsh Sketches.”