Iolo Goch was a celebrated Bard of North Wales, and flourished about the end of the fourteenth and commencement of the fifteenth century. He was the contemporary of the celebrated Owain Glendower, and one of the most devoted and not the least effectual of his partisans; for by his songs he kindled the spirit of his countrymen against the English, and by his praises of Glendower increased their pre-existing enthusiasm for that chieftain. The present poem was composed some years previous to the insurrection of Glendower against Henry the Fourth, and describes with the utmost possible minuteness his place of residence at Sycharth, to which place Iolo, after receiving frequent invitations from its owner, repaired to reside in his old age.

A PROMISE has been made by me
Twice of a journey unto thee;
His promises let every man
Perform, as far as e’er he can.
Easy is done the thing that’s sweet,
And sweet this journey is and meet;
I’ve vow’d to Owain’s court to go,
To keep that vow no harm will do;
And thither straight I’ll take the way,
A happy thought, and there I’ll stay,
Respect and honor whilst I live
With him united to receive.
My Chief of long-lin’d ancestry,
Can harbour sons of poesy.
To hear the sweet Muse singing bold
A fine thing is when one is old;
And to the Castle I will hie,
There’s none to match it ’neath the sky;
It is a Baron’s stately court,
Where bards for sumptuous fare resort.
The Lord and star of powis land,
He granteth every just demand.
Its likeness now I will draw out:
Water surrounds it in a moat;
Stately’s the palace with wide door,
Reach’d by a bridge the blue lake o’er;
It is of buildings coupled fair,
Coupled is every couple there;
A quadrate structure tall it is,
A cloister of festivities.
Conjointly are the angles bound;
In the whole place no flaw is found.
Structures in contact meet the eye
Grottoways, on the hill on high.
Into each other fasten’d, they
The form of a hard knot display.
There dwells the Chief, we all extoll,
In fair wood house on a light knoll.
Upon four wooden columns proud
Mounteth his mansion to the cloud.
Each column’s thick, and firmly bas’d,
And upon each a loft is plac’d.
In these four lofts, which coupled stand,
Repose at night the minstrel band:
These four lofts, nests of luxury
Partition’d, form eight prettily.
Tiled is the roof, on each house top
Chimneys, where smoke is bred, tower up.
Nine halls in form consimilar,
And wardrobes nine to each there are,
Wardrobes well stock’d with linen white
Equal to shops of London quite.
A church there is, a cross which has,
And chapels neatly paned with glass.
All houses are contained in this,
An orchard, vineyard ’tis of bliss.
Beside the Castle, ’bove all praise,
Within a park the red deer graze.
A coney park the Chief can boast,
Of ploughs and noble steeds a host;
Meads, where for hay the fresh grass grows,
Cornfields which hedges trim enclose;
Mill a perennial stream upon,
And pigeon tower fram’d of stone;
A fish pond deep and dark to see,
To cast nets in when need there be;
And in that pond there is no lack
Of noble whitings and of jack.
Three boards he keeps, his birds abound,
Peacocks and cranes are seen around.
All that his household-wants demand
Is order’d straight by his command:
Ale he imports from Shrewsbury far,
Glorious his beer and bragget are.
All drinks he keeps, bread white of look,
And in his kitchen toils his cook.
His castle is the minstrels’ home,
You’ll find them there whene’er you come.
Of all her sex his wife’s the best,
Her wine and mead make life thrice blest.
She’s scion of a knightly tree,
She’s dignified, she’s kind and free;
His bairns come to me pair by pair,
O what a nest of chieftains fair!
There difficult it is to catch
A sight of either bolt or latch;
The porter’s place there none will fill—
There handsels shall be given still,
And ne’er shall thirst and hunger rude
In Sycharth venture to intrude.
The noblest Welshman, lion for might,
The Lake possesses, his by right,
And ’midst of that fair water plac’d,
The Castle, by each pleasure grac’d.