Part 14 (1/2)

He could hear, in the adjoining room, a pig-drover, whose potations had not only loosened his tongue, but invested it with unusual power, boasting of his roaring trade at Cardigan fair, and he determined to take the same route, wherever it might lead, and on inquiry, found he was going to Llandovery.

The inebriated dealer in cattle, glad of company, stretched out his hand at once and welcomed him as a fellow traveller. About ten o'clock that night they arrived together at Lampeter, which Twm now visited for the second time. The geography of the country being but little known to him, he felt some alarm on finding himself so contiguous to his own native place.

Twm and the pig-drover were getting thoroughly jolly and comfortable over a pot of foaming ale, when Twm caught sight of an old friend. It was worthy Rhys the curate, who had spied him from the little parlour where he had been sitting before his arrival, and now cordially welcomed him to partake of his supper, which was then preparing.

Shaking hands with the elated pig-jobber, from whom he had heard all the mysteries of his calling, and bidding him good night and wis.h.i.+ng him success in his future dealings, Twm joyously accepted the curate's invitation to partake of his evening repast. Supper dispatched, Mr. Rhys informed him that he had left Tregaron for ever, disgusted with the treatment he had met with from old Evans, and was on his way to Llandovery to take possession of the curacy of Llandingad, to which he had been just appointed by the vicar, the reverend Rhys Prichard.

In return, Twm recited his late adventures, colouring them in such a manner as to create a favourable impression on the curate, who laughed heartily at many points of his story, and finished by saying that he had also determined to visit Llandovery in quest of his fortune, which, somehow or another, he thought he should find there.

”Well,” said he, ”your fortunes are altogether romantic, and fort.i.tude such as yours is a virtue that becomes us all. Whatever I can do to get you into employment, when you are there, rest a.s.sured shall not be wanting.” With this understanding Twm's hopes were buoyed up to the highest pitch, and to his sanguine mind, became already certainties, which presented themselves in dreams of various felicitous shapes.

They were both early astir the following morning, and were soon on the road, the curate leading his horse by the bridle, that (generous and considerate soul) he might be on a level with Twm. They had nearly reached the top of Pen-y-garreg hill, over which the road leads from Lampeter to Llandovery, while a bright prospect of the newly-risen sun attracted their mutual attention, when the clergyman thus addressed his companion:

”We are now on the spot to be yet immortalized, perhaps, by the legendary muse, for a deed of blood perpetrated here in our own times; when the banks of the impetuous Teivy, now before us, became the scene of a lamentable tragedy. The towers in the distance, are all that now remain of the family mansion of MAES-Y-VELIN, the fair seat of the ancient family of the Vaughans, once of considerable note in this part of the princ.i.p.ality. Ten years ago, a young lady and her three brothers, the last of that race, were its possessors. The lady named Ellen, was exceedingly beautiful, and beloved by the son of the venerable Rhys Prichard, the present vicar of Llandovery, whose curate I am now become.

”On the very place where we now stand, the young man tied his handkerchief to the end of a rod, that he held as a flag-staff, which was immediately seen by the heiress of Maes-y-velin; and when she could succeed in getting her brothers out of the way, the signal of love was answered by hoisting her own handkerchief to a branch of a tree above the house, on which, both ran down from their respective hills, till they stood face to face on either side of the Teivy, when the fond lover, whenever the stream was unfordable, dashed into the river, crossed over, and caught the fair one in his arms. Perhaps you would like to hear the tragical story at further length; if so, I have employed my leisure time lately in versifying it, and will now read it to you.”

Twm signifying his willing a.s.sent, they took their seats on the side of the hill, when Rhys drew a ma.n.u.script from his pocket and read to his attentive auditor

THE HEIRESS OF MAES-Y-VELIN AND THE FLOWER OF LLANDOVERY.

WHAT is amiss with the maiden fair, What is the sweet one ailing?- Why pale her cheek, and her spirits low And why up the hill doth she daily go, The heiress of Maes-y-velin?

Why are the brows of her brothers dark?

Nor mother nor sire hath Ellen;- Her brothers whisper-her steps they watch- The heart of her mystery eager to catch, The maiden of Maes-y-velin.

The parents of Ellen her merits knew, And frown'd on her brothers' vices: Her brothers are disinherited, And Ellen is heiress in either's stead; Thereat all the land rejoices.

Her brothers one day went out to hunt, And alone at home left Ellen; She watch'd them away, then flew to her bower, And cried ”Oh now for Llandovery's Flower!

Right welcome to Maes-y-velin.”

She hoisted her silken kerchief red, To the highest branch of her bower, To Pen-garreg hill then strained her eyes, And the flag of her hope was seen to rise, 'Twas thine, oh Llandovery's Flower!

Long had he watch'd-the faithful youth!

His wish each day unavailing.

At length he sees with wild delight, His true love's signal, the lady bright, The heiress of Maes-y-velin.

The signal that was chosen between the twain, When absent her stern proud kindred; And then would they rush from either hill, The lovers true, with a right good-will, Till the waters of Teivy sunder'd.

Now as ers't they rush'd, and as ers't they paused, When arrived on the banks of Teivy, They gazed at each other across the stream, And gestured affection's high glow supreme, Till the two hearts grew less heavy.

In plung'd the youth with most anxious speed, The flower of fair Llandovery, The maiden trembling with wild alarms- She brightens-she sinks in her true lover's arms, Deem'd lost her past recovery.

Oh nature hath many warm generous glows- But they say love's joys are fleeting; Most dear to her mother her new-born son, And sweet is the fame that's fairly won, To the blind restor'd, oh the summer's sun Less sweet than the lovers meeting!

Sweet to the donor the generous deed, That serves merit's child, unweeting; Healing is sweet when gashed by the sword; To the wounded heart, the benevolent word: Oh sweet is the breeze to the sick restored; But sweeter true lover's greeting.

Each flower that flaunts in vanity's cap, And sets youthful hearts a gadding, Has its charms, its zest,-but the whole above, Is the magical thrill of sweet woman's love, That drives heart and brain a madding.

And fondly loved this youthful pair, The heiress of Maes-y-velin, And he to whom they called Llandovery's Flower; Oh frequent their meeting and parting hour, Their moments of joy and wailing.