Part 25 (1/2)
He sent a quant.i.ty of hot grains from the brewing, to the farmer, next morning, which he afterwards scattered about the farm-yard. The pigeons came, as usual; and eagerly devouring the grain, each and all soon appeared as top-heavy as the veriest tress-pot in Carmarthens.h.i.+re; and, like the said fraternity incapable of returning home, they fell in stupor on the ground. Our hero, a.s.sisted by the farmer, picked them up, tied their legs, and put the whole party in the pound. The squire, who was no other than Prothero, the laughing magistrate, ever pleased with a jest, especially when cracked by our hero, immediately paid the farmer's demand; and Twm generously refused the proffered remuneration for his very effective a.s.sistance.
Our hero never used the money acquired by his art for his own requirements, and we must not forget to say here that the cash our hero received for the parson's horse, was cast into the parish poor-box.
CHAPTER x.x.xIV.
TWM'S poetical address to his ”lady love.” ”A gipsy's life is a joyous life.” Dinas and a singular natural cave. Faithless woman.
Twm's thoughts were not often forgetful of Ystrad Feen, and its inhabitants: the lady ”of the ilk” seldom indulged in silent reverie, without making the absent Twm the princ.i.p.al figure in her day-dream. She had not known a day's peace since his absence, and was daily waving between a resolution to send for him back, to bestow on him her hand, and a deference for her father and proud relatives, who insisted that if she ever married again, it should only be to a t.i.tle and fortune; by which they themselves might share in the honour.
Information was brought to her of his wild excesses, which gave her the greatest concern, as she conceived herself in part the auth.o.r.ess of his misfortunes. Twm, at the same time, felt that his tedious absence from the fair widow was no longer to be endured; and as he knew her to be watched by her father's spies, he determined on paying her a visit in disguise. Previous to putting his design into execution, he composed and sent her the following poem, in which he dwells on, and exaggerates, his own misfortunes, in a strain calculated to move her tenderness in his favour.
CYWYDD Y GOVID. {264}
THE outcast's forced ally is mine And Govid is his name; It is a ruthless savage mate, And like a foe that's pale with hate, To crush me is his aim: His cruel shafts are fiercely hurl'd, He forced me friendless on the world.
If forward, seeking good I wend, My eager steps outstrip the fiend; If backward I retreat from ill, My cruel foe arrests me still:
I seek the flood to end despair, Relentless Govid meets me there, And tells of endless pangs of pride, The wages of the suicide.
Fell Govid's mighty in the land, His children are a horrid band, Who joy in hapless man's distress, Lo, one in debt-one nakedness:- And need against me doth combine; (Fierce Govid's loveless concubine;) And care, that knows not how to yearn, Is Govid's consort, keen and stern: And thus this family of ill, E'er bruise my heart and curb my will.
Though lost to me the tranquil day, My vanquisher I hope to slay; The fierce enormous giant fiend No more the heart of Twm shall rend, If thou, my lady-love! but smile, Thou gentle fair, devoid of guile- Thou darling object of my choice, Oh bless me with a.s.sentive voice, And soon shall Govid lay his length, A curse! struck down by Rapture's strength.
The Lady of Ystrad Feen did not read the pathetic poem without being deeply affected, and tears ran down her fair cheeks as she sobbingly perused it for the fourth time. She still bowed her head in grief, when her maid entered her chamber, and in a tone of complaint informed her mistress that there was a very important and troublesome gipsy in the kitchen, who, after having told the fortunes of all the servants in the house, insisted on seeing her also.
”I am not in a mood to relish such foolery now, so send her about her business,” answered the lady, in a tone more sorrowful than angry. ”It is quite useless,” replied the girl, ”to attempt to send her away; big Evan the gardener tried to take her by the shoulders, and turn her out by force, but she whirled round, grasped him by his arms, tripped up his heels, and laid him in a moment on the floor. There she sits in the kitchen, and vows she will not budge from thence for either man or woman, till she sees the Lady of Ystrad Feen, whom she loves, she says, dearer than her life, and would not for millions harm a hair of her head.”
Although too deeply absorbed in sorrow to have curiosity much excited, she went down stairs, and approached the sybil, who had now taken her station in the hall, asking her, ”What do you want, my good woman?”-”To tell you,” answered she, ”not your fortune, but what may be your fortune if you choose.” ”Let me hear then,” said the Lady Joan, with a faint incredulous smile, walking before her, at the same time, into a little back parlour. Before she could seat herself, the apparent gipsy caught her right hand wrist, and looking round, whispered in her ear,-
”To heal your torn bosom, and ease every smart, Oh take-he's before you-the youth of thy heart.”
The colour fled from the fair widow's cheeks, and in a moment she sank into a swoon in her lover's arms. Soon recovering, she desired her maid to deny her to every body that called, ”as,” added she, with a smile, ”I have particular business with the gipsy.”
A scene of tears and tenderness ensued; when Twm, with the utmost fervour, urged his suit. She replied that her father had insisted on, and received her promise that she should wed no being but who either bore a t.i.tle or stood within a prospect of one.
”You did well,” replied our hero, with the most easy confidence, ”and your promise, so far from militating against me, would really be in my favour, for am I not the son of a baronet? his nature child, 'tis true, but still his son; and you would break no promise to your father in marrying me; but if you did, so much the better broke than kept. I have friends at this moment who are doing their utmost to move my father, Sir John Wynn, of Gwydir, to own me publicly, for his right worthy son; and if he does not, the loss is his, not mine, for I shall certainly disown him else for a father, and claim parentage of some greater man.”
In this interview, Twm pleaded his affection with such persuasive vigour and tender persistence, that the old ”lady of his dream” resisted the promptings of her own heart no longer, and promised to be his in spite of every obstacle. The joy of our hero knew no bounds, nor did the lady very strenuously resist his rapturous embraces; but seemed to find her heart relieved by the resolution she had come to, that now for ever put an end to the conflicting doubts as to her future course, which had so long torn her heart, and banished her peace.
It was now time for the pretended gipsy to depart, as the sun was descending rapidly, and Twm was chary of the fair widow's reputation. He would not have the faintest breath of slander a.s.sociated with her name and so he unwillingly left. She directed him to wait for her, and her confidential friend Miss Meredith, at the entrance to the ancient cave on the top of Dinas, which was the name of the conical hill exactly fronting the mansion of Ystrad Feen. He accordingly took his departure; and winding round the base of Dinas, he crossed the river Towey, which, being then in summer, was there little more than a brook.
After walking over a couple of fields, and a piece of rough common, he had to cross the Towey once more, when he commenced his ascent at the only part of this very steep hill where it was possible to climb.
During his former stay at Ystrad Feen, this wildly-romantic height had been his favourite haunt, as the cave in its side was the greatest wonder. It was in fact a mighty mound, that bore all the appearance of having been, at the period of its formation, convulsed by an earthquake, and in the height of nature's tremendous heavings, suddenly arrested and becalmed, even while the huge crags were in the act of tumbling down its steep sides.
A narrow valley encircled its base, and the mountains around of equal height with itself, separated only by this deep and scanty dell, seemed as if rent from it, during the convulsions of the earth, and Dinas left alone, an interesting monument of the memorable event. The surface of the acclivity was so speckled with huge loose stones, that it was dangerous to hold by them in ascending, as the slightest impetus would roll them downward.