Each afternoon in beauty clear Above my own dear bounds appear!
Bright outline of a blessed clime, Again, though sunk, arise sublime -Upon my errand, swift repair, And unto green Glamorgan bear Good days and terms of courtesy From my dear country and from me!
Move round - but need I thee command? -
Its chalk-white halls, which cheerful stand -Pleasant thy own pavilions too -
Its fields and orchards fair to view.
"O, pleasant is thy task and high In radiant warmth to roam the sky, To keep from ill that kindly ground, Its meads and farms, where mead is found, A land whose commons live content, Where each man's lot is excellent, Where hosts to hail thee shall upstand, Where lads are bold and lasses bland, A land I oft from hill that's high Have gazed upon with raptur'd eye;Where maids are trained in virtue's school, Where duteous wives spin dainty wool;A country with each gift supplied, Confronting Cornwall's cliffs of pride."Came to Llanguick, a hamlet situated near a tremendous gorge, the sides of which were covered with wood. Thence to the village of Tawy Bridge, at the bottom of a beautiful valley, through which runs the Tawy, which, after the Taf, is the most considerable river in Glamorganshire. Continuing my course, I passed by an enormous edifice which stood on my right hand. It had huge chimneys, which were casting forth smoke, and from within I heard the noise of a steam-engine and the roar of furnaces.
"What place is this?" said, I to a boy.
"Gwaith haiarn, sir; ym perthyn i Mr Pearson. Mr Pearson's iron works, sir."I proceeded, and in about half-an-hour saw a man walking before me in the same direction in which I was. He was going very briskly, but I soon came up to him. He was a small, well-made fellow, with reddish hair and ruddy, determined countenance, somewhat tanned.
He wore a straw hat, checkered shirt, open at the neck, canvas trousers and blue jacket. On his feet were shoes remarkably thin, but no stockings, and in his hand he held a stout stick, with which, just before I overtook him, he struck a round stone which lay on the ground, sending it flying at least fifty yards before him on the road, and following it in its flight with a wild and somewhat startling halloo.
"Good-day, my friend," said I; "you seem to be able to use a stick.""And sure I ought to be, your honour, seeing as how my father taught me, who was the best fighting man with a stick that the Shanavests ever had. Many is the head of a Caravaut that he has broken with some such an Alpeen wattle as the one I am carrying with me here.""A good thing," said I, "that there are no Old Waist-coats and Cravats at present, at least bloody factions bearing those names.""Your honour thinks so! Faith! I am clane of a contrary opinion.
I wish the ould Shanavests and Caravauts were fighting still, and Iamong them. Faith! there was some life in Ireland in their days.""And plenty of death too," said I. "How fortunate it is that the Irish have the English among them to prevent their cutting each other's throats.""The English prevent the Irish from cutting each other's throats!
Well, if they do, it is only that they may have the pleasure of cutting them themselves. The bloody tyrants! too long has their foot been upon the neck of poor old Ireland.""How do the English tyrannise over Ireland?""How do they tyrannise over her? Don't they prevent her from having the free exercise of her Catholic religion, and make her help to support their own Protestant one?""Well, and don't the Roman Catholics prevent the Protestants from having the free exercise of their religion, whenever they happen to be the most numerous, and don't they make them help to support the Roman Catholic religion?""Of course they do, and quite right! Had I my will, there shouldn't be a place of Protestant worship left standing, or a Protestant churl allowed to go about with a head unbroken.""Then why do you blame the Protestants for keeping the Romans a little under?""Why do I blame them? A purty question! Why, an't they wrong, and an't we right?""But they say that they are right and you wrong.""They say! who minds what they say? Haven't we the word of the blessed Pope that we are right?""And they say that they have the word of the blessed Gospel that you are wrong.""The Gospel! who cares for the Gospel? Surely you are not going to compare the Gospel with the Pope?""Well, they certainly are not to be named in the same day.""They are not? Then good luck to you! We are both of the same opinion. Ah, I thought your honour was a rale Catholic. Now, tell me from what kingdom of Ireland does your honour hail?""Why, I was partly educated in Munster."
"In Munster! Hoorah! Here's the hand of a countryman to your honour. Ah, it was asy to be seen from the learning, which your honour shows, that your honour is from Munster. There's no spot in Ireland like Munster for learning. What says the old song?
"'Ulster for a soldier, Connaught for a thief, Munster for learning, And Leinster for beef.'
"Hoorah for learned Munster! and down with beggarly, thievish Connaught! I would that a Connaught man would come athwart me now, that I might break his thief's head with my Alpeen.""You don't seem to like the Connaught men," said I.