Along this road lies some exquisite scenery: and the following passage from the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, will agreeably illustrate the feelings with which it impregnated the author.
“As Helvidius was making an excursion among the mountains, stretching to the east of Moelshiabod, he arrived at the bridge, across a small rivulet; and sitting down upon the grass, fell asleep under the shade of a large holly tree. He awoke just as the sun was sinking in the horizon; a slight shower succeeded; all nature became renovated; and the perfumes, which embalmed the air, seemed even capable of wafting him to the Elysian Fields. The tree, beneath which he reposed, stood in a valley, matchless even in the Island of Madagascar; and the cones of several mountains gave an air of grandeur to the perspective, which nature has forbidden in most other regions. He was lost, as it were, in the enthusiasm of his admiration! At that moment Lord — passed in his coach, apparently insensible to the scenes, through which he was conveyed. Oh! how an indiscriminate mingling with men blunts the best feelings of the human heart! ‘Had his Lordship,’ thought Helvidius, ‘seen these lovely pictures, even a thousand and a thousand times before, he might have derived enjoyment from witnessing them again; since it is the autumnal season of the year; and the woods and shrubs growing out of the rocks, are variegated in a manner, that even Salvator Rosa would have loved to look upon them!’
“Though Helvidius was mortified at this insensibility on the part of the statesman, and felt so ready to condemn his taste and want of sensibility, he was weak enough to feel more at war with himself, than with him: and began seriously to question, which were the wiser of the two; the man who loves, or he who neglects, the varied objects of the material world. ‘He is a Peer,’ exclaimed he to himself, ‘a man of education,—a statesman,—one who is looked up to in the world, as being, in a manner, pre-eminent over his species:—he seems to have little relish for all these objects, which I have been looking upon with such enthusiasm. It must be folly and weakness in me, therefore, to indulge this humour; a humour, which, from what I have seen of mankind, I am sensible, most men, who look not up through every object that he sees, to the Architect, that makes it, would esteem frivolous and idle, if not criminal. There are no silver mines here: nor does this rivulet leave any gold dust upon its shores!’ He sat down mortified. To dissipate his chagrin, he took a volume of Epictetus out of his pocket, and opening the book, his eye alighted upon the following passage. ‘As when you see an asp in a golden casket, you do not esteem that asp happy, because it is inclosed in materials so costly and so magnificent, but despise and would shun it, on account of its venom: so, when you see vice lodged in the midst of wealth and the swelling pride of fortune, be not struck with the splendour of the materials, with which it is surrounded, but despise the gross alloy of its manners and sentiments.’ Upon reading this passage, Helvidius became instantly ashamed of his folly, and reconciled to his enthusiasm. ‘Though this is a man,’ said he to himself, ‘who, like the King of Sweden’s enchanted cup, can almost make the wind turn to any part of the compass, which pleases his humour most: though he is perpetually surrounded by persons, who, if he were to take his shoe from off his foot, hurl it into the air, and proclaim it a god, would worship it as it fell; and though he is a rising sun, whom half the world would worship, yet would I rather be able to trace the Power, which formed this holly tree, up to as far as my imagination is capable of soaring, than be the man for him to shake by the hand; to admit to his banquets; to revel with his minions; to hang, as it were, upon his lips; and to be raised to ecstacy by his smiles!
“Climb at court for me, that will
Tottering favour’s pinnacle;
All I wish is to be still.
Settled in some secret nest,
In calm quiet let me rest:
And far from off the public stage,
Pass away my quiet age.”
On leaving Bangor we proceeded to the pretty little village of Aber, which gives its name to the last of the ferries over the Menai. The walk from the village across the Lavan Sands to the ferry is about four miles. This walk it would be hazardous for a stranger to undertake without a guide, as the sands frequently shift. During foggy weather, the large bell of Aber, given for this purpose by Lord Bulkeley, is constantly rung, as a guide to direct those coming from the island.
Near the bridge is a circular mount, seemingly artificial, which was the foundation of a small castle, probably constructed of timber, as many of the Welsh fortresses were: the vestiges of the moat and its feeder from the river still remain.
“Traces of buildings have been discovered near this spot, which were probably the remains of the prince’s palace, as the inhabitants still pretend to show strangers the foundation of the old kitchen. Several memorials, &c. appear in our Welsh histories, dated Aber Garth Celyn, which is the ancient name by which this place was distinguished.”—Williams.
At the siege of Montgomery, in the reign of Henry the Third, Llewelyn ap Iorwerth took prisoner a potent baron, named William de Breos, whom he conducted to this castle. William, who was both accomplished and handsome, gained not only the friendship of his conqueror, but likewise the affections of his wife, [217] with whom he ventured to carry on an intrigue. This not having been discovered by Llewelyn till after the baron had been ransomed, he condescended to resort to a breach of hospitality, for the purpose of getting him again into his power.
De Breos having accepted an invitation from Llewelyn to visit him, the latter no sooner got possession of his person, than he caused him to be hung on the side of the opposite hill. The next morning the bard of the palace (the princess being ignorant of his fate) accosted her in the following rhyme:
“Diccyn, doccyn, gwraig Llywelyn,
Beth a roit ti am weled Gwilym?”“Tell me, wife of Llywelyn, what you would give for a sight of your William?”
To which the princess answered:
“Cymru, Lloegr a Llywelyn
Y rown I gyd am weled Gwilym!”“Wales and England and Llywelyn,
I’d give them all to see my William!”