Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread:
But the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.
Ah! what was then Llewelyn's pain?
For now the truth was clear:—
His gallant hound the wolf had slain,
To save Llewelyn's heir.'[F]
In order to mitigate his offence, Llewelyn built this chapel, and raised a tomb to poor Gelert; and the spot to this day is called Beth-Gelert, or the Grave of Gelert."
I should not omit to mention, that in Mr. Windle's account of Cork, Kerry, &c., there is the following notice of the wolf and Irish wolf-dog.
"The last wolf seen in Ireland was killed in the neighbourhood of Annascuit, near Dingle, in 1710. The place is still known by the name of the Wolf's Step. The Irish called the wolf-dog Sagh cliun; and old Campion, speaking of the Irish, says, They are not without wolves, and greyhounds to hunt them bigger of bone and limne than a colt."
This noble animal is also described as "similar in shape to a greyhound, larger than a mastiff, and tractable as a spaniel."
The following fact will serve to prove that the deer-hound is possessed of a fine sense of smelling, a circumstance which has been doubted by many persons.
The head keeper of Richmond Park is possessed of a famous old deer-hound bitch, remarkable for her sagacity, and for having taken five bucks in one day. After a battue in the Park in the winter of 1845, he directed one of the under-keepers to examine the ground carefully, which had been shot over the day before. He was accompanied by the old dog, who was to act as retriever. She came to a point in one of the covers, as was her custom when she seemed to find a rabbit; but the keeper, finding that it was a hare, called her off. After going some distance, the dog went back and pointed the hare a second time. The keeper put her up, and then found that she had been wounded, having had her hind leg broken. Here the fine sense of smelling was the more remarkable, as this old dog will not look at a hare, nor indeed can she be induced to run after one.
One of her progeny ran a wounded buck into the large pond in the Park, swam after it, killed it in the water, and then seizing it by the foot, swam with it to the shore.
Having now given my reader all the information I can gather on this dog of bygone times, I will gratify him with a letter I have received from a lady whose name is dear to Ireland, and highly placed in the ranks of English Literature:—