BEDDGELERT.
Some are of opinion that this word should be written Celert or Cilert, Bedd-Cilert, or Cilert’s grave; supposing that a monk or saint of that name was buried here. Another celebrated bard was entombed at this place, named Daffydd Nanmor, who died about the year 1460.
The Goat is an excellent inn, and every attention the traveller can desire is paid with the greatest celerity. Twenty post horses are kept at this inn for travellers, and eight or ten ponys for the accommodation of those visitors who wish to ascend Snowdon with ease and safety. [240]
At nine o’clock, I strolled from the inn to the bridge, where I was joined by a peasant, who, by his appearance, promised to be communicative. It was a lovely evening; there was no moon, but the clear sky displayed its burning host, in beautiful array. No breath of air disturbed the silent slumbers of the peaceful woods. The lull of rippling waters alone struck upon the ear, yielding a solemn tone like the deep swell of the organ, breaking upon the deepest solitude.
In such a situation how indescribable is the feeling which takes possession of us! What language can express, what tongue can utter it? My very breathing seemed to disturb the excessive sweetness of nature’s melody.
“This is a very pretty place, sir,” said the peasant, interrupting my reverie.
“It is indeed,” I replied.
“I suppose, sir, you’ve been to visit the grave of Gelert, Llewellyn’s hound?”
“I have. Do you believe the legend?”
“Indeed, sir, I do,” said he with a sigh; “but I never thought a man could feel so much for the death of a brute, until last year—hai how!”