But away, away flew the enchanted steed over moss and moor, o’er hill and dale, through ford and forest; while of those who followed up the chase some were smothered, horse and rider, in the deep morass; some broke their necks in attempting to leap stone walls; some dangled from the boughs in woody dell, or perished in the river, dashed by the torrent against broken rocks; and they cursed, and died as they cursed.
But Sir William of Montgomery pricked on his horse all foaming, and, as the strength of the noble animal began to fail, he cried aloud upon his patron saint to aid him. It was a charm of power, for it was a holy one; and the creature shook the foam from his mouth, and with recovered strength, dashed on in the pursuit. That charm, too, struck upon the heart of the palfrey, which began to fail him, and he tried in vain to keep the speed he had hitherto maintained. But the impetuous knight, seeing that he gained upon his lady love, furiously urged on his charger, and with desperate rashness, burying his rowels in his side, exclaimed—“Hell kite, speed on!”—the very words the witch had given as a charm to Hector, and the name of the palfrey.
No sooner was it pronounced, than his speed returned, and away, away the enchanted steed rushed on, as swiftly as before! The lady was, by this time, nearly senseless; her eyes were dimmed from the effect of the air, as she cut through it; and her heart trembled within her, like a fluttering dove. She cast an imploring look behind upon her lover, and raised one snowy arm beseechingly. He saw the action, and fancied he heard her voice, faintly calling upon him for aid. But it was to Him who governs all, she prayed; and again the wild horse felt the sacred power. But he had nearly reached the goal. With voice and spur the gallant knight pressed on up the rising ground, the summit of which, unknown to Margaret, or the knight, looked over the broad ocean;—it was the terrific Penman Maur.
Nearer and nearer did the knight approach; his charger’s foam was on the palfrey’s flanks. Another bound, and he was at the side of Margaret—another, and there was one loud wild scream that startled the eagles from their nests. Montgomery had clasped his lady round her waist, and borne her to his saddle bow. It was the movement of an instant—but, in that instant, steeds, knight, and lady plunged from the precipice’s edge! The first fall of fifty feet crushed the palfrey and war-horse; and the foul spirit, quitting the enchanted steed, like a dark cormorant hovered over the group.
The knight still clasped the maiden in his arms, whose shrieks were answered by the eagles’ screams; and the lovers were dashed from rock to rock, battered and bloody. The maiden fainted; but Sir William held her with the tenacious grasp of despair, with one arm to his breast, and with his right hand seized a dwarfish thorn—the only one that grew out of the rifted rock! But still there was no resting place for feet to stand upon, while the broken fragments of the cliff, disturbed by the weight of the fall, thundered downwards from above, and around them in every direction. One large mass struck the unhappy knight; the fragile thorn gave way, and the next moment beheld the loving pair, mutilated carcasses, floating upon the reckless waves! The eagles gorged upon their flesh, and not a vestige of the lost ones was left. A white scarf which Margaret wore, and which streamed, like the banner of death, from the blasted thorn, alone remained to tell the fate of Sir William of Montgomery, and his blooming bride!
CHAPTER X.
The church of Llanberis—Monumental inscriptions—Story of little John Closs—The Pellings—Capel Curig—Moel Siabod—Castle of Dolwyddélan—Falls of Benclog—Llyn Ogwen—Llyn Idwal—Story of Idwal—Route to Llanrwst—Falls of Rhaiadr y Wennol—Bettws y Coed—The church—Monuments—Pont y Pair—Ogo ap Shenkin, a Legend—Glee, “Shenkin was a noble fellow!”
“Of a noble race was Shenkin!
Thrum, thrum, thrum,
Of the line of Owen Tudor,
Thrum, thrum, thrum,
But her renown was fled and gone,
Thrum, thrum, thrum,
But her renown was fled and gone,
Since cruel love pursued her!”JOHN DRYDEN.
Returning to the Victoria, I partook of the refreshments provided, and then retracing my steps, I visited the little rustic church of Llanberis, which, for its simplicity, is well worthy of attention. Upon entering the doorway, there is a small stone font placed upon a pedestal which is approached by three stone steps: it resembles a small washing tub, and its cover is much like a copper-lid. Advancing into the interior, the music loft is upon the left, under which is a dilapidated screen, opposite to the font. A doorway in the centre of the screen leads into the body of the church, where ancient oaken benches are ranged upon either side, and the pulpit and communion table are immediately in front. The old arched roof is held together by iron pins, which project on each side of the timbers, and the whole interior is whitewashed. The only pew in the church adjoins the communion table, both of which have suffered materially by the worm and time. The few monuments in this simple structure are upon small slate slabs, about the size of a school-boy’s, and are hung up on the wooden beams. There are two of wood, with letters cut deeply into the small square, thus:
Ina
Tan! hun! Ofe! mae
Gorwedd! Corph
ROE! ei oed! 60
Y Dudd! Y Cladd wud
E brill! 10! 1719.