“Cursed is the man who kills a Robin,” and ill-luck follows those who take the eggs of this little bird.
The following Carmarthenshire story about the robin appeared in Bye Gones, vol. 1. p. 173:—
“Far, far away, is a land of woe, darkness, spirits of evil, and fire. Day by day does the little bird bear in its bill a drop of water to quench the flame. So near to the burning stream does he fly that his dear little feathers are scorched; and hence is he named Bronchuddyn (Qu. Bronrhuddyn), i.e., breastburned, or breastscorched. To serve little children, the robin dares approach the infernal pit. No good child will hurt the devoted benefactor of man. The robin returns from the land of fire, and, therefore, he feels the cold of winter far more than the other birds. He shivers in brumal blasts, and hungry he chirps before your door. Oh, my child, then, in pity throw a few crumbs to the poor redbreast.”
This old Welsh legend has been rendered into verse by the poet Whittier.
THE WREN—Y DRYW.
It seems from the following Welsh rhyme that the wren was also a sacred bird:—
“Pwy bynag doro nyth y dryw,
Ni wel byth mo wyneb Duw.”
(Whoever breaks a wren’s nest
Shall never know the Heavenly rest.)