‘Yr Owain hwn yw Harri’r Nawfed
Sydd yn trigo ‘ngwlad estroniaid, etc.’
(This Owen is Henry the Ninth
Who tarries in a foreign land, etc.)
But this Owen Lawgoch, the national deliverer of our ancient race of Brythons, did not, according to the Troed yr Aur people, tarry in a foreign land, but somewhere in Wales, not far from Offa’s Dyke. They used to say that one Dafydd Meirig of Bettws Bledrws, having quarrelled with his father left for England. When he had got a considerable distance from home, he struck a bargain with a cattle dealer to drive a herd of his beasts to London. Somewhere on the corner of a vast moor, Dafydd cut a very remarkable hazel stick; for a good staff is as essential to the vocation of a good drover as teeth are to a dog. So while his comrades had had their sticks broken before reaching London, Dafydd’s remained as it was, and whilst they were conversing together on London Bridge a stranger accosted Dafydd, wishing to know where he had obtained that wonderful stick. He replied that in Wales he had had it, and on the stranger’s assuring him that there were wonderful things beneath the tree on which it had grown, they both set out for Wales. When they reached the spot and dug a little they found that there was a great hollow place beneath. As night was spreading out her sable mantle, and as they were getting deeper, what should they find but stairs easy to step, and great lamps illuminating the vast chamber! When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves near a large table, at one end of which they beheld sitting a tall man of about seven foot. He occupied an old-fashioned chair and rested his head on his left hand, while the other hand, all red, lay on the table and grasped a great sword. He was withal enjoying a wondrously serene sleep, and at his feet on the floor lay a big dog. After casting a glance at them, the wizard said to Dafydd: ‘This is Owen Lawgoch, who is to sleep on till a special time, when he will wake and reign over the Brythons. That weapon in his hand is one of the swords of the ancient Kings of Britain.’ Then they moved slowly on, gazing at the wonders of that subterranean chamber; and they beheld everywhere the arms of ages long past, and on the table thousands of gold and silver pieces bearing the images of the different Kings of Britain. They got to understand that it was permitted them to take a handful of each, but not to put any in their purses. They both visited the cave several times, but at last Dafydd put in his purse a little of the gold bearing the image of one of the Owen’s ancestors. But after coming out again they were never able any more to find Owen’s subterranean palace.”
This story of Owen Lawgoch and his sleeping warriors is a version of the well-known Welsh tradition of the enchanted sleep of King Arthur and his Knights.
According to an old Welsh ballad, Owen Lawgoch does not sleep in a cave in Wales, but “tarries in a foreign land”; and Dr. O. T. Lewis, of the University College, addressing the Cardiganshire Antiquarian Society, November 30th, 1910, stated that the garrison at Aberystwyth “was increased in 1369, when Owen Lawgoch with his French auxiliaries were expected from beyond the seas.”