I shall drown the town of Brecon!
It was evidently the last braich, “arm,” of a Triban Morgannwg, but this was all my informant knew of it. From the allusion to Tre’ Byrhonđu, it struck me that there was here probably a tale of Ỻyn Safađon, which had migrated to Ỻyn y Fan; because of course there would have to be a considerable change in the “levels” before Ỻyn y Fan and the Sawđe could put Brecon in any great jeopardy[9].
‘We also got another tale about a cwmshurwr, “conjurer,” who once lived in Ystradgyrlais (as the rustic pronounced it). The wizard was a dyn ỻaw-harn, “a man with an iron hand”; and it being reported that there was a great treasure hidden in Mynyđ y Drum, the wizard said he would secure it, if he could but get some plucky fellow to spend a night with him there. John Gethin was a plucky fellow (dyn “ysprydol”), and he agreed to join the dyn ỻaw-harn in his diablerie. The wizard traced two rings on the sward touching each other “like a number 8”; he went into one, and Gethin into the other, the wizard strictly charging him on no account to step out of the ring. The ỻaw-harn then proceeded to trafod ’i lyfrau, or “busy himself with his books”; and there soon appeared a monstrous bull, bellowing dreadfully; but the plucky Gethin held his ground, and the bull vanished. Next came a terrible object, a “fly-wheel of fire,” which made straight for poor Gethin and made him swerve out of the ring. Thereupon the wheel assumed the form of the diawl, “devil,” who began to haul Gethin away. The ỻaw-harn seized hold of him and tried to get him back. The devil was getting the upper hand, when the ỻaw-harn begged the devil to let him keep Gethin while the piece of candle he had with him lasted. The devil consented, and let go his hold of Gethin, whereupon the cwmshurwr immediately blew out the candle, and the devil was discomfited. Gethin preserved the piece of candle very carefully, stowing it away in a cool place; but still it wasted away although it was never lighted. Gethin got such a fright that he took to his bed, and as the candle wasted away he did the same, and they both came to an end simultaneously. Gethin vanished—and it was not his body that was put into the coffin, but a lump of clay which was put in to save appearances! It is said that the wizard’s books are in an oaken chest at Waungyrlais farm house to this day.
‘We got these tales on a ramble to see “Maen y Gweđiau,” on the mountain near Coelbren Junction Station on the Neath and Brecon Railway (marked on the Ordnance Map), but we had to turn back owing to the fearful heat.’
Before dismissing Mr. Reynolds’ letter I may mention a story in point which relates to a lake on the Brecon side of the mountains. It is given at length by the Rev. Edward Davies in his Mythology and Rites of the British Druids (London, 1809), pp. 155–7. According to this legend a door in the rock was to be found open once a year—on May-day, as it is supposed—and from that door one could make one’s way to the garden of the fairies, which was an island in the middle of the lake. This paradise of exquisite bliss was invisible, however, to those who stood outside the lake: they could only see an indistinct mass in the centre of the water. Once on a time a visitor tried to carry away some of the flowers given him by the fairies, but he was thereby acting against their law, and not only was he punished with the loss of his senses, but the door has never since been left open. It is also related that once an adventurous person attempted to drain the water away ‘in order to discover its contents, when a terrific form arose from the midst of the lake, commanding him to desist, or otherwise he would drown the country.’ This form is clearly of the same species as that which, according to Mr. Reynolds’ story, threatened to drown the town of Brecon. Subsequent inquiries have elicited more information, and I am more especially indebted to my friend Mr. Ivor James, who, as registrar of the University of Wales, has of late years been living at Brecon. He writes to the following effect:—‘The lake you want is Ỻyn Cwm Ỻwch, and the legend is very well known locally, but there are variants. Once on a time men and boys dug a gully through the dam in order to let the water out. A man in a red coat, sitting in an armchair, appeared on the surface of the water and threatened them in the terms which you quote from Mr. Reynolds. The red coat would seem to suggest that this form of the legend dates possibly from a time since our soldiers were first clothed in red. In another case, however, the spectre was that of an old woman; and I am told that a somewhat similar story is told in connexion with a well in the castle wall in the parish of Ỻanđew, to the north of this town—Giraldus Cambrensis’ parish. A friend of mine is employing his spare time at present in an inquiry into the origin of the lakes of this district, and he tells me that Ỻyn Cwm Ỻwch is of glacial origin, its dam being composed, as he thinks, of glacial débris through which the water always percolates into the valley below. But storm water flows over the dam, and in the course of ages has cut for itself a gully, now about ten feet deep at the deepest point, through the embankment. The story was possibly invented to explain that fact. There is no cave to be seen in the rock, and probably there never was one, as the formation is the Old Red Sandstone; and the island was perhaps equally imaginary.’
That is the substance of Mr. James’ letter, in which he, moreover, refers to J. D. Rhys’ account of the lake in his Welsh introduction to his Grammar, published in London in 1592, under the title Cambrobrytannicæ Cymraecæve Linguæ Institutiones et Rudimenta. There the grammarian, in giving some account of himself, mentions his frequent sojourns at the hospitable residence of a nobleman, named M. Morgan Merêdydh, near y Bugeildy ynn Nyphryn Tabhîda o bhywn Swydh Bhaesybhed, that is, ‘near the Beguildy in the Valley of the Teme within the county of Radnor.’ Then he continues to the following effect:—‘But the latter part of this book was thought out under the bushes and green foliage in a bit of a place of my own called y Clun Hîr, at the top of Cwm y Ỻwch, below the spurs of the mountain of Bannwchdeni, which some call Bann Arthur and others Moel Arthur. Below that moel and in its lap there is a lake of pretty large size, unknown depth, and wondrous nature. For as the stories go, no bird has ever been seen to repair to it or towards it, or to swim on it: it is wholly avoided, and some say that no animals or beasts of any kind are wont to drink of its waters. The peasantry of that country, and especially the shepherds who are wont to frequent these moels and bans, relate many other wonders concerning it and the exceeding strange things beheld at times in connexion with this loch. This lake or loch is called Ỻyn Cwm y Ỻwch[10].’
II.
Before dismissing the story of Ỻyn y Fan Fach I wish to append a similar one from the parish of Ystrad Dyfodwg in Glamorganshire. The following is a translation of a version given in Welsh in Cyfaiỻ yr Aelwyd a’r Frythones, edited by Elfed and Cadrawd, and published by Messrs. Williams and Son, Ỻaneỻy. The version in question is by Cadrawd, and it is to the following effect—see the volume for 1892, p. 59:—
‘Ỻyn y Forwyn, “the Damsel’s Pool,” is in the parish of Ystrad Tyfodwg: the inhabitants call it also Ỻyn Nelferch. It lies about halfway between the farm house of Rhonđa Fechan, “Little Rhonđa,” and the Vale of Safrwch. The ancient tradition concerning it is somewhat as follows:—