It was on this occasion that a bard of that day wrote the stanza which appears on the title page, thus translated by the late Iolo Morganwg:—
“In Ystrad Feen a doleful sound
Pervades the hollow hills around;
The very stones with terror melt,
Such fear of Twn Shon Catty felt.”
Fortune still favoured Twm, who reaching the foot of Dinas somewhat in advance of his motley train of pursuers, dismounted, sprung from stone to stone, that formed the ford of the Tower, and climbed the steep side of that majestic mount, with the utmost ease. Like a prudent sea-captain, Twm was chased in his small boat by a fleet of rovers, till he reaches his own war-ship, and springs up her fort-like side, and treads his deck in the ecstasy of surmounted peril, conscious strength, and superiority.
Thus Twm now attained the summit of a prominent knoll, and waved his hand triumphantly, in defiance of his foes below. Evans of Tregaron, with his crew of catchpoles, made an attempt to climb also; Twm permitted them to advance about twenty yards above the river, when he ended the warfare, by rolling down several huge stones, that swept them in a mass into the bed of the river Towey, sadly bruised, but more frightened, from whence they were extricated by the amazed and terrified spectators.
Evans of Tregaron met with an accident, which during the remainder of his life reminded him of his hasty chase after Twm Shon Catty. In starting aside to avoid the dreadful leaping crags that threatened to crush him, his pistols went off in his pockets, and carried away, besides his coat skirts and the rear of his black breaches, a large portion of postern flesh, that deprived him forever after of that agreeable cushion which nature had provided.
Amusing to the population of Tregaron was the singular sight of their crest-fallen magistrate and his hated gang, brought home in woeful plight, as inside passenger of a dung-cart, which had been hired for the purpose; and more than all, that his discomfiture should have been caused by their long-lost countryman Twm Shon Catty.
Our hero was clearly in an unassailable position, and his enemies were not so stupid as to be entirely blind to that important fact. So, like a princely chieftain of the days of old, enthroned upon his native tower of strength, marking in his soul’s high pride the awkward predicament of his baffled foes, perceiving them all depart; leaving him the undisputed lord of his alpine territory, the glorious height of Dinas.
After witnessing, with his limbs stretched upon his mountain couch, the glorious beauty of the setting sun, he entered the cave, tore from its top a sufficiency of fern and heather to form his bed, threw on it his fatigued, over-exerted frame, and slept soundly until morning.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Twm at Brecon. An angling feat. Twm in a musical character. Wins the prize offered for a poem. A new style of marriage—and some other little “odds and ends.” Conclusion.