CHAPTER XXI.
Twm’s appearance as a “fair” ballad singer at Cardigan. A sudden alarm. Poor Parson Inco. Twm’s hasty flight.
“The longest lane has a turning,” and the weariest journey has an end, and at length Twm found himself in Cardigan, and prepared himself at once to commence his whimsical vocation. Although naturally bold, and more full of confidence than beseemed the modesty of youth, it was not without considerable efforts in struggling with some remains of diffidence that he at length ventured to sing in the public street; but he had fortified himself with a draught of strong beer, and his voice, in his own opinion, being almost unequalled in the country, he thought it foolish to hesitate. He fixed himself in rather an obscure part of the fair; but his musical voice and humorous execution of a comic song soon drew a crowd about him, and put his ballads in speedy request.
Adapting the usual gait and manner of street-vocalists, holding his hand to his mouth to secure increased power, he introduced each song with a whimsical description of its matter, in a strain of drollery that set the grinning rustics in high glee; “Here, my merry men and maidens,” quoth he, “is a pretty song about a young damsel, who was taken in by a false lover, that courted her for what he could get, and having wheedled her out of her heart and money, ran away and left her to wear the willow.”
THE SLIGHTED MAID’S LAMENT. [149]
In comfort and in credit,
By the side of Pen-y-vole
I lived:—all knew and said it,
None could my will control;
Until a worthless lover
Did try my heart to move:
Ah, soon my joys were over!
I listened to his love.From far he travelled to me,
Full many and many a night,
I thought he came to woo me—
My heart was all delight:
My cash he thought of gaining,
It was not me he sought,
E’er mourning and complaining
For clothes—and clothes I bought.A pair of shoes I placed him
Between his soles and ground,
With stockings then I graced him,
With hat his head I crown’d;
Red garters then I bought him,
At fair the best I saw,
To bind his hose, od rod him!
Instead of bands of straw.I bought him leather breeches
Strong as a barley sack,
And laid out half my riches
To clothe the beggar’s back;
I gave him money willing,
(Vexation now upbraids!)
With which the thankless villain
Soon treated other maids.When thus he had bereft me
Of cash, and ah, my heart!
The cruel rover left me,
It grieved me then to part;
Those clothes will rend in tatters,
They cannot last him long:
A curse attends such matters,
False lovers curse is strong!His coat will rend in creases,
His stockings break in holes,
His breeches go to pieces,
His shoes part from their soles;
His hair, like garden carrot,
Full soon will want a hat;
How soon, indeed I care not,—
The devil care for that!
His listeners appreciated his first song so much that all his copies were soon disposed of; so he selected another, before singing which he said: “Now this, my friends, is about a Welsh boy, who was so foolish as to leave old Cymry and go to London, from which place, I warrant you, he would have been glad enough to return, as they have neither leeks, cheese, nor flummery, nor anything else there fit for a Christian people.”
When a wild rural Welsh boy I ran o’er the hills,
And sprang o’er the hedges, the gates, brooks, and rills,
The high oak I climb’d for the nest of the kite,
And plung’d in the river with ardent delight!
Ah, who then so cheerful, so happy as me,
As I skipp’d through the woodlands and meads of Brandee?How oft have I wander’d through swamp, hedge, or brake,
While fearful of nought but the never-seen snake,
And gather’d brown nuts from the copses around,
While ev’ry bush echoed with harmony’s sound!
Oh, gladness then thrill’d me! I bounded as free
As a hart o’er the lawn through the meads of Brandee.Whenever I wander’d to some neighb’ring farm,
How kindly was tendered the new milk so warm,
O’er her best loaf as butter-or-honey she’d spread,
The farm wife so friendly would stroke my white head,
And sure that she shortly again would see me
Whenever my rambles led forth from Brandee.How oft have I run with my strawberry wreath
To rosy young Gwenny of fair Llwyn-y-neath,
And help’d her to drive the white sheep to the pen!
Oh! still I think how joyously sung little Gwen!
The old folks, oft chuckling, vow’d sweet-hearts were we,
Then Llwyn-y-neath maiden and boy of Brandee.At the fair of Devynnock, o’ertaken by night,
Returning, I’ve dreaded the corpse-candle light,
The wandering spirit, the hobgoblin fell,
Of which cottage hen-wives so fearfully tell:
I’ve ran, with my eyes shut, ghosts dreading to see,
Prayed, whistled, or sang as I flew to Brandee.Pleasure and innocence hand in hand went,
My deeds ever blameless, my heart e’er content,
Unknown to ambition, and free from all care,
A stranger to sorrow, remorse, or despair;
Oh bless’d were those days! long departed from me,
Far, far’s my loved Cambria! far, far is Brandee!
This did not take so well as the first, but Twm, now thoroughly interested in his new vocation, commenced a fresh ditty, which he announced as a sequel to the last.
ROSY GWEN.
Rosy Gwen, Rosy Gwen,
Beloved of maids, beloved of men:
Aye, dearly loved of grave and gay,
In youth’s early day—ah, what cheer’d me then?
’Twas her voice so sweet,
Her person neat,
Her form so sleek,
Her spirit meek,
And the cherry-merry cheek of Rosy Gwen.Gentle girl, gentle girl,
Coral lipp’d, with teeth of pearl,
On either cheek a vivid rose,
And raven tresses graced thy brows!
Ah, thou wert my love and playmate then!
Happy lass of smiles,
Unvers’d in wiles,
Of guileless breast—
Of minds the best.
Oh my merry-cheek’d young Rosy Gwen!Years have flown, years have flown,
And Gwenny thour’t a woman grown,
While Time, that bears for most a sting,
Has fann’d thy beauties with his wing;
Yet brighter thou canst not be than when
O’er the mountain steep
Thou drov’st thy sheep,
And sang in glee
A child with me,
Oh my cheery-merry-cheek’d young Rosy Gwen.
As the last was but tolerated, the singer soon found that a merry strain was most congenial to their fancies. He therefore gave them the old and popular duet of “Hob y deri dando,” rendered more comical by his singing alternately shrill and gruff, for male and female’s parts.