“Concenn, the son of Cateli; Cateli the son of Brochmail;
Brochmail, the son of Eliseg; Eliseg, the son of Cnoillaine;
Concenn, therefore the great-grandson of Eliseg, erected
This stone to his great-grandfather Eliseg.”
The characters resemble one of the alphabets in use about the sixth century, at which time this sepulchral pillar was erected. Concenn and Eliseg probably resided at Castell Dinas Bran; and a township adjacent bears the name of Eglwyseg, as well as the stupendous and picturesque mass of rocks that range along the vale, called the Eglwyseg Rocks, from Eliseg. Brochmail, another of the persons mentioned, deserted the protection of the Monks of Bangor at the battle of West Chester, when twelve hundred of those unfortunate unarmed religious were cut to pieces by the forces of Athelfrid or Edilfred, King of Northumberland, A.D. 607. [70a]
Brochmail, whom I suppose to be the same the Latins called Brochmailus, was a great prince in that part of Britain called Powisland, which was then very extensive, stretching from the Severn to the Dee in a right line, from the end of Broxon Hills to Salop, and comprehending all the country between the Wye and Severn. He resided at Pengwern Powis, now Shrewsbury, [70b] in a house situated where the College of St. Chad now stands. He was a great friend and favourer of the Monks of Bangor, and took part with them against the Saxons, instigated by Augustine the Monk to prosecute them with fire and sword, because they would not agree to the forms and ceremonies of the Church of Rome, and forsake their own established customs. [70c]
I was so fortunate as to meet with two persons who assisted in opening the tumulus before the pillar was re-erected; and they gave me the following accounts:—On digging below the flat pedestal in which the base of the Pillar had been inserted, they came to a layer of pebble stones; and after having removed them, to a large flat slab, on which it seems the body had been laid, as they now found the remains of it, guarded round with large flat blue stones, and covered at the top with the same; the whole forming a sort of stone box or coffin. The bones were entire, and of very large dimensions. The skull and teeth, which were very white and perfect, were particularly sound. My informants said they believed the skull was sent to Trevor Hall, but it was returned, and again deposited, with the rest of the bones, in its former sepulchre. By this it should seem that Eliseg was not an old man when he was buried here, and it is wonderful that greater decomposition had not taken place in twelve hundred years.
One of the persons who assisted at the exhumation is now a very old man, and was huntsman to Mr. Lloyd when the tumulus was opened. He says there was a large piece of silver coin found in the coffin, which was kept; but that the skull was gilded to preserve it, and was then again deposited with its kindred bones. I asked if the bones were sound; and he answered (I give his own words,) “O, no, sir; they broke like gingerbread.”
I have now reached the limits I prescribed for myself on the north side of the Dee, and trust I have noticed every thing most worthy of attention. I purpose next to give a short account of the river, and passing Llangollen Bridge, continue my route to Glyndyfrdwy and Sycharth, once the residence of Owen Glyndwr.
THE RIVER DEE.
“On scenes like these the eye delights to dwell,
Here loud cascades, and there the silent dell;
The lofty mountains, bleak and barren, rise,
And spread their ample bosoms to the skies;
While still the rushing river rolls along,
The theme of many a humble shepherd’s song,
And as it rolls, the trout, in speckled pride,
Springs playful in the smooth translucent tide.”
The river Dee forms a beautiful and interesting feature in all the most picturesque views around Llangollen. Passing from Glyndyfrdwy down the river, it successively assumes the appearance of the brawling brook over beds of pebbles; the deep tranquil character of the gliding lake, reflecting on its pure bosom the woods and mountains that surrounded it; the rushing cascade or rapids, over beds of rocks, or through chasms of stone.
“The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Opposed by rocks impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.”