Welsh Traditions and Superstitions - A Historical Article on the Mythology of Wales

Marie Trevelyan

Description

A classic volume of ancient Welsh myths and folk tales.

First published in 1893, this collection of traditional Welsh folklore and mythology illustrates ancient Welsh superstition and belief. The perfect read for those wishing to extend their knowledge of British legends.

Sujets

• Social Science
• Sociologie, société et politique
• Mythology
• Folklore

Informations

• Publié par: Read Books Ltd.
• Date de parution: 06 septembre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781473356405
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Welsh Traditions and Superstitions
A Historical Article on the Mythology of Wales
By
Marie Trevelyan
Copyright 2011 Read Books Ltd.
This book is copyright and may not be reproduced or copied in any way without the express permission of the publisher in writing
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Contents
WELSH TRADITIONS AND SUPERSTITONS
KING ARTHUR AND HIS ENCHANTED KNIGHTS
WELSH TRADITIONS AND SUPERSTITONS .
VILLEMARQU , the enthusiastic authority on Breton lore, says:- It is related that St. Patrick, wishing to know the history of Ireland, went to consult a good old wife, who had seen several generations pass. She had, in spite of her years, an eye still quick, a springing foot, a fine ear, a fresh voice, simple speech, an ingenious and inexhaustible memory, and a heart of fire under the snows of her white hair. The people loved her, followed her, believed in the truth of her tales, and listened to her with admiration. A Welsh shepherd of the Valley of Myvyr met her also wandering in the mountains of the North of Wales. Walter Scott tells us he followed her along the Scottish border. For myself, I have seen her more than once seated at the fire of a Breton peasant-her eye as quick, her ear as fine, her voice as fresh, her heart as warm as in St. Patrick s day. To whoever asked her name, she replied, I am Celtic Tradition.
As of old, in Wales, by the firesides in rural neighbourhoods, where swift-footed progress has not yet ventured, among the humble and primitive-living peasantry, dwelling in the lonely glens, under the gloomy mountains, and beside the desolate shores, the traditions and superstitions of the land are as full of vitality as ever.
Wherever a mysterious cromlech appears, or a half-broken circle of stones is seen, or the last few oaks of an ancient grove remain, there too, in imagination, may be heard whispering voices, that ceaselessly murmur strange and awe-inspiring secrets, handed down from the hoary ages, when the Druids were a power in the land.
Standing beside Arthur s Stone, when the dim land of Gower is purple with autumn mists and vapours, and the ancient memorial of bygone ages is lighted by the weird red glow of the low-burning sunset, it seems as though some unseen power holds one spell-bound to the spot.
Lingering in the cold and pallid moonlight, where the Rocking Stone of Pontypridd looks grey and ghostly under the heavens, it seems as though at any moment a white-robed Druid may beckon one back into the pathless distance of the past.
Pausing to see the great and ancient cromlech at Duffryn near Cardiff, when the scarlet berries of autumn fill the brambles in the thicket around it; or while wandering among the druidical stones of St. Lythan s, and under Cotterell, near St. Nicholas, Glamorganshire, when wintry winds whistle through the bare branches, it appears as though the spirits of the past stretch forth their hands to greet the dreamer of to-day.
Whenever an old woman is seen knitting, and crooning over the past in the twilight, when the glowing embers illuminate the cottage home, or lonely farmhouse kitchen; or whenever an aged man is seen resting awhile in the fireside corner of the worm-eaten oaken settle, of them will be heard the traditions and superstitions of Wales.
Presently, when the stars appear in the purple skies, these aged folk will point out one of the constellations as Telyn Arthur, Arthur s Harp, the Lesser Bear as Arthur s Plough, and Orion s Belt as Arthur s Yards.
Towering regally above all others in the traditionary lore of Wales is the half-mythical half-real King Arthur.
Thomas Malory s Morte D Arthur and Tennyson s Idylls of the King have made English readers familiar with him whose
grave should be a mystery
From all men, like his birth.
But Arthur the King, of sixth century Celtic tradition, is not idyllic.
He is represented as a man of strong will, half-barbarous but noble, free and hospitable, used to the roughest life and adventure-a man of mettle, moved readily to arms at the sight of a sword, and willing to sacrifice himself rather than his honour.
According to the old traditions of Wales, one Christmas Eve the people saw the mystic sword Excalibur held in an anvil upon a great marble stone, and on New Year s Day, when all other knights had failed, young Arthur pulled it out, this proving his right to the kingship, as prophesied by Merlin.
In the Mabinogion, Arthur the King is described as living a primitive life, taking his rest upon a floor strewn with fresh green rushes, over which was spread a covering of flame-coloured silk, with an elbow cushion of red satin. He regaled his guests and knights with venison, boars heads, roast swans, bitterns, spiced collops, metheglin, wine and ale in abundance, while, to quote the ancient tradition, If it should be said that there was a porter at Arthur s palace, there was none. Glewlwyd Gwavaelvawr was there, acting as porter to welcome guests and strangers, and to receive them with honour.
The life of Arthur appears to have been a scene of almost continual warfare, relieved only occasionally by festivities, and those chiefly of a rude and boisterous character. His death is represented as being surrounded by mystery, and the tradition of his enchanted sleep is still told as a nursery story to Welsh children.
I herewith give it, in the words of an aged dame who loved the traditions of her land:-
KING ARTHUR AND HIS ENCHANTED KNIGHTS.
Whether Vivien the wily, after learning Merlin s charm, went and exercised it upon Arthur, as she was sorely tempted to do, I know not, but this I know. After his last battle against the Saxons, Arthur the King and twelve of his knights were seen marching in the direction of Craig-y-Dinas, in the Vale of Neath.
Those who saw them passing through the villages and hamlets, noted a flushed look upon the faces of the warriors whose battle-stained armour glinted in the sunset glow, and said, Why not pause to rest, O King!
But he shook his head, and in silence marched on.
At last, tired out with the heat and dust, the king and his knights paused to rest in a grassy hollow on Craig-y-Dinas, where the shadows were cool and refreshing, and afar in the west the sunset burned low, like a welcome hearth fire, promising comfort and rest at the end of the day. So pleasant was the shelter of the hazel branches, and so cool was the mossy sward in the grassy hollow, that the king fell fast asleep, and one by one his knights slumbered, and all was silent.
When twilight deepened into night, a white-robed figure was seen to hasten towards the hollow, and there was a great flutter of white garments and long flowing tresses on Craig-y-Dinas. And an ancient beldame exclaimed, It is the witch Vivien! but the people said, Tis only the white mist of the evening- tis a sign of more heat to-morrow. But the beldame shook her head, and muttered to herself, For a certainty it is Vivien. She bath successfully woven her charm around great Merlin, and hath longed to use her magic upon the king. I will see.
And in the evening, when the moonlight streamed into the hollow, the beldame visited the spot, and there she saw the sleeping king and his knights, and she shook her head. There, she said to herself, didn t I say twas Vivien the witch! She hath been here waving her long arms, with her magic and her woven paces, and from this slumber the king will not awaken.