Beddgelert - (pron. Beth-gelert)

‘There once was a Prince called Llywelyn, Dai bach,

The Lord of this Snowdon Wales,

Back in the mists of the mountain, when times

Saw wolves leave their blood-stained trails.’

 

(I sat by the Church of St. Mary out there,

The vicar stared out on his fold,

His rheumy old eyes held the myth and the lies

That the Welsh told the people of old!)

 

I listened, he spoke, and I doubted him then,

The story he told so bizarre,

But when he had finished, I bated my breath,

Walked musingly back to my car.

 

Llywelyn, the hunter, was given a hound,

A present from England’s King John,

A mighty wolf hound that he treasured and took

On his hunting trips, loping along.

 

The Prince had an heir that was merely a babe,

Still swaddled in linens and veils,

The child was his joy, he’d been blessed with a boy,

He was one of the Princes of Wales.

 

Llywelyn went hunting abroad with his pack,

The hounds were all baying the way,

The buglers followed, their blasts on the horn

Drove the hogs that were leading the fray!

 

The hunt brought them venison, gammon and fowl,

The hunt brought them mutton and game,

But Gelert, the hound, was nowhere to be found

Though the Prince called, and bellowed his name.

 

Llywelyn rode back to the palace at dusk,

Dismounted and looked for his son,

The cot was all bloodstained, the covers were torn

And a sign of the child, there was none!

 

Then Gelert leapt up, and he greeted the Prince

With a loud joyous cry in the dark,

His fur was all bloodied, his teeth dripped with gore,

And Llywelyn shrank back at his bark.

 

In thinking his son had been slaughtered, the Prince

Cried out as he lifted his sword,

And ran through the hound as he fell to the ground

And he cursed and he cried, the good lord!

 

But then came an answering, pitiful cry

From the child that lay under a bed,

The boy was uncut, but was smeared with the blood

Of the wolf that lay next to him, dead!

 

The throat had been torn from the wolf by the hound,

Brave Gelert defended the son,

And now that the Prince held the child in his arms

He reflected on what he had done!

 

He cradled the body of Gelert and wept,

And buried in honour his hound,

He set up a stone with the tale that it told

And it stands there today, on its ground.

 

The place is Beddgelert, in Gwynedd, look you,

And hundreds of years have gone by,

But history tells us, Llewelyn the Great,

Was never again seen to smile!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Arielle Ann]

a heartrending tale ...we often keep pets and claim to love them but never can return their loyalty the same...you wrote a tale in old english, in an ancient era but the truth reflects in modern society too...as for your write, as usual you are fantastic with an amazing plot and your awesome way of saying it in rhymes!

[K. D. Kromminga]

I had a group of books that I loved as a child called the "Chronicles of Prydain" by Lloyd Alexander. They are based of elements of Welsh myth, up and to including using names of legendary people and deities of old as characters in the books. It was a five book series and won many children's awards in its day including the Newberry for three out of 5 volumes. Unfortunately Disney made a horrible butchering of the work in their animated film "The Black Cauldron," which while named after the 2 book in the series attempted to mash together the first 2 volumes and part of the fifth in 90 minutes. Needless to say it was one of the box office flops and critical disasters in the Disney legacy.

[BlueDreams]

Story was unstoppably great which ornamented your poem .. Great write Sir .. :-)

[cartera]

Always great, for me, to read narrative poetry. Large tales told in small miracles of poetic telling. Difficult to do and usually given the credit it is due.
Gadzooks, this was good.
ATB
Alex.

[Chris Yip]

Fantastic poetry in expression and style, so well suited to days of yore. The language the rhymes and rhythm all lend to give it that feeling of olden days. Flows superbly and engaging right till the end. Excellent stuff. You and Aaran are one genre of poets.
Hey! it was written by David Lewis Paget ,I just read his name at the bottom. But I still think you are a great writer. Thanks

[Amila Jay]

A story in poem wise, fascinating indeed:)

[Demi Rose]

astonishing write. u have a true gift.

[Jeremy Baker]

Fantastic narrative, with enviable style and written with effortless aplomb!

[Manpreet]

Words cannot describe the depth in this work . The art of telling a story is visible here. A remarkable work and a great write.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

The use of story telling within the wording, is perfect, leaves the reader with emotion and telling tears, well done, good read.

[EmpressPoetess]

What a deeply sad tale but told with grand finesse! Teaches us a lesson; not to judge hastily, but to remember the good first, in the one who erred. Enjoyed!