We arrived at the castle in Conway greatly fatigued, and equally delighted with our day’s ramble.
Route to Aber—Penmaen Mawr—The pet Goat—Aber—Legend of Llewllyn and the Captive Knight—Road from Aber to Bangor—Penrhyn Castle—Bangor—Inns—The Cathedral—The Castle—Free Schools—The Menai Bridge—Song, Farewell to North Wales, air, Ar Hyd y Nos—Conclusion.
“When the heathen trumpets clang Round beleaguer’d Chester rang, Veiled nun and friar grey March’d from Bangor’s fair Abbaye: High their holy Anthem sounds, Cestria’s vale the hymn rebounds, Floating down the silver Dee, O Miserere Domine!”
ON the following morning, we started for Aber. The coast scenery is extremely grand; and passing, the promontory of Penmaen Bach, a semicircular range of mountains, stretching to the overpeering height of Penmaen Mawr, from a delightful shelter to one of the most beautiful coast retreats in North Wales.
The present road winds round the waist of Penmaen Mawr, and nothing can exceed the terrors that, above and underneath it, meet the eye of the traveller. A few goats are generally seen wandering among the shingly surface; and their motions, though so light, send the loose fragments down, like the fall of a glacier. As I stood gazing on the awful depth beneath, four large pieces of rock rolled into the centre of the road, not ten yards from the place where I was standing, the smallest of which, had it touched me, would have caused instant death, or disabled me in such a manner as to have prevented my venturing upon a second tour. I turned my eyes above, and thought upon the legend of Dolbadarn; and my blood chilled to think, if, by any chance, a steed and rider should be precipitated over its brow—what a spectacle they would exhibit at its base! But, at the time of the legend, there was scarce footing for a goat to pass along, and nothing to interrupt the parties from finally plunging into the sea.
“When last I visited this spot,” said my companion, “I observed a man sitting by the road side, with his hands clasped, his elbows resting upon his knees, and his face bespeaking feelings of deep sorrow. I have a strong aversion to intruding on the secrets of others; but this lorn man, seated in such a solitary situation, and forming so interesting a foreground in the picture, made me desirous of entering into conversation with him, in order to discover the source of his grief.