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ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ IN MARGAM CHURCH,

En Memoriam

EVANI RISE.

UPON a brass plate placed against a pier in the south aisle of Margam Church are inscribed the following Latin lines, reputed

to be from the pen of Dr. Freind:

"Vos qui colitis Hubertum
Inter divos jam repertum
Cornuque quod concedens fatis
Reliquit vobis, insonatis
Latos solvite clamores
In singultus et dolores
Nam quis non tristi sonet ore
Conclamato venatore ?
Aut ubi dolor justus nisi
Ad tumulum Evani Risi
Hic per abrupta et per plana
Nec tardo pede nec spe vana
Canibus et telis egit
Omne quod in silvis degit
Hic evolavit mane puro
Et cervis ocyor et Euro
Venaticis intentus rebus
Tunc cum medius ardet Phœbus
Indefessus adhuc quando
Idem occidit venando

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Ye, who hold as patron fitting,
Hubert, now in glory sitting;
And delight that horn in blowing,
Which he dropped when heavenward go-

At vos venatum illo duce
Alia non surgetis luce
Nam mors mortalium venator
Qui ferina nunquam satur
Cursum prævertit humanum
Proh dolor! rapuit Evanum
Nec meridies nec aurora
Vobis reddet ejus ora
Restat illi nobis flenda
Nox perpetua dormienda
Finivit multa laude motum
In ejus vita longe notum
Reliquit equos cornu canes
Tandem quiescant ejus manes.

Evano Rise
Thomas Mansel

Servo fideli

Dominus benevolus.

P.

ob. 1702."

Still was he found on sport intent,
When midway Phœbus' course was spent,
And still unwearied was his quest
When set Sol's splendour in the west.

O, ne'er again shall Evan's horn
Arouse our hunt at early morn!
Death, that hunter of our race,
Never satiate with his chase,
Spoiling each sport of mortal birth,
Has run our huntsman now to earth.
No light of day shall evermore
Evan to our eyes restore;
His is night and endless sleep,
Ours the loss that now we weep.
Well, 'mid plaudits justly won,
His long course of life is run;
Hounds, horses, horn, behind him cast,
May he rest in peace at last!

G. T. C.

And say, whose tomb demands more sigh

ing

ing,

Let your trumps sad music borrow;
Change cheery whoops for sobs of sorrow.
What hunter's notes could joy be show-

ing,

While death our huntsman's mort is blow-
ing?

Than this where Evan Rice is lying.
Evan, who taught our hounds to follow
O'er mountain, plain, and valley hollow,
With swiftest foot and surest cunning,
Every beast in forest running.
He at the hour when daybreak freezes
Started swift as stags or breezes;
Still intent pursued his hunting,
Sol's meridian blaze confronting;

Still urged the chase, no respite needing,
When Phœbus to his couch was speeding.
Never again shall morning breaking
Find him our early sport partaking.
Death, alas! that hunter sorry,
Ever keen for human quarry,

Spoiling at last each hunt'neath Heaven,
Has run to earth our huntsman, Evan.
Daylight beams, how bright soever,
Shall bring his face amongst us never.

All ye who kneel at Hubert's shrine,
Now numbered with the saints divine,
Who love the huntsman's horn to wind,
Which to you, dying, he resigned,
Lift up your voice with mournful cries,
Spare not your sobs and heartfelt sighs.
Who lives, that would not hear with pain,
The huntsman's summons sound in vain ?
Or where should tears more justly come
Than here, by Evan Rice's tomb?
His was the joy, o'er dale and hill,
With rapid pace and huntsman's skill,
To follow up with gun and hound
All game on woodland to be found.
His was the foot, than winds more fleet
The early breath of morn to greet;
Nor could the sultry noon prevent
His ardour, on the chase intent;

All you, whoever you may be,
Who to St. Hubert bend the knee,
As many 've done before us;
Who love the horn he left to blow,
To the wide world proclaim your woe,
And shout your grief in chorus.

With visage sad that horn you'll sound,
For Evan Rice is gone to ground.

In vain you whoop and holloa,
No more he'll rise the morn to meet,
Or brave the fierce meridian heat
Of Phoebus (called Apollo).

He was the boy, with dog or gun,
For every kind of sporting fun;

Unmatched his speed and bottom;

His is night's eternal sleeping,
Ours the loss these tears are weeping.
At length, with just renown attended,
He his lifelong course has ended;
Horses, hounds, and horn resigning,
Rest be his without repining!

To Evan Rice,
Thomas Mansel.
To a good servant,
A kind master.

H. S. D.

Still eager when the day was done,
Untired he viewed the setting sun.
Alas! for you his hunting 's o'er;
For you he'll lead the field no more;
For Death, grim hunter of us all,
Greedy of game, both great and small,
Who every mortal's course cuts short,
Has put a stop to Evan's sport.
Nor shall tomorrow's coming morn
Restore him to his friends forlorn.
For him perpetual darkness reigns,
For us, regret alone remains.
Finished his life, his name descends
Praised and respected by his friends.
Horn, horses, hounds, all left behind,
God grant his soul repose may find!

C. R. M. т.

Mountain or flat to him the same,
Till sunset he pursued his game,
And never failed to pot 'em.

But you won't hunt with him again,
For Death, the hunter of all men,

Has taken Evan from us,
Whose greedy maw no mortal spares,
But cuts 'em short, and nothing cares
For Evan, John, or Thomas.

In life he was a well-known crack.
Alas! you'll never get him back.
Yet one thing very plain is,
That tho' of Evan we're bereft,
We've got his hounds and horses left,
So peace be with his manes!

C. R. M. Т.

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Stark

namarch Porth

Holyhead

Caer

Gyli

Menn Mountain

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Cwme

Ancient Wetpons&s

found herein 1830

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NEW HARBOUR

Capet Gorlas Eynnon, holy-well

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Salt Island

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HOLY HEAD

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Cromlech destroyed

Probable line of defence

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Horizontal Scale 12 Chains to an Inch – Vertical Scale 200 Feet to an Inch.

S.E. FLANK OF HOLYHEAD MOUNTAIN,

pentas

Huts

Ty mawr

Peny bone

necklace
1828

Tre
Wilmot

Huts

+
Meinhir

Borth
wen

Fort

PENPHOS

Danish

Porth y
Gwyddel

Penbros

Mawr

DIHAS

Standidge & C. Litho; Nd Jewry E.C.

Memmon

Plas
Milo

Porch
Dafarchy

in 1848

Penryn Owen

Trefienath
Cromlechatn

Cromtech

17 Arthu

Franon ginarch

-Trego

Roman coins
found

Ynys Benlas
Fort

Gorseddyy
Peluyn

Acagian

Towyn capet
Porthy Capel
Copel

Huts
Yes Laered
Cyttizur Gwyddelod

GROUP OF ANCIENT HABITATIONS CALLED CYTTIAU'R GWYDDELOD

ON THE FARM OF TY MAWR, ON THE ESTATE OF THE HON BLE WILLIAM

OWEN STANLEY M.P.

ON THE REMAINS OF ANCIENT CIRCULAR HABITATIONS IN HOLYHEAD ISLAND, CALLED CYTTIAU'R GWYDDELOD, AT TY MAWR,

ON THE S.W. SIDE OF HOLYHEAD MOUNTAIN.

BY THE HON. WILLIAM OWEN STANLEY, M.P.

In many parts of Anglesey, but particularly near Holyhead, are to be seen in rough and uncultivated districts of heathy ground, over which the plough has never passed, certain low mounds, which on examination are found to be formed of a circular wall of stones, but are now covered with turf and dwarf gorse or fern. These walls generally enclose a space of from fifteen to twenty feet in diameter, with a doorway or opening always facing the south-east, and having two large upright stones about four or five feet high as door-posts. These sites of ancient habitations are usually in clusters of five or more, but at Ty Mawr on Holyhead Mountain they form a considerable village of more than fifty huts, still to be distinctly traced. These villages are usually placed in positions sheltered by rising ground from the north-west winds, and are generally protected from hostile attack by rude enclosure walls of dry masonry or by precipitous rocks. Such remains of circular habitations have, time out of mind, been called "Cyttiau'r Gwyddelod," or Irishmen's Huts; but, as Rowlands in his Mona Antiqua observes, this is a vulgar error, if by Gwyddelod be meant the inhabitants of Ireland, who never inhabited Anglesey so as to have left any remains of their creals and cottages behind them, seldom staying long in it: but, "if by Gwyddelod be meant the aborigines, the first inhabitants, as it is not unlikely it may, for the two words that make up that name are purely British, viz. Gwydd and Hela, i.e. wood-rangers, which was perhaps the common appellation of the aborigines, lost with us, and retained only by the Irish, then the objection falls to the ground, and the instance confirms

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