lavengro-第42部分

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principal　meal；　I；　being　the　youngest；　was　left　to　take　care　of　the　

premises；　to　answer　the　bell；　and　so　forth；　till　relieved；　which　

was　seldom　before　the　expiration　of　an　hour　and　a　half；　when　I　

myself　went　home；　this　period；　however；　was　anything　but　

disagreeable　to　me；　for　it　was　then　that　I　did　what　best　pleased　

me；　and；　leaving　off　copying　the　documents；　I　sometimes　indulged　in　

a　fit　of　musing；　my　chin　resting　on　both　my　hands；　and　my　elbows　

planted　on　the　desk；　or；　opening　the　desk　aforesaid；　I　would　take　

out　one　of　the　books　contained　within　it；　and　the　book　which　I　took　

out　was　almost　invariably；　not　Blackstone；　but　Ab　Gwilym。



Ah；　that　Ab　Gwilym！　　I　am　much　indebted　to　him；　and　it　were　

ungrateful　on　my　part　not　to　devote　a　few　lines　to　him　and　his　

songs　in　this　my　history。　　Start　not；　reader；　I　am　not　going　to　

trouble　you　with　a　poetical　dissertation；　no；　no；　I　know　my　duty　

too　well　to　introduce　anything　of　the　kind；　but　I；　who　imagine　I　

know　several　things；　and　amongst　others　the　workings　of　your　mind　

at　this　moment；　have　an　idea　that　you　are　anxious　to　learn　a　

little；　a　very　little；　more　about　Ab　Gwilym　than　I　have　hitherto　

told　you；　the　two　or　three　words　that　I　have　dropped　having　

awakened　within　you　a　languid　kind　of　curiosity。　　I　have　no　

hesitation　in　saying　that　he　makes　one　of　the　some　half…dozen　

really　great　poets　whose　verses；　in　whatever　language　they　wrote；　

exist　at　the　present　day；　and　are　more　or　less　known。　　It　matters　

little　how　I　first　became　acquainted　with　the　writings　of　this　man；　

and　how　the　short　thick　volume；　stuffed　full　with　his　immortal　

imaginings；　first　came　into　my　hands。　　I　was　studying　Welsh；　and　I　

fell　in　with　Ab　Gwilym　by　no　very　strange　chance。　　But；　before　I　

say　more　about　Ab　Gwilym；　I　must　be　permitted　…　I　really　must　…　to　

say　a　word　or　two　about　the　language　in　which　he　wrote；　that　same　

'Sweet　Welsh。'　　If　I　remember　right；　I　found　the　language　a　

difficult　one；　in　mastering　it；　however；　I　derived　unexpected　

assistance　from　what　of　Irish　remained　in　my　head；　and　I　soon　found　

that　they　were　cognate　dialects；　springing　from　some　old　tongue　

which　itself；　perhaps；　had　sprung　from　one　much　older。　　And　here　I　

cannot　help　observing　cursorily　that　I　every　now　and　then；　whilst　

studying　this　Welsh；　generally　supposed　to　be　the　original　tongue　

of　Britain；　encountered　words　which；　according　to　the　

lexicographers；　were　venerable　words　highly　expressive；　showing　the　

wonderful　power　and　originality　of　the　Welsh；　in　which；　however；　

they　were　no　longer　used　in　common　discourse；　but　were　relics；　

precious　relics；　of　the　first　speech　of　Britain；　perhaps　of　the　

world；　with　which　words；　however；　I　was　already　well　acquainted；　

and　which　I　had　picked　up；　not　in　learned　books；　classic　books；　and　

in　tongues　of　old　renown；　but　whilst　listening　to　Mr。　Petulengro　

and　Tawno　Chikno　talking　over　their　everyday　affairs　in　the　

language　of　the　tents；　which　circumstance　did　not　fail　to　give　rise　

to　deep　reflection　in　those　moments　when；　planting　my　elbows　on　the　

deal　desk；　I　rested　my　chin　upon　my　hands。　　But　it　is　probable　that　

I　should　have　abandoned　the　pursuit　of　the　Welsh　language；　after　

obtaining　a　very　superficial　acquaintance　with　it；　had　it　not　been　

for　Ab　Gwilym。



A　strange　songster　was　that　who；　pretending　to　be　captivated　by　

every　woman　he　saw；　was；　in　reality；　in　love　with　nature　alone　…　

wild；　beautiful；　solitary　nature　…　her　mountains　and　cascades；　her　

forests　and　streams；　her　birds；　fishes；　and　wild　animals。　　Go　to；　

Ab　Gwilym；　with　thy　pseudo…amatory　odes；　to　Morfydd；　or　this　or　

that　other　lady；　fair　or　ugly；　little　didst　thou　care　for　any　of　

them；　Dame　Nature　was　thy　love；　however　thou　mayest　seek　to　

disguise　the　truth。　　Yes；　yes；　send　thy　love…message　to　Morfydd；　

the　fair　wanton。　　By　whom　dost　thou　send　it；　I　would　know？　by　the　

salmon　forsooth；　which　haunts　the　rushing　stream！　the　glorious　

salmon　which　bounds　and　gambols　in　the　flashing　water；　and　whose　

ways　and　circumstances　thou　so　well　describest　…　see；　there　he　

hurries　upwards　through　the　flashing　water。　　Halloo！　what　a　glimpse　

of　glory　…　but　where　is　Morfydd　the　while？　　What；　another　message　

to　the　wife　of　Bwa　Bach？　　Ay；　truly；　and　by　whom？　…　the　wind！　the　

swift　wind；　the　rider　of　the　world；　whose　course　is　not　to　be　

stayed；　who　gallops　o'er　the　mountain；　and；　when　he　comes　to　

broadest　river；　asks　neither　for　boat　nor　ferry；　who　has　described　

the　wind　so　well　…　his　speed　and　power？　　But　where　is　Morfydd？　　And　

now　thou　art　awaiting　Morfydd；　the　wanton；　the　wife　of　the　Bwa　

Bach；　thou　art　awaiting　her　beneath　the　tall　trees；　amidst　the　

underwood；　but　she　comes　not；　no　Morfydd　is　there。　　Quite　right；　Ab　

Gwilym；　what　wantest　thou　with　Morfydd？　But　another　form　is　nigh　at　

hand；　that　of　red　Reynard；　who；　seated　upon　his　chine　at　the　mouth　

of　his　cave；　looks　very　composedly　at　thee；　thou　startest；　bendest　

thy　bow；　thy　cross…bow；　intending　to　hit　Reynard　with　the　bolt　just　

about　the　jaw；　but　the　bow　breaks；　Reynard　barks　and　disappears　

into　his　cave；　which　by　thine　own　account　reaches　hell　…　and　then　

thou　ravest　at　the　misfortune　of　thy　bow；　and　the　non…appearance　of　

Morfydd；　and　abusest　Reynard。　　Go　to；　thou　carest　neither　for　thy　

bow　nor　for　Morfydd；　thou　merely　seekest　an　opportunity　to　speak　of　

Reynard；　and　who　has　described　him　like　thee？　the　brute　with　the　

sharp　shrill　cry；　the　black　reverse　of　melody；　whose　face　sometimes　

wears　a　smile　like　the　devil's　in　the　Evangile。　　But　now　thou　art　

actually　with　Morfydd；　yes；　she　has　stolen　from　the　dwelling　of　the　

Bwa　Bach　and　has　met　thee　beneath　those　rocks　…　she　is　actually　

with　thee；　Ab　Gwilym；　but　she　is　not　long　with　thee；　for　a　storm　

comes　on；　and　thunder　shatters　the　rocks　…　Morfydd　flees！　　Quite　

right；　Ab　Gwilym；　thou　hadst　no　need　of　her；　a　better　theme　for　

song　is　the　voice　of　the　Lord　…　the　rock…shatterer　…　than　the　frail　

wife　of　the　Bwa　Bach。　　Go　to；　Ab　Gwilym；　thou　wast　a　wiser　and　a　

better　man　than　thou　wouldst　fain　have　had　people　believe。



But　enough　of　thee　and　thy　songs！　　Those　times　passed　rapidly；　with　

Ab　Gwilym　in　my　hand；　I　was　in　the　midst　of　enchanted　ground；　in　

which　I　experienced　sensations　akin　to　those　I　had　felt　of　yore　

whilst　spelling　my　way　through　the　wonderful　book　…　the　delight　of　

my　childhood。　　I　say　akin；　for　perhaps　only　once　in　our　lives　do　we　

experience　unmixed　wonder　and　delight；　and　these　I　had　already　

known。







CHAPTER　XX







Silver　gray　…　Good　word　for　everybody　…　A　remarkable　youth　…　

Clients　…　Grades　in　society　…　The　archdeacon　…　Reading　the　Bible。



'I　AM　afraid　that　I　have　not　acted　very　wisely　in　putting　this　boy　

of　ours　to　the　law；'　said　my　father　to　my　mother；　as　they　sat　

together　one　summer　evening　in　their　little　garden；　beneath　the　

shade　of　some　tall　poplars。



Yes；　there　sat　my　father　in　the　garden　chair　which　leaned