BALA TO SHREWSBURY. ^03 



Whilft now and then fweet Philomel would wail, 

 Or ftock-doves plain, amid the foreft deep. 



That drovvfy ruftled to the fighing gale ; 

 And ftill a coil the grafs-hopper did keep. 



Thefe rural objeds continued, however, for very 

 few miles ; for 1 then entered on a fuccefTion of 

 dreary and open moors, which might have charms 

 for the fportfman, but they had none for me. 



About a mile and a half from Bala, I palTed a 

 bridge called Pont Cynwyd, The bed of the tur- 

 bulent Httle llream is here crowded with huge mafies 

 of rock, deeply excavated into circular hollows by 

 the furious eddying of the water. In one fituation 

 thefe rocks, with the llream rufhing down amongfi: 

 them, form a fmall but pleafing cafcade. 



A little beyond the bridge ftands Rhiwedog, The 

 abrupt Afcent, This was an ancient family feat ; 

 and a vale in its neighbourhood was the fcene of 

 that fevere battle betwixt the Eritifh and Saxon 

 forces, in which the aged Llywarch took an aftive 

 part, and loft his only furviving fon. 



From the fide of a fteep, on the edge of the 

 moors, I was prefented with a diftant view of the 

 vale of Edeirnion, whofe verdure and fertility formed 

 a ftriking contraft with my bleak and dreary fitua- 

 tion.— -The road now led me over Trum y Sam, 

 The Caufeway of the Ridge, a place that has its name 

 from being near a lofty heath-clad mountain, which 

 I pafled at a little diftance towards the fouth. It is 



one 



