I append a poem taken from The History and Antiquities of the County of Cardigan, by Samuel Rush Meyrick, published by Longmans of London in 1808, which evidently incorporates folk lore traditions of Cantre’r Gwaelod current in the eighteenth century. (To the best of my knowledge this has never been translated into English before.)

Ychydig o Hanes Cantre’r Gwaelod a Soddodd yn y Môr

Cantref i’r gwaelod a aeth,

DDawnus hwyl ddinas helaeth,

LLe enwog serchog wiw swydd,

Sef dyffryn hoywlun hylwydd,

Mansua hyna i’w henwi.

Y ddinas fawr ddawnus fri

A’i limit oedd yn lawn iach

Yn cyrraedd, ‘does dim cywirach,

O Griciaeth dref ddihefawl

Hyd Harlech, hoyw-lech ei hawl.

Y dref gryfa hyna hon

Oedd a’i thro o ddau tu’r afon

A dwy mal gwlad wrth Sarn Badrig

A’r drydydd nis derfydd dig

A honno oedd, enw a ddug

O radd, wrth y Garreg Rug

Mewn cyfle a’i lle’n llon

Ar rwyfiad y pedair afon.

Dwy ohonynt o le hynt oedd

Wych hynodol farchnadoedd.

Mansua oedd hyna henwydd,

Yr hon a suddodd yn rhwydd,

A CHaeriolyn mewn glyn glas

A PHendamon hon henias.

Tre ddisal fu Almuda,

Ar lan Caeriolyn cur ia,

Hefyd caer y maer Merlyn.

A dyma eu henwau fel hyn.

A hyn oedd dan eu henwau

Yn ffair-drefydd prudd barhau.

Yn y gwastad iawn gwysdir

Roedd deg ychwaneg iach wir,

A saith o lwys eglwysau

I ‘ddoli certh ddelw au cau

A llwyth heb adwyth yn ôl

A ddihangodd yn ddihangol

Ac wyth sydd beunydd yn bod.

Y dydd hwn i’w diddannod.

O’r rhain mae pob yr un

Diffrwst ym min y dyffryn,

Os cywir geirwir y gân.

RHagor roedd saith ar hugain

O felinau deau dwys

Digamwedd adail gymwys.

Yn ei phant gant di-gau,

Fro annwyl, o freuannau

I weini twrn difwrn lef

Glydwaith rhwng gwlad a thref,

A thair ffynnon dirion wedd

O ddŵr di-hallt diwair hedd.

Plwm yn ochr ei gorallt

Oedd i’w gael ar ael yr allt.

A saith fath is eitha a fu

O sylffwr edafwr du.

Oed y byd yr hyd a’i bu

Iawn hoff enwog yn ffynnu

Oedd tair mil, eiddo taer maith,

A phum cant, cyn llifant llaith,

A naw deg enwedigol

A blwydd a’i haflwydd o’i hôl.

Pan drowys y swnd dros y sarn

RHôi godiad rhy gadarn.

Gwrgan Farfdrwch oedd uwchaf

Yn frenin er hin yr haf

A’r gaeaf oer ei gywydd

Y bu’r llif er byrhau’r llwydd.

Oed y byd hefyd hafedd

Tair mil saith cant gyflawn wedd

A thair ar bymtheg ddiwegi

Pan soddodd ei heirfodd hi.

RHwng y ddau oed hyn

Y bu’r dŵr yn ei dirwyn.

Yn nydd Morgan gyfan go’

Soddiad gorffennodd suddo.

Pymtheg brenin eurlin iaith

Bu’n deilio o fewn y dalaith

O Wrgan i Forgan faeth

Taer nawswyllt eu teyrnasaeth.

Yn amser Morgan a’i ymswyn

Yr aeth hi’n llwg yn un llyn.

A hyd y cantref oedd hyn:

O’r Penrhyn i Aberglaslyn,

A’i led oedd gyhoedd o hyd,

Gwirion inni’r gryn ennyd,

O Glogwyn i’w farnu,

I Sarn Badrig a’i dig du.  

A Little of the History of the Bottom County, which Sank into the Sea

A county to the bottom went,

An abundant city of talented energy,

A famous well-loved place of dignified status,

To wit, a prosperous vale, pretty as a picture,

Ancient Mansua to be specific

The great city of gifted repute,

Its border full well

Reached, there’s nothing truer,

From the incomparable town of Cricieth

To Harlech whose beautiful crag is its right.

This very strong ancient town

Encompassed both sides of the river

With two, as it were, territories along Patrick’s Highway*

And a third not terminated by a dyke

And that one which bore a noble name

Was along Heather Rock

In a location with its situation a happy one

At the waters-meet of the four rivers,

Two of them from places where there took place

Splendid outstanding markets.

Mansua which was of the oldest antiquity

Sank quickly,

And Caeriolyn into a blue-green valley

And Pendamon, this one in awful cold.

Almuda was an excellent town.

On Caeriolyn’s hill icy affliction,

Also the city of the steward Merlin.

And so these were their names.

And these were subordinate to them:

Of market-towns of sober career

In the very flat furrow-land

There were in addition ten truly thriving,

And seven holy churches

To worship an empty certainly false idol

And a load without any harm still left

Escaped unscathed

And eight are daily still in existence.

Blamelessly this very day.

Of these every single one abides

Unhurriedly on the edge of the valley

If the song be correct and truthful.

More than twenty seven

Useful busy mills

Of faultless practical construction.

In its lowland a hundred solid,

Dear country, hand-mills

To serve a turn with carefree noise

Conveniently for both country and town.

And three lovely-looking wells

Of fresh water in pure tranquillity.

Lead-blende in the side of its upland

Was to be had on the hill-top

And seven kinds next to the border there were

Of black spinners’ sulphur.

The age of the world during which it

Most delightfully and famously flourished

Was three thousand, its long-lasting strong lot,

And five hundred, before the wet flood,

And ninety, in particular,

And one year, with its misfortune following that.

When the gulf rolled over the embankment

It rose too powerfully.

Gwrgan Cut-Beard was chief,

King for the fine summer weather,

And in the winter with its cold song

The flood cut short all the prosperity.

The age of the world also of summers

Three thousand seven hundred in full measure

And eighteen, seriously,

When its golden splendour sank†.

Between these two dates

The water was trickling into it.

In the time of Morgan of unbroken memory

The inundation completed its sinking.

Fifteen kings of the nation’s golden dynasty

Bore leaf within the province

From Gwrgan to Morgan’s flourishing

Whose reigns were bold and headstrong.

In the time of Morgan and his caretakership

It scurvily became a single lake.

And this was the length of the county:

From Penrhyn to Aberglaslyn

And its width was always well-known

To tell the truth, the considerable distance,

From Clogwyn, as far as can be estimated,

To Patrick’s Highway and its dark dyke.