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-
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-
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-
Fro annwyl, o freuannau
I weini twrn difwrn lef
Glydwaith rhwng gwlad a thref,
A thair ffynnon dirion wedd
O ddŵr di-
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-
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-
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-
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-
In the very flat furrow-
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-
To serve a turn with carefree noise
Conveniently for both country and town.
And three lovely-
Of fresh water in pure tranquillity.
Lead-
Was to be had on the hill-
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-
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-
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-
To tell the truth, the considerable distance,
From Clogwyn, as far as can be estimated,
To Patrick’s Highway and its dark dyke.