With some difficulty we prevailed on the female part of the family to
give us proper directions to the source of the meandering Wye, {111} and
rapid Severn. The latter they only understood by the name of Halfren,
its original British name; it is likewise called in Latin, Sabrina. From
the top of Plinlimmon we for the first time discovered the shaggy summit
of Cader Idris, and the spiral head of Snowdon. “With respect to
Plinlimmon mountain,” says Mr. Malkin, “it is inferior only to Snowdon
and Cadir Idris; if to the latter, in point of size and height. It takes
its name from five beacons; many of which, if not all, still remain, and
are seen at some distance. We may indeed compare Plinlimmon with those
formidable personages of poetical creation, who walk with their feet upon
the earth, and their heads in the region of the heavens.” There is
nothing particularly engaging in the character of this mountain, except
in its giving rise to no less than six or eight rivers, and, on this
account, has frequently been celebrated by the Poet. Though its summit
commands a circle of many miles diameter, yet the prospect by no means
answered our expectations. We descended into a swampy bottom, which
afforded us unpleasant walking for two or three miles, when a most
delightful and well-cultivated valley unexpectedly enlivened our spirits.
The sun was making
. . . . . . . “a golden set,
And by the bright track of his fiery car
Gave signal of a goodly day to morrow,”
just as we entered this interesting vale; the hay-makers, in the coolness
of the evening, were returning to their homes,
“Each by the lass he loved.”
In short, the whole valley breathed delicious fragrance: add to this,
innumerable cataracts rushed from the mountain’s summits, occasioned by
the last copious rains.