Llythyrau Goronwy Owen/Llythyr 2
| ← Llythyr 1 | Llythyrau Goronwy Owen golygwyd gan John Morris-Jones |
Llythyr 3 → |
𝕷𝖑𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖞𝖗 2.
At WILLIAM MORRIS.
DEAR SIR,
NAGE, Fy Anwyl Gydwladwr,—dilediaith! a ddylaswn ddywedyd, eithr os chwi a'm hesgusoda am hyn o dro, chwi a gewch o Gymraeg y tro nesaf.
Yours of the 27th ult. I must own. I am exceedingly ashamed of my poor performance; as to the printing of it, it is to me indifferent; I am no way fond or ambitious of appearing in print and commencing author, for now (thank God) I have no vanity to be gratified by so doing, and if ever I had, my own sense, as I grew up, overpowered and mortified it; and this troublesome world (with my narrow circumstances in it) has now effectually killed it, root and branch. However, if Mr. Ellis and you think it will do any good (besides gratifying men's curiosities and affording matter for criticism) I shall willingly comply with your desire. If it will be printed, I like your method well enough, I mean of putting the Scripture proofs in the margin. I am sorry I cannot send it you so prepared at this time; the reason why is that Mr. Lewis Morris was pleased to favour it with an examination, and marked out some few slips in it as to the poetry, which I have since endeavoured to correct, but with what success, I have not yet heard; and I am not willing that any thing of mine should be made public without the consent and approbation of my tutor. I thought once to have deferred answering yours till I had heard from your brother, but a post or two is no very great loss of time, tho' the worst to be feared is that franks are scarce in Anglesey. Half a sheet of paper such as the ballad is printed on, would contain almost twice as many lines as the Cywydd consists of, and perhaps (if God enables me, and the world allows me time) I may make something that may be thought at leest equal to Cywydd y Farn. If I had time to spare, my chief desire is to attempt something in Epic Poetry; but the shortness of the measures in our language makes me almost despair of success. I have not a turn of genius fit for ludicrous poetry (which I believe is best relished in Wales), and You will see that the few little witticisms in Cywydd y Farf are rather forced than natural. D. ab Gwilym was perhaps the best Welshman that ever lived for that kind of Poetry and is therefore very deservedly admired for it; and tho' I admire (and even dote upon) the sweetness of his poetry, I have often wished he had raised his thoughts to something more grave and sublime. Our language undoubtedly affords plenty of words expressive and suitable enough for the genius of a Milton, and had he been born in our country, we, no doubt, should have been the happy nation that could have boasted of the grandest, sublimest piece of poetry in the universe. Our language excels most others in Europe, and why does not our poetry? It is to me very unaccountable. Are we the only people in the world that know not how to value so excellent a language? Or do we labour under a national incapacity and dulness? Heaven forbid it! Why then is our language not cultivated? Why do our learned men blame the indolence of our forefathers in former ages for transmitting so little of their language to posterity and live in indolence themselves? This is the case for aught I can see yet, and our posterity four or five hundred years hence may (for anything we do to prevent it) judge us to have been in this age as barbarous and unlearned as we conceive our ancestors to have been in the time of the Saxon Heptarchy. And if our countrymen write any thing that is good, they are sure to do it in English. Pa beth yw hyny ond iro blonegen? Are they afraid that their own language should gain any thing by them? or are they unwilling that their countrymen should get their knowledge at too cheap a rate unless they go to the trouble of learning English? But what would I be at? Certainly we are all the offspring of our antient Druids, and perhaps it may have come natural to us (as it was usual with them) to confine all our language to our own heads, and let posterity shift for themselves, as we have done before them.
My compliments to Mr. Ellis, and great many thanks for all favours. I think I heard that you were married to either Miss Jenny or Miss Nelly Hughes; if you are to one of them, I wish you good luck and my compliments to your spouse, and accept the same yourself. From, Dear Sir—Your most obedient humble Servant,
N.B.—I should be glad to hear from you at your leisure.