Bedd Gelert

Bedd Gelert 2

Bedd Gelert – Pronounced Bathe Gel-aert (with a hard ‘g’) means Gelert’s Grave. The village is in North Wales, and no visit to the area is complete without visiting this grave.

And it is a grave; a grave with a legend attached. The legend has a number of versions, all essentially telling the same story. I will merely repeat what is written on the grave stones. (The one on the left is in English, the one on the right is in Welsh.)

In the 13th century, Llewelyn, Prince of North Wales, had a palace at Beddgelert.

One day, he went hunting without Gelert, “the faithful hound” who was unaccountably absent. On Llewelyn’s return, the truant, stained and smeared with blood, joyfully sprang to meet his master. The Prince, alarmed, hastened to find his son and saw the infant’s cot empty; the bedclothes and floor covered with blood. The frantic father plunged his sword into the hound’s side, thinking it had killed his heir. The dog’s dying yell was answered by a child’s cry.

Llewelyn searched and discovered his boy, unharmed. But nearby lay the body of a mighty wolf which Gelert had slain.

The prince, filled with remorse, is said never to have smiled again. He buried Gelert here. The spot is called, Beddgelert.

I make no judgements as to the veracity of the legend. But it does teach a lesson:-

We always need to hear both sides of the story.

Advertisements

Surrounded by Predators

Reeds

Cornered;
Trapped like prey, surrounded by predators
No way out, nowhere to run.
Such are the words of the lonely poet.

Stuttering with rage
And terror, and panic,
Speech comes haltingly
As the fight continues.

Yet as the end draws nigh,
When all appears lost,
His eyes he raises skyward
In desperation and hope;

And sees the shafts of light
Pouring from behind the clouds
Over distant landscapes,
Enlightening weary souls.

Inspiration from on high
Opens wide the troubled heart
That it may find salvation
In sharing words of comfort.


© 2014  Harcourt 51