University of Virginia Library


137

THE MILK-WHITE COW.

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The Welsh are of the Keltic race (the Keltoi and Galloi of the Greeks) and of the same branch as the Armoricans of Brittany. They may be considered to be brothers of the Manxmen and Cornishmen. But the two main divisions, the Cwmry and Gael, differ somewhat in customs and folk-lore. The Welsh fairies exist in greater variety than the Irish, and have the national passion for music and cheese. The merror, or mermaid of the Irish coast, does not appear in Wales. In place of her there is the gwraig, or gwrag, a lake fairy, who is not fishy in the lower extremities, but a good-looking gentlewoman, who sometimes marries, to the prosperity of the bridegroom, with a mortal. The gwragedd generally appear clad in green and are attended by white hounds. They possess a breed of milk-white, hornless cattle, who come up now and then from the lake and feed on the meadows at the side. The legend that follows, simple as it is, is not without its obvious moral. One variation of the story has it that one of the cows remained, turned black and became the ancestress of the present race of Welsh cattle.

[Llyn is Welsh for “lake.”—Author.]
Than Llyn Barfog no fairer lake
Lies placidly to tribute take
From crystal springs and trickling rills,
Amid Caermathen's rocky hills.
Bordered with crag and bush and tree,
Its surface glistens glassily,
While here and there on either side
Slope grassy meadows, green and wide.
At times from out this lake at morn,
A milk-white herd, devoid of horn,
Of elfin cattle, quick emerge,
And to the shore their hoofsteps urge.
They scatter o'er the meadows wide,
And ceaseless graze till eventide,
Then, when the twilight crowns the day,
Beneath the waters sink away.

138

Once near this lake lived Rowli Pugh,
No poorer swain the country through;
Fortune, to others kind, to him
Presented aspect harsh and grim.
So when his neighbors brought him word
His meadow held the elfin herd—
“That might be best for some,” quoth he;
“The visit bodes no good to me.”
But when at night the shrill-toned call
Brought Rowli's two lean kine to stall,
The wondering milkmaid found a third
Was added to that little herd,
Silken of coat, and mild of eye,
Who chewed the cud the others by,
And pail on pail of creamy spoil
Give to reward the milker's toil.
From that time forth began a change
In Rowli's fortune, kind and strange,
And when some thirty years had passed
His herds (her progeny) were vast;
His acres grew, and for his needs
Spread far around his fertile meads;
While where was once his cottage rude
A farmhouse, half a palace, stood.
But avarice, so declares the sage,
Is evermore the vice of age.
The cow grew old. The master said—
“This useless brute is costly fed.
She breeds no more; no milk she gives;
A drain on purse while here she lives,
Profit remains not with the cow;
We'll fatten her for slaughter now.”

139

Well fed in stall the cow remained,
And wondrous was the weight she gained;
And soon so sleek and fat was she,
Crowds came the wondrous brute to see.
Amid them all some few there were
Who said that Pugh her life should spare;
'Twas only greed of gain, they thought,
To slay the cow who wealth had brought.
They led her forth. Her gentle eyes
Looked on the butcher with surprise,
She seemed to know; her pleading look
The spirit of her doomster shook.
She licked his hand, then bent her head
And gently lowed. The butcher said—
“The gentle creature fawns on you;
Shall I not spare her?” “Strike!” cried Pugh.
The man his pole-ax raised on high
And struck. There came a sob and cry.
The blow had only smote the air;
The smitten brute had vanished—where?
And at the lakeside, on a crag,
There stood a stately, fair gwrag,
Who loudly cried, “Come to the Llyn,
Ye milk-white kine, and join your kin!”
From stall, from byre, from field and mead,
Rushed forth the kine of elfin breed;
They crossed the paths, they leapt the close,
They trampled all who dared oppose,
They climbed the crag, they pierced the brake,
They headlong plunged within the lake,
And as Pugh stood in wild amaze
Farmhouse and barns burst into blaze.

140

From thence the tide of fortune turned:
To ashes barns and farmhouse burned;
The corn was blasted in the ear;
The grass was withered far and near;
The land refused its fruits to bear;
The spot all men avoided there;
And underneath the elfin ban
Went Rowli Pugh, a beggared man.