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The Worthines of Wales

Wherein are more then a thousand seuerall things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the Reader, and with such varietie of verse for the beautifying of the Book, as no doubt shal delight thousands to vnderstand. Which worke is enterlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: All the which labour and deuice is drawne forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glorie of God, and honour of his Prince and Countrey

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Of Yale a little to be spoken of.
 
 
 
 



Of Yale a little to be spoken of.

The names of the Riuers of Denbighshire. Keerlock parts Shropshere & Dēbighshere, before Chirk. Dee at newe Bridge, and Thlangothlen. Aleyn in the valley of Yale. Clanweddock in the fayre vale of Dufrin Cloyd. Cloyd receiues Clan weddock and Elwye by Saint Asse. I strade by Denbigh. Rathad comes to the Vorney . Keynthleth comes into Rayhad.

The Countrie Yale, hath Hilles and Mountaynes hye,

Small Ualleys there, saue where the Brookes do ron:
So many Springs, that sield that soyle is drye:
Good Turffe and Peate, on mossie ground is won,
Wherewith good fires, is made for man most meete,
That burneth cleere, and yeelds a sauour sweete
To those which haue, no nose for dayntie smell,
The finer sort, were best in Court to dwell.
This Soyle is cold, and subiect vnto winde,
Hard duskie Rocks, all couered ore full dim:
Where if winde blowe, ye shall foule weather finde,
And thinke you feele, the bitter blasts full brim.
But though cold bytes, the face and outward skin,
The stomacke foe, is thereby warm'd within.
For still more meate, the Mountayne men disgest,
Then in the playne, you finde among the best.
Here is hard waies, as earth and Mountayne yeelds,
Some softnesse too, as tract of foote hath made:
But to the Dames, for walke no pleasant feelds,
Nor no great woods, to shroud them in the shade.
Yet Sheepe and Goates, are plentie here in place,
And good welsh Nagges, that are of kindest race:
With goodly nowt, both fat and bigge with bone,
That on hard Rocks, and Mountayne feedes alone.
Of Wrythen now, I treate as reason is,
But lisence craue, to talke on such a Seate:
Excuse my skill, where pen or muse doth mis,
Where knowledge fayles, the cunning is not great.


But ere I write, a verse vpon that Soyle,
I will crye out, of Tyme that all doth spoyle:
As age weares youth, and youth giues age the place,
So Tyme weares world, and doth old works disgrace.