Early in the last century a four-sided hole was discovered by a farmer in this place, covered over with coarse flagstones. Within was an urn, placed with its mouth downwards, and full of ashes and fragments of bone. The urn was certainly one of that period known as the Bronze Age, and belonged to the “days before history,” so we may not unsafely conclude that the ashes it contained were really those of the unhappy Branwen, sister of Bran the Blessed. And so we come back to Harlech Castle, still with its Branwen Tower, built by Edward I. as a bulwark against the “rebel Welsh.” In later days Owen Glendower besieged and obtained possession of the castle, and was in his turn besieged there by Prince Henry. There it was that his son-in-law, Mortimer, died, and there the wife and children of the latter took, for the last time, refuge when the place was once again captured by the English. [Illustration: BRAN THE BLESSED AT HARLECH CASTLE WATCHING MATHOLWCH’S FLEET ARRIVE FROM IRELAND. _Page 36._] The Wars of the Roses caused stirring times at Harlech. The castle was held against Edward IV. by David ap Sinion, who had offered to receive there under his protection Margaret, the unfortunate widow of Henry VI., and her son, young Edward, after she had lost the Battle of Northampton. Against this “rebel” marched Lord Herbert, who called upon David to surrender. But David had done good work for the Lancastrian cause abroad, and he now replied that “he had held a castle so long in France that all the old women in Wales had talked about it; and now he was going to hold Harlech so long that he would set the tongues of all the old women in France wagging.” Great was the slaughter in that siege, during which, it is said, the “March of the Men of Harlech” was written to stir the neighbouring vassal chieftains to revolt against the usurping Edward. “Fierce the beacon light is flaming, With its tongues of fire proclaiming ‘Chieftains, sundered to your shaming, Strongly now unite!’ At the cry all Arfon rallies, War-cries rend her hills and valleys, Troop on troop, with headlong sallies, Hurtle to the fight. “Chiefs lie dead and wounded, Yet where first ’twas grounded, Freedom’s flag still holds the crag, Her trumpet still is sounded; O, there we’ll keep her banner flying; While the pale lips of the dying Echo to our shout defying, ‘Harlech for the right!’” Even in the English words the chant is inspiring in the extreme; the Welsh words, joined to the warlike tune, would stir the veriest coward to play his part like a hero. Sad to say, the brave David was forced at length to surrender, on condition that his life was granted.