In the year 1176 the merits and genius of the bards of North and South Wales were displayed in the Hall of Rhys ap Gryffydd, a prince of South Wales, at the castle of Aberteivi. This hospitable lord held a Christmas revel here in this year, to which he invited some hundred persons, including the Norman and Saxon nobility. These he entertained with much honour and courtesy, and amused by feats of arms, field sports, and other diversions suited to the magnificence of the occasion. To these was added a contest between the bards from all parts of ancient Britain. The guests being assembled in the great Hall, and the bards being introduced, the prince directed them to give proof of their skill by answering each other in extemporaneous rhythmic effusions, proposing rich rewards to such as should be adjudged deserving of them by the noble assemblage of judges. In this contest the bards of North Wales obtained the victory, with the applause of all: and amongst the harpers or musicians, between whom a similar contention took place, the prince’s own retainers were acknowledged the most skilful. The fascinating occupations of bard and minstrel continued in the highest admiration with their countrymen, soothing their wild spirit in days of peace, and awaking their ardour in moments of danger. One of the wisest of the ancient Greeks thought that poetry effeminated the state, and advised the expulsion of its votaries; King Edward on the other hand believed that it aroused and inspired a love of liberty, and adopted, in consequence, the cruel policy of cutting off its professors. The tradition current in Wales is that he ordered every bard who fell into his power to be immediately assassinated, an event, whether true or false, now immortalized in the exquisite ode by Gray commencing with these bold Pindaric lines: “Ruin seize thee, ruthless king, Confusion on thy banners wait.” Whether the bards were actually assassinated in this cold blooded manner, or only suppressed with circumstances of aggravated cruelty, the order appears to have been totally dissolved, and the muse of Cambria to have taken shelter in the mountain caves for ages subsequent. During the successful insurrection of Glandwr poetry once more descended from the hills and basked in the few sunny rays that for a short while beamed upon freedom. Amongst the minstrels who sang in the halls of Glandurdwy was Iolo Gôch, who celebrated in lofty strains the prudence and patriotism of his master. The storm that excited a martial spirit in the followers of the houses of York and Lancaster, laid the genius of Cambrian poetry. If at any time its voice was heard, it was either in sorrow at the miseries of the present, or in obscure prophecy of what was yet to come.