are no longer open, strangers are neglected, there are no caparizoned steeds, no trusty endearing friendship. No, our country mourns, and wears the aspect of Lent. There is no virtue, goodness, or any thing commendable left among us, but vice, dissoluteness, and cowardice bear the sway. The great and towering strength of Môn {48c} is become an empty shadow, and the inhabitants of Arfon {48d} are become insignificant below the ford of Rheon. {48e} The lofty land of Gwynedd is become weak. The heavy blow of care strikes her down. We must now renounce all consolation. We are confined in a close prison by a merciless unrelenting enemy; and what avails a bloody and brave contest for liberty. * * * * * _Having finished the present small collection of the British Bards_, _I take this opportunity to acquaint the reader_, _that the time in which they flourished is not accurately set down by Dr. Davies_, _at the end of his Dictionary_, _nor by Mr. Llwyd_, _of the Museum_, _in his Catalogue of British Writers_, _in the Archæologia Britannica. Indeed it is impossible to be so exact_, _as to fix the year when the Bards wrote their several pieces_, _unless the actions they celebrate are mentioned in our Annals_, _because some of them_ _lived under several princes_. _This I thought proper to mention_, _lest any should blame the translator for his inaccuracy_, _in settling the Chronology of the Poems_. A SHORT ACCOUNT OF TALIESIN, _The Chief of Bards_, _and Elphin_, _the son of Gwyddno Goranhir_, _his Patron_.