Myths and Legends

"Gelert the Great"

he grave of Gelert can be found just south of Snowdon, in the grey-stoned village of Beddgelert set among the wild mountains of Wales. Here, in a beautiful meadow below Cerrig Llan, is a large stone slab lying on its side with two upright slabs which owes its fame to the legend of Prince Llewelyn ap Iorwerth and his faithful hound.

Llyn Gwynant near Beddgelert

Llewelyn (1173-1240 CE) was very fond of hunting and in the summer he lived in a hunting lodge at the foot of Snowdon. Although he had many dogs, his favorite was the brave Gelert, his great Irish Wolf Hound, not only a dog fearless in the hunt, but a loyal friend and companion at the fireside.

One fateful day on the hunt, Gelert refused to accompany his master further, but instead he ran howling back to the Lodge. When Llewellyn returned he was met by his dog, bounding to meet him, but splashed with blood around his muzzle. On entering his living quarters, Llewellyn found a scene of confusion with rooms disordered and articles scattered in heaps. Now Llewelyn had a son, barely a year old, and as the prince recalled how Gelert and his little boy used to play together, a terrible thought came to his mind!

He rushed to the nursery only to find the cradle was overturned, the bed clothes bloody and though he looked frantically for his son, the child could not be found.

Turning to Gelert, whose muzzle was still wet with blood, Llewelyn came into a great rage and cried, "Thou hast killed my only son", and drew his sword and drove it into the heart of the hound.

Then- as all was silent but for the steady drip of blood onto the stone flag floor, the wail of a baby could be heard. On searching further Llewellen found his son safe and well, lying next to the body of a large grey wolf.

It was plain to see what had happened !

Gelert had killed the wolf whilst defending the baby from attack. Overcome with grief at his hasty action, Llewellyn buried Gelert with all honor and raised a memorial over his grave.

From then on the settlement was known as Beddgelert, meaning "Gelert's Grave" and this is the traditional tale still told today.

Gelert postcard

Gelert's Grave

Gelert's grave can be found a short distance south of the village, following the footpath along the banks of the Glaslyn leads to Beddgelerts most famous historical feature "Gelert's Grave". According to legend, the stone monument in the fields, marks the resting place of "Gelert" the faithful hound of the medieval Welsh Prince Llywelyn the Great.

The story, as written on the tombstone reads:

"In the 13th century Llywelyn, prince of North Wales, had a palace at Beddgelert. One day he went hunting without Gelert, "The Faithful Hound", who was unaccountably absent. On Llywelyn's return the truant, stained and smeared with blood, joyfully sprang to meet his master. The prince alarmed hastened to find his son, and saw the infant's cot empty, the bedclothes and floor covered with blood. The frantic father plunged his sword into the hounds side, thinking it had killed his heir. The dog's dying yell was answered by a child's cry. Llywelyn searched and discovered his boy unharmed, but near by lay the body of a mighty wolf which Gelert had slain. The prince filled with remorse is said never to have smiled again. He buried Gelert here.

Llewellyn And His Dog
by Hon. W. R. Spencer

The spearman heard the bugle sound, And cheerily smiled the morn; And many a brach,

and many a hound, Obeyed Llewellyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast, And gave a louder cheer: "Come, Gelert, come, why are thou last

Llewellyn's horn to hear!

"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam? The flower of all his race! So true, so brave -- a lamb at home,

A lion in the chase!"

'Twas only at Llewellyn's board The faithful Gelert fed; He watched, he served, he cheered his lord,

And sentinel'd his bed.

In sooth he was a peerless hound, The gift of Royal John - But now no Gelert could be found,

And all the chase rode on.

And now as over rocks and dells The gallant chidings rise, All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells

With many mingled cries.

That day Llewellyn little loved The chase of hart or hare; And scant and small the booty proved,

For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied, When, near the portal-seat, His truant, Gelert, he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gained the castle-door, Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound all o'er was smeared with gore --

His lips, his fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with fierce surprise, Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise,

And crouched and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn passed -- And on went Gelert too -- And still, where'er his eyes were cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The bloodstained covert rent, And all around, the walls and ground,

With recent blood besprent.

He called his child -- no voice replied; He searched -- with terror wild; Blood! blood! he found on every side,

But nowhere found the child!

"Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured!" The frantic father cried; And, to the hilt,

his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side!

His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert's dying yell, Passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy can tell,

To hear his infant cry?

Concealed beneath a tumbled heap, His hurried search had missed, All glowing from his rosy sleep

The cherub-boy he kissed.

Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread -- But the same couch beneath Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and

dead -- Tremendous still in death!

Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain, For now the truth was clear;

The gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe; "Best of thy kind, adieu! The frantic deed which laid thee low This heart shall ever rue!"

And now a gallant tomb they raise, With costly sculpture decked; And marbles, storied with his praise, Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pass, Or forester, unmoved; Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear, And there, as evening fell, In fancy's ear he oft would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell.

GELERT

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