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xvi laurel in this ‘war of words’ was, however, finally adjudged to the subject of this memoir, whose antagonist is even reported to have fallen dead on the spot, a victim to the unendurable poignancy of our poet’s satire. Strange and incredible as this incident may appear, it is, in a great measure, confirmed by one of Davyth ap Gwilym’s effusions, in which he alludes, with some minuteness, to the extraordinary occurrence.

When Davyth ap Gwilym grew up to manhood, his handsome person and accomplishments rendered him a great favourite with the fair, in every part of the country. According to traditionary accounts, recorded in the age of Elizabeth, he was tall and of a slender make, with yellow hair flowing about his shoulders in beautiful ringlets, and he says himself that the girls, instead of attending to their devotion, used to whisper at church, that he had his sister’s hair on his head. His dress was agreeable to the manner of the age, long trowsers, close jacket, tied round with a sash, suspending a sword of no inconsiderable length, and over the whole a loose flowing gown trimmed with fur, with a round cap or bonnet on his head; these he took pains to make showy, for he was inclined to vie in that respect