he City") forming one of
the summits of Penmaen-mawr, and in the heart of that supposed fortress
which no eye in the Saxon camp had surveyed [163], reclined Gryffyth, the
hunted King. Nor is it marvellous that at that day there should be
disputes as to the nature and strength of the supposed bulwark, since, in
times the most recent, and among antiquaries the most learned, the
greatest discrepancies exist, not only as to theoretical opinion, but
plain matter of observation, and simple measurement. The place, however,
I need scarcely say, was not as we see it now, with its foundations of
gigantic ruin, affording ample space for conjecture; yet, even then, a
wreck as of Titans, its date and purpose were lost in remote antiquity.

The central area (in which the Welch King now reclined) formed an oval
barrow of loose stones: whether so left from the origin, or the relics of
some vanished building, was unknown even to bard and diviner. Round this
space were four strong circumvallations of loose stones, with a space
about eighty yards between each; the walls themselves generally about
eight feet wide, but of various height, as the stones had fallen by time
and blast. Along these walls rose numerous and almost countless circular
buildings, which might pass for towers, though only a few had been
recently and rudely roofed in. To the whole of this quadruple enclosure
there was but one narrow entrance, now left open as if in scorn of
assault; and a winding narrow pass down the mountain, with innumerable
curves, alone led to the single threshold. Far down the hill, walls
again were visible; and the whole surface of the steep soil, more than
half way in the descent, was heaped with vast loose stones, as if the
bones of a dead city. But beyond the innermost enclosure of the fort (if
fort, or sacred enclosure, be the correcter name), rose, thick and
frequent, other mementos of the Briton; many cromlechs, already shattered
and shapeless; the ruins of stone houses; and high over all, those
upraised, mighty amber piles, as at Stonehenge, once reared, if our dim
learning be true, in honour to Bel, or Bal-Huan [164], the idol of the
sun. All, in short, showed that the name of the place, "the Head of the
City," told its tale; all announced that, there, once the Celt had his
home, and the gods of the Druid their worship. And musing amidst these
skeletons of the past, lay the doomed son of Pen-Dragon.

Beside him a kind of throne had b