Such was the power of his genius, that the generality of the poets who
succeeded him for the next four hundred years were more or less his
imitators. Iolo Goch, or Red Julius, whose real name was Llwyd, was the
bard of Owen Glendower, and, amongst other pieces, composed a graphic ode
on his patron's mansion at Sycharth, and the manner of life there:--

'Its likeness now I'll limn you out:
'Tis water-girdled wide about;
It shows a wide and stately door,
Reach'd by a bridge the water o'er;
'Tis formed of buildings coupled fair--
Coupled is every couple there;
Within a quadrate structure tall
Muster the merry pleasures all;
Conjointly are the angles bound,
No flaw in all the place is found.
Structures in contact meet the eye
Upon the hillock's top on high;
Into each other fasten'd they
The form of a hard knot display.
There dwells the chief we all extol
In timber house on lightsome knoll;
Upon four wooden columns proud
Mounteth his mansion to the cloud.
Each column's thick and firmly bas'd,
And upon each a loft is plac'd;
In those four lofts, which coupled stand,
Repose at night the minstrel band.
Four lofts they were in pristine state,
But now partition'd form they eight.
Tiled is the roof. On each house-top
Rise smoke-ejecting chimneys up.
All of one form there are nine halls,
Each with nine wardrobes in its walls,
With linen white as well supplied
As fairest shops of fam'd Cheapside.

* * * * *

What luxury doth this hall adorn,
Showing of cost a sovereign scorn!
His ale from Shrewsbury town he brings;
His usquebaugh is drink for kings.
Bragget he keeps, bread white of look,
And, bless the mark, a bustling cook.
His mansion is the minstrels' home,
You'll find them there whene'er you come.
Of all her sex his wife's the best,
The household through her care is blest;
She's scion of a knightly tree,
She's dignified, she's kind and free.
His bairns approach me, pair by pair,
O what a nest of chieftains fair!
Here difficult it is to catch
A sight of either bolt or latch;
The porter's place here none will fill;
Here largess shall be lavish'd still,
And ne'er shall thirst or hunger rude
In Sycharth venture to intrude.'

Iolo composed this ode two years before the great Welsh insurrection,
when he was more than a hundred