Poem 'Beth Gelert' and the faithful hound

Faithful ... even unto death

Let me tell you a sad but noble story that I first heard in my primary school years. It was actually a poem that was recorded in my school reader around about fourth grade. (it may still be there).

The teacher was standing out front reading in poetic rhyme as I ran my fingers intently along each line, following each spoken word. The longer the poem went, the more I was transported into its realm.

Well, the story goes like this.

Gelert - Prince Llewellyn's Greyhound

The family of an 18^thcentury Prince of Wales, Llewellyn, was recently blessed with the arrival of a new born son, the heir to the title. The baby was dearly loved and cherished by the Prince. Now the Prince would often conduct hare and deer hunts on his estate, for both food needs and sport. Although the Prince had many deer-hounds in his kennels, Gelert was the most trusted, faithful and loved of them all. Typically, on these hunts, Gelert was always the enthusiastic and ferocious leader, bearing the description of 'lion in the chase, a lamb in the home'. On this particular day, the Prince called out time and time again for Gelert to join in the hunt, but Gelert was no where to be seen so the hunt took place without him.

On the Prince’s return from the hunt, he went into the castle and saw a great disturbance in the room of his new born child. He was aghast – the room was a wreak – there was blood on the walls and floor, furniture and furnishings were strewn everywhere and there was no sign of his precious child. Then out from the mangled mess emerged Gelert, blood dripping from his mouth and being instinctively drawn to his master’s side. The Prince understood immediately what had happened and without hesitating, he inflicted his rage on the root cause of his anguish.

“and to the hilt his vengeful sword he thrust in Gelert side”.

Now as the dog lay dying – panting – gasping - bleeding to death, the father heard a faint cry. He rush towards it source and tore back the covering furniture and fabrics, but what he saw caused him to break down and weep – the baby was alive, with rosy cheeks unscathed, but lying beside the infant was the ripped, bloodied and slain body of a wolf.

Yeah, I wept too!

Folks I have to tell you, the teachers’ words that day, spoken some 40 years ago, pierced my heart and etched a vision in my memory that will last a lifetime.

The poem

The poem was written by Hon. William Robert Spencer and was titled "Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound". It was published in Spencer's Poems in 1811 on pages 78-86.

To see the full poem, portraying this story in far more eloquent terms than mine, link to John Nelson M'Jilton's Google book titled High-school Literature "Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound" or if you would like to link to the photo source of the Greyhound above, then do so here.

Gelert's Grave

Today Gelert’s grave serves as a major tourist attraction for the beautiful mountain village of Beddgelert, situated among the mountains and lakes of Snowdonia in Wales.

The name Beddgelert is actually Welsh for ‘Gelerts Grave’ (photo of 'Gelert's Grave').

Sure there are the historians that want to tell us that it's all just a myth, but its a story that continually reminds me to never take irreversible and terminal actions until I have fully investigated the truth.