It is called the Fairies'
Well, and contains the best water in Wales."
I lay down and drank. Oh, what water was that of the Fairies'
Well! I drank and drank, and thought I could never drink enough of
that delicious water; the lad all the time saying that I need not
be afraid to drink, as the water of the Fairies' Well had never
done harm to anybody. At length I got up, and standing by the
fountain repeated the lines of a bard on a spring, not of a Welsh
but a Gaelic bard, which are perhaps the finest lines ever composed
on the theme. Yet MacIntyre, for such was his name, was like
myself an admirer of good ale, to say nothing of whiskey, and loved
to indulge in it at a proper time and place. But there is a time
and place for everything, and sometimes the warmest admirer of ale
would prefer the lymph of the hill-side fountain to the choicest
ale that ever foamed in tankard from the cellars of Holkham. Here
are the lines most faithfully rendered:-
"The wild wine of nature,
Honey-like in its taste,
The genial, fair, thin element
Filtering through the sands,
Which is sweeter than cinnamon,
And is well known to us hunters.
O, that eternal, healing draught,
Which comes from under the earth,
Which contains abundance of good
And costs no money!"
Returning to the hotel I satisfied my guide and dined.
