"Llawer iawn o barch yn yr
amser yr Pabyddion yr oedd i'r fynnon hwn - much respect in the
times of the Papists there was to this fountain."
"I heard of it," said I, "and tasted of its water the other evening
at the abbey;" shortly after we saw a tall stone standing in a
field on our right hand at about a hundred yards' distance from the
road. "That is the pillar of Eliseg, sir," said my guide. "Let us
go and see it," said I. We soon reached the stone. It is a fine
upright column about seven feet high, and stands on a quadrate
base. "Sir," said my guide, "a dead king lies buried beneath this
stone. He was a mighty man of valour and founded the abbey. He
was called Eliseg." "Perhaps Ellis," said I, "and if his name was
Ellis the stone was very properly called Colofn Eliseg, in Saxon
the Ellisian column." The view from the column is very beautiful,
below on the south-east is the venerable abbey, slumbering in its
green meadow. Beyond it runs a stream, descending from the top of
a glen, at the bottom of which the old pile is situated; beyond the
stream is a lofty hill. The glen on the north is bounded by a
noble mountain, covered with wood. Struck with its beauty I
inquired its name. "Moel Eglwysig, sir," said my guide. "The Moel
of the Church," said I. "That is hardly a good name for it, for
the hill is not bald (moel)." "True, sir," said John Jones.
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