Sandoval, Page 1

The Son of Prophecy:

Henry VII and the Imaginary Triumph of the Welsh Sandoval, Page 2 When Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, defeated Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth on

August 22, 1485,1 the bards set their poems cavorting about the country with the news that all

strife was over, and a new golden summertime of peace had begun for Britain.2 Modern students of British history might not be surprised at such rejoicings, for they are familiar with the victory

as the end of the Wars of the Roses and the effective starting date of a new era of relative civil peace and stable government. Yet if we consider the situation from a contemporary viewpoint,

we might wonder that the poets should have been so optimistic. After all, for the past twenty-five

years, Britain had seen royal power ricochet back and forth constantly between the rival houses

of Lancaster and York.3 Every few years, one side’s claimant would seize the throne from the other.4 Why should this Henry Tudor, yet another Lancastrian, be any different from his predecessors? Every king before him had thought to hold the throne for himself and his children, and had failed. Yet Henry did seem somehow distinct, less like another link in a chain of short-

lived kings and more like the inevitable dawn after night. How, we must ask, did Henry manage

to set himself apart in the minds of his people? The answer lies in his ingenious and largely

unstated propaganda campaign to “brand” himself not as a successor to the king of the Wars of

the Roses, but to British heroes of old. Henry Tudor purposefully engineered an artificial

association between himself and the legendary kings Arthur and Cadwaladr for the purpose of

winning the loyalty of both his Welsh and English subjects, and distinguishing his reign as one of

stability after a period of dynastic war. In this essay, we will explore how he accomplished this

1 Griffiths, R. A. “Henry Tudor: The Training of a King.” Huntington Library Quarterly 49, no. 3 (Summer, 1986): pp. 197-218 [journal online]. Available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/3817121, internet, accessed October 28, 2014. 2 Philip Schwyzer, Literature, Nationalism, and Memory in Early Modern England and Wales (Cambridge, Cambridgeshire: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 15-17. 3 Robert Fabyan, The Concordaunce of Hystoryes, 1st ed. Of 1542, Transcribed by John Stahle, University of Wisconsin-Madison Library Collection. http://faculty.history.wisc.edu/sommerville/123/PF008.htm, accessed October 30, 2014. 4 Charles Ross, Richard III (Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1981), 4. Sandoval, Page 3 result by exaggerating his Welsh ancestral connections to these kings beyond warrant, and

playing implicitly upon the cultural imagination of his people, both before and after his invasion.

In order to understand the reason for Henry’ emphasis on his Welsh roots, and why it so

affected people’s perception of him, it is necessary to be familiar with that nation’s legendary

tradition regarding its own history. The Welsh were acknowledged as descendants of the original

Britons who had peopled the isle long before the advent of the Anglo-Saxon conquerors. It was

this ancient people who had produced that most beloved and ideal of all monarchs real or

imagined, King Arthur.5 In his day, they believed, Britain had been united in harmony and justice

was to be had by all.6 Arthur passed on his kingship through an unbroken line to his descendant,

Cadwaladr, last of the great Ancient British Kings. Deeply rooted in the hearts of the Welsh was the Prophecy to Cadwaladr, a legendary message delivered by an angel to Cadwaladr’s very

ears.7 Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the King’s Britain recounted the legend of the

message: “God did not wish the Britons [Welsh] to rule in Britain anymore, until the moment

should come which Merlin had prophesied to Arthur…. As a reward for its faithfulness, the

British people would occupy the island again at some time in the future, once the appointed

moment should some.”8 Geoffrey went on to explain the Anglo-Saxon invasion as the direct result of this divine command. Power was given over, and Cadwaladr’s kingly line fell into

obscurity, awaiting the day when a Welshman would fulfill Merlin’s prophecy, and take the

throne.9 Although Geoffrey’s history was criticized for historical inaccuracy and pure fantasy

5 Anthony D. Carr, Medieval Wales (Basingstoke, Hampshire: St. Martin’s Press Scholarly and Reference, 1995), 4. 6 Patricia Clare Ingham, Sovereign Fantasies: Arthurian Romance and the Making of Britain (Philadelphia, PN: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001). 7 Bernard Andre, The Life of Henry VII, trans, ed. Daniel Hobbins (New York, NY: Italica Press, 2011), Kindle Edition, available at https://read.amazon.ca/?asin=B005WZ0QQG, accessed November 2, 2014. 8 Geoffrey of Monmouth, The History of the Kings of Britain, trans. Lewis Thorpe (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books Ltd, 1982), 282-283. 9 Geoffrey, 285. Sandoval, Page 4 even in his own lifetime,10 even more historians of his day lent the work credence. Passages such

as this one reflect a popular Welsh hope for a return to dominance over their Anglo-Saxon

conquerors.11 The History, known in Welsh as Brut y Brenhinedd, became the foundation of

Wales’ cultural identity—a people of Arthur’s golden age, divinely ordered to rule, only humbled

temporarily for God’s own hidden purposes.12 The mysterious future leader who would reclaim the throne was known as the mab darogan (the Son of Prophecy.)13 The mab darogan concept had risen to new prominence in the early fifteenth century with Owain Glyn Dŵr’s revolt, which revived Wales in its sense of distinct nationality from England.14

Although Glyn Dŵr never claimed to be the mab darogan, he was almost universally

hailed as such by the Welsh wherever he went, showing that the concept was still very much

alive in the minds of the people not long before Henry Tudor’s own era.15

It was within this hopeful tradition that Henry sought to place himself as he prepared to

overthrow Richard III’s regime. He was not, however, so thoroughly Welsh as one would have

expected Cadwaladr’s heir to be. Henry was in fact only a quarter Welsh, on the side of his

paternal grandfather, Owen Tudor.16 The remainder of his heritage was a mix of (more than half)

English, French, and Bavarian.17 While he was indeed raised in a Welsh castle until the age of fourteen in 1471, his uncle Jasper Tudor was forced to raise him in isolation from his

countrymen, for the two lived in the constant fear that Edward IV might seize the lad, jealous of

his own sons’ kingly prospects.18 Henry and Jasper fled to France, where they lived as exiles

10 Carr, 6. 11 Hobbins, “Introduction,” in The Life of Henry VII 12 Carr, 5. 13 Ingham, 5, 72. 14 Carr, 110. 15 Carr, 124. 16 Stanley Bertram Chrimes, Henry VII (Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1972), 3. 17 Griffiths, 199. 18 18Thomas Penn, Winter King: Henry VII and the Dawn of Tudor England (New York, NY: Simon and Schuster, Sandoval, Page 5 until Henry’s invasion.19 Hence he would have had little chance to be formed by Welsh culture.

The historical record indicates that while he became fluent in French during his years abroad,20

he likely never learned the Cymric language.21 In short, he was neither primarily Welsh by blood, nor was his personality nurtured in a particularly Welsh atmosphere. Yet as Henry gazed over the Channel, planning the course of action that would win him the throne, he was well aware of the advantages to be gained by painting himself the heir of Arthur and Cadwaladr.

There was more than one advantage to capturing the British imagination as mab darogan.

On a very practical level, Henry needed a safe English port at which to land his ships, and from which he could march to a suitably defensive position to meet with the king’ troops without having to worry about being attacked before becoming organized. Docking along the southern

coast was impossible—the area lay in the hands of Richard’s Yorkist supporters. England’s

bastions of dependable Lancastrian supporters lay in the North Country, too far away for Henry’s

purposes.22 The coast of Wales proved an attractive alternative, particularly if he could count

upon the Welsh to join him in his march once he landed.23 Courting the Welsh’s good graces, then, became militarily expedient.

A fine line had to be walked, however. If Henry associated himself too closely with

Welsh nationalism, he risked alienating his English supporters, and possibly undermining his chances of obtaining the English throne. It was not enough to appeal solely to the Welsh—what

was required was a rallying symbol that would resonate with his followers in both nations. The

beauty of emphasizing an Arthurian connection was that it produced a happy double effect. The

2012). 19 Penn, 4. 20 Penn, 7. 21 Chrimes, 3. 22 Ross, 208. 23 Glanmor Williams, Renewal and Reformation: Wales c. 1415-1642 (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1987), 219. Sandoval, Page 6 legend of King Arthur had a place in the hearts of both nations.24 By stressing his Welsh roots,

Henry secured the love of his Welsh citizens, and their needed support at the time of invasion.

Yet the myth of King Arthur also had meaning for the English, for they held him up as the

symbol of a united Britain, and longed themselves for a golden age like that for which Arthur

stood.25 As a result, Henry could safely make his conquest of the national imagination without fearing to lose supporters on either side.

It should be noted that that in terms of strict genealogy and royal succession, Henry’s

Welsh heritage had little practical effect in furthering his claim. Certainly there was a prestige to be had in claiming kinship with the ancient kings, but the connections were shadowy at best and

would not have stood up to an inspection. Even Bernard Andre, Henry’s near sycophantic

personal historian who loved to remind the reader of Henry’s ancient pedigree, did not attempt to

prove the genealogy, but rather made due with calling Henry Cadwaladr’s “legitimate successor,

and excusing himself from explaining the entire family tree on the basis that it would take up too

much of the reader’s time.26 Furthermore, by the fifteenth century connections with the king of

antiquity had no basis in determination of the head of state. The Anglo-Saxon and Norman

Invasions had entirely cut that line off, and the Wars of the Roses were fought over far more recent genealogical connections, namely descent from John of Gaunt.27 It must not be thought

that Henry in any way neglected to make clear his claim to the throne by this more ordinary avenue. On the contrary, he took the greatest care to establish himself as the true heir of

Lancaster, and to secure his claim to the throne even further through marriage with Elizabeth of

24 Ingham, 22. 25 25Ingham, 23. 26 Andre. 27 Ross, 114-115. Sandoval, Page 7 York.28

The fact that he made sure to legitimize himself according to conventional means, rather

than simply relying on a tale of grandiose connections hundreds of years dead, shows that his

Arthurian campaign was meant not so much to reason with his would be supporters, but to create

a particular attitude towards him. If his Lancastrian claim was an appeal to the minds of his

potential followers, the Arthurian claim was an appeal to their hearts.

Very well. The advantages of such propaganda are clear, but the question remains—did

Henry actively use such propaganda to boost his chances, or was the role simply projected upon

him by enthusiastic Welshmen? To find the answer, we must examine the first signs that suggest

such a view of Henry taking route, and then determining whether they trace back to Henry as

their source.

The first definite heralds of Henry as the Son of Prophecy were bards, as has been

mentioned. Henry’s way was made straight by the poets even in advance of his landing in Wales.

Many Welsh poems that sprang from 1483-1485 were preoccupied with longing for the Son of

Prophecy, and the reign of justice and peace that would come with him.29 Some might argue that

these poems can be attributed simply to the bards’ excitement at the thought of possible

deliverance. They would likely conclude otherwise, however, if they realized that most of these

bards were commissioned by a small group of men, such as Rhys ap Thomas and Gruffydd ap

Nicholas, who were among Henry’s staunchest military supporters in Wales, and who were in

frequent communication with him regarding his plans for invasion.30 Considering that the site of

Henry’s landing in Pembroke was kept a close secret until immediately before he embarked, it would seem odd that Welsh poets should work into such a frenzy of devotion to Henry without

28 28Chrimes, 66. 29 Carr, 125. Sandoval, Page 8 knowing that he intended to come to Wales. The situation altogether suggests that the bards were

judiciously fed at least some information by Henry’s supporters, who were likewise instructed to

do so by Henry in the first place.

Chief among these bards was Dafydd Llwyd, who explicitly praised Henry himself, while

managing to avoid using his name as Welsh prophetic tradition demanded.31 Before the Battle of

Bosworth Field took place, he implored to his fellow countrymen to come to Henry’s aid, but

framed his appeal in the form of “An Ode to St. David.”32 The highlight of the poem praises the

coming Son of Prophecy, and just stops short of calling Henry by name: “Jasper will rear our

dragon…/ The angel’s lesson will not be kept hidden, / and theirs will be the towers of the land…/ This is the hope of our people. / Great is the grace of Jasper’s birth,/ Of Cadwaladr’s image, the sweet beam.”33 Jasper was, of course, the name of Henry’s uncle who raised him, and who also served as his principal contact with Wales.34 It follows that the dragon being praised as mab darogan must necessarily be Henry, who is in turn the fulfillment of the angel’s words.

What is particularly interesting about Llwyd, however, is that despite having been in a terrible

rush to gain Bosworth before Richard, Henry nevertheless made time to stop at Llwyd’s house

prior to the battle, and to speak with him.35 While the subject of their conversation is unknown, it

seems to indicate that Henry was already familiar with Llwyd and his work, even all the way from France. Some might suggest that perhaps he had only heard of Llwyd because he was the subject of his poetry, and this is certainly possible, but it’s also conceivable that he was familiar

with him because he or his uncle had already been in contact with him, engaging him to fire the

30 Williams, 219. 31 Carr, 125. 32 Thomas, Jones, “A Welsh Chronicler in Tudor England,” Welsh Historical Review 1, No. 1.(1960) pp. 1-17 [journal online], available from http://welshjournals.llgc.org.uk/browse/ viewpage/llgc-id:1073091/llgc- id:1073092/llgc- id:1073099/getText, internet, accessed November 1, 2014, 2; Schwyzer, 16. 33 W. Gorman Jones. 34 Chrimes 12-15. Sandoval, Page 9 people for the oncoming revolt against Richard. This piece of historical evidence proves nothing

in its own right, but combined with the overall bulk of evidence that Henry was carefully engineering his image, it does seem to fit in with the scheme as a whole.

On August 1, 1485, Henry Tudor and his forces landed at Milford Haven in Pembroke,36

bearing the Red Dragon of Cadwaladr, known in Cymric as the Draig Goch,37 as a standard.38

The choice of symbol was particularly significant in implicitly identifying Henry as the mab

darogan. The Draig Goch originated as a symbol of Welsh power in early legends. It featured in

one of Merlin’s prophecies in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History, which told of a red dragon

fighting a white dragon (representing Anglo-Saxon rule,) but eventually being thrown down and

having to retreat until a day of strengthening.39 The image was common in Welsh prophetic

poetry, and the implicit meaning would certainly be understood by the Welshmen among his

troops.40 Henry did not portray himself merely as rival of Richard III, but as the divinely appointed king of Merlin’s prophecies, returning to overturn the Anglo-Saxon and take up the

throne of his people again. Of course, the idea of Henry representing an end to Anglo-Saxon

domination is pure poppycock, since as we have noted, the man was more than half English himself. Yet so successfully had he clothed himself in the mab darogan cloak that few thought of his minimal Welsh blood.

A few short days later, the Battle of Bosworth field was fought, and Henry VII took the crown of England and Wales In the minds of the Welsh, the triumph of Bosworth was the

35 Schwyzer, 21. 36 Vergil, “Richard III,” Anglica Historia. 37 W. Garmon Jones, Welsh Nationalism and Henry Tudor (Cardiff, South Wales: Cymmrodorion Society Publications, 1918), available at http://www.archive.org/stream/welshnationalism00joneuoft/ welshnationalism00joneuoft_djvu.txt, accessed November 1, 2014. 38 Ingham, 98. 39 Geoffrey, 171. 40 Jones. Sandoval, Page 10 triumph of Wales.41

If this idea does not take us by surprise, it certainly ought to, when we consider that

nearly half of Henry’s army were brought over the channel with him from France. The remainder

were an assortment of Lancastrian English supporters and Welsh enthusiasts.42 Thus the Welsh

were only one portion of a larger, mixed army. The fact that they identified Bosworth as a Welsh

victory indicates that many had indeed embraced Henry in his exaggerated Welsh identity.

Arthurian and traditional Welsh symbolism continued to appear frequently in association

with the king after his victory at Bosworth. “Red velvet for dragons” may be found among the

royal expenditures for Henry’s coronation, and a highlight of the pageantry in honour of his

queen’s coronation was an enormous, fire-breathing red dragon.43 It is especially telling that he

instituted a Draig Goch pursuivant as one of the supporters of the monarchial coat of arms.44

Wales and ancient legend now bore pride of place in the king’s own arms, which he would pass on to his son, continuing the legacy of Arthur and Cadwaladr.

Perhaps Henry’s most overt connection that he actively drew between himself and King

Arthur were his extremely deliberate choices in how he presented the birth of his eldest son to the world. When he found out that his queen was expecting, Henry grew particularly fond of an

unwritten but well-known Arthurian legend in which Merlin described the young King Arthur as

the offspring of a red king and a white queen.45 This image would have particularly appealed to

him, as red roses had come to be associated with his own ancestral House of Lancaster, and

41 Carr, 126. 42 Polydore Vergil, “Richard III,” Anglica Historia, trans. Dana F. Sutton (The Philological Museum Website: University of California, 2005), available at http://www.philological.bham.ac.uk/polverg/25eng.html, accessed November 3, 2014. 43 J. S. P. Tatlock, “The Dragons of Wessex and Wales,” Speculum 8, No. 2 (April 1933) pp. 223-235 [journal online], available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/2846752, internet, accessed October 28, 2014, 232. 44 Chrimes, 3. 45 Penn, 22. Sandoval, Page 11 white roses with the House of York, to which his wife, Elizabeth, belonged.46 The coincidence must have suggested the happy thought of casting the crown prince as the new Arthur to an even

greater extent than Henry himself had already been cast in that role.

It is not easy to miss the legendary elements with which young prince was surrounded by

his father. As Elizabeth prepared for the child’s delivery, Henry arranged that she should give

birth at the castle in Winchester. Until not long before, Winchester had simply been one of

England’s great towns. Thomas Malory’s Mort d’Arthur, however, identified the city as the

original Camelot from whence King Arthur had reigned.47 Caxton’s original English edition had

been released the year of Henry’s ascent to the throne, 1485, and had been exceedingly popular

amongst the literate, with a second edition following in 1498.48 Hence, when Henry arranged for

his son to be born at Winchester, he could have depended on his subjects to recognize the

symbolic meaning. He sealed the meaning by naming his son Arthur.49 The cult of the prince’s

namesake was to surround the Henry’ household for some years. We see this on the occasion when Henry entertained Phillip of Burgundy at Winchester in January of 1506 after the two had

signed a treaty. Young Prince Arthur sat quietly, listening as the two men dined. As they ate,

Henry began to expound upon the treaty, and drew Philip’s attention to a piece of art depicting

the Knights of the Round Table. This treaty, he asserted, was only the latest in a long series of

great deeds reaching back to King Arthur himself, and one day, his deeds and those of his son,

Arthur, would be as renowned as those of the Knights of the Round Table.”50 Another evidence

of Henry’s tangible interest in King Arthur is that he hung a full-length portrait of the legendary

46 Edward, Hall. The Chronicle, Containing the History of England, ed. by J. Johnson (London: Longman and Hurst, 1809), 3; Andre, “On the Birth of Prince Arthur,” in The Life of Henry VII. 47 Thomas Malory, The Death of Arthur (New York: George Routledge and Sons, 1865), 99. 48 Thomas Wright, “Introduction,” in Malory, 9. 49 Chrimes, 66. 50 Penn, 221, 222. Sandoval, Page 12 ruler next to his own portrait in his great art hall at Richmond Palace.51 These are concrete evidence that Henry took active steps to categorize himself with his “ancestor,” Arthur.

It might be argued that while it is clear that many facets of Henry’s life were connected with Arthur and Cadwaladr during his lifetime, this state of affairs does not of itself prove that

Henry actively brought it about through propaganda. He never called himself mab darogan nor

Arthur’s heir explicitly, one might say, and that it is therefore possible that Henry did not engineer his image, but simply had it projected onto him by masses steeped in lore and longing for an end to the Wars of the Roses and oppression in general. While this explanation is possible, it is difficult to lend it much credence in light of the sheer volume of Arthuriana the king himself

At the very least, even if Henry did not have a direct hand in bringing about this

Arthurian glow in which he shone, he certainly facilitated it. Henry was well known for closely

overseeing all public festivals involving him, so that no ceremony in which he participated could

take him by surprise. Therefore, we may assume that it was with his consent that he was hailed

into London with such relevant phrases as, “Welcome, Arthur, the very Britain king [sic]….

Cadwaladr’s blood lineally descending long hath been told of such a prince coming… This same

is the fulfiller of the prophecy.”52

To accept such adulation would certainly appear to be a form of propaganda unto itself.

Henry could not bask long in the people’s excitement. The shine of being mab darogan for a time wore off. Almost from his succession he was plagued with Yorkist plots, revolts, and

pretenders.53

But he was king, a king who had been exiled from his homeland as a boy but welcomed

with open arms by the countrymen he’d never known. Yet he did know them—knew their story,

51 David Starkey, “King Henry and King Arthur,” Arthurian Literature XVI (1998): 171-196; 180. 52 Schwyzer, 23. Sandoval, Page 13 and hence their hopes, and hence how far they would be willing to go to fulfill an old wizard’s

prophecy. He knew the power of a myth, of a poem, of a banner flying high, and the effect it had

on a heart longing for something greater. We usually picture Henry as a shrewd, cunning, man, focussed on maintaining stability, and it can be odd to integrate that image with that of a man

who deeply comprehended the role that imagination and legend play in hope, and that hope plays in driving man to action. Yet if it was by playing upon imagination that he gained the foothold he needed to establish himself upon the throne, it could be said it was his shrewdest decision of all.

53 Chrimes, passim. Sandoval, Page 14 Works Cited

Books

Carr, Anthony D. Medieval Wales. Basingstoke, Hampshire: St. Martin’s Press Scholarly and

Reference, 1995.

Chrimes, Stanley Bertram. Henry VII. Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1972.

Ingham, Patricia Clare. Sovereign Fantasies: Arthurian Romance and the Making of Britain.

Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001.

Jones, W. Garmon. Welsh Nationalism and Henry Tudor. Cardiff, South Wales: Cymmrodorion

Society Publications, 1918. http://www.archive.org/stream/welshnationalism00joneuoft/

welshnationalism00joneuoft_djvu.txt

Penn, Thomas. Winter King: Henry VII and the Dawn of Tudor England. New York, NY: Simon

and Schuster, 2012.

Schwyzer, Philip. Literature, Nationalism, and Memory in Early Modern England and Wales.

Cambridge, Cambridgeshire: Cambridge University Press, 2004.

Ross, Charles. Richard III. Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1981.

Williams, Glanmor. Renewal and Reformation: Wales c. 1415-1642. New York, NY: Oxford

University Press, 1987.

Journal Articles

Griffiths, R. A. “Henry Tudor: The Training of a King.” Huntington Library Quarterly 49, no. 3

(Summer, 1986): pp. 197-218 [journal online]. Available from http://www.jstor.org/

stable/3817121. Internet. Accessed October 28, 2014.

Jones, Thomas. “A Welsh Chronicler in Tudor England.” Welsh Historical Review 1, No. 1

(1960) pp. 1-17 [journal online]. Available from http://welshjournals.llgc.org.uk/browse/ Sandoval, Page 15 viewpage/llgc-id:1073091/llgc-id:1073092/llgc-id:1073099/getText. Internet. Accessed

November 1, 2014.

Roberts, P. R. “The Union with England and the Identity of 'Anglican' Wales.” Transactions of

the Royal Historical Society. Fifth Series, Vol. 22 (1972) pp. 49-70 [journal online].

Available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/3678828. Internet. Accessed October 29, 2014.

Starkey, David. “King Henry and King Arthur.” Arthurian Literature XVI (1998): 171-196.

Tatlock, J. S. P. “The Dragons of Wessex and Wales” Speculum 8, No. 2 (April 1933) pp. 223-

235 [journal online]. Available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/2846752. Internet.

Accessed October 28, 2014.

Primary Sources

Andre, Bernard. The Life of Henry VII. Translated and edited by Daniel Hobbins. New York, NY:

Italica Press, 2011.

Fabyan, Robert. The Concordaunce of Hystoryes. 1st ed. Of 1542. Transcribed by John Stahle.

University of Wisconsin-Madison Library Collection.

http://faculty.history.wisc.edu/sommerville/123/PF008.htm. Accessed October 30, 2014).

Geoffrey of Monmouth. The History of the Kings of Britain. Translated by Lewis Thorpe.

Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books Ltd., 1982.

Hall, Edward. The Chronicle, Containing the History of England. Edited by J. Johnson. London:

Longman and Hurst, 1809.

Malory, Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur. Edited by Janet Cowen. Toronto, ON: Penguin Books

Canada, 1969.

Llwyd, Daffyd. “An Ode to Saint David.” In Welsh Nationalism and Henry Tudor by W. Garmon

Jones. Cardiff, South Wales: Cymmrodorion Society Publications, 1918. Sandoval, Page 16 http://www.archive.org/stream/welshnationalism00joneuoft/welshnationalism00joneuoft_

djvu.t xt. Accessed October 29, 2014.

Vergil, Polydore. Anglica Historia. Translated by Dana F. Sutton. The Philological Museum

Website: University of California, 2005, available at

http://www.philological.bham.ac.uk/polverg/25eng.html. Accessed November 3, 2014.