Gelert, Llewellyn’s favourite hound. One day, Llewellyn returned from hunting, when Gêlert met him smeared with gore. The chieftain felt alarmed, and instantly went to look for his baby son. He found the cradle overturned, and all around was sprinkled with gore and blood. He called his child, but no voice replied, and, thinking the hound had eaten it, he stabbed the animal to the heart. The tumult awoke the baby boy, and on searching more carefully, a huge wolf was found under the bed, quite dead. Gêlert had slain the wolf and saved the child.
With costly sculpture decked;
And marbles, storied with his praise,
Poor Gêlert’s bones protect.
—Hon. W. R. Spencer: Beth-Gelert (“Gêlert’s Grave”).
This tale, with a slight difference, is common to all parts of the world. It is told in the Gesta Romanorum of Folliculus, a knight; but the wolf is a “serpent,” and Folliculus, in repentance, makes a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. In the Sanskrit version, given in the Pantschatantra (A.D. 540), the tale is told of the brahmin Devasaman, an “ichneumon” and “black snake” taking the places of the dog and the wolf. In the Arabic version by Nasr-Allah (twelfth century), a “weasel” is substituted for the dog; in the Mongolian Uligerun a “polecat;” in the Persion Sindibadnâmch, a “cat;” and in the Hitopadesa (iv. 3), an “otter.” In the Chinese Forest of Pearls from the Garden of the Law, the dog is an “ichneumon,” as in the Indian version (A.D. 668). In Sandabar, and also in the Hebrew version, the tale is told of a dog. A similar tale is told of czar Piras of Russia; and another occurs in the Seven Wise Masters.
Gellatly (Davie), idiot servant of the baron of Bradwardine .
Old Janet Gellatly, the idiot’s mother.—Sir W. Scott: Waverley (time, George II.).
(In some editions the word is spelt “Gellatley.”)
Geloios, Silly Laughter personified. Geloios is slain by Encratês (temperance) in the battle of Mansoul. (Greek, geloios, “facetious.”)
Whose life was laughter vain, and mirth misplaced;
His speeches broad, to shame the modest cheek;
Nor cared he whom, or when, or how disgraced.
—P. Fletcher: The Purple Island, viii., xi. (1633).