Shaping our course westward we came to the vicinity of a lighthouse standing on the verge of a precipice, the foot of which was washed by the sea.
Leaving the lighthouse on our right we followed a steep winding path which at last brought us to the top of the pen or summit, rising, according to the judgment which I formed, about six hundred feet from the surface of the sea.

Here was a level spot some twenty yards across, in the middle of which stood a heap of stones or cairn.

I asked the lad whether this cairn bore a name, and received for answer that it was generally called Bar-cluder y Cawr Glas, words which seem to signify the top heap of the Grey Giant.
"Some king, giant, or man of old renown lies buried beneath this cairn," said I.

"Whoever he may be, I trust he will excuse me for mounting it, seeing that I do so with no disrespectful spirit." I then mounted the cairn, exclaiming:-- "Who lies 'neath the cairn on the headland hoar, His hand yet holding his broad claymore, Is it Beli, the son of Benlli Gawr ?" There stood I on the cairn of the Grey Giant, looking around me.

The prospect, on every side, was noble: the blue interminable sea to the west and north; the whole stretch of Mona to the east; and far away to the south the mountainous region of Eryri, comprising some of the most romantic hills in the world.