For him the April days are past, He seems an image, wrought to bear Save that the night-breeze, o'er his cheeks, Long gazing o'er the dark'ning flood, THE BARD'S FAREWELL. These eyes in vain shall weep; Thro' the green oaks that fringe my native streams. But 'midst those ancient groves no more Its plaintive strain my harp must pour, The rocks, the woods, whose echoes woke, The brook's wild voice, the wind's mysterious moan. And oh ye fair, forsaken halls, Left by your lord to slow decay, Soon shall the trophies on your walls Be mouldering fast away! There shall no choral songs resound, There shall no festal board be crown'd; But ivy wreath the silent gate, And all be hush'd, and cold, and desolate. No banner from the stately tower, Shall spread its blazon'd folds on high, There the wild briar and summer-flower Unmark'd shall wave and die! Home of the mighty! thou art lone, The noonday of thy pride is gone, And 'midst thy solitude profound, A step shail echo like unearthly sound! THE Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night,t DRUID CHORUS ON THE LANDING OF I weep, for the grave has extinguish'd its light; THE ROMANS By the dread and viewless powers, O'er our shadowy coast which broods? By the altar and the tomb, Shun these haunted solitudes! Know ye Mona's awful spells? She the rolling orbs can stay! She the mighty grave compels Back to yield its fetter'd prey! Fear ye not the lightning-stroke? Mark ye not the fiery sky? Hence!-around our central oak Gods are gathering-Romans, fly! THE SEA-SONG OF GAVRAN.+ WATCH ye well! The moon is shrouded On her bright throne; Storms are gathering, stars are clouded, Waves make wild moan. • Ynys Dywyll, or the Dark Island, an ancient name for Anglesey. ↑ Gavran was a British Chief, who in the fifth century undertook a voyage to discover the islands which, by tradition, were known under the appellation of Gwerddonau Llion, or Green Islands of the Ocean. This expedition was never afterwards neard of. See Cambrian Biography, p. 124. The beam of its lamp from the summit is o'er, The blaze of its hearth shall give welcome nɔ more ! The Hall of Cynddylan is voiceless and still, The Hall of Cynddylan is lonely and bare, The hall of Cynddylan is loveless to-night, "The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, Without fire, without bed I must weep awhile, and then be silent. The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night Without fire, without being lighted— Be thou encircled with spreading silence! The Hall of Cynddylan is without love this night, Ah, Death! it will be but a short time he will leave 140 The Hall of Cynddylan it is not easy this night Without its lord, without company, without the circling feasts!"' See Owen's "Heroic Elegies of Llywarch Hen THE LAMENT OF LLYWARCH HEN. GRUFYDD'S FEAST. Grufydd ab Rhys ab Tewdwr, having resisted the English successfully in the time of Stephen, and at last obtained from them an honourable peace, made a great feast at his palace in Ystrad Tywi, to celebrate this event. To this feast, which was continued for forty days, he invited all who would come in peace from Gwynedd, Powys, the Deheubarth, Glamorgan, and the marches. Against the appointed time he prepared all kinds of delicious viands and liquors; with every entertainment of vocal and instrumental song; thus patronising the poets and musi Llywarch Hen, or Llywarch the Aged, a celebrated bard and chief, of the times of Arthur, was prince of Argoed, sup posed to be a part of the present Cumberland. Having sustained the loss of his patrimony, and witnessed the fall of most of his sons, in the unequal contest maintained by the North Britons against the growing power of the Saxons, Llywarch was compelled to fly from his country, and seek refuge in Wales. He there found an asylum for some time in the residence of Cynddylan, Prince of Powys, whose fall he pathetically laments in one of his poems. These are still extant, and his elegy on old age and the loss of his sons, is remarkable for its simplicity cians. He encouraged, too, all sorts of representations and man and beauty.-See Cambrian Biography, and Owen's Heroicy games, and afterwards sent away all those who had excelles in them, with honourable gifts.-Vide Cambrian Biography. Elegies and other poems of Llywarch Hen. THE bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing With song, and the hills are all mantled with bloom; But fairer than aught which the summer is bring. The beauty and youth gone to people the tomb! -My sons! they but clothe the green turf of your Alone on the rocks of the stranger I linger, When youth's glorious flower is gone down to the Fair were ye, my sons! and all kingly your bear- As on to the fields of your glory ye trod! Each eye glancing fire, shrouded now by the I weep when the blast of the trumpet is sounding, I turn from Heaven's light, for it smiles on your "What I loved when I was a youth is hateful to me now. * ↑ "Four and twenty sons to me have been, The golden chain, as a badge of honour, worn by heroes, is Owen's Elegies of Llymarch Hen. THE CAMBRIAN IN AMERICA. WHEN the last flush of eve is dying On boundless lakes, afar that shine; When winds amidst the palms are sighing, And fragrance breathes from every pine:* When stars through cypress boughs are gleaming, And fire-flies wander bright and free, Still of thy harps, thy mountains dreaming, My thoughts, wild Cambria! dwell with thee! Alone o'er green savannas roving, When some broad stream in silence flows, Or through th' eternal forests moving, One only home my spirit knows! Sweet land, whence memory ne'er hath parted! THE MONARCHY OF BRITAIN. The Bard of the Palace, under the ancient Welsh Princes, always accompanied the army when it marched into an enemy's country, and while it was preparing for battle, or dividing the spoils, he performed an ancient song, called Unbennaeth Prydain, the monarchy of Britain. It has been conjectured that this poem referred to the tradition of the Welsh, that the whole Island had once been possessed by their an cestors, who were driven into a corner of it by their Saxon invaders. When the prince had received his share of the spoils, the bard, for the performance of this song, was re warded with the most valuable beast that remained.-See Jones's Historical Account of the Welsh Bards. So All that its eagles behold in their flight, Was yours from the deep to each storm-mantled To height! Tho' from your race that proud birth-right be Unquench'd is the spirit for monarchy born. Ages may roll, ere your children regain The land for which heroes have perish'd in vain. Yet in the sound of your name shall be power, Around her still gathering, till glory's full hour. Strong in the fame of the mighty that sleep, Your Britain shall sit on the throne of the deep! Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile, Who died for the crown of the Beautiful Isle ! The aromatic odour of the pine has frequently been mentioned by travellers. ↑ Ynys Pridain, the ancient name of Britain, signifies the Fair, or Beautiful Island. long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue, which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung! PRINCE MADOC'S FAREWELL. WHY lingers my gaze where the last hues of day, On the hills of my country in loveliness sleep? Too fair is the sight for a wanderer, whose way Lies far o'er the measureless worlds of the deep! Fall, shadows of twilight! and veil the green shore, That the heart of the mighty may waver no more! * Ynys y Cedeirn, or Isle of the Mighty, an ancient name given to Britain. Uthyr Pendragon, king of Britain, supposed to have bươn the father of Arthur. Caswallon (or Cassivelaunus) was elected to the supreme command of the Britons, (as recorded in the Triads,) for the purpose of opposing Caesar, under the title of Elected Chief of Battle. Whatever impression the disciplined legions of Rome might have made on the Britains in the first instance, the subsequent departure of Cæsar they considered as a cause of triumph; and it is stated that Caswallon proclaimed an assembly of the various states of the island, for the purpose of celebrating that event by feasting and public rejoicing.— Bee the Cambrian Biography. I feel her presence on the scene! Haste! on each mountain's larkening crest, Gleams tremulously bright; Than live in rayless night! FROM the glowing southern regions, O'er the deep, round Britain swelling; Of a conqueror's march were telling! But his eagle's royal pinion, Bowing earth beneath its glory, Could not shadow with dominion Our wild seas and mountains hoary! Back from their cloudy realm it flies, To float in light through softer skies; Oh! chainless winds of Heaven, arise! Bear a vanquish'd world the story! Lords of earth! to Rome returning, When the storm of battle rages! THE MOUNTAIN-FIRES. The custom retained in Wales of lighting fires (Cocleerthi) on November eve, is said to be a traditional memorial of the massacre of the British chiefs by Hengist, on Salisbury Plain. The practice is, however, of older date, and had reference originally to the Alban Elved, or new year.-Sce the Cam bro-Briton. When these fires are kindled on the mountains, and seen through the darkness of a stormy night, casting a red and fitful glare over heath and rock, their effect is strikingly pioturesque. LIGHT the hills! till Heaven is glowing As with some red meteor's rays! "I have rode hard, mounted on a fine high-bred steed upon thy account, O thou with the countenance of cherryflower bloom. The speed was with eagerness, and the strong long-ham'd steed of Alban reached the summit of the highland of Bran." "My loving heart sinks with grief without thy support, C thou that hast the whiteness of the curling waves! • • • I know that this pain will avail me nothing towards ob taining thy love, O thou whose countenance is bright as the flowers of the hawthorn!"-Iowel's Ode to Myfanwy. |