The Cambrian Wreath: A Selection of English Poems on Welsh Subjects, Original and Translated from the Cambro-British, Historic and Legendary, Including Welsh Melodies

Forsideomslag
Thomas Jeffrey Llewelyn Prichard
editor, 1828 - 200 sider

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Side 18 - WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with' an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage and full of grief.
Side 18 - Tramples on a thousand states ; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground — Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates ! Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name ; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. Then...
Side 42 - Twas only at Llewellyn's board the faithful Gelert fed ; he watched, he served, he cheered his lord, and sentinel'd his bed. In sooth, he was a peerless hound, the gift of royal John ; but now no Gelert could be found, and all the chase rode on. And now, as over rocks and dells the gallant chidings rise, all Snowdon's craggy chaos yells with many mingled cries.
Side 19 - Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. ' Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they.
Side 42 - Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam ? the flower of all his race ! so true, so brave ! a lamb at home — a lion in the chase!
Side 44 - Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread, But, the same couch beneath, Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead, Tremendous still in death. Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain ! For now the truth was clear : His gallant hound the wolf had slain To save Llewelyn's heir.
Side 19 - Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre. She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow ; Rushed to battle, fought and died ; Dying hurled them at the foe.
Side 44 - And there he hung his horn and spear, And there, as evening fell, In fancy's ear he oft would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell. And, till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, And cease the storm to brave, The consecrated spot shall hold The name of
Side 18 - Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt ; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Side 42 - Twas only at Llewelyn's board The faithful Gelert fed ; He watched, he served, he cheered his lord, And sentinelled his bed. In sooth he was a peerless hound, The gift of royal John ; But now no Gelert could be found, And all the chase rode on. And now, as...

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