OWEN GLYNDWR'S WAR-SONG At the dead hour of night, Marked ye how each majestic height Red shone the eternal snows, O eagles of the battle,10 rise! The hope of Gwynedd wakes! * It is your banner in the skies - Through each dark cloud which breaks, And mantles with triumphal dyes Your thousand hills and lakes! A sound is on the breeze, A murmur as of swelling seas! Lo spear and shield and lance, From Deva's waves with lightning glance But who the torrent-wave compels A conqueror's chain to bear? Let those who wake the soul that dwells The greenest and the loveliest dells Of us they told, the seers And monarch bards of elder years, Who walked on earth as powers! 239 which Uthyr used as his badge; and on that account it became a favourite one with the Welsh."-PENNANT. * Gwynedd, (pronounced Gwyneth,) North Wales. And in their burning strains A spell of might and mystery reigns, The march of ages passed away But proudest in that long array, THE MOUNTAIN - FIRES The ["THE custom retained in Wales of lighting fires (Coelcerthi) on November Eve, is said to be a traditional memorial of the massacre of the British chiefs by Hengist, on Salisbury plain. practice is, however, of older date, and had reference originally to the Alban Elved, or New Year."-Cambro-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 picturesque.] LIGHT the hills! till heaven is glowing Light the hills! till flames are streaming * Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Snowdon. ERYRI WEN Be the mountain watch-fires heightened, Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling, Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted, O'er the noble dead they wept. 241 ERYRI WEN ["SNOWDON was held as sacred by the ancient Britons, as Parnassus was by the Greeks, and Ida by the Cretans. It is still said, that whosoever slept upon Snowdon would wake inspired, as much as if he had taken a nap on the hill of Apollo. The Welsh had always the strongest attachment to the tract of Snowdon. Our princes had, in addition to their title, that of Lord of Snowdon."-PENNANT.] THEIRS was no dream, O monarch hill, A They fabled not, thy sons who told It shadowed o'er thy silent height, Nor hath it fled! the awful spell As when on that wild rock it fell Though from their stormy haunts of yore Pierce then the heavens, thou hill of streams! Eryri temple of the bard, And fortress of the free! Midst rocks which heroes died to guard, THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY 243 CHANT OF THE BARDS BEFORE THEIR MASSACRE BY EDWARD I. [ THIS sanguinary deed is not attested by any historian of credit. And it deserves to be also noticed, that none of the bardic productions since the time of Edward make any allusion to such an event."-Cambro-Briton.] RAISE ye the sword! let the death-stroke be given; Have ye Rest, ye brave dead! midst the hills of your sires: THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY [AT the time of the supposed massacre of the Welsh bards by Edward the First.] THE hall of harps is lone to-night, And cold the chieftain's hearth: No voice of melody, no sound of mirth. |