"RUIN seize thee, ruthless King! To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Gloster stood aghast in speechless trance: ΙΟ "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance. I. 2. On a rock whose haughty brow Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air), "Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. 15 20 25 I. 3. “Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main; Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed; Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head. 30 On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale: Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's criesNo more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. 35 40 45 The shrieks of death thro' Berkeley's roofs that ring, She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs 55 The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait! 60 Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. II. 2. "Mighty victor, mighty lord! Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior fled? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born? Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; II. 3. "Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast. Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread: Wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, "Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove. The work is done.) Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : E 100 |