Let those who wake the soul that dwells
On our free winds, beware!

The greenest and the loveliest dells
May be the lion's lair!

Of us they told, the seers,

And monarch bards of elder years,
Who walk'd on earth as powers!

And in their burning strains,
A spell of might and mystery reigns,
To guard our mountain-towers!

-In Snowdon's caves a prophet lay:*
Before his gifted sight,

The march of ages pass'd away
With hero-footsteps bright,

But proudest in that long array,
Was Glyndwr's path of light!

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 wand'rer, 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!

* Merlin, or Merddin Emrys, is said to have composed his prophecies on the future lot of the Britons, amongst the mountains of Snowdon. Many of these, and other ancient prophecies, were applied by Glyndwr to his own cause, and assisted him greatly in animating the spirit of his followers.

Why rise on my thoughts, ye free songs of the land Where the harp's lofty soul on each wild wind is

borne ?

Be hush'd, be forgotten! for ne'er shall the hand

Of minstrel with melody greet my return. -No! no!-let your echoes still float on the breeze, And my heart shall be strong for the conquest of

seas!

'Tis not for the land of my sires to give birth

Unto bosoms that shrink when their trial is nigh; Away! we will bear over ocean and earth

A name and a spirit that never shall die. My course to the winds, to the stars, I resign; But my soul's quenchless fire, O my country! is thine.

CASWALLON'S TRIUMPH.

[Caswallon (or Cassivelaunus) was elected to the supreme command of the Britons, (as recorded in the Triads,) for the purpose of opposing Cæsar, under the title of Elected Chief of Battle. Whatever impression the disciplined legions of Rome might have made on the Britons 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.-See the Cambrian Biography.]

FROM the glowing southern regions,

Where the sun-god makes his dwelling,

Came the Roman's crested legions

O'er the deep, round Britain swelling.
The wave grew dazzling as he pass'd,
With light from spear and helmet cast;
And sounds in every rushing blast
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,
Tell how Britain combat wages,
How Caswallon's soul is burning
When the storm of battle rages!
And ye that shrine high deeds in song,
O holy and immortal throng!
The brightness of his name prolong,
As a torch to stream through ages!

HOWEL'S SONG.

[Howel ab Einion Llygliw was a distinguished bard of the fourteenth century. A beautiful poem, addressed by him to Myfanwy Vychan, a celebrated beauty of those times, is still preserved amongst the remains of the Welsh bards

The ruins of Myfanwy's residence, Castle Dinas Brân, may yet be traced on a high hill near Llangollen.]

PRESS on, my steed! I hear the swell*
Of Valle Crucis' vesper-bell,

Sweet floating from the holy dell

O'er woods and waters round.
Perchance the maid I love, e'en now,
From Dinas Brân's majestic brow,
Looks o'er the fairy world below,
And listens to the sound!

I feel her presence on the scene !
The summer air is more serene,
The deep woods wave in richer green,
The wave more gently flows!

O fair as Ocean's curling foam !†
Lo! with the balmy hour I come—

The hour that brings the wanderer home,
The weary to repose!

Haste! on each mountain's darkening crest
The glow hath died, the shadows rest,

* "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-hamm'd steed of Alban reached the summit of the high land of Brân."

"My loving heart sinks with grief without thy support, O thou that hast the whiteness of the curling waves! I know that this pain will avail me nothing towards obtaining thy love, O thou whose countenance is bright as the flowers of the hawthorn!"-HoWEL'S Ode to Myfanwy

The twilight star on Deva's breast
Gleams tremulously bright;
Speed for Myfanwy's bower on high!
Though scorn may wound me from her eye,
Oh! better by the sun to die,
Than live in rayless night!

THE MOUNTAIN FIRES.

["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. The 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
As with some red meteor's rays!
Winds of night, though rudely blowing,
Shall but fan the beacon-blaze.
Light the hills! till flames are streaming
From Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,*

To the waves round Mona gleaming,

Where the Roman track'd the deep!

* Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Snowdon, said to mean the conspicuous place, or object.