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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 !t
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 cherry. flower 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, 0 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.

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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 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.

Be the mountain watch-fires heighten'd,

Pile them to the stormy sky !
Till each torrent-wave is brighten'd,

Kindling as it rushes by.
Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling,

Towers in reddening light sublime ;
Heap the flames ! around them telling

Tales of Cambria's elder time.

Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted,

Many a solemn vigil kept,
When, in ages long departed,

O’er the noble dead they wept.
In the winds we hear their voices-

“ Sons ! though yours a brighter lot,
When the mountain-land rejoices,

Be her mighty unforgot !”


[“ 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,

With heaven's own azure crown'd !
Who call’d thee-what thou shalt be still,

White Snowdon !-holy ground.

They fabled not, thy sons who told
Of the dread


enshrined Within thy cloudy mantle's fold,

And on thy rushing wind !

It shadow'd o'er thy silent height,

It fill'd thy chainless air,
Deep thoughts of majesty and might

For ever breathing there.

Nor hath it fled! the awful spell

Yet holds unbroken sway,
As when on that wild rock it fell

Where Merddin Emrys lay! *

Though from their stormy haunts of

Thine eagles long have flown,t
As proud a flight the soul shall soar

Yet from thy mountain-throne !

* Dinas Emrys (the fortress of Ambrose), a celebrated rock amongst the mountains of Snowdon, is said to be so called from having been the residence of Merddin Emrys, called by the Latins Merlinus Ambrosius, the celebrated prophet and magician : and there, tradition says, he wrote bis prophecies concerning the future state of the Britons.

There is another curious tradition respecting a large stone, on the ascent of Snowdon, called Maen du yr Arddu, the black stone of Arddu. It is said, that if two persons were to sleep a night on this stone, in the morning one would find himself endowed with the gift of poetry, and the other would become insane.See WILLIAMS's Obseroations on the Snowdon Mountains.

+ It is believed amongst the inhabitants of these mountains, that eagles have heretofore bred in the lofty clefts of VOL. IV.


Pierce then the heavens, thou hill of streams!

And make the snows thy crest! The sunlight of immortal dreams

Around thee still shall rest.

Eryri! temple of the bard !

And fortress of the free!
Midst rocks which heroes died to guard,

Their spirit dwells with thee!




RAISE the sword! let the death-stroke be given;
Oh! swift may it fall as the lightning of heaven !
So shall our spirits be free as our strains-
The children of song may not languish in chains !

Have ye not trampled our country's bright crest?
Are heroes reposing in death on her breast?
Red with their blood do her mountain-streams flow,
And think ye that still we would linger below?


their rocks. Some wandering ones are still seen at times, though very rarely, amongst the precipices.—See WILLIAMS'S Observations on the Snowdon Mountains.

* 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.-See The Cambro-Briton, vol. i.,

p. 195.

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