Be the mountain watch-fires heighten'd, Till each torrent-wave is brighten'd, Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling, Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted, O'er the noble dead they wept. In the winds we hear their voices- When the mountain-land rejoices, 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, They fabled not, thy sons who told It shadow'd o'er thy silent height, Nor hath it fled! the awful spell Though from their stormy haunts of yore 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 his 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, black stone of Arddu. It is said, that if two persons to sleep a night on this stone, in the morning one find himself endowed with the gift of poetry, and the ould become insane.-See WILLIAMS servations on ese moun y clefts of 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! CHANT OF THE BARDS BEFORE THEIR RAISE Have ye not trampled our country's bright crest? 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. Rest, ye brave dead! midst the hills of your sires, THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY.* "All is not lost-the unconquerable will THE hall of harps is lone to-night, MILTON. And cold the chieftain's hearth: The bow lies broken on the floor Whence the free step is gone; The pilgrim turns him from the door Where minstrel-blood hath stain'd the threshold stone. "And I, too, go: my wound is deep, My brethren long have died; Yet, ere my soul grow dark with sleep, "Bear it where, on his battle-plain, Beneath the setting sun, He counts my country's noble slain Say to him-Saxon, think not all is won. * At the time of the supposed massacre of the Welsh bards by Edward the First. "Thou hast laid low the warrior's head, The minstrel's chainless hand: Dreamer! that numberest with the dead The burning spirit of the mountain-land! "Think'st thou, because the song hath ceased, The soul of song is flown? Think'st thou it woke to crown the feast, It lived beside the ruddy hearth alone? "No! by our wrongs, and by our blood! We leave it pure and free; Though hush'd awhile, that sounding flood Shall roll in joy through ages yet to be. "We leave it midst our country's woe— The birthright of her breast; We leave it as we leave the snow Bright and eternal on Eryri's* crest. "We leave it with our fame to dwell Upon our children's breath; Our voice in theirs through time shall swell— The bard hath gifts of prophecy from death." He dies; but yet the mountains stand, And this is yet Aneurin's † land— Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride! * Eryri, Welsh name for the Snowdon mountains. |