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and eminences around, by priests, carrying sacred torches, All the household fires were previously extinguished, and those who were thought worthy of such a privilege, were allowed to relight them with a flaming brand, kindled at the consecrated cairn-fire.
Note 6, page 585, line 11. 'Twas then the captives of Britannia's war. The French prisoners, taken in the wars with Napoleon, were confined in a depot on Dartmoor.
Note 7, page 588, line 7.
It lives in those soft accents to the sky. In allusion to a plan for the erection of a great national schoolhouse on Dartmoor, where it was proposed to educate the children of convicts.
INTRODUCTORY STANZAS.—THE HARP OF WALES.
INSCRIBED TO THE RUTHIN WELSH LITERARY SOCIETY
HARP of the mountain-land ! sound forth again,
Thy tones are not to cease! The Roman came
Thy tones are not to cease !—The Saxon pass'd,
Those were dark years !—They saw the valiant fall,
The hearth left lonely in the ruined hall-
DRUID CHORUS ON THE LANDING OF THE ROMANS.
By the dread and viewless powers
Whom the storms and seas obey,
Romans ! o'er the deep away!
O'er our shadowy coast which broods ?
Shun these haunted solitudes !
She the rolling orbs can stay!
Back to yield its fetter'd prey!
Mark ye not the fiery sky?
Gods are gathering-Romans, fly!
THE GREEN ISLES OF OCEAN.*
WHERE are they, those green fairy islands, reposing
In sunlight and beauty, on ocean's calm breast ? What spirit, the things which are hidden disclosing,
Shall point the bright way to their dwellings of rest? Oh! lovely they rose on the dreams of past ages,
The mighty have sought them, undaunted in faith ; But the land hath been sad for her warriors and sages,
For the guide to those realms of the blessed, is death. * Ynys Dywyll, or the Dark Island, an ancient name for Anglesey:
f The "Green Islands of Ocean," or “Green Spots of the Floods," called in the Triads “Gwerddonan Llion," (respecting which some remarkable superstitions have been preserved in Wales) were sup. posed to be the abode of the Fair Family, or souls of the virtuous Druids, who could not enter the Christian heaven, but were permitted to enjoy this paradise of their own. Gafran, a distinguished British chieftain of the fifth century, west on a voyage, with his family, to discover these islands; bit they were never heard of afterwards. This event, the voyage of Merddin Emrys with his twelve bards, and the expedition of Madog, were called the three losses by disappearance of the island of Britain.-Vide W.O. Pucuk's Cam. brain Biography, also Cambro-Briton, vol. i. p. 124.
Where are they, the high-minded children of glory
Who steerd for those distant green spots on the wave! To the winds of the ocean they left their wild story,
In the fields of their country they found not a grave. Perchance they repose where the Summer-breeze gathers,
From the flowers of each vale, immortality's breath; But their steps shall be ne'er on the hills of their fathers
For the guide to those realms of the blessed, is death.
THE SEA-SONG OF GAFRAN.*
Watch ye well! The moon is shrouded
On her bright throne;
Waves make wild moan.
O'er seas unknown!
Round the glad blaze,
With harps and lays;
Peace, joy, or praise :
Storm-winds to brave,
Rests in its cave!
On the dark wave!
THE HIRLAS HORN.
FILL high the blue hirlas,t that shines like the wavef
When sunbeams are bright on the spray of the sea ;
* See note to the “Green Isles of Ocean."
"Fetch the horn, that we may drink together, whose gloss is nike the waves of the sea ; whose green handles show the skill of the artist, and are tipped with gold.”--From the Hirlas of Owain CrFEILIOG.
And bear thou the rich foaming mead to the brave,
The dragons of battle, the sons of the free!
A beam, like heaven's lightning,* flash'd over the field;
Who have shiver’d the helmet, and cloven the shield;
For the lords of the field, in their festival's hour,
That bursts o'er the rock in the pride of its power. Praise, praise to the mighty, fill high the smooth horn
Of honor and mirth, for the conflict is o'er;
To the lion defenders of Gwynedd's fair shore,
Who shared its bright draught in the days which are fled ! Though cold on their mountains the valiant repose,
Their lot shall be lovely-renown to the dead! While harps in the hall of the feast shall be strung,
While regal Eryri with snow shall be crown's So long by the bards shall their battles be sung,
And the heart of the hero shall burn at the sound The free winds of Maelorf shall swell with their name, And Owain's rich hirlas be fillu to their fame.
THE HALL OF CYNDDYLAN.
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night ;
* “Heard ye in Maelor the noise of war, the horrid din of arms, their furious onset, loud as in the battle of Bangor, where fire flash ed out of their spears.”—From the Hirlas of OWAIN CYFEILIOA.
† “Fill, then, the yellow-lipped horn-badge of honor and mirth.' -From the sane.
# Maelor, part of the counties of Denbigh and Flint, according to the modern division. V “The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night,
Without fire, without bed-
The Hall of Cynddylan is without love this night,
The beam of the lamp from its summit is o'er,
THE LAMENT OF LLYWARCH HEN. (Llywarch Hen, or Llywarch the Aged, a celebrated bard and chief
of the times of Arthur, was prince of Argoed, supposed to be a part of the present Cumberland. Having sustained the loss of his patrimony, and witnessed the fall of most of his sons, in the unequal contest maintained by the North Britons against the growing power of the Saxons, Llywarch was compelled to fly from his country, and seek refuge in Wales. He there found an asylum for soine tinie in the residence of Cynddylan, Prince of Powys, whose fall he pathetically laments in one of his poems. ,These are still extant, and his elegy on old age and the loss of his sons, is remarkable for its siinplicity and beauty.-See Cambrian Biography, and Owen's
Heroic Elegies and other poems of Llywarch Hen.]
Since he that own'd it is no more-
See Owen's “ Heroic Elegies of Llywarch Hen.” * “What I loved when I was a youth is hateful to me now."