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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 :he island, for the purpose of celebrating that event by feasting and public re joicing. --See the Cambrian Biography.]
From the glowing southern regions,
Where the sun-god makes his dwelling,
O'er the deep, round Britain swelling ;
Of a conqueror's march were telling.
Bowing earth beneath its glory,
Our wild seas and mountains hoary!
Bear a vanquish'd world the story!
Tell, how Britain combat wages,
When the storm of battle rages!
As a torch to stream through ages!
HOWEL'S SONG. (HOWELL ab Einios: Llygliw was a distinguished bard of the Du
teenth 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 bill near Llangollen.]
PRESS on, my steed! I hear the swell*
*“ I have rode hard, mounted on a fine high-bred steed, upon thy account, tho with the countenance of cherry-flo bloom. he Sweet floating from the holy dell
O'er woods and waters round.
And listens to the sound !
The wave more gently flows !
The weary to repose !
Gleams tremulously bright;,
Than live in rayless night!
p“ The custom retained in Wales of lighting fires (Coelcerthi' yn No
vember eve, is said to be a traditional memorial of the inassacre of the British chiefs by Hengist, on Salisbury plain. The practice is, however, of older date, and had reference originally the Alban Elved, or new year,"'- See the 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!
Shall but fan the beacon-blaze.
Fromt Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,
speed was with eagerness, and the strong long-hamm'd steed of A ban 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!” -Howell's Ode to Myfanwy.
| Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Snowdon, said to mein the conspicuous place, bject
To the waves round Mona gleaming,
Where the Roman track'd the deep!
Pile them to the stormy sky!
Kindling as it rushes by.
Towers in reddening light sublime ;
Tales of Canbria's elder time.
Many a solemn vigil kept,
O'er the noble dead they wept.
“ Sons! though yours a brighter lot,
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!
White Snowdon !-holy ground.
Of the dread power, enshrined
And on thy rushing wind !
It fill'd thy chainless air,
For ever breathing there.
Yet holds unbroken sway,
Where Merddin Emrys lay !*
* Dinas Emrys (the fortress of Ambrose,) a celebrated rock amongst the mountains of Snowdon, is said to be so called from having been
Though from their stormy haunts of yore,
Thine eagles long have flown,*
Yet from thy mountain-throne!
And make the snows thy crest!
Around thee still shall rest.
Ånd fortress the free!
Their spirit dwells with thee!
CHANT OF THE BARDS BEFORE THIER MASSACRE BY
Raise ye the sword! let the death-stroke be given:
the residence of Merddin Einrys, called by the Latins Merlinus Ambrosius, the celebrated prophet and magician: and there, tradition
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, 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 Observations on the Snowdon Mountains.
* It is believed amongst the inhabitants of these mountains, that eagles have heretofore bred in the lofty clefts of their rocks. Some wandering ones are still seen at times, though very rarely, amongst the precipices.--See WillIAMS's Observations on the Snowdon Mountains.
t 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.-Seo the Cambro-Briton, vol. 1., p. 195.
THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY.*
“ All is not lost-the unconquerable will
The Hall of Harps is lone to-night,
And cold the chieftain's hearth: It hath no mead, it hath no light;
No voice of melody, no sound of mirth. 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 stono, And I, too, go: my wound is deep,
My brethren long have died;
Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride!
Beneath the setting sun,
Say to him-Saxon, think not all is won.
The minstrel's chainless hand; Dreamer! that numberest with the dead
The burning spirit of the mountain land!
The soul of song is flown ?
It lived beside the ruddy hearth alone ?
We leave it pure and free ;
Shall roll in joy through ages yet to be.
The birthright of her breast; We leave it as we leave the snow
Bright and eternal on Eryri’st crest.
Upon our children's breath.
The bard hath gifts of prophecy from death.
* At the time of the supposed massacre of the Welsh bards by Edward the First.
† Eryri, Welsh name for the Snowdon mountains.