He dies; but yet the mountains stand, And this is yet Aneurin's* land Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride! THE FAIR ISLE.† (FOR THE MELODY CALLED THE WELSH GROUND.") SONS of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers had breathed the free air of your clime: Was yours, from the deep to each storm-mantled height. CHORUS. Darkly though clouds may hang o'er us awhile, CHORUS. Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile, THE ROCK OF CADER IDRIS. [IT is an old tradition of the Welsh bards, that on the summit of the mountain Cader Idris, is an excavation resembling a couch; and that whoever should pass a night in that hollow, would be found in the morning either dead, in a state of frenzy, or endowed with the highest poetical inspiration.] I LAY on that rock where the storms have their dwelling, The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the cloud; Around it for ever deep music is swelling, The voice of the mountain-wind, solemn and loud. 'Twas a midnight of shadows all fitfully streaming, Of wild waves and breezes, that mingled their moan; Of dim shrouded stars, as from gulfs faintly gleaming; And I met the dread gloom of its grandeur alone. * Aneurin, one of the noblest of the Welsh bards. Ynys Prydain was the ancient Welsh name of Britain, and sig. nifies fair or beautiful isle. I lay there in silence-a spirit came o'er me; Man's tongue hath no language to speak what I saw: Things glorious, unearthly, pass'd floating before me, And my heart almost fainted with rapture and awe. 1 view'd the dread beings, around us that hover, Though veil'd by the mists of mortality's breath; And I call'd upon darkness the vision to cover, For a strife was within me of madness and death. I saw them-the powers of the wind and the ocean, The dead were around me that night on the hill: I saw what man looks on, and dies--but my spirit Was strong, and triumphantly lived through that hour; And, as from the grave, I awoke to inherit A flame all immortal, a voice, and a power! Day burst on that rock with the purple cloud crested, But O! what new glory all nature invested, When the sense which gives soul to her beauty was won' HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD. INTRODUCTORY VERSES. O! BLEST art thou whose steps may rove And gaze afar o'er cultur'd plains, And forests, that beneath thee lie, But happier far, if then thy soul If heaven and earth, with beauty fraught, THE RAINBOW. "I do set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be for a token of a covencat be tween me and the earth."--Genesis, ix. 13. SOFT falls the mild reviving shower And rain-drops bend each trembling flower They tinge with richer dies. Soon shall their genial influence call A thousand buds to-day, Which, waiting but that balmy fall, E'en now full many a blossom's bell But mark! what arch of varied hue How bright its glory! there behold Yet not alone to charm thy sight It tells us that the mighty deep, No more o'er earth's domain shall sweep. |