"The path of unborn ages is traced upon my soul,

The clouds which mantle things unseen away before me roll,
A light the depths revealing hath o'er my spirit passed,
A rushing sound from days to be swells fitful in the blast,
And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue

To which the harp of Mona's woods by freedom's hand was
strung.

"Green island of the mighty! I see thine ancient race Driven from their father's realm to make the rocks their dwelling-place!

I see from Uthyr's 2 kingdom the sceptre pass away,

And many a line of bards and chiefs and princely men decay.
But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,
And wear the crown to which is given dominion o'er the
storms,

So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue
To which the harp of Mona's woods by freedom's hand was
strung!"

OWEN GLYNDWR'S WAR-SONG

SAW ye the blazing star ?3

The heavens looked down on freedom's war,

And lit her torch on high!

Bright on the dragon crest1

It tells that glory's wing shall rest,
When warriors meet to die!

Let earth's pale tyrants read despair
And vengeance in its flame;
Hail ye, my bards! the omen fair
Of conquest and of fame,
And swell the rushing mountain air
With songs to Glyndwr's name.

At the dead hour of night,
Marked ye how each majestic height
Burned in its awful beams?

Red shone the eternal snows,
And all the land, as bright it rose,

Was full of glorious dreams!

1 Ynys y Cedeirn, or Isle of the Mighty-an ancient name given to Britain. 2 Uthyr Pendragon, king of Britain, supposed to have been the father of

Arthur.

3 The year 1402 was ushered in with a comet or blazing star, which the bards interpreted as an omen favourable to the cause of Glyndwr. It served to infuse spirit into the minds of a superstitious people, the first success of their chieftain confirmed this belief, and gave new vigour to their actions. -PENNANT. 4 Owen Glyndwr styled himself the Dragon; a name he assumed in imitation of Uthyr, whose victories over the Saxons were foretold by the appearances of a star with a dragon beneath, which Uthyr used as his badge; and on that account it became a favourite one with the Welsh. -PENNANT.

O eagles of the battle, 1 rise!

The hope of Gwynedd wakes! 2

It is your banner in the skies

Through each dark cloud which breaks,
And mantles with triumphal dyes

Your thousand hills and lakes!

A sound is on the breeze,
A murmur as of swelling seas!
The Saxon on his way!

Lo! spear and shield and lance,
From Deva's waves with lightning glance,
Reflected to the day!

But who the torrent-wave compels
A conqueror's chain to bear?

Let those who wake the soul that dwells
On our free winds, beware!

The greenest and the loveliest dells
May be the lion's lair!

Of us they told, the seers,

And monarch bards of elder years,
Who walked on earth as powers!

And in their burning strains,

A spell of might and mystery reigns,
To guard our mountain-towers!

-In Snowdon's caves a prophet lay: 3
Before his gifted sight,

The march of ages passed away
With hero-footsteps bright,
But proudest in that long array,
Was Glyndwr's path of light!

PRINCE MADOC'S FAREWELL.

WHY lingers my gaze where the last hues of day
On the hills of my country in loveliness sleep?
Too fair is the sight for a wanderer, whose way

Lies far o'er the measureless worlds of the deep!
Fall, shadows of twilight! and veil the green shore,
That the heart of the mighty may waver no more!

1 "Bring the horn to Tudwrou, the Eagle of Battles."-See, The Hirlas Horn of OWAIN CYFEILIOG. The eagle is a very favourite image with the ancient Welsh poets.

GWYNEDD, (pronounced Gwyneth,) North Wales.

3 Merlin, or Merddin Emrys, is said to have composed his prophecies on the future lot of the Britons, amongst the mountains of Snowdon. Many of these, and other ancient prophecies, were applied by Glyndwr to his own cause, and assisted him greatly in animating the spirit of his followers.

Why rise on my thoughts, ye free songs of the land
Where the harp's lofty soul on each wild wind is borne?
Be hushed, be forgotten! for ne'er shall the hand
Of minstrel with melody greet my return.

-No! no!-let your echoes still float on the breeze,
And my heart shall be strong for the conquest of seas!

'Tis not for the land of my sires to give birth

Unto bosoms that shrink when their trial is nigh;
Away! we will bear over ocean and earth

A name and a spirit that never shall die.

My course to the winds, to the stars, I resign;

But my soul's quenchless fire, O my country! is thine.

CASWALLON'S TRIUMPH.

fCaswallon (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 the island, for the purpose of celebrating that event by feasting and public rejoicing. See the Cambrian Biography.]

FROM the glowing southern regions,

Where the sun-god makes his dwelling,
Came the Roman's crested legions

O'er the deep, round Britain swelling.
The wave grew dazzling as he passed,
With light from spear and helmet cast;
And sounds in every rushing blast

Of a conqueror's march were telling.

But his eagle's royal pinion,

Bowing earth beneath its glory,
Could not shadow with dominion

Our wild seas and mountains hoary!
Back from their cloudy realm it flies,
To float in light through softer skies;
Oh! chainless winds of heaven arise!
Bear a vanquished world the story!
Lords of earth! to Rome returning,
Tell how Britain combat wages,
How Caswallon's soul is burning
When the storm of battle rages!
And ye that shrine high deeds in song,
O holy and immortal throng!
The brightness of his name prolong,
As a torch to stream through ages!

HOWEL'S SONG.

[Howel ab Einion Llygliw was a distinguished bard of the fourteenth 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 hill near Llangollen.]

PRESS on, my steed! I hear the swell1

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 ! 2
Lo! with the balmy hour I come--

The hour that brings the wanderer home,
The weary to repose!

Haste! on each mountain's darkening crost
The glow hath died, the shadows rest,
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 MOUNTAIN FIRES.

["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.

1 "I have rode hard, mounted on a fine high-bred steed, upon thy accoun O thou with the countenance of cherry-flower bloom. The speed was with eagerness, and the strong long-hammed steed of Alban reached the summit of the high land of Brân."

2 "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!" -HowEL'S Ode to Myfanwy.

Light the hills till flames are streaming
From Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,1
To the waves round Mona gleaming,

Where the Roman tracked the deep!
Be the mountain watch-fires heightened,
Pile them to the stormy sky!
Till each torrent-wave is brightened,
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!"

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,

With heaven's own azure crowned!
Who called thee-what thou shalt be still,
White Snowdon !-holy ground.

They fabled not, thy sons who told
Of the dread power enshrined
Within thy cloudy mantle's fold,
And on thy rushing wind!

It shadowed o'er thy silent height,
It filled 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 Emyrs lay! 2

1 Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Snowdon, said to mean the conspicuous place, or object.

2 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