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My course to the winds, to the stars, I resign; But my soul's quenchless fire, O my country! is thine.

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

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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 crest
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.

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1 Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Snowdon, said to mean the conspicious 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 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, 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

CHANT OF THE BARDS BEFORE THEIR
MASSACRE BY EDWARD I.4

RAISE ye the sword! let the death-stroke be given;
Oh! swift may it fall as the lightning of heaven!
So shall our spirits be free as our strains-
The children of song may not languish in chains!

Have ye not trampled our country's bright crest?
Are heroes reposing in death on her breast?
Red with their blood do her mountain-streams flow,
And think ye that still we would linger below?

Rest, ye brave dead! midst the hills of your sires, Oh! who would not slumber when freedom expires? Lonely and voiceless your halls must remainThe children of song may not breathe in the chain !

himself endowed with the gift of poetry, and the other would become insane.-WILLIAMS's Observations on the Snowdon Mountains.

3 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.-WILLIAMS'S Observations on the Snowdon Mountains.

4 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 allu sion to such an event.-Cambro-Briton, vol. i., p. 195.

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THE FAIR ISLE.3

FOR THE MELODY CALLED THE "WELSH GROUND."

[The Bard of the Palace, under the ancient Welsh princes, always accompanied the army when it marched into an enemy's country; and, while it was preparing for battle or dividing the spoils, he performed an ancient song, called Unbennaeth Prydain, the Monarchy of Britain. It has been conjectured that this poem referred to the tradition of the Welsh, that the whole island had once been possessed by their ancestors, who were driven into a corner of it by their Saxon invaders. When the prince had received his share of the spoils, the bard, for the performance of this song, was rewarded with the most valuable beast that remained.-JONES's Historical Account of the Welsh Bards.]

I.

SONS of the Fair Isle ! forget not the time
Ere spoilers had breathed the free air of your clime;
All that its eagles behold in their flight [height.
Was yours, from the deep to each storm-mantled
Though from your race that proud birthright be
torn,

Unquench'd is the spirit for monarchy born.

CHORUS.

Darkly though clouds may hang o'er us awhile, The crown shall not pass from the Beautiful Isle.

II.

Ages may roll ere your children regain
The land for which heroes have perish'd in vain;
Yet, in the sound of your names shall be power,
Around her still gathering in glory's full hour.
Strong in the fame of the mighty that sleep,
Your Britain shall sit on the throne of the deep.

CHORUS.

Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile, Who died for the crown of the Beautiful Isle.

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 a frenzy, or endowed with the highest poetical inspiration.]

I LAY on that rock where the storms have their dwelling, cloud; The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the

3 Ynys Prydain was the ancient Welsh name of Britain, and signifies fair or beautiful isle.

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; [ing; Of dim shrouded stars, as from gulfs faintly gleamAnd I met the dread gloom of its grandeur alone.

I lay there in silence-a spirit came o'er me;
Man's tongue hath no language to speak what
I saw ;
[me,
Things glorious, unearthly, pass'd floating before
And my heart almost fainted with rapture and

awe.

I 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 rush of whose pinion bears onward the storms;

["The Welsh Melodies, which first introduced Mrs Hemans to the public as a song-writer, had already made their appearance. Some of them are remarkable for the melody of their numbers-in particular, the song to the wellknown air, “ Ar hyd y nos." Her fine feeling for music, in which, as also in drawing, she would have signally excelled, could she have bestowed the time and patient labour requisite for obtaining mastery over the mechanical difficulties of these arts, assisted her not only in her choice of measures, but also of her words; and, although in speaking of her songs, it must be remarked that some of the later ones are almost too full of meaning to require the further clothing of sweet sound,

Like the sweep of the white-rolling wave was their motion

I felt their dim presence, but knew not their forms!

I saw them-the mighty of ages departed—

The dead were around me that night on the hill: From their eyes, as they pass'd, a cold radiance they darted,―

There was light on my soul, but my heart's blood was chill.

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,

And high Cader Idris rejoiced in the sun;But oh! what new glory all nature invested, When the sense which gives soul to her beauty was won !1

instead of their being left, as in outline, waiting for the musician's colouring hand, they must be all praised as flowing and expressive; and it is needless to remind the reader how many of them, united with her sister's music, have obtained the utmost popularity. She had well studied the national character of the Welsh airs, and the allusions to the legendary history of the ancient Britons, which her songs contain, are happily chosen. But it was an instinct with Mrs Hemans to catch the picturesque points of national character, as well as of national music : in the latter she always delighted."—CHORLEY'S Memorials of Mrs Hemans, p. 80-1.]

THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.

["Mrs Hemans was at this time (1821) occupied in the composition of her tragedy, The Vespers of Palermo,' which she originally wrote without any idea of offering it for the stage. The sanguine recommendations, however, of Mr Reginald Heber, and the equally kind encouragement of Mr Milman, (to whose correspondence she was introduced through the medium of a mutual friend, though she had never the advantage of his personal acquaintance,) induced her to venture upon a step which her own diffidence would have withheld her from contemplating, but for the support of such high literary authorities. Indeed, notwithstanding the flattering encomiums which were bestowed upon the tragedy by all who read it, and most especially by the critics of the green-room, whose imprimatur might have been supposed a sufficiently safe guarantee of success, her own anticipations, throughout the long period of suspense which intervened between its acceptance and representation, were far more modified than those of her friends. In this subdued tone of feeling she thus wrote to Mr Milman:-' As 1 cannot help looking forward to the day of trial with much more of dread than of sanguine expectation, I most willingly acquiesce in your recommendations of delay, and shall rejoice in having the respite as much prolonged as possible. I begin almost to shudder at my own presumption, and, if it were not for the kind encouragement I have received from you and Mr Reginald Heber, should be much more anxiously occupied in searching for any outlet of escape, than in attempting to overcome the difficulties which seem to obstruct my onward path.""-Memoir, p. 81-2.]

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Pea's Child. My father, tell me when Shall the gay dance and song again resound Amidst our chestnut-woods, as in those days Of which thou 'rt wont to tell the joyous tale? 1st Pea. When there are light and reckless hearts once more

In Sicily's green vales. Alas, my boy!
Men meet not now to quaff the flowing bowl,
To hear the mirthful song, and cast aside
The weight of work-day care: they meet to speak
Of wrongs and sorrows, and to whisper thoughts
They dare not breathe aloud.

Pro. (from the background.) Ay, it is well

So to relieve th' o'erburthen'd heart, which pants
Beneath its weight of wrongs; but better far
In silence to avenge them!

An Old Pea. What deep voice Came with that startling tone? 1st Pea. It was our guest's,

The stranger pilgrim who hath sojourn'd here Since yester-morn. Good neighbours, mark him well:

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He hath a stately bearing, and an eye
Whose glance looks through the heart. His mien
Ill with such vestments. How he folds around him
His pilgrim-cloak, e'en as it were a robe
Of knightly ermine! That commanding step
Should have been used in courts and camps to

move.

Mark him!

Old Pea. Nay, rather mark him not; the times Are fearful, and they teach the boldest hearts A cautious lesson. What should bring him here? A Youth. He spoke of vengeance!

Old Pea. Peace! we are beset

By snares on every side, and we must learn
In silence and in patience to endure.
Talk not of vengeance, for the word is death.

Pro. (coming forward indignantly.)

The word is death! And what hath life for thee, That thou shouldst cling to it thus? thou abject thing!

Whose very soul is moulded to the yoke,
And stamp'd with servitude. What is it life
Thus at a breeze to start, to school thy voice
Into low fearful whispers, and to cast
Pale jealous looks around thee, lest, e'en then,
Strangers should catch its echo? Is there aught
In this so precious, that thy furrow'd cheek
Is blanch'd with terror at the passing thought
Of hazarding some few and evil days,
Which drag thus poorly on?

Some of the Peas. Away, away!

Leave us, for there is danger in thy presence. Pro. Why, what is danger? Are there deeper

ills

Than those ye bear thus calmly? Ye have drain'd The cup of bitterness till naught remains

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