Yet on the breeze thou still wouldst hear The music of its flowering shades, And ever should the sound be near Of founts that ripple through its glades; The sound, and sight, and flashing ray Of joyous waters in their play! But woe for him who sees them burst With their bright spray-showers to the lake"! Earth has no spring to quench the thirst For ever pouring through his dreams, Bright, bright in many a rocky urn, From the blue mountains to the main, E'en thus our hunters came of yore Back from their long and weary quest; -Had they not seen th' untrodden shore, And could they 'midst our wilds find rest? The lightning of their glance was fled, They dwelt amongst us as the dead! They lay beside our glittering rills, With visions in their darken'd eye, Their joy was not amidst the hills, Where elk and deer before us fly; Their spears upon the cedar hung, Their javelins to the wind were flung. They bent no more the forest-bow, They arm'd not with the warrior-band, The moons wan'd o'er them dim and slow-They left us for the spirit's land! Beneath our pines yon greensward heap Son of the stranger! if at eve Silence be 'midst us in thy place, Yet go not where the mighty leave The strength of battle and of chase! THE BENDED BOW. It is supposed that war was anciently proclaimed in Britain by sending messengers in different directions through the land, each bearing a bended bow ; and that peace was in like manner announced by a bow unstrung, and therefore straight. See the Cambrian Antiquities. THERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, "Heard ye not the battle-horn? -Reaper! leave thy golden corn! Swords must flash, and spears be riven ! Leave it for the winds to shed Arm! ere Britain's turf grow red!" And the reaper arm'd, like a freeman's son, "Hunter! leave the mountain-chase! Take the falchion from its place! Let the wolf go free to-day, Leave him for a nobler prey! Let the deer ungall'd sweep by,— Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh!" And the hunter arm'd ere the chase was done, "Chieftain! quit the joyous feast! Arm thee! Britain's foes must fall." And the chieftain arm'd, and the horn was blown, And the bended Bow and the voice pass'd on. "Prince! thy father's deeds are told, In the bower and in the hold! Where the goatherd's lay is sung, -Foes are on thy native sea Give our bards a tale of thee!" And the prince came arm'd, like a leader's son, And the bended Bow and the voice pass'd on. "Mother! stay thou not thy boy! Britain calls the strong in heart!' And the bended Bow and the voice pass'd on, And the bards made song for a battle won. |