He nor heaps his brooded stores,

Nor on all profufely pours;

Lord of every regal art,

Liberal hand, and open heart.

Big with hosts of mighty name,

Squadrons three against him came;

This the force of Eirin hiding;

Side by fide, as proudly riding

On her fhadow, long and gay,

* Lochlin plows the watry way.

There the Norman fails afar

Catch the winds, and join the war:

Denmark.

Black

Black and huge along they fweep,

Burthens of the angry deep.

Dauntless on his native fands

The dragon-fon of Mona ftands;

In glitt'ring arms and glory dreft,

High he rears his ruby creft.

'There the thund'ring ftrokes begin,

There the prefs, and there the din ;

Talymalfra's rocky shore

Echoing to the battle's roar.

The red Dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his defcendants bore on their banners.

Where his glowing eye-balls turn,

Thousand banners round him burn;

Where he points his purple fpear,

Hafty, hafty Rout is there;

Marking with indignant eye

Fear to ftop, and Shame to fly.

There Confufion, Terror's child;

Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild;

Agony, that pants for breath;

Despair, and honourable Death.

*

ODE