And in their burning strains A spell of might and mystery reigns, In Snowdon's caves prophet lay : 11 Before his gifted sight The march of ages passed away But proudest in that long array Was Glyndwr's path of light! 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! * Light the hills! till flames are streaming * Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Snowdon. ERYRI WEN Be the mountain watch-fires heightened, Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling, Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted, O'er the noble dead they wept. 247 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, They fabled not, thy sons who told It shadowed o'er thy silent height, Nor hath it fled the awful spell As when on that wild rock it fell Though from their stormy haunts of yore Pierce then the heavens, thou hill of streams! The sunlight of immortal dreams Eryri temple of the bard, And fortress of the free ! Midst rocks which heroes died to guard, THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY 249 CHANT OF THE BARDS BEFORE THEIR MASSACRE BY EDWARD I. [" "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 allusion to such an event."-Cambro-Briton.] RAISE ye the sword! let the death-stroke be given; Have ye not trampled our country's bright crest? Rest, ye brave dead! midst the hills of your sires : THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY [AT the time of the supposed massacre of the Welsh bards by Edward the First.] THE hall of harps is lone to-night, And cold the chieftain's hearth: It hath no mead, it hath no light; No voice of melody, no sound of mirth. The bow lies broken on the floor Whence the free step is gone; The pilgrim turns him from the door Where minstrel-blood hath stained the threshold stone. And I, too, go; my wound is deep, My brethren long have died; Yet, ere my soul grow dark with sleep, Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride! Bear it where, on his battle-plain, Beneath the setting sun, He counts my country's noble slain : Say to him" Saxon, think not all is won!" Thou hast laid low the warrior's head, Dreamer that numberest with the dead The burning spirit of the mountain-land! Think'st thou, because the song has ceased, Think'st thou it woke to crown the feast, No! by our wrongs, and by our blood! Though hushed awhile, that sounding flood We leave it midst our country's woe- We leave it as we leave the snow Bright and eternal on Eryri's crest. |