THE FAIR ISLE

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We leave it with our fame to dwell

Upon our children's breath;

Our voice in theirs through time shall swell—
The bard hath gifts of prophecy from death.

He dies; but yet the mountains stand,

Yet sweeps the torrent's tide;

And this is yet Aneurin's* land—

Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride!

THE FAIR ISLE+

[ "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
Was yours, from the deep to each storm-mantled height.
Though from your race that proud birthright be torn,
Unquenched is the spirit for monarchy born.

* Aneurin, one of the noblest of the Welsh bards.

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

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

I LAY on that rock where the storms have their dwelling,
The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the cloud;
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;
Of dim shrouded stars, as from gulfs faintly gleaming;
And I met the dread gloom of its grandeur alone.

THE ROCK OF CADER IDRIS

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I lay there in silence-a spirit came o'er me;
Man's tongue hath no language to speak what I saw ;
Things glorious, unearthly, passed floating before me,
And my heart almost fainted with rapture and awe.
I viewed the dread beings around us that hover,
Though veiled by the mists of mortality's breath;
And I called 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; 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 passed, 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!

NOTES TO WELSH MELODIES

PAGE 233

1 "FETCH the horn, that we may drink together, whose gloss is like the waves of the sea; whose green handles show the skill of the artist, and are tipped with gold."-From the Hirlas Horn of OWAIN CYFEILIOG.

2 "Heard ye in Maelor the noise of war, the horrid din of arms, their furious onset, loud as in the battle of Bangor, where fire flashed out of their spears?"—Ibid.

3 Fill, then, the yellow-lipped horn-badge of honour and mirth."-Ibid.

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4 "The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night,

Without fire, without bed

I must weep awhile, and then be silent.

The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night,
Without fire, without being lighted-

Be thou encircled with spreading silence!

The Hall of Cynddylan is without love this night,

Since he that owned it is no more

Ah, Death! it will be but a short time he will leave me.

The Hall of Cynddylan it is not easy this night,

On the top of the rock of Hydwyth,

Without its lord, without company, without the circling feasts!"

Elegies of Llywarch Hen.

PAGE 237

5 Four-and-twenty sons to me have been,

Wearing the golden chain, and leading princes."

Elegies of Llywȧrch Hen.

NOTES TO WELSH MELODIES

255

The golden chain, as a badge of honour, worn by heroes, is frequently alluded to in the works of the ancient British bards. 6"Hardly has the snow covered the vale,

When the warriors are hastening to the battle;

I do not go, I am hindered by infirmity."

Elegies of Llywarch Hen.

7 The "Green Islands of Ocean," or "Green Spots of the Floods," called in the Triads "Gwerddonan Llian," (respecting which some remarkable superstitions have been preserved in Wales,) were supposed to be the abode of the Fair Family, or souls of the virtuous Druids, who could not enter the Christian heaven, but were permitted to enjoy this paradise of their own. Gafran, a distinguished British chieftain of the fifth century, went on a voyage with his family to discover these islands; but they were never heard of afterwards. This event, the voyage of Merddin Emrys with his twelve bards, and the expedition of Madoc, were called the three losses by disappearance of the island of Britain. - See W. O. PUGHE'S Cambrian Biography, also Cambro-Briton, i. 24.

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8 "I have rode hard, mounted on a fine high-bred steed, upon thy account, 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."

9 "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.

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10 "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.

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11 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.