I. 2.

On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe,

With haggard eyes the poet stood;
(Loose his beard, and hoary hair

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air)
And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

I. 3.

· Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,

That hush'd the stormy main :

Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:

Mountains, ye mourn in vain

Modred, whose magic song

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head.

On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,

Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:

Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;

The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.
Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,
Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
Ye died amidst your dying country's cries---

The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the isle of Anglesey.

• Cambden and others observe, that eagles used annually to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welch Craigian-eryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this day (I am told) the highest point of Snowdon is called the eagle's nest. That bird is certainly no stranger to this island, as the Scots, and the people of Cumberland, Westmoreland, &c. can testify: it even has built its nest in the Peak of Derbyshire. See Willoughby's Ornithol, published by Ray.

No more I weep. They do not sleep.
On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
I see them sit, they linger yet,
Avengers of their native land:

With me in dreadful harmony they join,

And 'weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.'

II. 1.

"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,

The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
Give ample room, and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.

Mark the year, and mark the night,

When Severn shall re-echo with affright

The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing King!

"She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,

That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
"From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait!
Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd,
And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

II. 2.

Mighty victor, mighty lord,

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

No pitying heart, no eye, afford

A tear to grace his obsequies.

Is the sable warrior fled?

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born?
Gone to salute the rising morn.

* See the Norwegian Ode, that follows.

▾ Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley Castle.

u Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous queen.

Triumphs of Edward the Third in France.

* Death of that King, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last

moments by his courtiers and his mistress.

Edward, the Black Prince, dead some time before his father.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening-prey.

66 a

II. 3.

Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare,

Reft of a crown he yet may share the feast:

Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray,

b

Lance to lance, and horse to horse?

Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course,
And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
And spare the meek 'usurper's holy head.
Above, below, the rose of snow,

e

Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread :

* Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign.-See Froissard, and other contemporary writers.

a Richard the Second, (as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older writers) was starved to death. The story of his assassination, by Sir Piers of Exon, is of much later date.

b Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster.

Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar.

d Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her husband and her crown.

Henry the Fifth.

f Henry the Sixth very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had us right of inheritance to the crown.

The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster.

h

The bristled boar in infant-gore
Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom,
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

III. 1.

"Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)

'Half of thy heart we consecrate.

(The web is wove. The work is done.")

'Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:
In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
All-hail, 'ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

III. 2.

Girt with many a baron bold

Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old

In bearded majesty, appear.

In the midst a form divine!

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;

The silver boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually known in his own time by the name of the Boar.

' Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known. The monuments of his regret and sorrow for the loss of her are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddington, Waltham, and other places.

* It was the common belief of the Welch nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and should return again to reign over Britain.

Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welch should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor.

Her lion-port," her awe-commanding face,
Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play!
Hear from the grave, great Taliessin," hear;
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.

Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,
Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

III. 3.

'The verse adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
In buskin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
A voice, as of the cherub-choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear;

And distant warblings lessen on my ear,

That lost in long futurity expire.

Fond impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine cloud,

Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Enough for me with joy I see

The different doom our Fates assign.
Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care,

To triumph, and to die, are mine.'

He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height,
Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.

m Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to Paul Dzialinski, ambassador of Poland, says, "And thus she, lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princelie checkes."

n Taliessin, Chief of the Bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen. • Shakespear.

P Milton.

The succession of poets after Milton's time.