No more I weep. They do not sleep.

Revere his consort's* faith, his father'st fame, On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,

And spare the meek usurper'st holy head. I see them sit, they linger yet,

Above, below, the roses of snow, Avengers of their native land :

Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread : With me in dreadful harmony they join,

The bristled boar|| in infant gore And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er th'accursed loom, II.

Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. "• Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race :

III. Give ample room, and verge enough

“ • Edward, lo! to sudden fate The characters of Hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night,

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) When Severn shall re-echo with affright

Half of thy heart we consecrate.I

The work is done.)' The shrieks of death, through Berkeley's roofs that The web is wove. ring,*

Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn Shrieks of an agonizing king;

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn: She-wolf of France,t with unrelenting fangs,

In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,

They melt, they vanish from my eyes. That tears the bowels of thy mangled mate,

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ?

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd;

Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

No more our long-lost Arthur** we bewail.

All-hail, ye genuine kings;tt Britannia's issue, hail ! Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies !$

“Girt with many a baron bold, No pitying heart, no eye, afford

Sublime their starry fronts they rear; A tear to grace his obsequies.

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old,
Is the sable warriorll fled ?

In bearded majesty, appear.
Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. In the midst a form divine!
The swarm, that in the noontide beam were born; Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line ;
Gone to salute the rising Morn.

Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, Atlemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ;

What strains of vocal transport round her play ; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, 11 hear; Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,

They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening- Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, prey.

Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-color'd

wings. “• Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare : Rest of a crown, he yet may share the feast :

* Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who Close by the regal chair

struggled hard to save her husband and her crown. · Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.

† Henry the Fifth. Heard ye the din of battle bray,

| Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The Lance to lance, and horse to horse ?

line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, And through the kindred squadrons mow their way. $ The white and red roses, devices of York and Lan. Ye towers of Julius,** London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murther fed,

|| 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. * Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley castle.

| Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest | Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for

her lord is well known. The monuments of his regret queen.

and sorrow for the loss of her, are still to be seen at 1 Triumphs of Edward the Third in France.

Northampton, Geddington, Waltham, and other places. § Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his

** It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that mistress.

King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and should re. | Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his

turn again to reign over Britain. father.

# Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the 1 Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster.

Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; ** Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor. the Finh, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be mur. 11 Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the sixth dered secretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part century. His works are still preserved, and his memory of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar. held in high veneration among his countrymen.

crown.

:

caster.

What danger Odin's child await,

Who the author of his fate?
THE DESCENT OF ODIN.

Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom :

His brother sends him to the tomb.
AN ODE.

Now my weary lips I close :

Leave me, leave me, to repose. (From the same.)

0. Prophetess, my spell obey :

Once again arise, and say,
IN BARTHOLINUS, DE CAUSIS CONTEMNENDA

Who th' avenger of his guilt,
MORTIS; HAFNIÆ, 1689, QUARTO.

By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt ?

Pr. In the caverns of the west,
Upreis Odinn allda gauir, &c.

By Odin's fierce embrace comprest,
Uprose the King of Men with speed,

A wondrous boy shall Rinda bear,
And saddled straight his coal-black steed;

Who ne'er shall comb his raven-hair,
Down the yawning steep he rode,

Nor wash his visage in the stream,
That leads to Hela's* drear abode.

Nor see the Sun's departing beam:
Him the Dog of Darkness spied,

Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile,
His shaggy throat he open'd wide,

Flaming on the funeral pile.
While from his jaws, with carnage fillid,

Now my weary lips I close :
Foam and human gore distillid;

Leave me, leave me, to repose.
Hoarse he bays with hideous din,

0. Yet awhile my call obey,
Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin;

Prophetess, awake, and say,
And long pursues, with fruitless yell,

What virgins these, in speechless woe,
The father of the powerful spell.

That bend to earth their solemn brow,
Onward still his way he takes,

That their flaxen tresses tear,
(The groaning Earth beneath him shakes,)

And snowy veils, that float in air.
'Till full before bis fearless eyes

Tell me whence their sorrows rose :
The portals nine of Hell arise.

Then I leave thee to repose.
Right against the eastern gate,

Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou,
By the moss-grown pile he sate ;

King of Men, I know thee now,
Where long of yore to sleep was laid

Mightiest of a mighty line.-
The dust of the prophetic maid.

0. No boding maid of skill divine
Facing to the northern clime,

Art thou, nor prophetess of good ;
Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme;

But mother of the giant-brood !
Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread,

Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home,
The thrilling verse that wakes the dead;

That never shall inquirer come
Till from out the hollow ground

To break my iron-sleep again;
Slowly breath'd a sullen sound.

Till Lokt has burst his ten-fold chain.
Pr. What call unknown, what charms presume, Never, till substantial Night
To break the quiet of the tomb ?

Has reassum'd her ancient right;
Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite,

Till wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurla,
And drags me from the realms of night?

Sinks the fabric of the world.
Long on these mouldering bones have beat
The winter's snow, the summer's heat,
The drenching dews, and driving rain!
Let me, let me sleep again.
Who is he, with voice unblest,

THE TRIUMPHS OF OWENI
That calls me from the bed of rest?
O. A traveller, to thee unknown,

A FRAGMENT.
Is he that calls, a warrior's son.

FROM MR. EVANS'S SPECIMENS OF THE WELSH
Thou the deeds of light shalt know;
Tell me what is done below,

POETRY; LONDON, 1764, QUARTO.
For whom yon glittering board is spread,

Owen's praise demands my song,
Drest for whom yon golden bed ?

Owen swift, and Owen strong;
Pr. Mantling in the goblet see

Fairest flower of Roderic's stem,
The pure beverage of the bee,

Gwyneth’sy shield, and Britain's gem.
O'er it hangs the shield of gold ;
"Tis the drink of Balder bold :
Balder's head to death is given,

| Lok is the evil being, who continues in chains till Pain can reach the song of Heaven!

the twilight of the gods approaches, when he shall break Unwilling I my lips unclose :

his bonds; the human race, the stars, and Sun, shall dis. Leave me, leave me, to repose.

appear; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the 0. Once again my call obey,

skies: even Odin himself and his kindred deities shall Prophetess, arise, and say

perish. For a further explanation of this mythology, see Mallet's Introduction to the History of Denmark, 1755,

quarto. Niflheimr, the Hell of the Gothic nations, consisted

| Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the principality of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died or of North Wales, A. D. 112. This battle was fought near sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle: forty years afterwards. over it presided Hela, the goddess of death.

& North Wales.