Warriors from the breach of danger THE VIOLET. Published in the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1808. THE violet in her green-wood bower, Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle, May boast itself the fairest flower In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. Though fair her gems of azure hue, Beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining; I've seen an eye of lovelier blue, More sweet through watery lustre shining. The summer sun that dew shall dry, Ere yet the day be passed its morrow; Nor longer in my false love's eye Remained the tear of parting sorrow. HUNTING SONG. Published in the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1808. WAKEN lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day, All the jolly chase is here, With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear; Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily, merrily, mingle they, "Waken lords and ladies gay.' Waken lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain grey, Waken lords and ladies gay, We can show you where he lies, Louder, louder chant the lay, Time, stern huntsman! who can balk, THE RESOLVE. IN IMITATION OF AN OLD ENGLISH POEM. My wayward fate I needs must plain, I loved, and was beloved again, For, as her love was quickly got, No more I'll bask in flame so hot, But coldly dwell alone. Not maid more bright than maid was e'er By flattering word, or feigned tear, No more I'll call the shaft fair shot, Nor scorch me at a flame so hot;- Each ambushed Cupid I'll defy, I'll lightly hold the lady's heart, I'll steel my breast to beauty's art, The flaunting torch soon blazes out, The flame its glory hurls about, The gem its lustre hides; Such gem I fondly deemed was mine, But, since each eye may see it shine, No waking dream shall tinge my thought No more I'll pay so dear for wit, Nor shall wild passion trouble it,— And thus I'll hush my heart to rest,- Thou shalt no more be wildly blessed, The widowed turtles mateless die, The phoenix is but one; They seek no loves-no more will I I'll rather dwell alone." THE LAST WORDS OF CADWALLON; OR, THE DYING BARD.e THE Welsh tradition bears, that a Bard, on his death-bed, demanded his harp, and played the air to which these verses are adapted; requesting that it might be performed at his funeral. Air-Daffydz Gangwen. I DINAS EMLINN, lament; for the moment is nigh, II In spring and in autumn, thy glories of shade That viewed them with rapture, with rapture that sung. This song and "The Norman Horse-Shoe" were first published in vol. i. of Thomson's "Select Collection of Original Welsh Airs," issued in 1809. III Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march in their pride, IV And oh, Dinas Emlinn! thy daughters so fair, V Then adieu, silver Teivi! I quit thy loved scene, VI And adieu, Dinas Emlinn! still green be thy shades, THE NORMAN HORSE-SHOE. THE Welsh, inhabiting a mountainous country, and possessing only an inferior breed of horses, were usually unable to encounter the shock of the Anglo-Norman cavalry. Occasionally, however, they were successful in repelling the invaders; and the following verses celebrate a supposed defeat of Clare, Earl of Striguil and Pembroke, and of Neville, Baron of Chepstow, Lords-Marchers of Monmouthshire. Rymny is a stream which divides the counties of Monmouth and Glamorgan: Caerphili, the scene of the supposed battle, is a vale upon its banks, dignified by the ruins of a very ancient castle. Air-The War-song of the Men of Glamorgan. I RED glows the forge in Striguil's bounds, Barb many a steed for battle's broil. Foul fall the hand which bends the steel II From Chepstow's towers, ere dawn of morn, And forth, in banded pomp and pride, They swore, their banners broad should gleam, III And sooth they swore-the sun arose, A Norman horseman's curdling blood! IV Old Chepstow's brides may curse the toil, THE POACHER. This and the following piece were published under the title of " Fragments," in the Edinburgh Annual Register of 1809. WELCOME, grave stranger, to our green retreats, |