How many long days and long weeks didst thou No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon shall rave, And mix his wild notes with the wild dashing number, The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted And chase the proud Saxon from Prestatyn's side; hall; With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, And pages stand mute by the canopied pall: Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming; In the proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beaming, Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a Chief of the people should fall. But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb, But where is the harp shall give life to their name! And where is the bard shall give heroes their fame! IV. And oh, Dinas Emlinn! thy daughters so fair, Who heave the white bosom, and wave the dark hair; What tuneful enthusiast shall worship their eye, When half of their charms with Cadwallon shall die ! V. Then adieu, silver Teivi! I quit thy loved scene, When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in To join the dim choir of the bards who have been stature, And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying, Thy obsequies sung by the gray plover flying, With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, In the arms of Hellvellyn and Catchedicam. The Dying Bard.' With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Merlin the Old, And sage Taliessin, high harping to hold. VI. And adieu, Dinas Emlinn! still green be thy shades, Unconquer'd thy warriors, and matchless thy maids! And thou, whose faint warblings my weakness car tell, Farewell, my loved Harp! my last treasure, farewell! 1806. AIR-Daffydz Gangwen. 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. I. DINAS EMLINN, lament; for the moment is nigh, When mute in the woodlands thine echoes shall die : 1 This and the following were written for Mr. George Thomson's Welsh Airs, and are contained in his Select Melodies, vol. i. The Norman Horseshoe. 1806. AIR-The War-Song of the Men of Glamorgan. 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 are supposed to celebrate the defeat of CLARE, Earl of Striguil and Penbroke, and of NEVILLE, Baron of Chepster, | Lords-Marchers of Monmouthshire, Rymny is a stream which divides the counties of Monmouth "The hare is crouching in her form, The hart beside the hind; An aged man, amid the storm, No shelter can I find. "You hear the Ettrick's sullen roar, Dark, deep, and strong is he, And I must ford the Ettrick o'er, Unless you pity me. "The iron gate is bolted hard, "Farewell, farewell! and Mary grant, The Ranger on his couch lay warm, And heard him plead in vain; But oft amid December's storm, He'll hear that voice again: For lo, when through the vapors dank, A corpse amid the alders rank, The Maid of Neldpath. 1806. There is a tradition in Tweeddale, that, when Neidpath Castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the Earls of March, a mutual passion subsisted between a daughter of that noble family, and a son of the Laird of Tushielaw, in Ettrick Forest. As the alliance was thought unsuitable by her parents, the young man went abroad. During his absence, the lady fell into a consumption; and at length, as the only means of saving her life, her father consented that her lover should be recalled. On the day when he was expected to pass through Peebles, on the road to Tushielaw, the young lady, though much exhausted, caused herself to be carried to the balcony of a house in Peebles, belonging to the family, that she might see him as he rode past. Her anxiety and eagerness gave such force to her organs, that she is said to have distinguished his horse's footsteps at an incredible distance. But Tushielaw, unprepared for the change in her appearance, and not Far o'er the wave hast thou follow'd thy fortune, Oft fought the squadrons of France and of Spain; Ae kiss of welcome's worth twenty at parting, Now I hae gotten my Willie again. When the sky it was mirk, and the winds they were wailing, I sat on the beach wi' the tear in my ee, And thought o' the bark where my Willie was sailing, And wish'd that the tempest could a' blow on me. Now that thy gallant ship rides at her mooring, Health to Lord Melville.1 1806. AIR-Carrickfergus. "THE impeachment of Lord Melville was among the first measures of the new (Whig) Government; and personal affection and gratitude graced as well as heightened the zeal with which Scott watched the issue of this, in his eyes, vindictive proceeding; but, though the ex-minister's ultimate acquittal was, as to all the charges involving his personal honor, complete, it must now be allowed that the investigation brought out many circumstances by no means creditable to his discretion; and the rejoicings of his friends ought not, therefore, to have been scornfully jubilant. Such they were, however at least in Edinburgh; and Scott took his When the lights they did blaze, and the guns they share in them by inditing a song, which was sung did rattle, And blithe was each heart for the great victory, In secret I wept for the dangers of battle, And thy glory itself was scarce comfort to me. But now shalt thou tell, while I eagerly listen, Of each bold adventure, and every brave scar; And trust me, I'll smile, though my een they may glisten; For sweet after danger's the tale of the war. And oh, how we doubt when there's distance 'tween lovers, When there's naething to speak to the heart thro' the ee; How often the kindest and warmest prove rovers, And the love of the faithfullest ebbs like the sea. by James Ballantyne, and received with clamorous applauses, at a public dinner given in honor of the event, on the 27th of June, 1806."—Life, vol. ii. p. 322. What were the Whigs doing, when boldly pursuing, PITT banish'd Rebellion, gave Treason a string? Till, at times-could I help it?—I pined and I Why, they swore on their honor, for ARTHUR ponder'd, If love could change notes like the bird on the tree Now I'll ne'er ask if thine eyes may hae wander'd, Enough, thy leal heart has been constant to me. Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through channel, Hardships and danger despising for fame, Furnishing story for glory's bright annal, Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie and hame! Enough, now thy story in annals of glory Has humbled the pride of France, Holland, and Spain; No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou leave me, I never will part with my Willie again. O'CONNOR, |