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| “The reader may be interested by comparing with this horn, which the prophet pointed out to the horse-dealer as ballad the author's prose version of part of its legend, as containing the means of dissolving the spell. The man in given in one of the last works of his pen. He says, in the confusion took the horn and attempted to wind it. The horses Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, 1830 : - Thomas of instantly started in their stalls, stamped, and shook their Ercildowne, during his retirement, has been supposed, froin bridles, the men arose and clashed their armour, and the time to time, to be levying forces to take the field in some mortal, terrified at the tumuit he had excited, dropped the crisis of his country's fate. The story has often been told of a horn from his hand. A voice like that of a giant, louder even daring horse-jockey having sold a black horse to a man of ve- than the tumult around, pronounced these words :nerable and antique appearance, who appointed the remarkable hillock upon Eildon hills, called the Lucken-hare, as the 'Woe to the coward that ever he was born, place where, at twelve o'clock at night, he should receive the That did not draw the sword before he blew the horn.' price. He came, his money was paid in ancient coin, and he was invited by his customer to view his residence. The trader A whirlwind expelled the horso-dealer from the cavern, the in horses followed his guide in the deepest astonishment entrance to which he could never again find. A moral might through several long ranges of stalls, in each of which a horse be perhaps extracted from the legend, namely, that it is better stood motionless, while an armed warrior lay equally still at to be armed against danger before bidding it defiance." the charger's feet. *All these men,' said the wizard in a whisper, ‘will awaken at the battle of Sheriffmuir.' At the 2 This celebrated horn is still in the possession of the chil extremity of this extraordinary depot hung a sword and a of the Harden family, Lord Polwarth

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The Warden's daughters in Lochwood sate,
Were all both fair and gay,

The forest of Glenmore is drear,
All save the Lady Margaret,

It is all of black pine and the dark oak-tree; And she was wan and wae.

And the midnight wind, to the mountain deer,

Is whistling the forest lullaby: The sister, Jean, had a full fair skin,

The moon looks through the drifting storm, And Grace was bauld and braw;

But the troubled lake reflects not her form, I“At Linton, in Roxburghshire, there is a circle of stones leader was cut in the turf, and the arrangement of the letter surrounding a smooth plot of turf, called the Tryst, or place announced to his followers the course which he had taken." of appointment, which tradition avers to have been the ren- Introduction to the Minstrelsy, p. 185. dezvous of the neighbouring war

name of he

1

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1 The forest of Glenmore is haunted by a spirit called Lhamdearg, or Red-hand.

? Where the Norwegian invader of Scotland received two bloody defeats.

3 The Galgacus of Tacitus.

No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him,

IV. And thou, little guardian, alone stretch'd before him— And oh, Dinas Emlinn! thy daughters so fair, Unhonour'd the Pilgrim from life should depart! Who heave the white bosom, and wave the dark hair;

What tuneful enthusiast shall worship their eye, When a Prince to the fate of the Peasant has yielded, When half of their charing with Cadwallon shall die ?

The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted hall; With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded,

V. And pages stand mute by the canopied pall: Then adieu, silver Teivi ! I quit thy loved scene, Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are to join the dim choir of the bards who have been; gleaming;

With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Merlin the Old, In the proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beaming, And sage Taliessin, high harping to hold. Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a Chief of the people should fall.

VI.

And adieu, Dinas Emlinn ! still green be thy shades, But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,

Unconquer'd thy warriors, and matchless thy maids ! To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb, And thou, whose faint warblings my weakness can tell, When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in Farewell, my loved Harp! my last treasure, farewell !

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 grey plover flying,
With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying,
In the arms of Hellvellyn and Catchedicam.

The Norman Worse shoe.

1806.

The Dying Bard.'

Air-The War-Song of the Men of Glamorgan.

1806.

Air-Dajfydz 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 per-
formed at his funeral.

The Welsh, inhabiting a mountainous country, and pos

sessing 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 a 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.

I.
Dinas Exlinn, lament; for the moment is nigh,
When mute in the woodlands thine echoes shall die:
No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon shall rave,
And mix his wild notes with the wild dashing wave.

II.
In spring and in autumn thy glories of shade
Unhonour'd shall flourish, unhonour'd shall fade;
For soon shall be lifeless the eye and the tongue,
That view'd them with rapture, with rapture that sung.

I.
Red glows the forge in Striguil's bounds,
And hammers din, and anvil sounds,
And armourers, with iron toil,
Barb many a steed for battle's broil.
Foul fall the hand which bends the steel
Around the courser's thundering heel,
That e'er sball dint a sable wound
On fair Glamorgan's velvet ground !

III.
Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march in their pride,
And chase the proud Saxon from Prestatyn's side ;
But where is the harp shall give life to their name?
And where is the bard shall give heroes their fame?

II.
From Chepstow's towers, ere dawn of morn,
Was heard afar the bugle-horn;
And forth, in banded pomp and pride,
Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride.
They swore, their banners broad should gleam,
In crimson light, on Rymny's stream;

1 This and the following were written for Mr. George Thomson's Welsh Airs, and are contained in his Select Melodies, rol. i.

They vow'd, Caerphili's sod should feel

Scarce could he falter the tidings of sorrow, The Norman charger's spurning heel.

And scarce could she hear them. benumb'd with

despair: III.

And when the sun sank on the sweet lake of Toro, And sooth they swore—the sun arose,

For ever he set to the Brave and the Fair. .
And Rymny's wave with crimson glows;
For Clare's red banner, floating wide,
Roll'd down the stream to Severn's tide!
And sooth they vow'd—the trampled green
Show'd where hot Neville's charge had been:
In every sable hoof-tramp stood

The Palmer.
A Norman horseman's curdling blood !

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