"Purfue thy courfe," the beldam straight reply'd;
"Through London streets, which thou dost wish to tread,
"Llewellyn fhall e'er long in triumph ride,

"With a gay crown upon his princely head."

She faid; and foon the form was loft in air: • Pleas'd with her tale, Llewellyn onward mov'd; • With equal zeal, nor troops nor leaders spare,

To meet the battle with the prince they lov'd,

• Between two mighty hills*, whofe lofty tops

⚫ Cleave the black cloud that bends with pond'rous force,

Far spreads a vale, bedight with vernal crops,

And fed with ftreams which flow to Severn's course.

There lay the English lines in bright array,

With fiery Mortimer, a val'rous knight; ⚫ Thefe Prince Llewellyn, by the break of day, Saw from the mountain, and prepar'd to fight.

The finew'd ftrong-bows were by Rod❜rick led,

Men who ne'er drew the twanging ftring in vain; • Wide spread the pikes, with David at their head, ⚫ And brave Llewellyn led the dauntless main.

• These drew their keen-edg'd weapons flesh'd in blood;
• By David fwore (their tutelary faint)

To bathe their bodies in the crimfon flood,
Ere they would yield to Mortimer's restraint.

O God of battles! how I grieve to think

That thofe of kin fhould hew each other down; That fuch high blood the thirsty earth fhould drink, For fell ambition, and the toy renown.

*Plynillymon and Moylvadian.

Yet

Yet why were Cimru's honeft fons mifus'd,

By lordly marchers, infolent and vain!

Why were their necks with galling yokes abus'd,
And why did Edward let them still complain!

• Reftlefs Ambition can no rival bear;

Her flame in Edward's breast the fiend had blown And oft he wifh'd Llewellyn's rightful share • Of rich dominion added to his own.

Nor this alone: the noble peerless maid,

Great Leicester's daughter, to the prince affy'd,

• Was bafely to the English court convey'd, 'As on her way to be Llewellyn's bride.

Robb'd of his love, expos'd to base controul,

Firm in his people's hearts Llewellyn reign'd,
(The strongest bulwark royalty can claim!)
Ali felt his wrongs, and thofe to battle train'd,
Haften to arms, with more than Roman flame.

Leaders approv'd, the progeny of kings,
Cimru to better fpirits ne'er gave breath :

These most alert led up the vet'ran wings,

And bar'd their rough fronts to the face of death.

For Liberty, like thefe, who would not strive;

Or who, like them, to danger would not fly? In bondage vile what hero would furvive?

To live a flave, is ev'ry hour to die!

* Edward I.

• Full

Full oft I've seen, in fultry Virgo's reign,
Contending clouds befpread the welkin o'er ;
Now rudely meet, and now retire again,
• While Nature trembled at the mighty roar.

Such was the onset, fuch the dreadful found;
In vain the Bard defcribes it in his lay:
Fancy muft picture to the guests around,
The conflict dirę, and horrors of that day,

The conscious fun, beneath the western sky,
All fadly red, forfook the bloody plain;
Foreboding fatal defolation nigh,

• Pregnant with horrors, a malignant train!

The night, afham'd that those of human birth,
• Like favage beasts, should by each other bleed,
Spread wide her fable veil 'twixt heaven and earth,
Cov'ring with darkness the unnatʼral deed.

Hard is the business of the man of arms,

Little his profit, fave uncertain fame ;

For ever fubject to a thousand harms,

And courting danger, to escape from shame!

Thrice happy he, upon the mountain bred,
• Who feeks no foes, but fuch as feek his fold d;
Who afks no laurels to adorn his head,

Who craves no fame, nor idly thirfts for gold!

He fears no fhackles, dreads no victor's fcorn, ⚫ Content he pipes beneath the hazel shade; His greatest joy to view, from morn to morn,

His blithfome ewes and lambkins crop the glade.

At

At fultry noon to feek the cooling spring,
To feed content upon his homely fare,
'Whilft all around the woodland chaunters fing,
Nor feel a with a better fate to fhare.

'At eve to folace o'er the beechen can,

With humble ruftics, like himself untaught; 'Or toils to come, or future fports to plan, Or fing of her who most employs his thought.

And happiest he, with humble means content, To whom, by no false carping cares poffefs'd, 'Sweet fleep fucceeds a day in virtue spent, 'Nor phantoms follow to disturb his reft.

'Not fo the hofts whom night had mantled o'er ; • Each to a fastness took his weary'd way,

Refolving to renew the fight once more,

• Ere the dull bat forfook the dawn of day.'

And now th' enfeebled Bard, by toil subdu'd,
Indulgence claim'd, ere he his ftrain renew'd;
The grateful baron gave him loud applause,
And thanks and waffel fill'd the granted paufe.
Thrice had the Malmfey goblet pafs'd around,
And filence feem'd again to reign profound,
When, in a fober and majestick mood,
The venerable bard his theme purfu’d,

The lark his morning carol had forgot,

No fong-bird warbled from the bloom-deck'd fpray; No fwallow twitter'd from the low-built cot,

To greet the harbinger of coming day.

. No

No ruftic whistled with his team to plough,
• Or wander'd blithefome to the cowflip dale;
The buxom maiden, wont to milk the cow,
• Forbore to seek the treafures of the pail.

The hunter, who was us'd to top the mound,
And greet his fellows with the chearful horn,
Urg'd not the chace, but wifely kept the hound
Securely kennel'd from the chearlefs morn.

Black lour'd the welkin, when the dawn began,

Pouring a deluge of wide-fpreading rain;

And not a creature, fave obdurate man,

• Forsook the friendly covert for the plain.

• Nor whelming torrents, nor impending fate, Could check the Britons in their fierce career : Urg'd by revenge, and ftimulated hate,

The Cambrian leaders on the hills appear.

And ftraight, in firm and martial form array'd,
The fongs of Cadwald charm'd them from difmay;
This drew the bow, and that the fhining blade,
Whilft all impatient wait the deadly fray.

But English prudence kept the fhelter ftill,
Until the clouds forfook the azure ský:
Then forth they came; and we defcend the hill,
• Refolv'd to conquer, or for freedom die!

O that fome gentle pow'r had stepp'd between!
Some friendly pow'r, that feels for human woe;
So had not havock drawn the deadly scene,
• That ftill can bid the tear of pity flow!

• Soon