IX.

DISSENSIONS.

THAT heresies should strike (if truth be scanned
Presumptuously) their roots both wide and deep,
Is natural as dreams to feverish sleep.
Lo! Discord at the Altar dares to stand
Uplifting tow'rd high Heaven her fiery brand,
A cherished Priestess of the new-baptized!
But chastisement shall follow peace despised.
The Pictish cloud darkens the enervate land
By Rome abandoned; vain are suppliant cries,
And
prayers that would undo her forced farewell,
For she returns not.-Awed by her own knell,
She casts the Britons upon strange Allies,
Soon to become more dreaded enemies

Than heartless misery called them to repel.

X.

STRUGGLE OF THE BRITONS AGAINST THE BARBARIANS.

RISE!-they have risen: of brave Aneurin ask
How they have scourged old foes, perfidious friends:
The spirit of Caractacus defends

The Patriots, animates their glorious task;—
Amazement runs before the towering casque
Of Arthur, bearing through the stormy field
The Virgin sculptured on his Christian shield:-
Stretched in the sunny light of victory bask
The Host that followed Urien as he strode

O'er heaps of slain ;—from Cambrian wood and moss
Druids descend, auxiliars of the Cross;

Bards, nursed on blue Plinlimmon's still abode,
Rush on the fight, to harps preferring swords,

And everlasting deeds to burning words!

XI.

SAXON CONQUEST.

NOR wants the cause the panic-striking aid
Of hallelujahs tost from hill to hill-

For instant victory. But Heaven's high will
Permits a second and a darker shade

Of Pagan night. Afflicted and dismayed,

The Relics of the sword flee to the mountains:

Owretched Land! whose tears have flowed like fountains;

Whose arts and honours in the dust are laid,

By men yet scarcely conscious of a care

For other monuments than those of Earth;

Who, as the fields and woods have given them birth,
Will build their savage fortunes only there;
Content, if foss, and barrow, and the girth

Of long-drawn rampart, witness what they were.

VOL. III.

XII.

MONASTERY OF OLD BANGOR.

THE oppression of the tumult—wrath and scorn—
The tribulation—and the gleaming blades—
Such is the impetuous spirit that pervades
The song of Taliesin*;-Ours shall mourn

The unarmed Host who by their prayers would turn
The sword from Bangor's walls, and guard the store
Of Aboriginal and Roman lore,

And Christian monuments, that now must burn
To senseless ashes. Mark! how all things swerve
From their known course, or vanish like a dream;
Another language spreads from coast to coast;
Only perchance some melancholy Stream
And some indignant Hills old names preserve,
When laws, and creeds, and people all are lost!

Taliesin was present at the battle which preceded this de

solation.

XIII.

CASUAL INCITEMENT.

A BRIGHT-HAIRED company of youthful Slaves,
Beautiful Strangers, stand within the pale
Of a sad market, ranged for public sale,
Where Tiber's stream the immortal City laves:
ANGLI by name; and not an Angel waves
His wing who seemeth lovelier in Heaven's eye
Than they appear to holy Gregory;

Who, having learnt that name, salvation craves
For Them, and for their Land. The earnest Sire,
His questions urging, feels in slender ties

Of chiming sound commanding sympathies;
DE-IRIANS-he would save them from God's IRE;
Subjects of Saxon ÆLLA-they shall sing
Glad HALLElujahs to the eternal King!