Sidebilder
PDF
ePub

To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,

From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears !" Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride*

Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, As down the steep of Snowden's shaggy sidet

He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Gloster stood aghasti in speechless trance : To arms! cried Mortimer, $ and couch'd his qui

vering lance.

I. 2.

On a rock, whose haughty brow
Frowns o’er old Conway's foaming flood,

Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,
With haggard eyes the Poet stood :
(Loose his beard, and hoary hair ||
Stream’d, like a meteor, 9 to the troubled air)
And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

* The crested adder's pride. Dryden's Indian Queen.

+ Snowden was a name given by the Saxons to that mountain. ous tract which the Welch themselves call Craigian-eryri: it in. cluded all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire, as far as the river Conway.

Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and Hertford, son-in-law to King Edward.

$ Edmond de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore. They both were Lords Marchers, whose lands lay on the borders of Wales, and probably accompanied the King in this expedition.

|| The image was taken from a well known picture of Raphael, representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two of these paintings both believed original, one at Florence, the other at Paris. I Shone, like a meteor, streaming to the wind.

Milton's Paradise Lost.

‘Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert-cave,

Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O’er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,

Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

1. 3.
• Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,

That hush'd the stormy main :
Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed :

Mountains, ye mourn in vain

Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head.

On dreary Arvon's shore* they lie, Smeard with gore, and ghastly pale : Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail ;

The famish'd eagle screams, and passes byt Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,#

Ye died amidst your dying country's cries

* The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the isle of An. glesey.

+ Camden and others observe, that eagles used annually to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowden, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welsh Craigian-eryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this "ay (I am told) the highest point of Snowden is called the Eagle's nest. That bird is cer. tainly no stranger to this island, as the Scots and the people of Cumberland, Westinoreland, &c. can testify: it even has built its nest in the Peak of Derbyshire. (See Willoughby's Ornithol. published by Ray.) | As dear to me as are the ruddy drops

That visit my sad heart- Shakspeare's Jul. Cæsar.

No more I weep. They do not sleep.

On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet,

Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, [line.* And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy

II. 1.

Weave the warp, and weave the woof The winding-sheet of Edward's race;

Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright [ring, The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that Shrieks of an agonizing King !|

She-wolf of France,# with unrelenting fangs, That tear’st the bowels of thy mangled Mate.

From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of Heaven. What Terrors round him

wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

II. 2.

Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies ! |

* See the Norwegian ode, The Fatal Sisters, hereafter.
+ Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley.castle.

Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous Queen.

Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. || Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress.

6

• No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable Warrior fled ?* Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born? Gone to salute the rising Morn. Fair laughs the Mornet and soft the Zephyr blows,

While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded Vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm : Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening

prey.

II. 3.

[ocr errors]

• Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare,

Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast :
Close by the regal chair
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon their baffled Guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray, $

Lance to lance, and horse to horse ;

Long years of havock urge their destin'd course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.

* Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father.

† Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign. See Froissart and other contemporary writers.

| Richard the Second, as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Wal. singham, and all the older writers, was starved to death. The story of his assassination, by Sir Piers of Exton, is of much later date. Ruinqus civil wars of York and Lancaster.

No more I weep. They do not sleep.

On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
I see them sit, they linger yet,

Avengers of their native land :
With me in dreadful harmony they join, (line.*
And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy

II. 1.

*Weave the warp, and weave the woof The winding-sheet of Edward's race;

Give ample room, and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.
Mark the year, and mark the night,
When Severn shall re-echo with affright [ring,
The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that
Shrieks of an agonizing King !t

She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate.

From thec be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of Heaven. What Terrors round him

wait ! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

II, 2.

Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies !!

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

* See the Norwegian ode, The Fatal Sisters, hereafter,
+ Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley-castle.

Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous Queen.

Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. il Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]
« ForrigeFortsett »