University of Virginia Library

As David issued forth from Dolbadarn,
Edward to meet, (young Edwall at his right,
Seeking the bold exploit) Llewellyn cried.
“David! restrain thy fire impetuous.
“Not to subdue, but harass, thou art sent.
“Be cautious, and if dangers great arise,
“Hither return. I, for a harder strife,
“Will not be backward, and these gallant hosts,
“The hope and pride of Cambria, with a wave
“Resistless, shall, erelong, o'erwhelm the foe.”

David replied. “Thy words shall be my guide.
“Now, O Llewellyn! on my sword rely,
“And on the soberest dictates of a mind,
“Faithful to thee. With my most gallant friend,
“Edwall, this hour will we perform a deed,
“Glorious, and such as Cambria long shall praise.
“Now for the strife of men! Brother, farewell!”
David and Edwall, and their gallant bands,
Their swords unsheath'd, forth thro' the gate-way rush.

Within Old Dolbadarn, on Snowdon's brow,
Llewellyn, and his veterans fed their hearts
On vengeance, and resolves of fiery rage.
No idle spirit. Each his weapon seized;
And sharpen'd sword and spear and massy axe;
Halbert and javelin. Ah! the flight is seen!
The Cambrians speed impetuous from the fray!
Each with his utmost strength; some fleet of step,
Some tardy, tho' all earnest, like the snow,
Hastening to earth, when many a heavy flake
Passes its lighter brother. On they rush.
The gate is open'd! Wild, they enter in!—
Amazement in their eye, death on their cheek!
“And where is David?” Slow, Llewellyn spake.
One forward came and cried. “Edwall is slain!
“And David, wounded, by the Victor seized.”
Llewellyn answer'd not. His cheek (till then
Glowing) a pallid hue, sudden o'ercast.
A momentary palsy of the heart
Robb'd him of utterance. Twice he strove to speak,
Then turn'd away, silent, and paced alone.
Again he hastes. His eye, with fire illumed,
Told of the burning thought. Aloud he cried.
“Veterans! this hour my Brother is no more!
“I know the wrath of Edward, his resolve
“Which altereth not. David once call'd him friend,
“But when the film was torn from his dim eyes,
“Back to the land that gave him birth he fled.
“If ere the war should doom him, from that hour,
“Captive to Edward, death, immediate death,
“Was his sure portion. This hath he endured.
“He breathes no more! His sun hath set in night.
“Cambrians! there is a spirit in our veins,
“A flood within our hearts, that shall burst forth,
“Untameable, and drench our foes in scorn.
“Mark me. The eve is near. When the morn breaks,
“We will haste forth, out on yon stony brow,
“And boldly meet the Foe. We will retrieve,
“By valour of so stern and fierce a kind,
“Our late discomfiture, that England's King
“Shall wither in the whirlwind of our rage.”
A deafening shout ascends. “Soon as the morn,
“We will go forth to conquest and to fame!”
His weapon and his heart, each now prepares.

It was the dead of night. Upon his couch,
Restless, Llewellyn lay, his mind oppress'd
With the tumultuous thought.

Amid the sky,
(With many a cloud, sailing in sable pomp,
Skirted with grey, or in fantastic shape,
Of Hydras, or Night-roaming Dragons fierce)
The horned moon appear'd, sending faint beams
Thro' the barr'd windows. Silence deep was there,
Unbroken, whilst the taper slept in air.
All motion fled, save, glistening in their course,
The motley sands, from the time-telling glass,
Busily passing: these their way pursued,
(Earnest, as is the eve-returning bird)
Now cone-like gather'd, gliding wave-like now,
Down the steep sides. The Prince beheld the sight,
Musing upon the swift-wing'd course of time.
The glass is stopped! The last sand now hath roll'd!—
Llewellyn's heart felt chill as th' winter sky!
Thoughts undefined, of dim perplexity,
Obtrusive, cross'd his mind, that knock'd no more,
Asking admittance; in tumultuous bands
They entered, and his spirit made their home.
His all at stake! His Sire's inheritance!
His crown! His life! Death-like solemnity
Pervades his heart!—The rights of those he loved;
His People's welfare; and his Sons unborn,
Great as their Fathers, or abased and vile!
Such thoughts, in mournful retinue arose!
Whilst, well he knew, that blood erelong must flow
In copious stream, and, o'er his subjects, Death
Remorseless laugh, counting his thousands slain.

Nor mused he not, with the cold-starting dew,
On the uncertainty, who might survive.
He thought upon himself.—A still small voice—
Whisper'd! He turn'd to hear. He fear'd it not.
There seem'd a loveliness, till then unfelt,
In th' thought of death. Tho' serious thing it was—
Most solemn, to put off this mortal robe—
A long adieu bid to the sun and stars,
And fair Creation—on the earth, the head
To rest, unconscious, and the limbs, once prized,
Give to the worms!—Tho' awful, passing thought,
To meet the Judge of All, of Quick and Dead!
Yet were these thoughts to him armed with no sting.
Llewellyn call'd them in the sober walk,
And, in the musing hour, midnight affords
They were his theme, th' associates whom he loved.
He served his Maker. He his Law revered,
(Given in mercy to rebellious man,
Wherein the full, broad road to happiness
Is traced with sun-beams, whilst Futurity
No longer sits in clouds.) The transient thought
Pass'd thro' his mind, that if, in th' coming fray,
The Almighty, Sovereign of the Lives he gave,
Should call him from a state, wedded to care,
He felt that he could say—“Thy will be done!”
That moment privileged of happy things—
Flies! and the cloud gathers once more around.
Life yet had charms. For others, for himself,
He wish'd to live,—to perfect mighty plans,
Dear to his heart, and some faint chill he felt,
Taking a gloomy survey of the grave,
At its cold sullenness, lonely and dark!
A depth unfathom'd, from which living man
Shrinks! And looks up to gaze upon the sky.
Affection too with spells, had bound his heart
He linger'd o'er the present, still he clings
To th' welcome reed that floats upon the wave,
And, “Spare me! Spare me!” Trembling spake his heart.

Steadfast he look'd in vacancy. His mind,
To its interior cell, now had retired,
And free he ranged o'er the ideal world,
In a luxurious absence of all thought,
Drown'd in excess. In visionary trance,
As thus he lay, a Form advances slow,
Whence, unperceived; not of the world we tread,
The Hag of some strange planet, out, afar.
With mists her robe was mingled; cloud it seem'd—
Thin as the half-moon in the mid-day sky,
Whilst her unearthly face, long, lank, and seer,
Streak'd with the line indelible of age,
Lamp-like, stood prominent, whose lineaments,
Declared th' unaltered purpose, whilst her eye,
Deep in its socket, shone with sallow beam,
As thro' the air, at object unreveal'd,
Earnest she fix'd her sight. Amid the pause,
Slowly she turns! She looks upon the Prince!
Tho' steadfast are her eyes, her breath withheld,
A voice is heard, faint as the rustling leaf—
A palsying sound, shrill, bodiless, obscure,
Allied to the converse of the Unseen World,
When Grave to Grave whispers mysterious things.
She spake! “For death, the irrevocable doom!
“Prepare! Thy Goal is near! Thy race is run!
“The Funeral Lamp, to light thy Sepulchre,
“Is trimm'd and burning, and thy Winding-Sheet,
“O Prince, behold!” Slowly the vision fades—
Mixing with air!

Llewellyn, from his couch,
Starts! Whilst convulsions fasten on his heart.
He stands aghast, then slowly looks around
Once more to light upon the spectre form—
Darkness alone is there, and silence all!
Earnest he cried, his soul again return'd,
“What mean these fearful visions of the night,
“Aping Reality?” Llewellyn's heart
Spurn'd at enthusiast dread, fume of the brain;
Yet this aerial shape, he liked it not,
The moment, (perils near) her form, her words.
He rather would have dreamt the pleasant dream
Of Life long-lengthen'd, fame and victory.
At this peculiar hour, such wakefulness,
Such freshness of the faculties was his,
Cloudless, intense, pervading his whole mind,
It seem'd new being, and an antepast
Of th' immaterial world.

Llewellyn now
Felt at his heart new burden. Forth he goes
With cold serenity, a sober joy
Verging on pain, like who his long-loved Home,
Once more beholds, haunts of his infancy,
When many scenes, adverse, have passed between.
With such subdued delight, Cambria's high Prince,
Now seeks his Eleanor. He found the Maid
Pacing alone, her Damsel stretch'd in sleep,
The dim lamp burning. She beheld her Lord—
Silent, they fall into each others arms!

Thus Eleanor began. “Edwall is slain!
“And David, captive made, and on the morn
“Thou strivest with thy bitter Enemy.”
Llewellyn earnest cried. “First Gem of earth!
“Be not cast down. Edwall, alas! is slain;
“David is captive made; and, on the morn,
“Llewellyn grapples with his deadly Foe!
“This be thy joy! The moment hastens on,
“When Cambria, for accumulated wrongs,
“Shall, from her prison heart, let loose her wrath,
“And with her vengeance scare the Enemy.
“Put off thy fears. Let not thy spirit grieve.
“I come to lull thee, ere the fight begin.
“Discard thy terrors. Wear a look of joy.
“Our thraldom hastens to a glorious end,
“And Pleasure waits, with her o'erflowing cup,
“To sooth us for the sorrows we have known.”

Thus Eleanor replied. “Joy of my heart!
“For thee have I forsaken friend and home,
“And cross'd the seas and borne captivity,
“Whilst, in Llewellyn's smile, my earthly hopes
“Centred alone. Can I with placid heart,
“Think of the raging fight—the blazing sword—
“The dart fast-speeding thro' the darken'd air—
“The halbert and the lance!—All deadly things!—
“On every side, wielding and scattering round
“Death and destruction! Noble and brave Prince,
“Can I with heart unshuddering think, that thou,
“Even thou art in the midst of these fierce scenes?
“Llewellyn! What if some remorseless dart,
“Some furious spear, should pierce thee in the fight!
“Tho' it be folly, pardon me, my Lord!
“I must indulge these tears of bitterness!”
Llewellyn cried. “The Foe is worn with toil,
“And we are fresh and eager for the strife!
“We, on our native hills, fight for our homes—
“They are far distant from the land they love!
“We have the flower of Cambria, valiant men,
“Thronging around us, burning to repay,
“For wrongs and countless deeds of contumely,
“The debt of vengeance. They, with eager hearts,
“Seek conquest, waste, and death—We nobly strive
“For justice, life, and liberty. One doubt
“Of our success, can'st thou, O Eleanor,
“Indulge with sadden'd brow? We must succeed!
“It is ordain'd by the fix'd course of things,
“That cause, like ours, must prosper and ascend
“Proudly o'er all impediment. Thy fears,
“Maiden beloved, restrain! Fast comes the hour
“That gives us happiness.—The dawn appears!
“I must away! Nay check desponding thoughts,
“My Life! My Eleanor! Awhile farewell!”
Weeping upon Llewellyn's arm she lay!
“Farewell!” Again he cried. As thus he spake,
Her hand relaxed. She sank upon her couch!
Sighing, he pass'd away.

Llewellyn rush'd,
Shaking the milder feelings from his heart,
Down 'mid his waiting veterans. Whilst the earth
Dimness o'ercast, each for the battle paused.
With cheek, still moisten'd with paternal tear,
For his lost Son, (Edwall the young, the brave)
Advancing, Anarawd his Monarch hail'd,
Follow'd by Chieftains panting for renown,
In wars matured, from Cambria's utmost verge,
Who now, around their Prince, vindictive throng'd,
Strength in their arms and vigour in their hearts,
Resolved in one great contest, to surpass
All former feats of fame, and whelm the Foe,
E'en Edward and his fierce assailing host,
In ruin and unutterable shame.—
“One word,” Llewellyn cried, “Ere to yon space,
“We issue, and the vengeful sword unsheath.”
Around their Prince the valiant Chieftains throng,
Whilst nearer press the ardent Multitude,
Anxious to hear their Prince, to catch his fire,
And rush to war. Whilst silence reign'd around,
Llewellyn to his Armies thus began.

“Men, great in arms and high enroll'd in fame,
“Your Country long hath honor'd you, and felt
“In your renown, stability and strength,
“That banish'd the faint semblance of dismay.
“Great are your deeds. A thousand generous songs
“Recount your praise, and your brave Ancestors'.
“If ever pride sat graceful on man's heart,
“You she adorns, for all from Heroes sprang,
“From champions and the illustrious sons of earth.
“Brave Cassivellaunus and Caractacus,
“Were our Progenitors; Carausius
“Cynetha and Allectus; men whose swords
“Vanquish'd the Roman Legions, and preserved,
“When England crouch'd beneath the Conqueror's car,
“Spotless, their liberty. Here, in these wilds,
“Among these mountains, Freedom stamp'd her foot,
“And planted the tall spear, and from her limbs,
“Disdainful, shook the chain. These were our Sires!
“Whilst as the years roll'd on, new stars arose,
“Crowding Heaven's galaxy, whose glory reach'd
“Earth's farthest Nation. Einion, and that Chief,
“Conspicuous in each daring enterprise,
“Caswallon, o'er proud Caledonia's sons,
“'Mid Mona, lifted high the conquering lance.
“These rose to prop their country, with that name
“Dear to our Cambria, Vortimer, whose sword
“Drove Hengist and his Saxon plunderers
“Back to their savage wilds. A thousand suns
“Now beam at once and throng our sky with fire,
“Led by Pendragon and Ambrosius,
“In blood and valour brethren, with that man,
“Whose name no Cambrian hears, but with a tear
“Of starting rapture, and a thrilling heart—
“Arthur! whose glory yet illumes our land.
“These were our ancestors! These, when the Foe
“Came, like a wintry torrent, in their grasp
“The sword wide gleaming, to o'erwhelm our land,
“Rush'd dauntless on. The patriot's love endued
“Their swords with ten-fold fury, and at length,
“The assailants, from our hills, fled, clad in clouds,
“And, safe, still trembled at Old Cambria's rage.
“These men, in their full plenitude of fame,
“Exultant sang. ‘Our foes are quench'd in shade!
“Our enemies, all towering, are subdued!
“They met us, and have sunk in endless night!’
“There is a spirit in our mountain air!
“Who breathes it, feels arise within his heart
“Courage, and appetite of fair renown,
“And thirst of liberty, unquenchable.
“These sons of valour, in their pride, exclaim'd,
“Our Offspring, when the evil hour shall come,
“Thinking of us, shall lift their gleaming swords,
“And on their foes destruction hurl and death.
“We are these heroes' sons! that foe appears!—
“And we have now to build the lofty name,
“And garland it, and send it fragrant down
“To distant ages, that our sons unborn
“May talk of us and emulate our fame.
“Cambrians! the day is come, the strife is near,
“That shall extinguish, or exalt our names
“Even to the skies. We must triumphant shout
“‘Vict'ry!’ and make all Cambria swell our praise,
“(In an undying peal) from mount to mount,
“Or, buried in deep shame, o'erwhelm'd in night,
“Perish, and give our memories to decay!
“I may not doubt the issue. Noble men,
“This contest o'er, this our last struggle past,
“We, to our distant homes, forth may return,
“And, 'mid the wife and children of our hearts,
“Talk of our deeds, when we proud Edward scourged;
“And, circled by prosperity, instruct
“Our list'ning sons of the most precious debt
“They owe their country, when new foes arise,
“To die, or triumph. Edward, England's King,
“Hath lived in tumults from his infancy.
“In unfledg'd years, against our native hills,
“His lance he lifted, but we sent him back
“O'erwhelmed with shame. That moment in his heart,
“Sank the deep resolution, when matured
“By age and by experience, to attempt
“Against Old Cambria some austere exploit,
“E'en her subjection. To increase his might,
“On Afric's shore he fought—'mid Palestine,
“And when he thought his vengeance perfected,
“He hasten'd back, to wield again the spear,
“And shake the Cambrian Lion by the mane!
“We are prepared to meet him! In our veins
“Still flows the blood of Brutus. We have hearts,
“Not aliens from our soil. We know to prize
“The hills, where freedom and content disport,
“And carol songs of joy! Our breasts are fired
“With ardent love of heaven-born liberty!
“We spurn the bond-man's chains! Cambrians, arise!
“By all the love you bear your peaceful homes!
“By the sweet music of your native rills!
“By glorious aspirations of renown!
“By the supreme affection you sustain
“For your loved wives and helpless innocents—
“Your aged sires—your children, yet unborn—
“Rise! Cast the cumbering scabbard to the wind!
“The mists disperse! The sun illumes our path!
“Rush on to victory! and let our Foe,
“Edward, and yonder host, waving the lance,
“Perish beneath the blast of our disdain!”

Old Snowdon, to her stony centre, shakes
With the acclaim, e'en the loud-pealing shout,
That rent the element! and now they rush
Impetuous forth to meet the Enemy—
Lhyrarch, the while, pouring the ardent song.

Edward, with earliest dawn, burst from his couch.
His troops, impatient, marshall'd for the fight,
Await his coming. To a spiring crag,
Eager he hastes. “Hear me,” aloud he cried.
His chieftains, and his warriors round him throng,
Clad in bright mail, the high progenitors,
Thro' countless years, down to expiring time,
Of England's Nobles, and the Sires renown'd
Of those who learn their lofty pedigree,
Not by damp scrolls, and records worn with time,
But by th' ennobling thoughts and energies,
That glow within their hearts and fire their veins.
While all is silence, Edward thus began.

“Veterans and friends revered, list to my words.
“The object of my life, my dearest hopes,
“Now burst into fruition! I behold—
“Driven to his last retreat, e'en on these hills—
“Till now held sacred, and untouch'd of Foe,
“Llewellyn and his host. Behold them there!
“Scared ere the fight begin. Thro' centuries past,
“England hath borne often severe defeat,
“But ever insult, and unnumber'd wrongs
“From these fierce dwellers on the mountains wild;
“Ever in arms—nourish'd in blood and strife!
“A feather, lifted 'gainst the passing wind,
“Rouses all Cambria into stormy rage,
“And fills her warrior sons, not with a wrath,
“Such as we feel, but with inveterate ire,—
“With devastating fury,—with revenge
“Implacable, solaced alone with death.
“With these irascible and ice-bred men,
“England too long hath borne. Our sires, of old,
“Oft partial triumphs gained, but, in the end,
“The foe exulted, whilst our warriors bled,
“Bootless, and in a few revolving years,
“Conquer'd again, only to yield at last.
“The welcome morn now dawns, when Cambria lives!
“Or England falls! Such insults I have known,
“Such contumacious wrongs and treacheries,
“Wing'd with defiance, that my oath is pass'd,
“Forced by supreme necessity, O men!
“To subjugate, for us and for our heirs,
“Cambria, from shore to shore. The King who wields
“Albion's proud sceptre, may he not, unblamed,
“When dared, insulted, like his valiant sires,
“In equal combat, meet his mortal foe?
“Yet views and hopes, far loftier, fill my breast.
“In humbling Cambria's Prince, I look beyond
“And plan for our posterity. I live,
“Not for vain boasts of conquest, but alone,
“To brace the sinews of our cliff-bound isle—
“To mould a jarring and discordant state,
“Weak, in its parts, combined, invincible,
“That shall present, to every future foe,
“The tower of strength, the front of adamant.
“Experience, dearly gain'd 'mid foreign lands,
“Hath taught this lesson, and I lead you forth,
“E'en now, amid these mountain elements,
“By deed at arms, and gallant enterprise,
“To prove the benefactors of your race.
“Warriors! Believe your Prince. Tho' rough the road,
“On which you now, seeking the Cambrian, tread,
“It leads to happiness—for us—for them,
“For the whole land! When these my days are pass'd
“And, on the verge of death's tremendous gulf,
“Shuddering I stand (with hopes of loftier kind—
“Of mercy and forgiveness from high Heaven,)
“One thought shall then irradiate the dark scene,
“And cheer my spirit—that, by steady aim,
“Unshaken, I have scorn'd impediment,
“And by th' achievements of this glorious day,
“(For who shall doubt the issue?) torn the crown
“From Cambria's brow and quench'd the torch of strife.
“I then shall die, exulting, that our heirs
“Are not to wade thro' blood, as we have done,
“And 'neath the pillow ever plant the spear.
“I then shall joy, that the laborious toil—
“A sad inheritance! shall never more
“Upon our sons devolve, of grappling hard
“With these vindictive inmates of the clouds.
“We will perform th' inestimable deed!
“Our sons shall live at ease, and when they see
“Concord, where fierce contentions dwelt before,
“The borders of each realm teeming with life,
“The yellow corn-field, and the bending vine,
“(Where now sterility, anguish, and fear
“Hold their resort, whilst pale-eyed Pestilence,
“Walking her nightly round, launches unseen,
“The arrow, with destruction barbed, and death)
“Beholding this transition, from black night,
“To cheerful noon-day, they shall praises heap
“On their victorious and determin'd sires.
“The isle is one—so shall the monarch be!
“Our enemies o'erthrown, peace may return,
“But while Llewellyn rules, whilst Cambria boasts
“Her ancient princedom, whilst her spirit burns
“To conquer the fair land our fathers won,
“Warfare must reign. Now is the glorious hour
“To consummate England's devoutest hope,
“Her age-extended prayer, and by one feat,
“The pride of after years, Cambria subdue,
“Never to rise again!—Yet, even she,
“Her first keen pang endured, with us, erelong,
“Shall join loud exultations, while she views
“Her antique iron, and blood-rusted crown,
“For the gem-mantled coronet exchanged;
“Terror, with all her train of searching fears,
“For permanence of joy. Behold the Foe!
“Him whom our arms have driven, from hold to hold
“E'en to these mountain heights. Unsheath your swords!
“The Cambrians hasten! Lo, the harp I hear,
“Our friend be He who rules the universe!
“I lead you to the fight!—God and Saint George!”

The English and the Cambrian ranks draw nigh:
And now they stand, both in long line of arms,
Facing each other, waiting for the trump,
Onward to burst, and drench the field with gore.
Llewellyn shouted, “Anarawd!” He comes.
“Go!” cried the Prince, “to yon pernicious man,
“Yon Saxon, even Edward, and declare
“Llewellyn dares him to the single fight—
“Even in the face of this vast multitude.
“Saving the Christians' blood, tell him, aloud,
“This arm shall meet him, kingdoms for the prize.”
With ardour, Anarawd prepared to speak.
“Go!” cried Llewellyn. “Parley I disdain!
“Away!” The Cambrian Chieftain seeks the foe.

The trump was raised, and the imperious breath
Indrawn, to thunder forth the blast of war,
When Anarawd appear'd, waving the flag,
And seeking Edward. “Stop!” The King exclaim'd.
“A Cambrian hastens.” Anarawd drew near;
When Edward spake, “Thy purpose?” Bending low,
The Chieftain thus replied.—“Our noble Prince,
“Llewellyn, Lord of Snowdon, to the fight,
“Singly, before this warrior multitude,
“Dares thee, O Edward!” Edward high in air
His gauntlet cast, and with shout vehement,
Answer'd, “I meet him! Let him forward haste!
“Before this host of gazers, we will join
“Instant in mortal strife. Cambrian, away!
“Bear this my joyful message to thy Lord.”

Earl Warwick hasten'd nigh, and, by his side,
England's chief nobles. “Hear me!” Loud he cried.
“O King, restrain the fervour of thy soul!
“Thou art thy subjects' property! Thy life,
“Justly, thou may'st not venture. Thou art here,
“The spirit of our cause; the head, the soul.
“Were it thine own one interest, I would joy
“(Nor doubt the issue) that our valiant King,
“The pride of England, dared, not Cambria's Chief
“To combat, but the Champion of the World.
“Let me contend with Snowdon's lofty Lord.”
“Or me!” “Or me!” From the encircling host,
Came shouting forth. Edward, his spirit tamed
To the subjection of his sovereign will,
Calm, confident, with even voice, and eye
Steady as solar beam, on Anarawd
Gazing, thus answer'd. “To Llewellyn, tell—
“Edward shall meet him in the coming fray!
“That be the hour of trial! To thy Prince!”
Low bending, Anarawd, sedate, retired.

Now thro' the air the shrill-toned trumpet sounds!
At the loud signal for the clash of arms,
Llewellyn and King Edward hasten on,
Each breathing death. Like two imperious tides
Swoln with the storm, or where broad Amazon,
Toward the Atlantic pours his waters forth,
Forcing a passage thro' a sea in arms:
With such resistless fury, onward rush
The hostile combatants! And now the lance,
Impetuous, thro' the air flies whizzing on,
Upon the target sounding, and full oft
Sending to dust the sons of bravery.
From the deciduous quivers, fast the darts
Are thrown across the string, whilst ceaseless twangs
Startle each ear. On Snowdon's rocky heights,
Men drop like frosted leaves, swept by the storm,
In autumn's yellow hour. The arrows still
Fly thicker, whilst aloft the spears are hurl'd,
Black passing lines, that ever, where they fall,
Bear reckless fate. Llewellyn cries “The sword!
“Cambrians! The sword!” He leads them to the fray.
Now the vast tempest swells, and deeper tones
Of horrid dissonance rush thro' the air.
The buckler sounding loud—the helmet's crash—
The shiver'd lance—the sword's shrill contact keen,
Grating and harsh—the ponderous battle-axe,
With dying groans and “Mercy's” plaintive cry,
From prostrate valour, all commingling rise,
Rousing afresh to more stupendous wrath
The warriors' furious arm! Transcendent deeds
Of noble enterprise now are perform'd.
Death, drunk with blood, reels, and forgets to count
The multitudinous Ghosts which pass him by!
Men, great in arms, for ever close their eyes,
And 'mid the unheeded dead are trodden down,
In pitiless confusion.—Spite of strength
And courage form'd in valour's sternest mould,
The Cambrian's arm is slack! Llewellyn piles
Destruction round him, whilst throughout the field
He traverses and lays the mighty low,
Seeking the royal crest! Edward hastes on!
The Lions meet! Ah! Now the fight begins!
Llewellyn's buckler rings and Edward's shield
Bears the deep scar!—blow, fast succeeding blow,
From each, with crushing vehemence, descends!—
Llewellyn's falchion snaps! While Edward's shield,
Divided, falls to earth. The King, his sword
Plunged at the Foe. The Cambrian's buckler wards
The stroke of fate, and now, with arm to arm,
Grappling, they strive! Such fearful vehemence
Man ne'er surpass'd. “Avaunt!” The King exclaim'd.
Llewellyn cried, “Avaunt!” Instant they part.
A sword and shield from the surrounding heap,
Sudden they seize, and rush again to arms!—
Still fiercer is the conflict! Fighting men
Forget their strife, and, wondering, turn to gaze
Upon the furious combatants! His sword
Llewellyn rais'd, and, with one vengeful blow,
Put forth his latent nerve, resolved to bear
All force before him, gorget, helm, and shield!
Edward upraised his buckler; the fierce blow
Alighted like Heaven's bolt! Awhile he reel'd,
When, springing forward, with a sudden thrust,
He plunged his sword, deep in Llewellyn's heart!—
The Hero falls, and Cambria is no more!