The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
THE MOUNTAIN-FIRES. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
The works of Mrs. Hemans | ||
THE MOUNTAIN-FIRES.
Light the hills! till heaven is glowing
As with some red meteor's rays!
Winds of night, though rudely glowing,
Shall but fan the beacon-blaze.
Light the hills till flames are streaming,
From Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,
To the waves round Mona gleaming,
Where the Roman track'd the deep!
As with some red meteor's rays!
Winds of night, though rudely glowing,
Shall but fan the beacon-blaze.
Light the hills till flames are streaming,
From Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,
To the waves round Mona gleaming,
Where the Roman track'd the deep!
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Be the mountain watch-fires heighten'd,
Pile them to the stormy sky!
Till each torrent-wave is brighten'd,
Kindling as it rushes by.
Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling,
Towers in reddening light sublime;
Heap the flames! around them telling
Tales of Cambria's elder time.
Pile them to the stormy sky!
Till each torrent-wave is brighten'd,
Kindling as it rushes by.
Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling,
Towers in reddening light sublime;
Heap the flames! around them telling
Tales of Cambria's elder time.
Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted,
Many a solemn vigil kept,
When, in ages long departed,
O'er the noble dead they wept.
In the winds we hear their voices,
—“Sons! though yours a brighter lot,
When the mountain-land rejoices,
Be her mighty unforgot!”
Many a solemn vigil kept,
When, in ages long departed,
O'er the noble dead they wept.
In the winds we hear their voices,
—“Sons! though yours a brighter lot,
When the mountain-land rejoices,
Be her mighty unforgot!”
The works of Mrs. Hemans | ||