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4
Llanfihangel.
(A VILLAGE NEAR TAL-Y-LLYN.)
The May-flies hovered in the heat,
And stood upon the lake,
And the quiet trout seemed scarce to dare
The lazy calm to break.
And stood upon the lake,
And the quiet trout seemed scarce to dare
The lazy calm to break.
And up the mountain-side I went,
And o'er the mountain-back,
And saw no trace of human-kind
Upon my silent track.
And o'er the mountain-back,
And saw no trace of human-kind
Upon my silent track.
Beyond the mountain-ranges far
I marked the level sea,
And a breeze that way upon my brow
Came blowing pleasantly.
I marked the level sea,
And a breeze that way upon my brow
Came blowing pleasantly.
And all the outlines, bound with heav'n,
Were quivering in the sun,—
And from my heart self-bidden streams
Of thankfulness would run.
Were quivering in the sun,—
And from my heart self-bidden streams
Of thankfulness would run.
5
It was the holy day of rest,
And, when the breezes fell,
There seemed to dream within my ear
The tolling of a bell:
And, when the breezes fell,
There seemed to dream within my ear
The tolling of a bell:
So faintly, that I listened oft
To tell if it were true;
Yet, when I listened, evermore
The breezes voiceless blew.
To tell if it were true;
Yet, when I listened, evermore
The breezes voiceless blew.
And o'er the moss and springy turf,
As holden by a spell,
I followed with an eager foot
The phantom of the bell,
As holden by a spell,
I followed with an eager foot
The phantom of the bell,
Until it smote me loud and clear,
And, where the shapeless hill
Fell off abrupt with rocky face,
I stood in wonder still.
And, where the shapeless hill
Fell off abrupt with rocky face,
I stood in wonder still.
For deep below in hollow glen
A little village lay;—
I never saw a fairer sight
Than I saw upon that day;—
A little village lay;—
I never saw a fairer sight
Than I saw upon that day;—
A stream all golden in the sun
'Mid ancient elm-trees crept,
And the light was on their rounded tops,
And deep their shadows slept.
'Mid ancient elm-trees crept,
And the light was on their rounded tops,
And deep their shadows slept.
6
And golden-grey the old church-tower
Its summons sweetly pealed;
And long the train that gathered in
From hill-side and from field.
Its summons sweetly pealed;
And long the train that gathered in
From hill-side and from field.
Oh, happy if ye knew the home
In which ye live and die!
Ye only curse its barrenness,
And pass its beauty by.
In which ye live and die!
Ye only curse its barrenness,
And pass its beauty by.
(1844.)
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