Lyrics of the heart With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel |
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THE HOME OF TALIESSIN. |
 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
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THE HOME OF TALIESSIN.
[_]
The remains, consisting of little more than the foundation-stones, of the dwelling of the celebrated Welsh bard Taliessin, are still pointed out in a romantic gorge of the mountains near Llanrwyst, at no great distance from the Druid waves of Llynn Geirionedd. The view which is commanded from this spot is one of the most picturesque that can be imagined.
I stood on the spot where the famed Taliessin,
“The Prince of the Bards,” had his dwelling of old;
Sad thoughts on my memory, unbidden, were pressing,
Of hopes wildly thwarted, and friendships grown cold!
“The Prince of the Bards,” had his dwelling of old;
Sad thoughts on my memory, unbidden, were pressing,
Of hopes wildly thwarted, and friendships grown cold!
Eve was yielding to twilight; yet still richly glowing,
The deep skies reflected the sun that had fled;
And below me, in musical murmurs, were flowing
The bright purple waters of Llynn Geirionedd.
The deep skies reflected the sun that had fled;
And below me, in musical murmurs, were flowing
The bright purple waters of Llynn Geirionedd.
I looked on the mighty hills gathered around it,—
Like Titans they stood, with their cloud-girded brows;
And I thought of the minstrel whose genius had crowned it,
As I gazed on their summits of shadows and snows.
Like Titans they stood, with their cloud-girded brows;
And I thought of the minstrel whose genius had crowned it,
As I gazed on their summits of shadows and snows.
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I called on his name who had roused from her slumbers
Sweet Echo, how oft, in her deep-hidden lair;
I asked, where, and oh where, breathes he now his wild numbers?
And the mountains around answered, where, and oh where?
Sweet Echo, how oft, in her deep-hidden lair;
I asked, where, and oh where, breathes he now his wild numbers?
And the mountains around answered, where, and oh where?
Years have fleeted since then;—but in sickness and sadness,
As I muse on the hopes that once promised so fair,
I ask, where, and oh where, are those visions of gladness?
And my bosom's deep cell echoes, where, and oh where?
As I muse on the hopes that once promised so fair,
I ask, where, and oh where, are those visions of gladness?
And my bosom's deep cell echoes, where, and oh where?
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