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Our church and laws, your common cause,
'Twas his the church to save, Our rights restor'd, thou, generous lord, Shalt triumph in thy grave.
On Evesham's plain, &C.
Each righteous lord who braved the sword,
And for our safety died,
Our martyr'd saint beside.
To ease the poor man's care;
On Evesham's plain, &c.
On Montfort's breast a hair-cloth vest
His pious soul proclaim'd;
That sacred emblem maim'd:
His lifeless corpse defaced,
On Evesham's plain, &c.
Brave martyr'd chief! no more our grief
50 Among the bless'd in heaven ye rest
From all your toils below.
Who here in bonds remain,
55 And break the tyrant's chain ! On Evesham's plain, &c.
Edward I in subduing Wales, which had supported Simon de Montfort, did his work thoroughly and ruthlessly, but at the same time made submission easy by granting a certain measure of local government. The massacre of the bards is legendary.
* Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait !
They mock the air with idle state.
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march his long array :Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance; *To arms!'cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering
On a rock, whose haughty brow
Robed in the sable garb of woe
5. hauberk) coat of mail.
'Hark, how each giant oak and desert-cave
Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave, 25
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.
Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
That hush'd the stormy main :
Mountains, ye mourn in vain
Modred, whose magic song
35 Smear'd with gore and ghastly pale: Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail ;
The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. 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-No more I weep; They do not sleep;
On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit; They linger yet,
45 Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
• Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race:
50 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 The shrieks of death thro’ Berkley's roof that ring, 55 Shrieks of an agonizing king!
35. Arvon] Carnarvon.
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 combined, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
Mighty victor, mighty lord,
Low on his funeral couch he lies! 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.
70 Fair laughs the Morn, 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, 75 That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
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 destined course, 85 And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his Consort's faith, his Father's fame, And spare the meek usurper's holy head ! 90 Above, below, the rose of snow,
Twined with her blushing foe, we spread: The bristled boar in infant-gore
Wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursèd loom, 95 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
*Edward, lo! to sudden fate
(Weave we the woof; The thread is spun ;) Half of thy heart we consecrate.
(The web is wove; The work is done ;) Stay, O stay! nor thus forlorn Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn: In yon bright track that fires the western skies They melt, they vanish from my eyes. But O! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 105
Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail :All hail, ye genuine kings ! Britannia's issue, hail! 110
'Girt with many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear ;
And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
What strains of vocal transport round her play? 120 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-colour'd wings.