'd my steed to flight,
But your dazzling beauty numb'd my arms,
And chain'd me to your sight.

If I may humbly crave your love,
I'll tell you my degree:
I am the Lord of yonder grove
And of this mountain free.

These broad lands will your dowry be,
If you my suit receive,
And ye shall urge the chase with me
From morn to winter eve."

The maid's reply was firm, yet bland,
And in a calmer mood:
"I thank you, sir, for your offer'd hand,
With dowry large and good.

I thank you for all your praises fair,
And for your gallant grace;
Had we but met an earlier year
I might be Lady Clas.

Behold this ring on my finger worn--
A token of plighted love;
Lo, he who plac'd it there this morn
Sits on yon cairn above."

The chieftain look'd to the lonely cairn
And saw the Knight of Lleyn!
Like mountain deer he flew o'er the sarn,
And there no more was seen!

THE ROSE OF THE GLEN.

Although I've no money or treasure to give,
No palace or cottage wherein I may live,
Altho' I can't boast of high blood or degree,
Than all these my sweet Rose is dearer to me.

The lambs on the mountain are frisky and gay,
The birds in the forest are restless with play,
The maidens rejoice at the advent of spring,
Yet my fair Rose to me more enjoyment can bring.

THE MOUNTAIN GALLOWAY.

BY MADOC MERVYN.

My tried and trusty mountain steed,
Of Aberteivi's hardy breed,
Elate of spirit, low of flesh,
That sham'st thy kind of vallies fresh;
And three score miles and twelve a day
Hast sped, my gallant galloway.

Like a sea-boat, firm and tight,
Dancing on the ocean, light,
That the spirit of the wind
Actuates to heart and mind
Elastic, buoyant, proud, and gay,
Art thou, my mountain galloway.

Thou'st borne me, like a billow's sweep,
O'er mountains high and vallies deep,
Oft drank at lake and waterfall,
Pass'd sunless gulfs whose glooms appall,
And shudder'd oft at ocean's spray,
Where breakers roar'd, destruction lay.

And thou hast snuff'd sulphureous fumes
'Mid rural nature's charnel tombs;
Thou hast sped with eye unscar'd
Where Merthyr's fields of fire flar'd;
And thou wert dauntless on thy way,
My faithful mountain galloway.

There is a vale, 'tis far away,
But we must reach that vale to-day;
There is a mansion in that vale,
Its white walls well the eye regale!
And there's a hand more white they say,
Shall pat my gallant galloway.

And she is young, and she is f