With headlong rage, and wild affright,
Upon Deira's squadrons hurl'd,
To rush and sweep them from the world!
Too, too secure in youthful pride,
By them my friend, my Hoel, dy'd,
Great Cian's son; of Madoc old,
He ask'd no heaps of hoarded gold;
Alone in Nature's wealth array'd
He asked and had the lovely maid.

To Cattraeth's vale, in glitt'ring row,
Twice two hundred warriors go;
Ev'ry warrior's manly neck
Chains of regal honour deck,
Wreath'd in many a golden link:
From the golden cup they drink
Nectar that the bees produce,
Or the grape's ecstatic juice.
Flush'd with mirth and hope they burn,
But none from Cattraeth's vale return,
Save Aeron brave and Conan strong,
(Bursting through the bloody throng,)
And I, the meanest of them all,
That live to weep and sing their fall.

THE DEATH OF OWAIN.

BY ANEURIN.

Lo! the youth, in mind a man,
Daring in the battle's van;
See the splendid warrior's speed
On his fleet and thick-maned steed,
As his buckler, beaming wide,
Decks the courser's slender side,
With his steel of spotless mould,
Ermined vest and spurs of gold!
Think not, youth, that e'er from me
Hate or spleen shall flow to thee;
Nobler deeds thy virtues claim,
Eulogy and tuneful fame.
Ah! much sooner comes thy bier
Than thy nuptial feast, I fear;
Ere thou mak'st the foe to bleed,
Ravens on thy corse shall feed.
Owain, lov'd companion, friend,
To birds a prey--is this thy end!
Tell me, steed, on what sad plain
Thy ill-fated lord was slain.

RODERIC'S LAMENT.

Farewell every mountain
To memory dear,
Each streamlet and fountain
Pelucid and clear;
Glad halls of my father,
From banquets ne'er freed,
Where chieftains would gather
To quaff the bright mead,
Each valley and woodland
Whose coverts I knew,
Lov'd haunts of my childhood
For ever, adieu!

The mountains are blasted
And burnt the green wood,
The fountain untasted
Flows crimsoned with blood,
The halls are deserted,
Their glory appear
Like dreams of departed
And desolate years,
The wild wood and valley,
The covert, the glade,
Bereft of their beauty,
Invaded! betrayed!

Farewell hoary minstrel,
Gay infancy's friend,
What roof will protect thee?
What chieftain defend?
Alas for the number,
And sweets of their song,
Soon, soon they must slumber,
The mountains among;
The breathing of pleasure
No more will aspire,
For changed is the measure,
Of liberty's