Why rise in my thoughts, ye free songs of the land Where the harp’s lofty soul on each wild wind is borne? Be hush’d! be forgotten! for ne’er shall the land Of the minstrel with melody greet my return. No, no! let your echoes still float on the breeze, And my heart shall be strong for the conquest of seas! ’Tis not for the land of my sires to give birth Unto bosoms that shrink when their trial is nigh; Away! we will bear over ocean and earth A name and a spirit that never shall die. My course to the winds, to the stars I resign; But my soul’s quenchless fire, oh, my country, is thine! _Felicia Hemans._ JONES CXXIII THE MARCH OF THE MEN OF HARLECH Glyndwr, see thy comet flaming! Hear a heav’nly voice declaiming, To the world below proclaiming ‘Cambria shall be free!’ While thy star on high is beaming, Soldiers from the mountain teeming, With their spears and lances gleaming, Come to follow thee. Hear the trumpet sounding, While the steeds are bounding! On the gale from hill and dale The war-cry is resounding. Warriors famed in song and story, Coming from the mountains hoary, Rushing to the field of glory, Eager for the fray,-- To the valley wending, Hearths and homes defending With their proud and valiant Prince From ancient kings descending,-- See the mighty host advancing, Sunbeams on their helmets dancing! On his gallant charger prancing Glyndwr leads the way. Now to battle they are going, Every heart with courage glowing, Pride and passion overflowing, In the furious strife; Lo, the din of war enrages, Vengeance crowns the hate of ages, Sternly foe with foe engages, Feeding Death with Life! Hear the trumpets braying, And the horses neighing! Hot the strife while fiery foes Are one another slaying! Arrows fly as swift as lightning, Shout on shout the tumult height’ning, Conquest’s ruddy wing is bright’ning Helmet, sword and shield; With their lances flashing, Warriors wild are crashing Through the tyrant’s serried ranks, Whilst onwards they are dashing! Now the enemy is flying, Trampling on the dead and dying; Victory aloft is crying ‘Cambria wins the field!’ _John Jones._ MORRIS CXXIV LLEWELYN AP GRUFFYDD