Oh Nature hath many warm generous glows— But they say love’s joys are fleeting; Most dear to the mother her new-born son, And sweet is the fame that’s fairly won, To the blind restor’d oh the summer’s sun’s Less sweet than the lover’s meeting. Sweet to the donor the generous deed, That serves merit’s child, unweeting; Healing is sweet to the gash’d by the sword; To the wounded heart, the benevolent word; Oh sweet is the breeze to the sick restored! But sweeter true lovers’ greeting. Each flower that flaunts in vanity’s cap, And sets youthful hearts a gadding, Has its charms, its zest,—but the whole above, Is the magical thrill of sweet woman’s love, That drives heart and brain a madding. And fondly they loved, this youthful pair, The heiress of Maes-y-velin, And he whom they called Llandovery’s Flower; Oh frequent their meeting and parting hour, Their moments of joy and wailing. Once when they met on the Teivy’s banks, Canopied o’er by the wild wood, Mid fragrance of flowers that graced the shade, The youth sung this song, of true lovers betrayed, An ominous song—that drew tears from the maid, For her heart was as simple as childhood. “‘Oh come to the banks of the Teivy with me, To the deep woodland glade, ’neath the shady green tree, Fearless of foemen, of guile, or of might, In the face of the day and the bright eye of light, That God and his angels may witness our troth, That God and his angels may favor us both.’ “‘I’ll go to the green-wood,’ the lady replied, ‘Fore God and his angels be fairly affied, Fearless of foemen, of guile, or of might, In the face of the day and the bright eye of light; That God and his angels may witness our troth, That God and his angels may favor us both.’ “So sung a young chief to his dear lady love, At the base of her tower—she answered above— Vile vassals espied them, and flew to their lord, The lady’s true lover soon fell ’neath his sword: She threw herself headlong, fulfilling her troth, And Death was the priest that united them both.” PART II. Over the hill of Pen-garreg, the road Is seen that leads from Llandovery, Maes-y-velin’s green hill is opposite, The mansion below—oft on either height The lovers are making discovery.— But envious eyes were on the watch, And the genius of evil hover’d; The brothers, who wish’d their sister unmatch’d, For any approach of a lover watch’d, At length their two flags discover’d. They have hatch’d a scheme to enmesh the youth, And see him at length on the mountain; His flag they answer—he runs down the hill— Now forth rush the wretches resolved to kill, And waste his young heart’s warm fountain.