With wonder fraught the tale went round, Amazement chained the hearer's tongue; Each peasant felt his own sad loss, Yet fondly o'er the story hung. Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light, Pale lights on Cader's rocks were seen, And midnight voices heard to moan; 'Twas even said the Blasted Oak, Convulsive, heaved a hollow groan : And, to this day, the peasant still, Ten annual suns had held their course, As oft she traced his manly form. Yet still to hope her heart would cling, 'Twas now November's cheerless hour, Which drenching rain and clouds deface; Dreary bleak Robell's tract appeared, And dull and dank each valley's space. Loud o'er the wier the hoarse flood fell, A stranger passed Llanelltid's bourne, The portal reached,-the iron bell Loud sounded round the outward wall; Quick sprang the warder to the gate, To know what meant the clamorous call. "O! lead me to your lady soon ; Say, it is my sad lot to tell, To clear the fate of that brave knight, Then, as he crossed the spacious hall, The menials look surprise and fear; Still o'er his harp Old Modred hung, And touched the notes for grief's worn ear. The lady sat amidst her train ; A mellowed sorrow marked her look: Then, asking what his mission meant, The graceful stranger sighed, and spoke : "O could I spread one ray of hope, One moment raise thy soul from woe, Gladly my tongue would tell its tale, My words at ease unfettered flow! "Now, lady, give attention due, The story claims thy full belief: E'en in the worst events of life, Suspense removed is some relief. "Though worn by care, see Madoc here, Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foe; Ah, let his name no anger raise, For now that mighty Chief lies low! "E'en from the day, when, chained by fate, By wizard's dream or potent spell, Lingering from sad Salopia's field, 'Reft of his aid the Percy fell; "E'en from that day misfortune still, As if for violated faith, Pursued him with unwearied step, Vindictive still for Hotspur's death. "Vanquished at length, the Glyndwr fled Where winds the Wye her devious flood; To find a casual shelter there, In some lone cot, or desert wood. "Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise, "To penury extreme, and grief, The Chieftain fell a lingering prey; I heard his last few faultering words, Such as with pain I now convey. 'To Sele's sad widow bear the tale, 'Nor let our horrid secret rest; 'Give but his corse to sacred earth, 'Then may my parting soul be blest.' "Dim waxed the eye that fiercely shone, And faint the tongue that proudly spoke, And weak that arm, still raised to me, Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke. "How could I then his mandate bear? "Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage, My country lost, despoiled my land, Desperate, I fled my native soil, And fought on Syria's distant strand. "O, had thy long-lamented lord The holy cross and banner viewed, Died in the sacred cause! who fell Sad victim of a private feud! "Led, by the ardour of the chace, "With head aloft, and antlers wide, A red buck roused then crossed in view; Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew. "With bitter taunt, and keen reproach, He, all impetuous, poured his rage, Reviled the Chief as weak in arms, And bade him loud the battle wage. "Glyndwr for once restrained his sword, "They fought; and doubtful long the fray! "How could we hope for wished retreat, "I marked a broad and Blasted Oak, Scorched by the lightning's livid glare; Hollow its stem from branch to root, And all its shrivelled arms were bare. "Be this, I cried, his proper grave !— (The thought in me was deadly sin.) Aloft we raised the hapless Chief, And dropped his bleeding corpse within.". A shriek from all the damsels burst, That pierced the vaulted roofs below; While horror-struck the Lady stood, A living form of sculptured woe. |