ADVERTISEMENT. The following Ode is founded on a Tradition current in Wales, that Edward the First, when he completed the conqueft of that country, ordered all the Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death. RUIN feize thee, ruthless King. • Confufion on thy banners wait; Tho' fann'd by Conqueft's crimson wing, * They mock the air with idle state! * Mocking the air with colours idly spread. SHAKESPEARE'S King John. • Helm, • Helm, nor * Hauberk's twisted mail, Nor even thy virtues, Tyrant, fhall avail To fave thy fecret foul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curfe, from Cambria's tears!' Such were the founds that o'er the crefted pride Of the firft Edward fcatter'd wild difmay, * The Hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven, forming a coat of mail, that fat close to the body, and adapted itself to every motion. + The crefted adder's pride. DRYDEN'S Indian Queen. Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract which the Welsh themselves call Craigian-eryri: it included all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire, as far east as the river Conway. R. Hygden, speaking of the castle of Conway, built there by King Edward the First, fays, "Ad ortum am"nis Conway ad clivum montis Erery;" and Matthew of Westminster, (ad ann. 1283), “ Apud Aberconway ad pedes montis "Snowdoniæ fecit erig caftrum forte." 2 Stout Stout Glo'fter ftood aghaft in fpeechlefs trance! To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance. I. 2. On a rock, whose haughty brow (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a metcor, to the troubled air;) * Gilbert de Clare, furnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucefter and Hertford, fon-in-law to King Edward. + Edmond de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore. They both were Lords Marchers, whofe lands lay on the borders of Wales, and probably accompanied the King in this expedition. The image was taken from a well known picture of Raphael, reprefenting the Supreme Being in the vifion of Ezekiel. There are two of these paintings, both believed original, one at Florence, the other at Paris. Shone, like a meteor, ftreaming to the wind. MILTON's Paradise Lost. |