THE MONARCHY OF BRITAIN.

[The Bard of the Palace, under the ancient Welsh
Princes, always accompanied the army when it marched
into an enemy's country, and while it was preparing for
battle, or dividing the spoils, he performed an ancient
song, called Unbennaeth Prydain, the monarchy of Bri-
tain.
It has been conjectured that this poem referred
to the tradition of the Welsh, that the whole island had
once been possessed by their ancestors, who were driven
into a corner of it by their Saxon invaders. When the
prince had received his share of the spoils, the bard, for
the performance of this song, was rewarded with the
most valuable beast that remained.-See JONES's His-
torical Account of the Welsh Bards.]

SONS of the Fair Isle !* forget not the time,
Ere spoilers had breath'd the free winds of your clime!
All that its eagles behold in their flight,
Was yours from the deep to each storm-mantled height!
Though from your race that proud birthright be torn,
Unquench'd is the spirit for monarchy born.
Darkly though clouds may hang o'er us awhile,
The crown shall not pass from the Beautiful Isle.

Ages may roll ere your children regain
The land for which heroes have perish'd in vain.
Yet in the sound of your name shall be power,
Around her still gathering till glory's full hour.
Strong in the fame of the mighty that sleep,
Your Britain shall sit on the throne of the deep!
Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile,
Who died for the crown of the Beautiful Isle !

* Ynys Prydain, the ancient name of Britain, signifies the Fair or Beautiful Island.

TALIESIN'S PROPHECY.

[A prophecy of Taliesin relating to the Ancient Britons, is still extant, and has been strikingly verified. It is to the following effect :

"Their God they shall worship,

Their language they shall retain
Their land they shall lose,
Except wild Wales."]

A VOICE from time departed yet floats thy hills among, O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung! The path of unborn ages is traced upon my soul, The clouds which mantle things unseen, away before me roll,

A light, the depths revealing, hath o'er my spirit

pass'd,

A rushing sound from days to be, swells fitful in the blast,

And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue, To which the harp of Mona's woods by freedom's hand was strung.

Green island of the mighty!* I see thine ancient race Driven from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling-place!

I see from Uthyr's † kingdom the sceptre pass away, And many a line of bards, and chiefs, and princely men decay.

* Ynys y Cedeirn, or Isle of the Mighty, an ancient name given to Britain.

† Uther Pendragon, king of Britain, supposed to have been the father of Arthur.

But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,

And wear the crown to which is given dominion o'er the storms,

So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue,

To which the harp of Mona's woods by freedom's hand was strung!

OWEN GLYNDWR'S WAR SONG.

SAW

ye

the blazing star?

*

The heavens look down on freedom's war,

And light her torch on high!

Bright on the dragon crest†

It tells that glory's wing shall rest,
When warriors meet to die!

Let earth's pale tyrants read despair,
And vengeance, in its flame;

* The year 1402 was ushered in with a comet or blazing star, which the bards interpreted as an omen favourable to the cause of Glyndwr. It served to infuse spirit into the minds of a superstitious people, the first success of their chieftain confirmed this belief, and gave new vigour to their actions.- Vide PENNANT.

+ Owen Glyndwr styled himself the Dragon; a name he assumed in imitation of Uther, whose victories over the Saxons were foretold by the appearances of a star with a dragon beneath, which Uther used as his badge; and on that account it became a favourite one with the Welsh.PENNANT.

Hail

ye, my bards! the omen fair
Of conquest and of fame,

And swell the rushing mountain-air
With songs to Glyndwr's name.

At the dead hour of night,

Mark'd ye how each majestic height
Burn'd in its awful beams?

Red shone th' eternal snows,
And all the land, as bright it rose,
Was full of glorious dreams!

Oh! eagles of the battle!* rise!

The hope of Gwynedd wakes!†

It is your banner in the skies,

Through each dark cloud which breaks,

And mantles, with triumphal dyes,

Your thousand hills and lakes!

Lo! spear, and shield, and lance,
From Deva's waves, with lightning glance,
Reflected to the day!

But who the torrent-wave compels

A conqueror's chain to bear?

* "Bring the horn to Tudwrou, the Eagle of Battles.”— Vide The Hirlas Horn, a poem by OWAIN CYFEILIOG. The eagle is a very favourite image with the ancient Welsh poets.

† GWYNEDD (pronounced Gwyneth), North Wales.

Let those who wake the soul that dwells

On our free winds, beware!

The greenest and the loveliest dells
May be the lion's lair!

Of us they told, the seers

And monarch-bards of elder years,

Who walk'd on earth, as powers!

And in their burning strains,

A spell of might and mystery reigns,
To guard our mountain-towers!

-In Snowdon's caves a prophet lay:*
Before his gifted sight,

The march of ages pass'd away
With hero-footsteps bright,

But proudest in that long array,

Was Glyndwr's path of light!

PRINCE MADOC'S FAREWELL.

WHY lingers my gaze where the last hues of day, On the hills of my country, in loveliness sleep? Too fair is the sight for a wand'rer, whose way

Lies far o'er the measureless worlds of the deep! Fall, shadows of twilight! and veil the green shore, That the heart of the mighty may waver no more!

* Merlin, or Merddin Emrys, is said to have composed his prophecies on the future lot of the Britons, amongst the mountains of Snowdon. Many of these, and other ancient prophecies, were applied by Glyndwr to his own cause, and assisted him greatly in animating the spirit of his followers.