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THE

NORMAN HORSE SHOE.

Air....The War song of the men of Glamorgan.

I.

RED glows the forge in Striguil's bounds,

And hammers din, and anvil sounds,
And armourers, with iron toil,

Barb many a steed for battle's broil.
Foul fall the hand which bends the steel
Around the courser's thundering heel,

That e'er shall dint a sable wound

On fair Glamorgan's velvet ground!

II.

From Chepstow's towers, ere dawn of morn,

Was heard afar the bugle horn;

And forth, in banded pomp and pride,

Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride.

They swore their banners broad should gleam,

In crimson light, on Rymny's stream;
They vowed Caerphili's sod should feel
The Norman charger's spurning heel.

III.

And sooth they swore, the sun arose,
And Rymny's wave with crimson glows;
For Clare's red banner, floating wide,
Rolled down the stream to Severn's tide!
And sooth they vowed; the trampled green
Showed where hot Neville's charge had been:
In every sable hoof tramp stood

A Norman horseman's curdling blood!

IV.

Old Chepstow's brides may curse the toil
That armed stout Clare for Cambrian broil;
Their orphans long the art may rue,
For Neville's war horse forged the shoe.
No more the stamp of armed steed
Shall dint Glamorgan's velvet mead;
Nor trace be there, in early spring,
Save of the Fairies' emerald ring.

THE

DYING BARD.

The Welch tradition bears, that a Bard, on his death-bed, demanded his harp, and played the air to which these verses are adapted; requesting, that it might be performed at his funeral.

THE

DYING BARD.

Air....Daffydz Gangwen.

I.

DINAS
INAS EMLINN, lament; for the moment is nigh,
When mute in the woodlands thine echoes shall die :
No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon shall rave,
And mix his wild notes with the wild dashing wave..

II.

In spring and in autumn thy glories of shade, Unhonoured shall flourish, unhonoured shall fade; For soon shall be lifeless the eye and the tongue, That viewed them with rapture, with rapture that sung.

III.

Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march in their pride, And chase the proud Saxon from Prestatyn's side; But where is the harp shall give life to their name? And where is the bard shall give heroes their fame?

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