A peasant marked his angry eye, He saw him reach the lake's dark bourne, He saw him near a blasted Oak, But never from that hour return. Three days passed o'er, no tidings came ;Where should the chief his steps delay? With wild alarm the servants ran, Yet knew not where to point their way. His vassals ranged the mountain's height, The covert close, and wide-spread plain; But all in vain their eager search, They ne'er must see their lord again. Yet fancy, in a thousand shapes, Bore to his home the chief once more: Some saw him walk the mountain's top, Some saw him on the winding shore. With wonder fraught the tale went round, Each peasant felt his own sad loss, Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light, Pale lights on Cader's rocks were seen, And, to this day, the peasant still, With cautious fear, avoids the ground; In each wild branch a spectre sees, Ten annual suns had held their course, As oft she traced his manly form. Yet still to hope her heart would cling, To distant lands had steered his way. 'Twas now November's cheerless hour, Loud o'er the wier the hoarse flood fell, The west wind bent the forest tops, And angry frowned the evening sky. A stranger passed Llanelltid's waste, His dark-gray steed with sweat besprent, Which, wearied with the lengthened way, Could scarcely gain the hill's ascent. 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; 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, "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, Pursued him with unwearied step; "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, "To Sele's sad widow bear the tale, "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 fead! "Led, by the ardour of the chase, "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, But softened words, like oil to fire, "They fought; and doubtful long the fray! The Glyndwr gave the fatal wound!— "How could we hope for wished retreat, "I marked a broad and Blasted Oak, "Be this, I cried, his proper grave!- |