85
THE VALE OF CLWYD.
INSCRIBED TO MISS FOULKES, OF ERIVIATT.
The lovely vale is Cambria's pride,
Luxuriant garden of the land;
There plenty smiles on every side,
There bright and fertile meads expand.
Array'd in every glowing hue,
How varied all the sylvan view,
With tufted woods, romantic glades,
And spires embosom'd in the shades.
There cultivation decks the scene,
The happy prospect all around;
There pastures bloom for ever green,
The plains with golden sheaves are crown'd.
There cheerful cottages appear,
Beside the river calm and clear;
And fields that wave with bending corn,
The fair extensive vale adorn.
And there the castle still sublime,
With turrets falling fast away,
Remains the monument of time,
The awful emblem of decay.
