The Literary Gazette, 30th November 1822
OWAIN 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.
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,
Thro' each dark cloud which breaks,
And mantles, with triumphal dyes,
Your thousand hills and lakes!
A sound is on the breeze,
A murmur, as of swelling seas!
The Saxon on his way!
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?
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 pow'rs!
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!
