16
HOWEL'S SONG.
[Howel ab Einion Llygliw was a distinguished bard of the fourteenth century. A beautiful poem, addressed by him to Myfanwy Vychan, a celebrated beauty of those times, is still preserved amongst the remains of the Welsh bards. The ruins of Myfanwy's residence, Castle Dinas Bran, may yet be traced on a high hill near Llangollen.]
Press on, my steed! I hear the swell1[1]
Of Valle Crucis' vesper-bell,
Sweet floating from the holy dell
O'er woods and waters round.
Perchance the maid I love, e'en now,
From Dinas Bran's majestic brow,
Looks o'er the fairy world below.
And listens to the sound!
I feel her presence on the scene!
The summer air is more serene,
The deep woods wave in richer green,
The wave more gently flows!
O fair as ocean's curling foam!2[2]
Lo! with the balmy hour I come—
The hour that brings the wanderer home,
The weary to repose!
Haste! on each mountain's darkening crest
The glow hath died, the shadows rest,
The twilight star on Deva's breast
Gleams tremulously bright;
Speed for Myfanwy's bower on high!
Though scorn may wound me from her eye,
Oh! better by the sun to die,
Than live in rayless night!
