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To each his fuff’rings : all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan ;
The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
Since forrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies.
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more ; where ignorance is bliss,
*Tis folly to be wise.

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B A R D.



1. 1.

« Ruin seize thee, ruthless King ! • Confusion on thy banners wait,

a This Ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the aft, when he compleated the conquest of that country, ordered all the Bards, that fell into his hands, to be put to death,

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• Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,

They mock the air with idle state.
Helm, nor - Hauberk's twisted mail,

• Nor e’en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
- From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears !!
Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, 10
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy fide
He wound with toilsome march his long array.
Stout Glo'fter stood aghaft in speechless trance:
To arms! cried . Mortimer, and couch'd his qui-

v'ring lance. b The Hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven, forming a coat of mail, that fat close to the body, and adapted itself to every motion.

c Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract which the Welch themselves call Craigian. eryri: it included all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the river Conway, R. Hygden, speaking of the castle of Conway, built by king Edward the first, says, “ Ad ortum amnis Conway ad clivum montis Erery;" and Matthew of Westminster, (ad ann. 1283,)“ Apud Aberconway ad pedes montis Snowdoniæ fecit erigi caftrum forte."

d Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, earl of Gloucester and Hertford, son in law to king Edward.

e Edmond de Mortimer, lord of Wigmore.

They both were Lords-Marchers, whose lands lay on the borders of Wales, and probably accompanied the king in this expedition.

1. 2.

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On a rock, whose haughty brow

15 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the fable garb of woe,' With haggard eyes the Poet ftood; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair (Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) 20 And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep forrows of his lyre. • Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, • Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath! • O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,

25 Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ;

Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, • To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

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« Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
• That hulh'd the stormy main :

• Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed :
• Mountains, ye mourn in vain
• Modred, whose magic song
• Made hugh Plinlimmon bow his cloud-top'd head,
<fon dreary Arvon's shore they lie,

35 Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale :

f The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the isļe of Anglesey

Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens fail;

The familh'd & Eagle screams, and passes by. • Dear loft companions of my tuneful art, • Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes, 10 • Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, • Ye died amidst your dying country's cries• No more I weep. They do not sleep.

On yonder cliffs, a griesly band. • I see them fit, they linger yet,

45 i Avengers of their native land: . With me in dreadful harmony they join, (line • And he weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy

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6. Camden,' and others observe, that eagles used annually io build their aerie among the rocks of Saowdon, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welsh traigian eryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this day (I am told) the highest point of Snowdon is called obe eagle's neft. That bird is certainly no stranger to this island, as the Ścots, and the people of Cumberland, Weltmoreland, Ør. can testify: it even has built its nest in the Peak of DerbyÍhire. (See Willoughby's Ornithol. published by Ray.]

h See the Norwegian Ode, that follows. The subje&t of ibis ode ought noi, perhaps, to have been followed in The Burd. The Gothic manners had little, if any thing, in common wish shofe of the Celts, who do not appear to bave been even acquainted with tbe Runic mythology. Br fides, in the time of Edw. I. it is well known, that these Welsh or British poets nuft, like the rest of their nation, bave profelfed Chrisianity, with which the incantations bere defcribed feem altogether incompatible.

II. 1.

“ Weave the warp, and weave the woof, “ The winding-sheet of Edward's race. 50 « Give ample room, and verge enough • The characters of hell to trace. “ Mark the year, and mark the night, “ i When Severn shall re-echo with affright “ The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ring;

55 “ Shrieks of an agonizing King! « k She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, “ That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate, • ! From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs “ The scourge of Heav'n. What Terrors round him wait!

60 “ Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd; “ And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

II. 2.

“ Mighty Victor, mighty Lord,
« m Low on his funeral couch he lies !

i Edward the second, cruelly butchered in Berkley.castle. k Isabel of France, Edward the second's adulterous queen. i Triumphs of Edward the third in France.

m Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courriers and his mistress.

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