CHORUS.
Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile,
Who died for the crown of the Beautiful Isle.
THE ROCK OF CADER IDRIS.
[It is an old tradition of the Welsh bards, that on the summit of the mountain Cader Idris, is an excavation resembling a couch; and that whoever should pass a night in that hollow, would be found in the morning either dead, in a a frenzy, or endowed with the highest poetical inspiration.]
I lay on that rock where the storms have their dwelling,
The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the cloud;
Around it for ever deep music is swelling,
The voice of the mountain-wind, solemn and loud.
’Twas a midnight of shadows all fitfully streaming,