Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied:
When, near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied
Bounding his lord to greet.
But, when he gained his castle door,
Aghast the chieftain stood;
The hound all o’er was smeared with gore,
His lips, his fangs, ran blood.
Llewelyn gazed with fierce surprise:—
Unused such looks to meet,
His fav’rite checked his joyful guise,
And crouched and licked his feet.
Onward in haste Llewelyn past,
And on went Gelert too,
And still, where’er his eyes he cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.
O’erturned his infant’s bed he found,
With blood-stained covert rent;
And all around, the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.
He called his child, no voice replied;
He searched with terror wild;
Blood, blood he found on every side;
But no where found his child.
“Hell-hound! my child by thee’s devoured!”
The frantic father cried;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gelert’s side.
His suppliant looks, as prone he fell,
No pity could impart:
But still his Gelert’s dying yell
Passed heavy o’er his heart.
Aroused by Gelert’s dying yell
Some slumberer wakened nigh:
What words the parent’s joy could tell
To hear his infant’s cry!
Concealed beneath a tumbled heap,
His hurried search had missed:
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
The cherub boy he kissed.