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 Onward in haste Llewellyn passed

(And on went Gelert too,)

And still, where'er his eyes were cast,

Fresh blood-gouts, shock'd his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed he found,

The blood-stain'd covert rent,

And all around, the walls and ground

With recent blood besprent.

He call'd his child—no voice replied:

He searched—with horror wild;

Blood! blood! he found on every side,

But no where found the child!

'Hell-hound! by thee my child's devour'd!

The frantic father cried,

And to the hilt his vengeful sword

He plunged in Gelert's side!

His suppliant, as to earth he fell,

No pity could impart;

But still his Gelert's dying yell,

Pass'd heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,

Some slumberer 'wakened nigh;

What words the parent's joy can tell,

To hear his infant cry.

Concealed beneath a mangled heap,

His hurried search had missed,

All glowing from his rosy sleep,

His cherub boy he kissed!

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread—

But the same couch beneath,

Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead—

Tremendous still in death!