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 'Twas only at Llewellyn's board

The faithful Gelert fed;

He watch'd, he served, he cheer'd his lord,

And sentinel'd his bed.

In sooth, he was a peerless hound.

The gift of royal John;

But now no Gelert could be found,

And all the chase rode on.

And now, as over rocks and dells

The gallant chidings rise,

All Snowdown's craggy chaos yells,

With many mingled cries.

That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart or hare,

And scant and small the booty proved,

For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,

When, near the portal seat,

His truant Gelert he espied,

Bounding his Lord to greet.

But when he gain'd his castle door,

Aghast the chieftain stood;

The hound was smear'd with gouts of gore,

His lips and fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,

Unused such looks to meet;

His favourite check'd his joyful guise,

And crouch'd and lick'd his feet.