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 Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd

(And on went Gelert too,)

Ind still, where'er his eyes were cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shock'd his view!

O'erturn'd 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 search'd—with terror 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 supplicant, 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 awaken'd nigh;

What words the parent's joy can tell,

To hear his infant cry!

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap,

His hurried search had miss'd,

All glowing from his rosy sleep,

His cherub boy he kiss'd!