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40 :Thou foamy Rhediol, rage no more Adown thy rocks with echo’d roar! Be silent, Ystwyth, in thy meads, Glide softly through thy peaceful reeds; Nor bid thy dells, rude Aeron, ring, But halt at thy maternal spring: Hide from the nymph, ye torrents wild, Or wear, like her, an aspect mild; For her light steps clear all your ways; O, listen! ’tis a lover prays!
 * Now safe beneath serener skies,

Where softer beauties charm her eyes, She Teivi’s verdant region roves, Views flow’ry meads and pensile groves. Ye lovely scenes, to Morvyth’s heart, Warm thoughts of tenderness impart, Such as in busy tumults roll, When love’s confusion fills the soul.
 * Her wearied step, with awe profound,

Now treads Menevia’s honour’d ground. At David’s shrine now, lovely maid, Thy pious orisons are paid: He sees the secrets of thy breast,— One sin, one only, stands confess’d, One heinous guilt, that, ruthless, gave Thy hopeless lover to the grave.