Page:Welsh Melodies.pdf/10



bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing With song, and the hills are all mantled with bloom; But fairer than aught which the summer is bringing, The beauty and youth gone to people the tomb! Oh! why should I live to hear music resounding, Which cannot awake ye, my lovely, my brave? Why smile the waste flowers, my sad footsteps surrounding? —My sons! they but clothe the green turf of your grave!

Alone on the rocks of the stranger I linger, My spirit all wrapt in the past as a dream! Mine ear hath no joy in the voice of the singer,3 Mine eye sparkles not to the sunlight's glad beam; Yet, yet I live on, though forsaken and weeping! —O grave! why refuse to the aged thy bed, When valour's high heart on thy bosom is sleeping, When youth's glorious flower is gone down to the dead!

Fair were ye, my sons! and all kingly your bearing, As on to the fields of your glory ye trode! Each prince of my race the bright golden chain wearing, Each eye glancing fire, shrouded now by the sod!4 I weep when the blast of the trumpet is sounding, Which rouses ye not, O my lovely! my brave! When warriors and chiefs to their proud steeds are bounding, I turn from heaven's light, for it smiles on your grave!5