Page:Welsh Melodies.pdf/22



the hills! till heaven is glowing As with some red meteor's rays! Winds of night, though rudely blowing, Shall but fan the beacon-blaze. Light the hills! till flames are streaming From Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,1 To the waves round Mona gleaming, Where the Roman track'd the deep!

Be the mountain watch-fires heighten'd.   File them to the stormy sky! Till each torrent-wave is brighten'd,   Kindling as it rushes by. Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling, Towers in reddening light sublime; Heap the flames! around them telling Tales of Cambria's elder time.

Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted, Many a solemn vigil kept, When, in ages long departed, O'er the noble dead they wept. In the winds we hear their voices— "Sons! though yours a brighter lot. When the mountain-land rejoices,   Be her mighty unforgot!"