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ROYAL EDINBURGH LIGHT DRAGOONS, WRITTEN DURING THE APPREHENSION OF AN INVASION,
To horse! to horse! the standard flies,
The bugles sound the call;
The Gallic navy stems the seas,
From high Dunedin's tow'rs we come,
Our casques the leopard's spoils surround,
Though tamely crouch to Gallia's frown,
Their ravish'd toys though Romans mourn,
O! had they mark'd th' avenging call
Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head,
Or brook a victor's scorn?
No! though destruction o'er the land
The sun, that sees our falling day,
The Royal Colours.
For gold let Gallia's legions fight,
Or plunder's bloody gain;
Unbrib'd, unbought, our swords we draw,
If ever breath of British gale
With rapine foul, and red with blood,
Then farewell home! and farewell friends!
Resolv'd, we mingle in the tide,
Where charging squadrons furious rida,
To horse! to horse! the sabres gleam;
THE NORMAN HORSE-SHOE
[The Welch, inhabiting a mountainous country, and possessing only an inferior breed of horses, were usually unable to encounter the shock of the Anglo-Norman cavalry. Occasionally, however, they were successful in repelling the invaders; and the following verses are supposed to celebrate a defeat of CLARE, Earl of Stri guil and Pembroke, and of NEVILLE, Baron of Chepstow, Lords Marchers of Monmouthshire Rymny is a trean which divideg the counties of Monmouth and Glamorgan: Caerphili, the scene the supposed battle, is a vale upon its banks, dignised by the ruins of a very ancient castle.
Ain The War-song of the Men of Glamorgan
RED glows the forge in Striguil's bounds,
And armourers, with iron toil,
Foul fall the hand which bends the steel
From Chepstow's tow'rs, ere dawn of morn,
And forth, in banded pomp and pride,
They swore, their banners broad should gleam,
And sooth they swore the sun arose,
A Norman horseman's curdling blood!
Old Chepstow's brides may curse the toil,
THE DYING BARD.
[The Welch tradition bears, that a Bard, on his death-bed, de manded his harp, and played the air to which these verses are adapted; requesting, that it might be performed at his funeral.]
DINAS EMLINN, lament; for the moment is nigh,
In spring and in autumn thy glories of shade, Unhonour d shall flourish, unhonour'd shall fade; For soon shall be lifeless the eye and the tongue, That view'd them with rapture, with rapture that sung.
Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march in their pride, And chase the proud Saxon from Prestatyn's side; But where is the harp shall give life to their name? And where is the bard shall give heroes their fame?
And Oh, Dinas Emlinn! thy daughters so fair,
Then adieu, silver Teivi! I quit thy lov'd scene, To join the dim choir of the bards who have been; With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Merlin the Old, And sage Taliessin, high harping to hold.
And adieu, Dinas Emlinn! still green be thy shades, Unconquer'd thy warriors, and matchless thy maids! And thou, whose faint warblings my weakness can tell, Farewell, my lov'd Harp! my last treasure, farewell!
THE MAID OF TORO.
O, low shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro,
All as a fair maiden, bewilder'd in sorrow,
Sorely sigh'd to the breezes, and wept to the flood
All distant and faint were the sounds of the battle, With the breezes they rise, with the breezes they fail,
Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread
And the chase's wild clamour, came loading the
"O, save thee, fair maid, for our armies are flying! O, save thee, fair maid, for thy guardian is low! Deadly cold on yon heath thy brave Henry is lying; And fast through the woodland approaches the foe."
Scarce could he falter the tidings of sorrow,
And scarce could she hear them, benumb'd with
And when the sun sunk on the sweet lake of Toro,