To Christian faith, and pity!-Dry thy tears
For age-pass'd woes, they are the crocodile's,
And o'er the murder of the royal victims,
And o'er the Christian faith's apostacy,
Witness'd in France, cry, "Vive la Liberte !"
Dip thy young hands in her o'er-flowing chalice,
Brimm'd with the gore of age, infants, and beauty,
And, throwing thy red cap aloft in air,
Laugh with the fierce hyena!

1. 9. Fierce hyena-Cooler reflection, and a long experience of the mischiefs resulting from the sanguinary system which this government has unwarned pursued through the last 14 years, have justified this Poet's representation of Henry the Fifth's conduct in invading France, and convinced me that the deprecation in JOAN of ARC of monarchical ambition and rapacity, under that proud and specious term Military Glory, proceeded from benevolence to the Human race, and from a spirit of justice too firm to be warped by the vanity of national enthusiasm.-ANNA SEWARD, Sept. 1807.

LLANGOLLEN VALE,

INSCRIBED TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

LADY ELEANOR BUTLER,

AND

MISS PONSONBY.

LUXURIANT Vale, thy country's early boast,

What time great GLENDOUR gave thy scenes to

Fame;

Taught the proud numbers of the English host,

How vain their vaunted force, when Freedom's

flame

Fir'd him to brave the myriads he abhorr'd,

Wing'd his unerring shaft, and edg'd his victor sword.

Here first those orbs unclosing drank the light, Cambria's bright stars, the meteors of her foes;

What dread and dubious omens mark'd the night, That lour'd ere yet his natal morn arose !

The steeds paternal, on their cavern'd floor,

Foaming, and horror-struck, "fret fetlock-deep in gore."

Plague, in her livid hand, o'er all the isle,

Shook her dark flag, impure with fetid stains; While "DEATH, on his pale horse," with baleful smile,

Smote with its blasting hoof the frighted plains. Soon thro' the grass-grown streets, in silence led, Slow moves the midnight cart, heapt with the naked 'dead.

Yet in the festal dawn of Richard's reign,

Thy gallant GLENDOUR's sunny prime arose; Virtuous, tho' gay, in that Circean fane,

Bright Science twin'd her circlet round his brows;

1. 1. Dubious omens- -According to the records of Lewis Owen, the year 1349 was distinguished by the first appearance of the pestilence in Wales, and by the birth of OWEN GLENDOUR. Hollingshed relates the marvellous tale of his father's horses, being found that night in their stables, standing up to the middle in blo d. The Bard, IoLo GосH, mentions a comet, which marked the great deeds of Glendour, when he was in the meridian of his glory.-See Mr Pennant's Tour.

1. 8. Death on his pale horse-Isaiah.

1. 14. Richard's reign-Richard the Second.

Nor could the youthful, rash, luxurious king
Dissolve the hero's worth on his Icarian wing.

Sudden it drops on its meridian flight !—
Ah! hapless Richard! never didst thou aim
To crush primeval Britons with thy might,

And their brave GLENDOUR's tears embalm thy

name.

Back from thy victor-rival's vaunting throng, Sorrowing, and stern, he sinks LLANGOLLEN's shades

among.

Soon in imperious Henry's dazzled eyes,

The guardian bounds of just dominion melt;
His scarce hoped crown imperfect bliss supplies,
Till Cambria's vassalage be deeply felt.

Now up her craggy steeps, in long array,
Swarm his exulting bands, impatient for the fray.

Lo! thro' the gloomy night, with angry blaze,
Trails the fierce comet, and alarms the stars;
Each waning orb withdraws its glancing rays,
Save the red planet, that delights in wars.
Then, with broad eyes upturn'd, and starting hair,
Gaze the astonish'd crowd upon its vengeful glare.

1. 11. Imperious Henry's-Henry the Fourth.

Gleams the wan morn, and thro' LLANGOLLEN'S

Vale

Sees the proud armies streaming o'er her meads. Her frighted echos warning sounds assail,

Loud, in the rattling cars, the neighing steeds; The doubling drums, the trumpet's piercing breath, And all the ensigns dread of havoc, wounds, and death.

High on a hill as shrinking Cambria stood,
And watch'd the onset of th'unequal fray,
She saw her Deva, stain'd with warrior-blood,
Lave the pale rocks, and wind its fateful way
Thro' meads, and glens, and wild woods, echoing far
The din of clashing arms, and furious shout of war.

From rock to rock, with loud acclaim, she sprung,
While from her Chief the routed legions fled;
Saw Deva roll their slaughter'd heaps among,
The check'd waves eddying round the ghastly
dead;

Saw, in that hour, her own LLANGOLLEN claim
Thermopyla's bright wreath, and aye-enduring fame.

Thus, consecrate to glory.-Then arose

A milder lustre in its blooming maze;

Thro' the green glens, where lucid Deva flows,
Rapt Cambria listens with enthusiast gaze,