To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!" Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride* Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, As down the steep of Snowden's shaggy sidef He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Gloster stood aghast‡ in speechless trance: To arms! cried Mortimer,§ and couch'd his qui. vering lance. I. 2. On a rock, whose haughty brow Stream'd, like a meteor,¶ to the troubled air) *The crested adder's pride. Dryden's Indian Queen. + Snowden was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract which the Welch themselves call Craigian-eryri: it in. cluded all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire, as far as the river Conway. Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and Hertford, son-in-law to King Edward. Edmond de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore. They both were Lords Marchers, whose lands lay on the borders of Wales, and probably accompanied the King in this expedition. The image was taken from a well known picture of Raphael, representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two of these paintings both believed original, one at Florence, the other at Paris. ¶ Shone, like a meteor, streaming to the wind. Milton's Paradise Lost. 'Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert-cave, • Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main : Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head. Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,‡ Ye died amidst your dying country's cries- * The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the isle of An⚫. glesey. + Camden and others observe, that eagles used annually to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowden, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welsh Craigian-eryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this day (I am told) the highest point of Snowden is called the Eagle's nest. That bird is certainly no stranger to this island, as the Scots and the people of Cumberland, Westmoreland, &c. can testify: it even has built its nest in the Peak of Derbyshire. (See Willoughby's Ornithol. published by Ray.) As dear to me as are the ruddy drops Shakspeare's Jul, Cæsar. No more I weep. They do not sleep. I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, [line.* And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy II. 1. 'Weave the warp, and weave the woof The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. [ring, The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that Shrieks of an agonizing King!† She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate. From thec be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of Heaven. What Terrors round him wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, II. 2. 'Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies! See the Norwegian ode, The Fatal Sisters, hereafter. Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. 'No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable Warrior fled ?* Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. Fair laughs the Morn,† and soft the Zephyr blows, In gallant trim the gilded Vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. II. 3. Fill high the sparkling bowl,‡ The rich repast prepare, Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled Guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray,§ Lance to lance, and horse to horse; Long years of havock urge their destin'd course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. * Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father. + Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign. See Froissart and other contemporary writers. Richard the Second, as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older writers, was starved to death. The story of his assassination, by Sir Piers of Exton, is of much later date. § Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, [line.* And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy II. 1. 'Weave the warp, and weave the woof The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright [ring, The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that Shrieks of an agonizing King!† She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate. From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of Heaven. What Terrors round him wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, II. 2. 'Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies! * See the Norwegian ode, The Fatal Sisters, hereafter. Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley-castle. Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous Queen. Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. |