the gloom of night,
Where the blazing tree with its genial heat
Within our bosoms awak'd delight.

On the flesh of the deer we fed our fill--
Our drink was the Treigh, our music its wave;
Though the ghost shriek'd shrill, and bellow'd the hill,
'Twas pleasant, I trow, in that lonely cave.

I see Benn Ard of form so fair,
Of a thousand hills the Monarch proud;
On his side the wild deer make their lair,
His head's the eternal couch of the cloud.

But vision of joy, and art thou flown?
Return for a moment's space, I pray,--
Thou dost not hear--ohone, ohone--
Hills of my love, farewell for aye.

Farewell ye youths, so bold and free,
And fare ye well, ye maids divine!
No more I can see ye--yours is the glee
Of the summer, the gloom of the winter mine.

At noon-tide carry me into the sun,
To the bank by the side of the wandering stream,
To rest the shamrock and daisy upon,
And then will return of my youth the dream.

Place ye by my side my harp and shell,
And the shield, my fathers in battle bore;
Ye halls, where Oisin and Daoul {72} dwell,
Unclose--for at eve I shall be no more.

PROPHECY {73a} OF TALIESIN.

From the Ancient British.

Within my mind
I hold books confin'd,
Of Europa's land all the mighty lore;
O God of heaven high!
With how many a bitter sigh,
I my prophecy upon Troy's line {73b} pour:

A serpent coiling,
And with fury boiling,
From Germany coming with arm'd wings spread,
Shall Britain fair subdue
From the Lochlin ocean blue,
To where Severn rolls in her spacious bed.

And British men
Shall be captives then
To strangers from Saxonia's strand;
From God they shall not swerve,
They their language shall preserve,
But except wild Wales, they shall lose their land.

THE HISTORY OF TALIESIN.

From the Ancient British.

Talieson was a foundling, discovered in his infancy lying in a coracle, on
a salmon-weir, in the domain of Elphin, a prince of North Wales, who
became his patron. During his life he arrogated to himself a supernatural
descent and understanding, and for at least a thousand years after his
death he was regarded by the descendants of the ancient Britons in the
character of a prophet or something more. The poems which he produced
procured for him the title of "Bardic King;" they display much that is
vigorous and original, but are disfigured by mysticism and extravagant
metaphor; one