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Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege. "And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,

Who knows a subtler magic than his own,

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.

She gave the King his huge crosshilted sword,

Whereby to drive the heathen out: a mist

Of incense curled about her, and her face

Well-nigh was hidden in the minster gloom;

But there was heard among the holy hymns

A voice as of the waters, for she dwells

Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever

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Not half so fearful;-not a flight drawn home,

A round stone from a sling, a lover's

wish,

E'er made that haste they have. By heavens!

I have seen these Britons that you magnify,

Run as they would have out-run time, and roaring,

Basely for mercy, roaring; the light shadows,

That in a thought scour o'er the fields of corn,

Halted on crutches to them. Yes, Bonduca,

I have seen thee run too, and thee, Nennius;

Yea, run apace, both; then when Penyus,

The Roman girl, cut through your armed carts,

And drove them headlong on ye down the hill; —

Then when he hunted ye like Britain foxes,

More by the scent than sight: then did I see

These valiant and approved men of Britain,

Like boding owls, creep into tods of ivy,

And hoot their fears to one another nightly.

I fled too,

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And shall we burn their with upbraidings?

Had we a difference with s
Isle,
Or with our neighbors, 1
our landmarks,
The taking in of some r
Lord,

Or making a head against tions,

After a day of blood, pez be argued :

But where we grapple ground we live on, The Liberty we hold as de The gods we worship, those, our honors, And with those swords th end of battle: Those men beside thems no neighbor; Those minds that, where

claim inheritance; And where the sun mai

fruits, their harves And where they march, b

out more ground To add to Rome, and i bowels on us; It must not be; no, as t! foes,

And those that must be

tire 'em, Let's use the peace of H fair dealing; But in our ends, our swe BEAUMONT AND

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THE BARD.

L. 1.

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IN seize thee, ruthless king! Made us in

nfusion on thy banners wait:

h fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,

mock the air with idle state. nor hauberk's twisted mail,

en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall

Avail

ave thy secret soul from nightly fears,

n Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"

were the sounds that o'er the crested pride

the first Edward scattered wild dismay,

own the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side

wound with toilsome march his long array.

: Gloster stood aghast in speechless trance:

arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance.

L. 2.

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a rock, whose haughty brow ns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,

No more I werp Thy to at

sleep
On yonder cliffs, a gy
I see them sit, they linger
Avengers of their
With me in dreadful
join
And weare with

ed in the sable garb of woe, haggard eyes the poet stood; e his beard, and hoary hair ned, like a meteor, to the troubled air), with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,

the deep sorrows of his lv. ark, how each giant-oak, an! desert cave.

to the torrent's awful voce

beneath!

hee, oh King! their hundred

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"Weare the wary and rede
The winding sheet of wal

Give ample rep
enough
Mark the year, and the side
The charter of
When Seives all s

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arms they wave,

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nge on thee in hoaner

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murs breathe:

no more, since Cambria's fata

day,

gh-born Hoel's harp, or st Llewellyn's lay.

1.3.

dis Cadwallo's tou hushed the stormy ma

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Not half so fearful;-not a flight drawn home,

A round stone from a sling, a lover's wish,

E'er made that haste they have. By heavens!

I have seen these Britons that you magnify,

Run as they would have out-run time, and roaring,

Basely for mercy, roaring; the light shadows,

That in a thought scour o'er the fields of corn,

Halted on crutches to them. Yes, Bonduca,

I have seen thee run too, and thee, Nennius;

Yea, run apace, both; then when Penyus,

The Roman girl, cut through your armed carts,

And drove them headlong on ye down the hill; —

Then when he hunted ye like Britain foxes,

More by the scent than sight: then did I see

These valiant and approvèd men of Britain,

Like boding owls, creep into tods of ivy,

And hoot their fears to one another nightly.

I fled too,

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My helm still on my head, my sword my prow,

Turned to my foe my face, he cried out nobly,

"Go, Briton, bear thy lion's whelp off safely;

Thy manly sword has ransomed thee: grow strong,

And let me meet thee once again in arms:

Then if thou stand'st, thou art mine." I took his offer, And here I am to honor him.

There's not a blow we gave sino Julius landed,

That was of strength and worth, bu like records

They file to after-ages. Our Register The Romans are, for noble deeds o honor;

And shall we burn their mention with upbraidings?

Had we a difference with some pett Isle,

Or with our neighbors, lady, fo our landmarks,

The taking in of some rebelliou Lord,

Or making a head against commo tions,

After a day of blood, peace migh be argued:

But where we grapple for th ground we live on,

The Liberty we hold as dear as life The gods we worship, and ne those, our honors,

And with those swords that know! end of battle: Those men beside themselves all no neighbor;

Those minds that, where the day claim inheritance; And where the sun makes ripe! fruits, their harvest; And where they march, but meas out more ground

To add to Rome, and here in bowels on us;

It must not be; no, as they are foes,

And those that must be so until

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