OWEN’S praise demands my song, | |
| Owen swift, and Owen strong; | |
| Fairest flower of Roderic’s stem, | |
| Gwyneth’s shield and Britain’s gem. | |
| He nor heaps his brooded stores, | 5 |
| Nor on all profusely pours; | |
| Lord of every regal art, | |
| Liberal hand and open heart. | |
| |
| Big with hosts of mighty name, | |
| Squadrons three against him came; | 10 |
| This the force of Eirin hiding, | |
| Side by side as proudly riding, | |
| On her shadow long and gay | |
| Lochlin ploughs the watery way; | |
| There the Norman sails afar | 15 |
| Catch the winds and join the war: | |
| Black and huge along they sweep, | |
| Burdens of the angry deep. | |
| |
| Dauntless on his native sands | |
| The dragon-son of Mona stands; | 20 |
| In glittering arms and glory dress’d, | |
| High he rears his ruby crest. | |
| There the thundering strokes begin, | |
| There the press and there the din; | |
| Talymalfra’s rocky shore | 25 |
| Echoing to the battle’s roar. | |
| Check’d by the torrent-tide of blood, | |
| Backward Menai rolls his flood; | |
| While, heap’d his master’s feet around, | |
| Prostrate warriors gnaw the ground. | 30 |
| Where his glowing eyeballs turn, | |
| Thousand banners round him burn: | |
| Where he points his purple spear, | |
| Hasty, hasty Rout is there, | |
| Marking with indignant eye | 35 |
| Fear to stop and Shame to fly. | |
| There Confusion, Terror’s child, | |
| Conflict fierce, and ruin wild, | |
| Agony that pants for breath, | |
| Despair and honorable death. * * * * * | 40 |
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