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Translated by Robert Williams
CAMBRIA’S princely eagle, hail! | |
| Of Gruffudd Vychan’s noble blood! | |
| Thy high renown shall never fail, | |
| Owain Glyndwr, great and good! | |
| Lord of Dwrdwy’s fertile vale, | 5 |
| Warlike, high-born Owain, hail! | |
| Dwrdwy, whose wide-spreading streams, | |
| Reflecting Cynthia’s midnight beams, | |
| Whilom led me to thy bower; | |
| Alas! in an unguarded hour. | 10 |
| For high in blood, with British beverage hot, | |
| My awful distance I forgot; | |
| But soon my generous chief forgave | |
| The rude presumption of his slave. | |
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| But leave me not, illustrious lord! | 15 |
| Thy peaceful bower and hospitable board | |
| Are ill exchanged for scenes of war, | |
| Though Henry calls thee from afar. | |
| My prayers, my tears, were vain; | |
| He flew like lightning to the hostile plain. | 20 |
| While with remorse, regret, and woe, | |
| I saw the godlike hero go; | |
| I saw, with aching heart, | |
| The golden beam depart. | |
| His glorious image in my mind | 25 |
| Was all that Owain left behind. | |
| Wild with despair, and woe-begone, | |
| Thy faithful bard is left alone, | |
| To sigh, to weep, to groan! | |
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| Thy sweet remembrance, ever dear, | 30 |
| Thy name, still ushered by a tear, | |
| My inward anguish speak; | |
| How couldst thou, cruel Owain, go, | |
| And leave the bitter streams to flow | |
| Down Gruffudd’s furrowed cheek? | 35 |
| I heard, (who has not heard thy fame?) | |
| With ecstasy I heard thy name, | |
| Loud echoed by the trump of war, | |
| Which spoke thee brave, and void of fear; | |
| Yet of a gentle heart possessed, | 40 |
| That bled within thy generous breast, | |
| Wide o’er the sanguine plain to see | |
| The havoc of hostility. | |
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| Still with good omens may’st thou fight, | |
| And do thy injured country right! | 45 |
| Like great Pendragon shalt thou soar, | |
| Who bade the din of battle roar, | |
| What time his vengeful steel he drew | |
| His brother’s grandeur to renew, | |
| And vindicate his wrongs; | 50 |
| His gallant actions still are told | |
| By youthful bards, by Druids old, | |
| And grateful Cambria’s songs. | |
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| On sea, on land, thou still didst brave | |
| The dangerous cliff and rapid wave; | 55 |
| Like Urien, who subdued the knight, | |
| And the fell dragon put to flight, | |
| Yon moss-grown fount beside; | |
| The grim, black warrior of the flood, | |
| The dragon, gorged with human blood, | 60 |
| The waters’ scaly pride, | |
| Before his sword the mighty fled: | |
| But now he ’s numbered with the dead. | |
| O, may his great example fire | |
| My noble patron to aspire | 65 |
| To deeds like his! impetuous fly, | |
| And bid the Saxon squadrons die: | |
| So shall thy laurelled bard rehearse | |
| Thy praise in never-dying verse; | |
| Shall sing the prowess of thy sword, | 70 |
| Beloved and victorious lord. | |
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| In future times thy honored name | |
| Shall emulate brave Urien’s fame! | |
| Surrounded by the numerous foe, | |
| Well didst thou deal the unequal blow, | 75 |
| How terrible thy ashen spear, | |
| Which shook the bravest heart with fear. | |
| Yon hostile towers beneath! | |
| More horrid than the lightning’s glance, | |
| Flashed the red meteors from thy lance, | 80 |
| The harbinger of death. | |
| Dire and more dire the conflict grew; | |
| Thousands before thy presence flew; | |
| While borne in thy triumphal car, | |
| Majestic as the god of war, | 85 |
| Midst charging hosts unmoved you stood, | |
| Or waded through a sea of blood. | |
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| Immortal fame shall be thy meed | |
| Due to every glorious deed; | |
| Which latest annals shall record, | 90 |
| Beloved and victorious lord! | |
| Grace, wisdom, valor, all are thine, | |
| Owain Glyndwrdwy divine! | |
| Meet emblem of a two-edged sword, | |
| Dreaded in war, in peace adored! | 95 |
| Steer thy swift ships to Albion’s coast | |
| Pregnant with thy martial host. | |
| Thy robes are white as driven snow, | |
| And virtue smiles upon thy brow; | |
| But terrible in war thou art, | 100 |
| And swift and certain is the dart | |
| Thou hurlest at a Saxon’s heart. | |
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| Loud fame has told thy gallant deeds; | |
| In every word a Saxon bleeds. | |
| Terror and flight together came, | 105 |
| Obedient to thy mighty name; | |
| Death, in the van, with ample stride, | |
| Hewed thee a passage deep and wide. | |
| Stubborn as steel, thy nervous chest | |
| With more than mortal strength possessed; | 110 |
| And every excellence belongs | |
| To the bright subject of our songs. | |
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| Strike then your harps, ye Cambrian bards; | |
| The song of triumph best rewards | |
| An hero’s toils. Let Henry weep | 115 |
| His warriors rapt in everlasting sleep: | |
| Success and victory are thine, | |
| Owain Glyndwrdwy divine! | |
| Dominion, honor, pleasure, praise, | |
| Attend upon thy vigorous days! | 120 |
| And, when thy evening sun is set, | |
| May grateful Cambria ne’er forget | |
| Thy noontide blaze; but on thy tomb | |
| Never-fading laurels bloom! | |
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