L 488 ] [Nov. 
LINES WRITTEN BESIDE THE BANKS OF TOWY. 
Is this the glen by wizards trod, 
By hostile arms invaded ? : 
Is this the bonny stream that flowed ; 
Where Freedom bloomed and faded ? 
Yes, still the stream flows gaily on, 
Its glen still charms the rover ; 
But Freedom’s day is past and gone, 
The wizard’s power is over. 
A stranger age, to fancy blind, 
Has dimmed Tradition’s glory, 
And rudely scattered to the wind 
Each old romantic story : 
No more the Fays are met at eve, 
By shepherd sore affrighted ; 
No more the Baron’s halls receive 
The wandering bard benighted. 
The days-are gone of high romance, 
The Druid oak’s deserted, 
Rust dims the border-chieftain’s lance, 
The Elves have all departed ; 
O’er grey Dynevor’s castled height 
The moss of age is creeping, 
And ravens whoop where squire and knight 
Beneath the sod lie sleeping. 
A change hath fallen on heath and hill, : 
A change On peer and peasant, 
The unheeded Past hath had its will, 
And bows before the Present ;— 
But thus it is, from change alone 
This world a charm can borrow ;_ 
Year after year rolls darkling on, 
And nought endures but sorrow ! £9 
