TRADITION OF GELERT. 197 



For, far below, his piercing eye 



Descries a mangled heap 

 Of broken limbs, still quivering, lie : 



At one tremendous leap 



The stag had dash'd through with fearless bound ; 

 And thus a death more merciful had found 

 Than spearman's murderous lance, or tooth of madden'd 

 hound. 



Swift as the wind Llewelyn's courser flies, 



And safe his master to his home has brought ; 

 The chieftain lifts the latch, and forward hies 



To kiss the infant of his tender thought. 



'Twas ever thus the nurs'ry first he sought; 

 And, though fatigued with toil of war, or chase, 



Or summer's heat, or winter's cold, he caught 

 From wife and children's smile and loved embrace 

 New life, that gave his soul refreshing resting place. 



His features all with glowing rapture bright, 



Parental transport kindling in his eye, 

 His buoyant spirit dancing with delight, 



He gently opes the door his babe to spy : 



But horror fills his frame ; pale agony 

 Makes to its source the curdling blood rebound, 



When overturn'd he sees the cradle lie ; 

 The clothes in loose confusion scatter'd round, 

 And with his jaws all gore, beholds his favourite hound. 



" Gelert, hast thou devour'd my child?" 



The frantic father cried ; 

 Then drew his sword, with anger wild, 



And plunged it in his side. 

 o 3 



