1805.) 
Ceafe the fond ftrain—-ean mortal ken declare 
Each floating infect in the folar beam ; 
Trace, as fhe wantons in her wide career, 
The Moon’s pale ringlets quiv’ring on the 
ftream ? 
Though down the fteep the thundering tor- 
rents roar, 
Whelm the light bark that glides along the 
: fhore & 
To fummer funs autumnal gloom Gisneses 
Or icy Winter (trip the flow’ry mead 5 
Still, Memory. thou! at Thomfon’s fhrine 
fhalt aring 
The fre(hett wreaths of ever- r-blooming Spring! 
J.N. W. 
Se EE reer 
MYNYDD-Y-GAR. 
[The following irregular lines were written 
atter-an excurfion from Neath, onthe, 26th 
of/ December laft, to the top a Mynydd- 
y-Gar*, a hill three miles to the fouth of 
this place; facred to every true Welch- 
man, aS the recorder of the prowefs and 
patrictifm of the ancient “Britons, by 
W.4, KH. On the fummit remains a large 
Britith encampment, from which, on a 
clear day, may be diftin&ly feen the Brefely 
mountaim, in Pembrokefhire; the Black 
mountain, in Carmarthenshire, extending 
through part of Brecknockthire into Mon- 
mouthfhire; the Vann, near Brecon, 
which is the loftieft mountain in South 
Wales; and many others of lefs note, 
which feem to vie with each other for fu- 
periority and grandeur. Jn another direc- 
tion there is a beautiful profpe& of Briton- 
ferry, and the town and bay of Swanfea; 
the oppofite coaft of Devon and Somerfet- 
fhire, and Lundi Ifland, at the diftance of 
about fourteen leagues. For beautiful and 
extenfive profpecs, M ynydd-y- -Gar is not 
furpaffed by any hill in South Wales.— 
Neath, March 2, 1805 | 
YNYDD-Y-GAR’s furze. clad height 
~ “*  Refounded to the blatt ; 
The gloomy fhadows of the eh 
Roli’d onwards thick and faft. 
By fitg the furly wind roar’d loud 
The hollow glens among ; 
The dark and threat’ning thunder cloud 
Frowned black and thick and long. 
The arrowy fleet in piercing ftorm 
Beat on the mountain’s head ; 
Terror upreared his giant form, 
And fcattered fear and dread. 
In firm array the Britith bands 
Ruthed on to meet the foe; 
With dauntlefs hearts and hardy hands 
To lay the oppreffors low. 
* Literally tranflated Mons Caffri. 
ys in Mynydd-y- Gar fhould be founded as u 
in run; the dd as thin the. The 4 in Gar 
has the found of a prolonged in far, 
Original Poetry. 
The. 
467 
Nor arrowy fleet, nor driving wind, 
Could freeze their patriot blood ; 
Nor terror chill their ardent mind, 
For freedom when they fiood. 
Throvgh the rude vale the Saxons wound 
Their toilfome weary way, 
While peals of thunder fearful found, 
And gleaming lightnings play. 
And: down the mountain's 
Impetuous torrents dah, 
And mingled rocks and trees the tide 
Bears down with horrid crath, 
rugged fide 
And while around they trembling gaze 
With fear- ead alled eyes, 
Iiiumin’d by red meteors’ blaze, 
They fee new hills arife. 
Mynydd-y-Gar’s ftorm-beat height 
Prefents its head to view, " 
Shrowded in mitts, a dreary fight, 
Through vapours dimly blue. 
On the high fummit, rough with fern, 
A ftern encampment ftands, 
And there with Freedom’s fpirit burn 
The valiant Cambrian bands. 
‘¢ With whirling bounds, 
‘< With jarring founds, 
‘¢ Your mafly fragments fhower; 
«© Rife, cruth the foe 
‘¢ With deadly blow, 
<¢ The ftoney tempef pour!” 
To obey their chieftain’s warning voice 
The eager Britons rapid fly ; 
They hurl the craggy ftones from high, 
With fheuts they rend the darkened fky, 
They roufe their might 
To glorious fight, 
Their hearts are fire: thers fouls rejoice, 
Refolv’¢ to cenquex or to die. 
Low the Saxon fpoilers fink, 
On the torrent’s jagged brink 
Their chieftains die, 
Their followers fly ; 
Backwards they urge their trembling way, 
Still prefs’d by Fear and wild Difmay. 
Time, which gave the mighty birth, 
Sweeps the mighty from the earth 5 
Eyes which faw the battle burn 
Muft to kindred duft return. 
Years roli onthe f{cene is chang’d 5 
Heroes who thefe mountains rang’d 
Now no keen-edg’d fword can wield, 
Lift no more the painted shield. 
Britons and Saxons now here meet 
With peaceful hearts, with converfe {weet 5 
Pernicicus ftrife no longer wage, 
No longer feel inhuman rage. 
But hark! what wild, what agonizing cries 
From Gallia’s diftant. threat’ning fhores arite ! 
Borne on the breeze the thick’ning tumult 
{vells, 
And o’er Batavia’s level coaft it dwells’ " 
302 Germania, 
