Bow-Meeting Song (By yon castle wall)

By yon castle wall, 'mid the breezes of morning,
The genius of Cambria strayed pensive and slow;
The oak-wreath was withered her tresses adorning,
And the wind through its leaves sighed its murmur of woe
She gazed on her mountains with filial devotion,
She gazed on her Dee as he rolled to the ocean, —
And, "Cambria! poor Cambria!" she cried with emotion,
"Thou yet hast thy country, thy harp, and thy bow!

"Sweep on, thou proud stream, with thy billows all hoary;
As proudly my warriors have rushed on the foe;
But feeble and faint is the sound of their glory,
For time, like thy tide, has its ebb and its flow.
Ev'n now, while I watch thee, thy beauties are fading;
The sands and the shallows thy course are invading;
Where the sail swept the surges the sea-bird is wading;
And thus hath it fared with the land of the bow!

"Smile, smile, ye dear hills, 'mid your woods and your flowers,
Whose heather lies dark in the morn's dewy glow!
A time must await you of tempest and showers,
An Autumn of mist, and a Winter of snow!
For me, though the whirlwind has shivered and cleft me.
Of wealth and of empire the stranger bereft me,
Yet, Saxon — proud Saxon — thy fury has left me
Worth, valour, and beauty, the harp and the bow!

"Ye towers, on whose rampire, all ruined and riven,
The wallflower and woodbine so lavishly blow,
I have seen when your banner waved broad to the heaven.
And kings found your faith a defence from the foe.
Oh, loyal in grief, and in danger unshaken,
For ages still true, though for ages forsaken,
Yet, Cambria, thy heart may to gladness awaken,
Since thy monarch has smiled on the harp and the bow!"