The Mountain Fires

Light the hills! till heaven is glowing
As with some red meteor’s rays!
Winds of night, though rudely blowing,
Shall but fan the beacon-blaze.
Light the hills! till flames are streaming
From Yr Wyddfa’s sovereign steep,
To the waves round Mona gleaming,
Where the Roman track’d the deep!

Be the mountain watch-fires heighten’d,
Pile them to the stormy sky!
Till each torrent-wave is brighten’d,
Kindling as it rushes by.
Now each rock, the mist’s high dwelling,
Towers in reddening light sublime;
Heap the flames! around them telling
Tales of Cambria’s elder time.

Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted,
Many a solemn vigil kept,
When, in ages long departed,
O’er the noble dead they wept.
In the winds we hear their voices--
“Sons! though yours a brighter lot,
When the mountain-land rejoices,
Be her mighty unforgot!”