Like a tall giant ready for the fray,
The guardian bulwark of thy mountain land;
Old as the world thou art! As I survey
Thy lofty altitude, strange feelings rise,
Of the unutterable mind's wild sympathies.

Thou hast seen many changes, yet hast stood
Unaltered to the last, remained the same
Even in the wildness of thy solitude,
Even in thy savage grandeur; and thy name
Acts as a spell on Cambria's sons, that brings
Their heart's best blood to flow in rapid springs.

And must I be the only one to sing
Thy dear loved name? and must the task be mine,
To the insensate mind thy name to bring?
Oh! how I grieve to think, when songs divine
Have echoed to thy praises night and day,
I can but offer thee so poor a lay.



THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.


BY GORONWY OWAIN.

[This poet, who was born in 1722, obtained great celebrity in Wales; he
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church, but removed to
Donington in Shropshire, where he officiated as Curate for several years.