The thund'ring ocean at his feet,
Were all before us. Hard it prov'd,
To quit a land so dearly lov'd;
Forego each bold terrific boast
Of northern Cambria's giant coast.
Friends of the harp and song, forgive
The deep regret that, whilst I live,
Shall dwell upon my heart and tongue;
Go, joys untasted, themes unsung,
Another scene, another land,
Hence shall the homeward verse demand.
Yet fancy wove her flow'ry chain,
Till "farewell BRECON" left a pain;
A pain that travellers may endure,
Change is their food, and change their cure.
Yet, oh, how dream-like, far away,
To recollect so bright a day!
Dream-like those scenes the townsmen love,
Their tumbling USK, their PRIORY GROVE,
View'd while the moon cheer'd, calmly bright,
The freshness of a summer's night.

HIGH o'er the town, in morning smiles,
The blue VANN heav'd his deep defiles;
And rang'd, like champions for the fight,
Basking in sun-beams on our right,
Rose the BLACK MOUNTAINS, that surround
That far-fam'd spot of holy ground,
LLANTHONY, dear to monkish tale,
And still the pride of EWAIS VALE.