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From Mr. Evan's Specimen of the Welfb Poetry,
London, 1764, Quarto.


OWEN fucceeded his father Griffin in the Principality of North Wales, A. D. 1120: this battle was near forty years afterwards.

ΟΙ WEN's praife demands my fong,

Owen fwift and Owen strong,

Faireft flow'r of Rod'rick's ftem,
Gwyneth's * fhield and Britain's gem.
He nor heaps his brooded stores,
Nor on all profusely pours,
Lord of ev'ry regal art,
Lib'ral hand and open heart.

Big with hofts of mighty name,
Squadrons three against him came;
This the force of Eirin hiding;
Side by fide as proudly riding
On her shadow long and gay
Lochlin + plows the watry way;
There the Norman fails afar,
Catch the winds and join the war;
Black and huge along they sweep,
Burthens of the angry deep.


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* North Wales.

† Denmark.

Dauntless on his native fands
The Dragon font of Mona ftands;
In glitt'ring arms and glory dreft,
High he rears his ruby creft:
There the thund'ring ftrokes begin,
There the prefs and there the din,
Talymalfra's rocky shore

Echoing to the battle's roar.

Check'd by the torrent-tide of blood,
Backward Meinai rolls his flood,



While, heap'd his master's feet around,
Proftrate warriors gnaw the ground.


Where his glowing eye-balls turn,
Thousand banners round him burn;
Where he points his purple fpear
Hafty, hafty rout is there;
Marking, with indignant eye,
Fear to ftop and Shame to fly :
There Confufion, Terror's child,
Conflict fierce and Ruin wild,


Agony, that pants for breath,

Defpair and honourable Death.


The red Dragon is the device of Cadwalladar,

which all his defcendants bore on their banners.



From the Welf of Aneurim, ftyled The Monarch of the Bards.

He flourifbed about the Time of Talieffin, A. D. 570. This Ode is extracted from the GODODIN. [See Mr. Evan's Specimens, p. 71, 73.)

HADI but the torrent's might,

With headlong rage, and wild affright,

Upon Deïra's fquadrons hurl'd,

To rush and fweep them from the world!
Too, too fecure in youthful pride,
By them my friend, my Hoel, dy'd,
Great Cian's fon; of Madoc old,
He afk'd no heaps of hoarded gold;
Alone in Nature's wealth array'd,
He afk'd and had the lovely maid.

To Cattraeth's vale, in glitt'ring row
Twice two hundred warriors go;
Ev'ry warrior's manly neck
Chains of regal honour deck,
Wreath'd in many a golden link:
From the golden cup they drink
Nectar that the bees produce,
Or the grape's ecstatic juice.

Flufh'd with mirth and hope they burn,
But none from Cattraeth's vale return,
Save Aëron brave and Conan ftrong,
(Burfting through the bloody throng,)
And I, the meaneft of them all,
That live to weep and fing their fall.


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Performed in the Senate-boufe, Cambridge, July 1fi, 1769, at the Inftallation of his Grace Aguftus-Henry-Fitzroy Duke of Grafton, Chancellor of the University.

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HENCE, avaunt! ('tis holy ground,)
Comus and his midnight crew,

"And Ignorance with looks profound,
"And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue,
"Mad Sedition's cry profane,

"Servitude that hugs her chain,

"Nor in these confecrated bow'rs,

"Let painted Flatt'ry hide her ferpent-train in

"Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain,

"Dare the Mufe's walk to stain,

"While bright-ey'd Science watches round:

“Hence, away! 'tis holy ground."


From yonder realms of empyrian day

Burfts on my ear th' indignant lay;

There fit the fainted fage, the bard divine,

The few whom Genius gave to shine



Thro' ev'ry unborn age and undiscover'd clime.

Rapt in celestial transport they,

Yet hither oft' a glance from high

They fend of tender fympathy

To bless the place where on their opʼning foul
Firft the genuine ardour ftole.

'Twas Milton ftruck the deep-ton'd fhell,

And, as the choral warblings round him fwell,



Meek Newton's felf bends from his ftate fublime, 25 And nods his hoary head, and liftens to the rhyme.


"Ye brown o'er-arching groves! "That Contemplation loves,

"Where willowy Camus lingers with delight, "Oft' at the blufh of dawn

"I trod your level lawn,


"Oft' woo'd the gleam of Cynthia filver-bright "In cloifters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, "With Freedom by my fide and foft-ey'd Melan



But hark! the portals found, and pacing forth,
With folemn steps and flow,


High potentates, and dames of royal birth,
And mitred fathers, in long order go:

Great Edward, with the Lilies on his brow*

From haughty Gallia torn,

And fad Chatillon, † on her bridal morn,

That wept her bleeding love, and princely Clare, ‡


* Edward III. who added the Fleur de lys of France to the arms of England. He founded Trinity-college.

+Mary de Valentia, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of Guy de Chatillon, Comte de St. Paul in France, of whom tradition fays, that her husband, Audemarde de Valentia, Earl of Pembroke, was flain at a tournament on the day of his nuptials. She was the foundrefs of Pembroke-college or Hall, under the name of Aula Mariæ de Valentia.

Elizabeth de Burg, Countefs of Clare, was wife of John de Burg, fon and heir of the Earl of Ulfter,

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