Classic Poem

O! Taliesin, guide my hand,
Attune the trembling strings, inchant the lay,
That dares attempt to carol Gray ,
Thou long-lost Homer of my native land:
Haste Cadwano, Modred come,
Leave awhile your craggy tomb;
Let your own magic swell th' exalted strain,
Let it echo o'er the plain,
To celebrate the soaring Bard, who told
How you glorious liv'd of old;
How your wiery harps were strung,
How truth divine inspir'd each sweet prophetic tongue.