AFTER THE LAST CONFLICT IN SNOWDON .

Lo! the heroic heap I see,
My country's sons that once were free;
They fell a falling land to save,
And grateful Cambria decks the grave.

Insatiate Saxons — there they lie,
Their spirits dare you from the sky;
Eternal rivals — fiends despair!
For Vice and Virtue meet not there.

Again I see you point the dart,
Its purpose fell — the patriot heart;
Yet know — this arm no Saxon fears,
Though Cambria's fields are wet with tears.

Again I hear the dire decree
That bids fair Freedom cease to be;
The world that Edward wants, we give —
The good, the brave, disdain to live.

Yet England's sons in future times,
Shall read in blood their fathers' crimes;
Conceal'd in flowers, I see the spear,
The thorns that shall their vitals tear.

Yes, yes! the day that marks their doom,
Again shall see my country bloom;
To Britain — Britain's race restore,
And bid Contention cease to roar.

For me divides yon bursting cloud,
The flash descends in summons loud;
I rise to join yon hallow'd host,
Nor fall to swell a tyrant's boast.