Classic Poem

ADDRESSED TO THE BURGESSES OF FLINT AND ITS
CONTRIBUTORY BOROUGHS.

Y E Men of M oelvamme , now Dee-ward descend,
The first of your blessings with spirit defend,
Proclaim it aloud, and in Freedom's shrill voice,
That C ambria's own son shall be crown'd by your choice.
Derry down, &c.

See L loyd , from a race that's unmix'd, and your own ,
That ere Saxons were seen, sat on B ritain's high throne;
The prowess of M archudd your foemen have felt,
And your bards on S ir T UDOR delighted have dwelt.

Young G lynne , too, comes forward your suffrage to claim,
Alas! he's a Saxon — in all but his name!
'Tis time he should learn, as he runs he may read,
That his fathers were proud to be Britons indeed.

The C olonel , aspiring, revives a known theme,
Claims kindred with Cymru, through C onway's bright stream;
His claims we admit — the dear name we adore,
But must prefer L loyd , as a Briton all o'er.

To one point, my compatriots, let Concord now guide,
In Honor's bright bosom your welfare confide;
Let L loyd be your leader — your triumph be seen,
And the bards of your country shall hail him EICH DYN .