Felicia Dorothea Hemans ( )

Eryri Wen

Snowdon was held as sacred by the ancient Britons as Parnassus was by the Greeks and Ida by the Cretans. It is still said, that whosoever slept upon Snowdon would wake inspired, as much as if he had taken a nap on the hill of Apollo. The Welsh had always the strongest attachment to the tract of Snowdon. Our princes had, in addition to their title, that of Lord of Snowdon.  Pennant.

THEIRS was no dream, O monarch hill,
With heavens own azure crowned!
Who called theewhat thou shalt be still,
White Snowdon!holy ground.

They fabled not, thy sons who told
Of the dread power enshrined
Within thy cloudy mantles fold
And on thy rushing wind!

It shadowed oer thy silent height,
It filled thy chainless air,
Deep thoughts of majesty and might
Forever breathing there.

Nor hath it fled! the awful spell
Yet holds unbroken sway,
As when on that wild rock it fell
Where Merddin Emrys lay.

Though from their stormy haunts of yore
Thine eagles long have flown,
As proud a flight the soul shall soar
Yet from thy mountain throne!

Pierce then the heavens, thou hill of streams!
And make the snows thy crest!
The sunlight of immortal dreams
Around thee still shall rest.

Eryri! temple of the bard,
And fortress of the free!
Midst rocks which heroes died to guard,
Their spirit dwells with thee!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans's other poems:
  1. The Music of St. Patricks
  2. Joan of Arc in Rheims
  3. Taliesins Prophecy
  4. The Rock of Cader Idris
  5. Old Norway

 . Poem to print (Print)

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