Classic Poem

Ye , whom Britain's earliest day,
Saw among her meadows play:
Unconscious yet, that ocean's waves,
Form'd the isle, it loves and laves.

Lords of realms, as yet unknown,
A blest creation all your own;
A region yet by blood unstain'd,
Where native Peace unruffled reign'd.

Till Caesar saw, from heights sublime,
Beyond the deep, a distant clime;
His legions led, to guiltless lands,
And forced to arms your pastoral bands.

'Twas your's to share the general doom,
To brave, in vain, resistless Rome;
Yet Claudius saw, from Empire's seat,
A Briton even in bondage GREAT .

Allur'd by Rapine, Fraud, and Spoil,
Marauding Saxons trod your soil;
And Bards, in strains of sorrow tell,
That Britain's offspring fought and fell.

Whene'er the Raven's wings were spread,
From Odin's den, the hordes were led;
And, Britain's then, unguarded coast,
Felt the fell, the savage host.

Lost your own paternal plains,
Sylvan shades, and green domains;
Ye followed Hope's inviting eye,
To Cambrian vales, and summits high.

Ye, there, with calm indifference saw,
Another crew give both the law;
Their claims a Norman tyrant spurn,
Oppress th' oppressors in their turn.

Intrepid, amid cliffs of snow,
Ages saw you brave the foe;
Till Concord came with efforts blest,
And soothed Contention's roar to rest.

United now to England's throne,
Your Sires returned, resumed their own;
And still as in her EARLIEST day,
Britannia's wider sceptre sway.

O'er Britain's fertile varied face,
One great, one rich, and potent race;
In honour high — and high in fame —
The first of nations BOASTS YOUR NAME !

B RITONS hear, that NAME'S a host,
And forms a bulwark round your coast;
And fame shall tell, in records fair,
You're worthy of the NAME you bear!

The foe that racks a suffering world,
At you, the bolt of war has hurl'd;
And dares, in language, loud and high,
Your warriors to the field defy.

Dares and hopes, by threats and wiles,
To ravage, rule, the Queen of Isles;
'Tis your's to stem his despot stride,
Unhelm, and humble, lawless pride.

By genuine Freedom's holy flame,
By Dragon-crested, Arthur's name;

By Deva's waves, when Saxons fled,
By Mona's sons, when Mervyn led.

By Rodri's heir, whose vengeful sword,
Bright gleamed in Conway's lucid ford;

By Ewloe's forests, Berwyn's heath,
Where Owen gained th' immortal wreath.

By every patriot-warrior's name,
By all that fills the rolls of Fame,
Unfold your banners, rend the air,
And proudly show the shields you bear!

Sons of Snowdon, your's the MEED ,
Like Britons live, like Britons bleed;

Your Country, Parents, Children save,
Or fill one great and glorious grave.