HARP of the mountain-land! sound forth again As when the foaming Hirlas horn was crowned, And warrior hearts beat proudly to the strain, And the bright mead at Owain's feast went round: Wake with the spirit and the power of yore! Harp of the ancient hills! be heard once more! Thy tones are not to cease! The Roman came O'er the blue waters with his thousand oars Through Mona's oaks he sent the wasting flame; The Druid shrines lay prostrate on our shores: All gave their ashes to the wind and sea -- Ring out, thou harp! he could not silence thee. Thy tones are not to cease! The Saxon passed, His banners floated on Eryri's gales; But thou wert heard above the trumpet's blast, E'en when his towers rose loftiest o'er the vales! Thine was the voice that cheered the brave and free; They had their hills, their chainless hearts, and thee. Those were dark years! -- They saw the valiant fall, The rank weeds gathering round the chieftain's board, The hearth left lonely in the ruined hall -- Yet power was thine -- a gift in every chord! Call back that spirit to the days of peace, Thou noble harp! thy tones are not to cease! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE POET VISITS ANOTHER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER by JOHN DONNE TO THE NIGHTINGALE by ANNE FINCH SONNET: ON FAME (1) by JOHN KEATS THE EAGLE; A FRAGMENT by ALFRED TENNYSON |