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Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap,
his hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
his cherub boy he kissed!
Nor scratch had he, nor harm nor dread-
but the same couch beneath,
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-
tremendous still in death!
Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain!
for now the truth was clear;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain,
to save Llewellyn's heir.
Vain, vain was Llewellyn's woe:
best of thy kind adieu!
The frantic deed which laid the low,
this heart shall ever rue!
And now a gallant tomb they raise,
with costly sculpture decked;
And marbles, storied with his praise,
poor Gelert's bones protect.
And hear he hung his horn and spear;
and oft as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear
poor Gelert's dying yell.
FITZ-JAMES & RHODERICK DHU.
The Chief in silence strode before,
And reached the torrent's sounding shore,
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
