Plas Gogerddan
(After Ceiriog to a Welsh Air)
“Without thy Sire hast thou returned?”
In grief the Princess cried!
“Go back!—or from my sight be spurned—
To battle by his side.
I gave thee birth; but struck to earth
I’d sooner see thee lie,
Or on thy bier come carried here,
Than thus a craven fly!
“Seek yonder hall, and pore on all
The portraits of thy race;
The courage high that fires each eye
Canst thou endure to face?”
“I’ll bring no blame on thy fair name,
Or my forefathers slight!
But kiss and bless me, mother dear,
Ere I return to fight.”
He fought and fell—his stricken corse
They bore to her abode;
“My son!” she shrieked, in wild remorse;
“Forgive me, O! my God!”
Then from the wall old voices fall:
“Rejoice for such a son!
His deed and thine shall deathless shine,
Whilst Gwalia’s waters run!”