Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,
O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung,
The path of unborn ages is trac'd upon my soul,
The clouds, which mantle things unseen, away before me roll.
A light, the depths revealing, hath o'er my spirit passed;
A rushing sound from days to be swells fitful on the blast,
And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.
Green island of the mighty! {87a} I see thine ancient race
Driv'n from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling place!
I see from Uthyr's {87b} kingdom the sceptre pass away,
And many a line of bards and chiefs, and princely men decay.
But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,
And wear the crown to which is giv'n dominion o'er the storms,
So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.