The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay!
Let Cambria's voice be heard this day
In music's witching strain!
Wide let her ancient "soul of song,"
The echo of its notes prolong,
O'er valley, hill, and plain!
Minstrels! awake your harps aloud,
Bid Cambria's nobles hither crowd,
Her daughters fair, her chieftains proud,
Nor shall the call be vain!
Let gen'rou
wine around be pour'd!
To many a chief in mem'ry stored,
Of Cambria's ancient day!
Sons of the mountain and the flood,
Who shed for her their dearest blood,
Nor own'd a conqueror's sway!
Be they extolled in music's strain,
Remembered, when the cup we drain,
And let their deeds revive again
In ev'ry minstrel's lay!
'Tis now the feast of soul and song!
As roll the festive hours along,
Here wealth and pow'r combine
With beauty's smiles, (a rich reward,)
To cheer the rugged mountain bard,
And honour Cambria's line!
Then, minstrels! wake your harps aloud,
Behold her nobles hither crowd,
Her daughters fair, her chieftains proud,
Like gems around they shine!