Hide Articles List

4 articles on this Page

ADFYFYRION EISTEDDFODOL.j

YOU MUST DROP A BARD OR TWO,…

News
Cite
Share

YOU MUST DROP A BARD OR TWO, OR THE WRATH OF THE CELTIC MUSE. Far up in the fairy glens Where she dwelleth from of old, I heard her cry, From whence Came that mandate rude and bold?" She listened aghast at the sound, Upborne on the panting gale, Like the bay of a ravening hound When the scent is hot on the trail You must drop a bard or two, If this monster show is to pay And less of their lingo will do, For the doggerel has had it's day." In the mystic light whence flows The grace of the Celtic Muse, In her beauty and strength she arose And shook from her locks the dews; And clad in her pride of song, She quitted that hallowed domain For the ways of the vulgar throng That danced to the sordid strain You must drop a bard or two &c. Not afar rose an ancient fane Where slumber the mighty dead, Who in times of turmoil and strain Their hosts to the war-lists led; Yet unheeding of the past, With its deathless tale of blood, Still rang that refrain on the blast By Menai's billowing nood You must drop a bard or two &c. From Attic groves around Shone many a gilded dome, Where Learning gaudily gowned Reposed in a cloistered home; And the College lights now kept High feast with the feckless throng To her temples hot anger leapt, Proud Muse, as she heard their song: You must drop a bard or two &c. And hither from East and West In purple habiliments clad, The Councillors eagerly pressed To join in that music mad; And vendors of spices and teas, And mercers of linen and lace, And victuallers of all degrees Made louder the song of dispraise You must drop a bard or two &c. And he that engendered the song, A Saxon vast of side, Upstood above the throng, And wielded his baton wide Then pealed as never before A Babel of discords vile, Till back from old Arvon's shore Shrank Menai's wave awhile: You must drop a bard or two, If this monster show is to pay; And less of their lingo will do, For the doggerel has had it's day." Then the Muse on a sudden drew From her side a horn of gold, And a mighty blast she blew, As a sea of sound it rolled O'er the moutain solitudes, And the harvest-laden vales, And the legend-haunted woods Of Merlin's enchanted Wales. And swift, as from out the Earth, There arose a countless throng, All men of heroic worth, Not minions of mitred wrong And the Mother gave the word, And her warriors smote amain, Till they left but a carrion herd In the City of Disdain. But the grass do'th clothe the hill With loveliness as of old, And the Bards and Druids still Their ancient rites uphold And deep in her fairy glens The Muse distilleth her song, Till the spirit shall summon her hence To enrapture the seraph throng. ELPHIN.

[No title]

Y Dyfodol.