Part 8 (1/2)

Once when they met on the Teivy's banks, Canopied o'er by the wild wood, Mid fragrance of flowers that graced the shade, The youth sung this song, of true lovers betrayed, An ominous song-that drew tears from the maid, For her heart was as simple as childhood.

”'Oh come to the banks of the Teivy with me, To the deep woodland glade, 'neath the shady green tree, Fearless of foemen, of guile, or of might, In the face of the day and the bright eye of light, That G.o.d and his angels may witness our troth, That G.o.d and his angels may favor us both.'

”'I'll go to the green-wood,' the lady replied, 'Fore G.o.d and his angels be fairly affied, Fearless of foemen, of guile, or of might, In the face of the day and the bright eye of light; That G.o.d and his angels may witness our troth, That G.o.d and his angels may favor us both.'

”So sung a young chief to his dear lady love, At the base of her tower-she answered above- Vile va.s.sals espied them, and flew to their lord, The lady's true lover soon fell 'neath his sword: She threw herself headlong, fulfilling her troth, And Death was the priest that united them both.”

PART II.

Over the hill of Pen-garreg, the road Is seen that leads from Llandovery, Maes-y-velin's green hill is opposite, The mansion below-oft on either height The lovers are making discovery.-

But envious eyes were on the watch, And the genius of evil hover'd; The brothers, who wish'd their sister unmatch'd, For any approach of a lover watch'd, At length their two flags discover'd.

They have hatch'd a scheme to enmesh the youth, And see him at length on the mountain; His flag they answer-he runs down the hill- Now forth rush the wretches resolved to kill, And waste his young heart's warm fountain.

Like prey-beasts they hide on the Teivy's banks In the covert of thick-leaved bushes; The youth, he dashes across the river, And ardent to meet his fond receiver He seeks her fair form in the rushes.-

He deems she plays him at hide and seek, Her heart he knew was gayful- ”Oh come from thy covert my Ellen dear!

Oh come forth and meet thy lover here!”

He cries in soft accents playful.

No Ellen appears-rustling steps he hears- Perhaps some perfidious stranger;- He stops in the rushes, and steals to a copse, But there not an instant for breathing stops Peril's presentiment suddenly drops, And he flies for his life from danger.

He knew not his foes, up the hill he goes, With the speed of a hart that's hunted; The brothers pursue, till fatigued they grew, To Maes-y-velin his course they knew, And eager revenge is blunted.-

They saw him enter-”the foe is snared!”

Exclaim'd then the elder brother; ”To kill him surely be firmly prepared Accurst be the arm by which he is spared!

Let's stab him, or drown, or smother.”

”Let's do him dead and no matter how, And our sister's fortune is ours; No brats of her's shall supplant our hope: Prepare we a dagger, a sack, and rope, For brief are the stripling's hours.”

Now rush'd the youth through the mansion door.

And fell at the feet of Ellen; Ere he could speak the brothers appear, The maiden shrieks with terrific fear, The heiress of Maes-y-velin.-

She fell in a swoon, the brothers soon Gag his mouth and proceed to bind him, His hands they fasten'd behind his back, And over his head they drew a sack, They jump on his body-his rib bones crack, Till a corse on the ground they find him.

Oh G.o.d! 'twas a barbarous b.l.o.o.d.y deed; 'Twas piteous to hear his groaning: A demon's heart might relent to hear The sobs of death and convulsions drear- Oh Christ! is no merciful angel near, Call'd down by this woeful moaning?-

Oh murderous fiends! the eye of G.o.d Hath flamed on this heartless murther!

They grasp at his throat to check his breath- With knees on his breast-oh merciful death!

Thou sav'st him from anguish further.

And dead in the sack his body they bore, And sunk in a pool of Teivy; After many days when the body was found, No tongue could tell was he smother'd or drown'd, Or crush'd by men's buffets heavy.

Thus fell in his bloom the blameless youth;- Insanity seized on poor Ellen, The lovely maniac! with bosom bare, And eyes of wildness, and streaming hair, Roved frantic o'er Maes-y-velin.