Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LLYN OWAIN; A LEGEND OF THE VALE OF TOWY, by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907) Poet's Biography First Line: Amid the folded hills Last Line: Come thou again! Subject(s): Wales; Welshmen; Welshwomen | ||||||||
AMID the folded hills The lake lies darkly clear; A death-like calmness stills The deep-set mere. And on its tranquil face, Like stars upon the night, Asleep in nymphlike grace, Float lilies white. Once, where the lake is now -- Thus old-time legends tell -- Lay, fathom-deep below, A magic well, A bubbling fountain deep Of fairy hands the boon Where shepherds drove their sheep, Parching with noon. Free gift of elfin grace For all, whose need being done, Should on the spring replace The covering stone. There on his dusty way, Athirst and weary, came One whom the blaze of day Burned like a flame. Sir Owain, a brave knight Of Arthur's court, had come Victor in many a fight, To his old home. Weary and spent was he, Weary his faithful steed; They stumble helplessly In mortal need. When on the sweet old spring Beloved by the boy, The man's eyes, wandering, Lighted with joy. Straight from the bubbling source They drank long draughts and deep; Then, with recruited force, Sank long in sleep, But the knight, wholly spent, Nor aught remembering, Sealed not before he went That gracious spring, Then through a waking dream He seemed to hear the sound, Of a loud, threatening stream, Which hemmed him round. And seeking in surprise Those vanished pastures green, Straightway his sorrowing eyes Knew what had been. For where the emerald mead Smiled, white with flocks, before, Dark waters rolled instead From shore to shore. Then the stout knight, dismayed By what his hand had done; In some blind cave, afraid, Hid from the sun. And there in slumbers deep He waits his fated hour, To rise from secular sleep By Arthur's power. For he shall wake again When Arthur's voice doth call; And from that long-drowned plain The flood shall fall. * * * * Fair legend which can bring A god-like voice and arm, To curb the unfettered spring Of age-long harm. Come soon, blest Presence strong; Bring wisdom in thy train; The earth lies sunk in Wrong -- Come thou again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANTICHRIST, OR THE REUNION OF CHRISTENDOM; AN ODE by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON WALES VISITATION by ALLEN GINSBERG WELSH INCIDENT by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE BARD; A PINDARIC ODE by THOMAS GRAY THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN: A FRAGMENT by THOMAS GRAY WELSH LANDSCAPE by RONALD STUART THOMAS A CAROL by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907) |
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