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The castle where Richard * his grandeur laid down,
And betray'd his own life by furrend'ring the crown:
Now the well + we furvey, where a virgin ‡ of old
To all flame but religion's was lifeless and cold;
When in vain princely Cradoc had offer'd his bed,
The merciless heathen e'en chopp'd off her head:
Hence the ftones are diftain'd with the colour of blood,
And each cripple is cur'd who will bathe in the flood.
Thus the rankeft abfurdity brain can conceive,
Superftition impofes, and crowds will believe!
Turn from legends and nonsense to see a gay fight,
Where the meadows of Clewyn § the fenfes delight,
And excufe that I aim not to point out the place,
Left my numbers too lowly the landscape difgrace.
At Rhyland we dine, and a caftle we view,
Whose founder I'd name if the founder I knew ;
But our hoft gives the word, and we hurry away,
Left the length of the journey out-run the fhort day;
Now afcend Penmenrofe, oh! beware as you rise,
What a profpect of horror, what dreadful furprize!
See that height more fublime, which no footsteps e'er try'd!
There the ocean roars loudly; how awful his pride!
How narrow the path! obferve where you tread,
Nor stumble the feet, nor grow dizzy the head;
If you flip, not mankind can avert your fad doom,
Dash against the rough rocks, and the fea for your tomb!
The danger is past, and now Conway's broad beach,
Fatigu'd and difmay'd, with great gladness we reach ;
In a leaky old boat we were wafted fafe o'er
(Tho' two drunkards our fteerfmen) to th' oppofite fhore.
* It was at this place that Richard was prevailed upon to refign the crown.
St. Winifred, patronefs of Wales..
§ The vale of Clewyn.
Here the town and the river are both of a name,
And boast the First Edward, who rais'd her to fame :
There a fupper was order'd, which no one could touch,
This too little was boil'd, and that roafted too much
To his chamber full hungry each pilgrim retreats,
And forgets his loft meal 'twixt a pair of Welch sheets.
A caftle hard by I with pleasure behold,
Which kings had long dwelt in, or giants of old;
But the daw, and each night-bird, now builds up her neft,
And with clamours and fhrieks the old manfion infeft.
We waken'd' at four, and our hoft left us here,
As the worst ways were past, so but small was our fear;
We follow'd our route, and cross'd Penmenmaur's fide,
Where the prudent will walk, but the bolder will ride.
Still above us old rocks feem to threaten a fall,
And prefent to fpectators the form of a wall.
Now Bangor, we reach-oh! if e'er thou hadst fame,
Tho' lawn fleeves thou bestow'ft, on my life, 'tis a fhame b.
There we cross o'er an arm of the fea, and carouse
On the oppofite shore at an excellent house ;
Thro' Anglefea's ifland we rattle our chaife,
While the goats all in wonder feem on us to gaze;
For be pleas'd to obferve, and with diligence note,
That 'twas here first in Wales that I met with a goat.
O'er roads rough and craggy our journey we fped,
Nor baited again till we reach'd Holyhead.
The next day, at noon, in the Wyndham we fail,
And the packet danc'd brisk with a profperous gale.
We at ten pafs'd the Bar *; in the wherry confin'd,
Which fwims on no water, and fails with no wind.
Till near two we fat curfing; in vain they may row,
Not a fnail is fo fluggish, nor tortoise fo flow ;
Till a boat took us in, and at length fet us down
At the quay of St George in St. Patrick's chief town:
Thence I wrote to my friend, nor believe what those say,
Or too fond to find fault, or too wantonly gay,
Who with taunts contumelious this island o'erload,
As with bogs and with blunders and nonsense full stow'd;
For, believe me, they live not unbless'd with good air,
And their daughters are beauteous, and fons debonair :
Here tho' Bacchus too often displays his red face,
Yet Minerva he holds in the strictest embrace ;
Nor the maiden is coy ev'ry charm to refign;
And the ivy and laurel peep forth from the vine.
Thus I've told you in verfe the whole progrefs I took,
As true as if fworn in full court on the book:
Let me know how in London. you measure your
'Twill be welcome in profe, but twice welcome in rhyme.
O deign once more t' exert thy power!
Haply fome herb or tree,
Sovereign as juice of western flower,
Conceals a balm for me.
I ask no kind return of love,
No tempting charm to please ;
Far from the heart thofe gifts remove,
That figh for peace and ease!
Nor peace, nor eafe, the heart can know,
That, like the needle true,
Turns at the touch of joy or woe;
But, turning, trembles too.
Far as diftrefs the foul can wound, 'Tis pain in each degree:
"Tis blifs but to a certain bound; Beyond, is agony.
Then take this treach'rous fense of mine,
Which dooms me ftill to fmart; Which pleasure can to pain refine, To pain new pangs impart.
O, hafte to shed the fovereign balm,
My shatter'd nerves new string;
And for my guest, ferenely calm,
The nymph Indifference bring!
At her approach, fee Hope, fee Fear,
See Expectation fly!
And Disappointment in the rear,
That blafts the promis'd joy.
* See Midfummer Night's Dream.
The wounds which now each moment bleed,
Each moment then shall close; And tranquil days fhall ftill fucceed To nights of calm repose.
O Fairy Elf! but grant me this,
This one kind comfort fend;
And so may never-fading bliss
Thy flow'ry paths attend!
So may the glow-worm's glimm'ring light
Thy tiny footsteps lead
To fome new region of delight,
Unknown to mortal tread !
And be thy acorn goblet fill'd
With heav'n's ambrofial dew;
From fweetest, fresheft flow'rs diftill'd
That shed fresh fweets for you
And what of life remains for me,
I'll pass in fober ease;
Half-pleas'd, contented will I be,
Content but half to please.