Lovely the ascent has been, though in the face
Of giant hills; the hooded Twilight now,
Darkens their summits, and I stand where Thou
Ancestral Harper of our ancient race,
High Taliessin! hadst thy dwelling-place,
A mountain-throne. Oh grand, oh glorious spot!
Speak, mighty Elements! have ye forgot
His numbers! does your heart preserve a trace
Of that old British music? Hark! the Lake,
The Druid waves of sunlit Geirionedd
Make answer far into the hills, and break
Their sleep of centuries;---with awe I tread;
His eye seems on me in that star, whose flake
Falls, like a tongue of fire upon my head.