I MY Prince has fled to Ireland Where no man knows his name, And the tide comes red to the Towy Where Dynevor's a flame ... And Hugh the Harper's hands are cold Because the Normans came. II They came down by Kidwelly And took Carmarthen town; They brought the fat-faced Flemings And a bishop in scarlet gown ... And they builded a stark gallows-tree To keep the kinsmen down. III But soon across the midnight Shall thrill the curlew's call ... And then God help the Norman And the oxen in his stall— For the sword of the men of Towy Shall smite them to the wall. IV And the ghost of Hugh the Harper Will stalk through marsh and mire, Roaring the ancient battle-songs Upon his broken lyre, And the kindled wrath of Rhys will sweep Like a consuming fire ... V North to the blazing Beacons And west to the sounding sea, Till the tyrant's yoke be broken down And the trembling folk are free From the bitter scourge of the stranger lords Who swing from the gallows-tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALLISH SON by HAYDEN CARRUTH A DIM DOORWAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TUNK (A LECTURE ON MODERN EDUCATION) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR |