Poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Druid Chorus on the Landing of the Romans

BY the dread and viewless powers,
  Whom the storms and seas obey,
From the Dark Isle’s 1 mystic bowers,
  Romans! o’er the deep away!
Think ye, ’t is but nature’s gloom
  O’er our shadowy coast which broods?
By the altar and the tomb,
  Shun these haunted solitudes!
Know ye Mona’s awful spells?
  She the rolling orbs can stay!
She the mighty grave compels
  Back to yield its fettered prey!
Fear ye not the lightning-stroke?
  Mark ye not the fiery sky?
Hence!—around our central oak
  Gods are gathering,—Romans, fly!

1. Joan of Arc in Rheims
2. The Music of St. Patrick’s
3. Eryri Wen
4. The Grave of a Poetess
5. Cœur de Lion at the Bier of His Father

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