And now they seated themselves upon the
tender herb; and now all was stilness and solemn silence. Not one
whisper floated on the breeze; not a murmur was heard. The tumultuous
winds were hushed, and all was placid composure, save where the gentle
zephyr fanned the leaves. The tinkling rill babbled at their feet; the
feathered choristers warbled in the grove; and the deep lowings of the
distant herds died away upon the ear. The solemn prelude began from a
full concert of the various instruments. It awakened attention in the
thoughtless, and composed the frolic and the gay into unbroken
heedfulness. The air was oppressed with symphonious sounds, and the ear
filled with a tumult of harmony.
On a sudden the chorus ceased: Those instruments which had united their
force to fill the echoes of every grove, and of every hill, were silent.
And now a bard, of youthful appearance, but who was treated with every
mark of honour and distinction, and seated on the left hand of the hoary
Llewelyn, the prince of song, struck the lyre with a lofty and daring
hand. His eye sparkled with poetic rapture, and his countenance beamed
with the sublime smile of luxuriant fancy and heaven-born inspiration.
He sung of the wanton shepherd, that followed, with ungenerous
perseverance, the chaste and virgin daughter of Cadwallo.
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