HARRI WEBB.
RAMPAGE & REVEL
Princess Gwenllian
Our prince is far distant, the foeman is near,
And though we shall face him without any fear,
A leader we lack, for our chieftain's not here.
The door of the bower is opened, there stands
To lead the proud Cymru to fight for their lands
The lady Gwenllian, a sword in her hands.
It's away with the distaff, the needle, the loom,
And the song of the harp in the tapestried room,
We must ride out and fight, though we ride to our doom
The Norman advances through Gwendraeth's green meads
His dream is of plunder and bloodthirsty deeds,
To arms then, my warriors, your princess now leads.
To the field they advance, a stout-hearted throng,
To the battle that rages both bitter and long,
But the Norman has triumphed, his force is too strong.
The princess is taken, her host's overthrown,
The heart of the tyrant is hard as a stone,
No quarter she asks for, no quarter is shown.
To foul execution our Princess is led,
The sword of the tyrant has struck off her head,
But the voice of Gwenllian still calls from the dead.
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