Tremynfa, Aber.
A sloping old-world garden, whose high wall1
Shuts out from view the winding village street ;2
A cool veranda, round whose pillars tall3
Clamber convolvulus and jasmine sweet.4
A pleasant upper room looks far away5
O’er land and water, field and tower and tree,6
Across the village house-tops and the bay,7
To fair Beaumaris, Queen of Anglesey.8
The subtle fragrance of a thousand flowers9
Floats through the open window on the breeze ;10
In drowsy dalliance pass the sultry hours11
As grow the length’ning shadows of the trees ;12
And from the mill hard by the mighty wheel13
With rumbling cadence fills the air with sound—14
The groaning giant slowly grinds the meal,15
Urged by the stream to run his daily round.16
Nor does tradition leave this spot unsung ;17
The mystic Mydand, bold Llewelyn’s tower,18
Attests where princes ruled ere Edward flung19
Across the land the chains of conquering power.20
No longer gall those chains ; but, hand in hand,21
Along the broadening path of freedom tread22
Two friendly nations—one united band—23
All ancient enmities for ever fled.24
Farewell, Tremynfa ! peaceful scenes are thine ;25
No warriors now the Aber slopes invade,26
And up the glen naught breaks the calm divine27
Save the loud roaring of the wild cascade.28