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THE ROCK OF CADER IDRIS.
A LEGEND OF WALES.
I lay on that rock where the storms have their dwelling,
The birth-place of phantoms, the home of the cloud;
Around it for ever deep music is swelling,
The voice of the mountain-wind, solemn and loud.
'Twas a midnight of shadows all fitfully streaming,
Of wild waves and breezes, that mingled their moan;
Of dim shrouded stars, as from gulphs faintly gleaming,
And I met the dread gloom of its grandeur alone.
