The Elocutionist (1840-1850)/A Beth Gelert

by William Robert Spencer

For other versions of this work, see Beth Gêlert.

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A BETH GELERT

The spearman heard the bugle sound,
and cheerily smiled the morn,
And many a brach, and many a hound,
attend Llewellyn’s horn;

And still he blew a louder blast,
and gave a louder cheer;
Come, Gelert! why art thou the last
Llewellyn’s horn to hear!

‘Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam;
the flower of all his race!
So true, so brave, a lamb at home—
a lion in the chase!’

Twas only at Llewellyn’s board,
the faithful Gelert fed
He watch’d, he serv’d, he cheer’d his lord,
and sentinel’d his bed.

In south, he was a peerless hound,
the gift of Royal John;
But now no Gelert could be found,
and all the chase rode on.

That day Llewellyn little loved
the chase of hart or hare,
⟨And⟩ scant and small the bounty proved,
for Gelert was not there.

⟨Unpleased⟩, Llewellyn homeward hied,
when near the portal seat,
⟨His⟩ truant Gelert he espied,
hounding his lord to greet.

⟨But⟩ when he gained the castle door,
aghast the chieftain stood,
⟨the⟩ hound was smear’d with gouts of gore,
his lips and fangs ran blood;

⟨Onward⟩ in haste Llewellyn passed,
(and on went Gelert too,)
⟨And⟩ still where'er his eyes he cast,
fresh blood gouts shock’d his view!

⟨O’erturned⟩ his infant’s bed he found,
the blood-stain’d covert rent,
⟨And⟩ all around, the walls and ground
with recent blood besprent.

⟨Hell-hound⟩! by thee my child’s devour’d!’
the frantic father cried,
⟨And⟩ to his hilt, his vengeful sword,
he plung’d in Gelerts side!

⟨His⟩ suppliant, as to earth he fell,
no pity could impart;
⟨But⟩ still his Gelert’s dying yell,
passed heavy o’er his heart.

⟨Aroused⟩ by Gelert’s dying yell,
some slumberer ’wakened nigh;
⟨What⟩ words the parent’s joy can toll,
to hear his infant cry.

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap,
his hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
his cherub boy he kissed!

Nor scratch had he, nor harm nor dread-
but the same couch beneath,
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-
tremendous still in death!

Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain!
for now the truth was clear;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain,
to save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was Llewellyn's woe:
best of thy kind adieu!
The frantic deed which laid the low,
this heart shall ever rue!

And now a gallant tomb they raise,
with costly sculpture decked;
And marbles, storied with his praise,
poor Gelert's bones protect.

And hear he hung his horn and spear;
and oft as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear
poor Gelert's dying yell.

Spencer.