And cheerily smiled the morn;
And many a brach, and many a hound
Obeyed Llewelyn’s horn.
And still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a lustier cheer,
‘Come, Gêlert, come, wert never last
Llewelyn’s horn to hear.
‘O where does faithful Gêlert roam,
The flower of all his race;
So true, so brave - a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase?’
In sooth, he was a peerless hound,
The gift of royal John;
But now no Gêlert could be found,
And all the chase rode on.
That day Llewelyn little loved,
The chase of hart and hare;
And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gêlert was not there.
Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied,
When, near the portal seat,
His truant Gêlert he espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.
But, when he gained his castle-door,
Aghast the cheiftain stood;
The hound all o’er was smeared with gore;
His lips, his fangs, ran blood.
Llewelyn gazed with fierce surprise;
Unused such lookd to meet,
His favourite checked his joyful guise,
And crouched, and licked his feet.
Onward, in haste, Llewelyn passed,
And on went Gêlert too;
And still, where’er his eyes he cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.
O’erturned his infant’s bed he found,
With blood-stained covert rent;
And all around the walls and ground,
With recent blood besprent.
He called his child - no voice replied -
He searched with terror wild;
Blood, blood he found on every side,
But nowhere found his child.
‘Hell-hound ! my child’s be thee devoured’,
The franctic father cried;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gêlert’s side.
Aroused by Gêlert’s dying yell,
Some slumerer wakened nigh:
What words the parent’s joy could tell
To hear his infant’s cry !
Concealed beneath a tumbled heap
His hurriedd search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep.
The cherub boy he kissed.
No scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread,
But, the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.
Ah, what was then Llewelyn’s pain !
For now the truth was clear;
His gallant hound the wolf had slain
To save Llewelyn’s heir.
Author Unknown
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