Song 250: "Men of Harlech"

Men of Harlech stop your dreaming
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
See their warrior's pennants streaming
To this battle field

Hark I hear the foe advancing
Barbed steeds are proudly prancing,
Helmets in the sunbeams glancing
Symru fo am byth

While thy star on high is beaming,
Soldiers from the mountains teeming,
With their spears and lances gleaming,
Come to follow thee.

Groans of wounded peasants dying,
wails of wives and children flying,
for the distant succour crying,
calls you Harlech men.

Glyndwˆr, see thy comet flaming,
Hear a heavenly voice declaiming,
To the world below proclaiming,
Cambria shall be free:

At her call, all Arfon rallies
War cries rend her hills and valleys
Troop on troop, with headlong sallies
Hurtle to the fight

Men of Harlech stand ye steady
It cannot be ever said ye
For the battle were not ready
Stand and never yield

Men of Harlech on to glory
See your banner famed in story,
Waves these burning words before ye,
Cymru fo am byth!

Men of Harlech! In the Hollow,
Do ye hear like rushing billow
Wave on wave that surging follow
Battle's distant sound?

Tis the tramp of Saxon foemen,
Saxon spearmen, Saxon bowmen,
Be they knights or hinds or yeomen,
They shall bite the ground!

Shall the Saxon army shake you
Smite, pursue and overtake you?
Men of Harlech, God will make you
Victors, blow for blow.

The swollen rivers of Eryri
Sweep the vale with flooded fury
Gwalia from her mountain eryie
Thunders on the foe.

Hear the trumpet sounding
While the steeds are bounding,
On the gale from hill and dale,
The war-cry is resounding:

Warriors famed in song and story,
Coming from the mountains hoary,
Rushing to the fields of glory,
Eager for the fray:

To the valley wending,
Hearths and homes defending,
With their proud and valiant prince,
From ancient kings descending;

See the mighty host advancing,
Sunbeams on their helmets dancing,
On his gallant charger prancing,
Glyndwˆr leads the way.

Loud the martial pipes are sounding
every manly heart is bounding
As our trusted chief surrounding,
march we Harlech men.

Onward! 'tis the country needs us,
He is bravest, he who leads us
Honor's self now proudly heads us,
Freedom, God and Right!

Frightened steeds are wildly neighing
Brazen trumpets loudly braying
Wounded men for mercy praying
With their parting breath.

See they're in disorder,
Comrades, keep close order
Ever they shall rue the day,
They ventured o'er the border.

Rocky Steeps and passes narrow, 
Flash with spear and flight of arrow
Who would think of death or sorrow? 
Death is glory now!

Hurl the reeling horsemen over, 
Let the earth dead foemen cover
Fate of friend, of wife, of lover, 
Trembles on a blow!

Strands of life are riven! 
Blow for blow is given
In deadly lock, or battle shock, 
And mercy shrieks to heaven!

Friend and foe together lying
Mid the fray see dead and dying
All around the arrows flying
Scatter sudden death.

Loose the folds asunder,
Flag we conquer under!
The placid sky now bright on high,
Shall launch its bolts in thunder!

Your foes on every side assailing,
Forward press with heart unfailing,
'Till invaders learn with quailing,
Cambria ne'er can yield!

Chiefs lie dead and wounded. 
Yet, where first was grounded, 
Freedom's flag still holds the crag;
Her trumpet still is sounded.

Arrows fly as swift as lightning,
Shout on shout the tumult height'ning,
Conquest's ruddy wing is bright'ning,
Helmet, sword, and shield;

With their lances flashing,
Warriors wild are crashing,
Through the tyrant's serried ranks
Whilst onward they are dashing:

Mothers cease your weeping,
calm may be your sleeping, 
you and yours in safety now
the Harlech men are keeping,

'ere the sun is high in heaven
they you fear by panic riven
shall like frightened sheep be driven,
far by Harlech men.

His lance is long, but yours is longer.
Strong his sword, but yours is stronger.
One stroke more, and now your wronger
At your feet, lies low.

Now avenging Briton,
Smite as he has smitten
Let your rage on history's page
In Saxon blood be written.

Thou, who noble Cambria wrongest,
Know that freedom's cause is strongest,
Freedom's courage lasts the longest,
Ending but with death!

Freedom countless hosts can scatter,
Freedom stoutest mail can shatter,
Freedom thickest walls can batter,
Fate is in her breath.

Men of Harlech on to glory
See your banner famed in story,
Waves these burning words before ye,
Cymru fo am byth!