Form cataracts so lofty?
On Snowdon's summits high,
In Arvon's pleasant county.

Flocks of thousand sheep are fed
Upon its mountains rugged,
Her pastures green and meadows fair
With cattle-herds are studded,
Deep are the lakes in Arvon's vales
Where fish in shoals are landed.

The shepherd's soft and mellow voice
Is heard upon her mountain,
Where oft he hums his rustic song
To his beloved maiden,
Resounding through the gorges deep
With bleat of sheep and oxen.

On Arvon's rock-bound shore doth break
The surge in fretful murmur,
And oft when stirr'd by tempest high
The ocean speaks in thunder,
Spreading through town and village wide
Dismay, despair and fear.

* * * * *

The sun is glorious when it breaks
The gloom of morning darkness,
Sweet are the leaves and flowers of May