Excerpt from Reginald Trevor, Vol. 2 of 3: Or, the Welsh Loyalists, a Tale of the Seventeenth Century
As monumental bronze, unchang'd his look;
A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook.
Train'd, from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier,
The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook,
Impassive, fearing but the shame of fear,
A stoic of the hills - a man without a tear.
Gertrude of Wyoming.
While affairs were thus situated in Merionethshire, the mountain recesses of Snowdon and Beddgelert were resounding to the war-cry of insurrection.
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