There is no doubt which rules by height
And virtue that confers;
Horseshoe, knife-edged, copper veined
Advantage all avers –
But I resist the celebrated, furrowed, swarming grail
And swear elsewhere allegiance,
God’s own vale.
Ah’r Wyddfa, I have seen you shine,
Stood breathless at your crown,
On steepled raven-circled crag,
Deserved, your great renown.
But I have seen in glimpses
Through the Glyder mists, the light
On Tryfan in the sunrise
And my heart will there take flight.