WCP6634

[1] [p. 143]

The board was covered o'er with canvas white,

And looked Llyn Glwdy [Welsh: Lake Glwdy] on a moonlight night,

When to my hand there came what could be better

Than your poetic, wise, and humorous letter.

Like that good angel mentioned by Saint John¹

Who ope'd seven seals, I quickly opened one,

And glancing o'er the page found to my joy

Spontaneous poetry without alloy.

The youth, cried I, who built this lofty rhyme

Will be remembered to the end of time,

And countless generations yet unborn

Will read his verse upon a summer's morn,

And think of him in that peculiar way

We think of Byron² in the present day,