John Bliven Morin
Gwendolen, Page 4 Of 4 - Poem by John Bliven Morin
“I will not spare your daughter,
Nor will I pity thee;
You shall be bound, and then be drowned
In the river there you see.”
Gwendolen was a princess born
Dumnonian daughter of steel
With a sword to harm and a shield on her arm
And a wolf-hound at her heel.
The armies of the king and queen
Put all their arms away;
United again, the British men,
Did her their homage pay.
The queen she lived for many a year,
And a good queen she became;
In bardic song her fame lives on,
Remembered is her name.
And Mathan, her son, became a king,
High King of the Britons, he,
Who wed, in time, and sired the line
Of British royalty.
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