‘Chiefs and warriors! still to me
‘Our troubled sky looks dark;
‘How often a wasting fire has raged,
‘That sprung from a single spark!
‘This English tree, that shows so fair,
‘Must not in my realm take root,
‘Nor till I better know its stock,
‘Will I partake its fruit.
‘These strangers come in friendly guise,
‘And may for a time prove true,
‘But the day we give them a footing here
‘I fear we long shall rue.
‘Remember Madoc, and beware;
‘Guard well our council-fires,
‘Lest we be doom’d to meet the fate
‘That once befell our sires.’