Classic Poem

More fair than all the vernal flowers
Embosom'd in the dales,
St. Winifred in beauty bloom'd
The rose of ancient Wales.

With every loveliest grace adorn'd,
The Lamb's unsullied Bride;
Apart from all the world she dwelt
Upon this mountain side.

Till Caradoc, with impious love,
Her fleeing steps pursued,
And in her sacred maiden blood
His cruel hands imbrued.

He straight the debt of vengeance paid,
Ingulf'd in yawning flame;
But God a deed of wonder work'd
To her immortal fame.

For where the verdant turf receiv'd
The Martyr's sever'd head,
This holy fountain upward gush'd,
Of crystal vein'd with red.

Here miracles of might are wrought;
Here all diseases fly;
Here see the blind, and speak the dumb,
Who but in faith draw nigh.

Assist us, glorious Winifred,
Dear Virgin, ever blest!
The passions of our hearts appease,
And lull each storm to rest.