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Wales Poetry

The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...

To May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...

An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...

To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...

Ode To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...

The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...

An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d...

My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...

The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi...

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

Pennillion
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...

The Shipwreck
a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet....

Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ...

The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...

Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ...



An Ode On The Death Of Hoel






Category: The Patriotic.

of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and distinguished
himself at the battle of Cattraeth, fought between the Welsh and Saxons,
in or about the year 560, but was disastrous to the former and especially
to the bard, who was there taken prisoner, and kept for several years in
confinement. He composed his principal poem, the Gododin, upon the
battle of Cattraeth. This is the oldest Welsh poem extant, and is full
of boldness, force, and martial fire. It has been translated into
English by the Rev. John Williams, (ab Ithel,) and published by the
Messrs. Rees, of Llandovery. The bard died, according to tradition, from
the blow of an assassin before the close of the sixth century.]

Had I but the torrent's might,
With headlong rage, and wild affright,
Upon Deira's squadrons hurl'd,
To rush and sweep them from the world!
Too, too secure in youthful pride,
By them my friend, my Hoel, dy'd,
Great Cian's son; of Madoc old,
He ask'd no heaps of hoarded gold;
Alone in Nature's wealth array'd
He asked and had the lovely maid.

To Cattraeth's vale, in glitt'ring row,
Twice two hundred warriors go;
Ev'ry warrior's manly neck
Chains of regal honour deck,
Wreath'd in many a golden link:
From the golden cup they drink
Nectar that the bees produce,
Or the grape's ecstatic juice.
Flush'd with mirth and hope they burn,
But none from Cattraeth's vale return,
Save Aeron brave and Conan strong,
(Bursting through the bloody throng,)
And I, the meanest of them all,
That live to weep and sing their fall.





Next: The Death Of Owain

Previous: Ode To Cambria



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