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Wales Poetry

The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...

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

The Dawn
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ...

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

A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...

Song Of The Foster-son, Love
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu...

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

The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...

The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church...

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

My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...

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

Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...

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

Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...

The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ...

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

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

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

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...



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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