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Wales Poetry

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

The Death Of Owain
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v...

Childe Harold
"Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t...

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

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

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

An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...

The Swan
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...

Tribanau
Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

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

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

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

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...

My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...

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

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

Snowdon
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...

The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...



Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival






Category: The Religious.

Too long I've loved the fickle maid,
My love is turned to grief and pain;
In vain delusive hopes I stray'd,
Through days that ne'er will dawn again;
And she, in beauty like the dawn,
From me has now her heart withdrawn!
A constant suitor--on her ear
My sweetest melodies I pour'd;
Where'er she wander'd I was near;
For her whose face my soul ador'd
My wealth I madly spent in wine,
And gorgeous jewels of the mine.
I deck'd her arms with lovely chains,
With bracelets wove of slender gold;
I sang her charms in varied strains,
Her praise to every minstrel told:
The bards of distant Keri know
That she is spotless as the snow.
These proofs of love I hoped might bind
My Morfydd to be ever true:
Alas! to deep despair consign'd,
My bosom's blighted hopes I rue,
And the base craft that gave her charms,
Oh, anguish! to another's arms!





Next: From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn

Previous: The Cuckoo's Tale



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