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Wales Poetry

The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...

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

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

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

The Ewe
So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles...

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

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

Concerning The Divine Providence
...

The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...

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

Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...

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

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

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

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

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...

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

The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd
All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m...

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

May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...



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From me has now her heart withdrawn!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

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