Wales PoetryShort Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t...
Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc...
The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl...
The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...
The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...
The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...
My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...
The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...
Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...
The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...
The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...
Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...
Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...
The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...
Ode To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...
The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...
That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire
Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless min...
Concerning The Divine Providence
Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ...
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From me has now her heart withdrawn!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!
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