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Wales Poetry

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

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

The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ...

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

The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...

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

To The Nightingale
river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the...

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

The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl...

Twenty Third Psalm
My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to...

The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife
Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win...

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

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

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

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

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...

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

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival
Too long I've loved the fickle maid, My love is turned to ...

The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h...



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From me has now her heart withdrawn!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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