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Wales PoetryTo The DaisyOh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,... Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright... To The Nightingale river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the... Translated By The Rev William Evans God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ... The Eisteddfod, Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h... To The Lark "Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the... The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win... 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 ... Sad Died The Maiden Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s... Tribanau Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin... The Deluge * * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ... Childe Harold "Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t... The Dawn Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ... The Flowers Of Spring beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ... Pennillion Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g... The Poor Man's Grave 'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ... The Faithful Maiden At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi... By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma ... The Grove Of Broom The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... |
Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His RivalCategory: 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hopes I stray'd, Through days that ne'er will dawn again; And she, in beauty like the dawn, From me has now her heart withdrawn!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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