Wales Poetry

Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,
Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o...

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

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

The Mountain Galloway
My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy...

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

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

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

The Immovable Covenant
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ...

Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...

The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...

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

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

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

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

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

The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...

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

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,

Category: The Beautiful.

Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion of Ivor Hael.
The bard, speaking from the land of Wild Gwynedd, or North Wales, thus
invokes the summer to visit the sweet pastoral county of Glamorgan with
all its blessings:

"And wilt thou, at the bard's desire,
Thus in thy godlike robes of fire,
His envoy deign to be?
Hence from Wild Gwynedd's mountain land,
To fair Morganwg Druid strand,
Sweet margin of the sea.
Oh! may for me thy burning feet
With peace, and wealth, and glory greet,
My own dear southern home;
Land of the baron's, halls of snow!
Land of the harp! the vineyards glow,
Green bulwark of the foam.
She is the refuge of distress;
Her never-failing stores
Have cheer'd the famish'd wilderness,
Have gladden'd distant shores.
Oh! leave no little plot of sod
'Mid all her clust'ring vales untrod;
But all thy varying gifts unfold
In one mad embassy of gold:
O'er all the land of beauty fling
Bright records of thy elfin wing."

From this scene of ecstacy, he makes a beautiful transition to the memory
of Ivor, his early benefactor: still addressing the summer, he says,

"Then will I, too, thy steps pursuing,
From wood and cave,
And flowers the mountain-mists are dewing,
The loveliest save;
From all thy wild rejoicings borrow
One utterance from a heart of sorrow;
The beauties of thy court shall grace
My own lost Ivor's dwelling-place."





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Previous: To The Lark

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