Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales

Wales Poetry

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

The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi...

Short Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t...

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

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

Under The Orchard Tree
Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid...

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

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

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma

The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...

From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...

The Hall Of Cynddylan
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th...

The Death Of Owain
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v...

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

The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ...

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

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

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

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

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn

Category: The Sentimental.

In the depth of yonder valley,
Where the fields are bright and sunny,
Ruth was nurtured fair and slender
Neath a mother's eye so tender.

Listening to the thrush's carols.
Was her pleasure in her gambols,
And ere she grew up a maiden
Gwilym's voice was sweet in Dyffryn.

Together did they play in childhood,
Together ramble in the greenwood,
Together dance upon the meadow,
Together pluck the primrose yellow.

Both grew up in youthful beauty
On the lap of peace and plenty,
And before they could discover
Love had linked its silent fetter.

Ruth had riches--not so Gwilym,
Her stern sire grew cold unto him,
And at length forbade him coming
Any more to visit Dyffryn.

Gwilym thence would roam the wild-wood,
Where he wander'd in his childhood,
And would shun his home and hamlet,
Pensive sitting in the thicket.

Ruth would, weeping, walk the garden,
And survey the blank horizon
For a passing glimpse of Gwilym--
But all vain her tears and wailing.

Gwilym said, "I'll cross the ocean,
And abide among the heathen,
In the hope of getting riches,
Which alone the father pleases."

But, before he left his country,
Once, by stealth, he met the lady,
And beneath the beech's shadow
Vow'd undying love in sorrow.

Much the weeping--sad the sighing,
When they parted in the gloaming,
Gwilym for a distant region,
Ruth behind in desolation.

Time flew fast, and many a wooer
Came to Ruth an ardent lover;
But in vain they sought the maiden,
For she held her troth unbroken.

Owain Wynn had wealth in plenty,
Earnest was his deep entreaty,
And tho' favour'd by the father,
Yet all vain was his endeavour.

Years now pass'd since Ruth saw Gwilym,
But her dreams were always of him,
And tho' morning undeceived her,
Nightly did she see him near.

One fair evening Ruth was sitting
In the spot of their last parting,
When she thought she saw her Gwilym
Cross the meadows green of Dyffryn.

Was it fact or apparition?
Slow she mov'd to test the vision,
Who was there but her own true love
Come to claim her in the green grove.

Gwilym now possessed abundance,
Gold and pearls displayed their radiance,
Soon the father gave him welcome
To his house and daughter handsome.

Quick the wedding-day was settled,
Ruth to Gwilym then was married,
Long they lived in bliss and plenty,
Pride and envy of the valley.

Next: The Lord Of Clas

Previous: The Banks Of The Dee

Add to Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network

Viewed 1837

Untitled Document