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| In the dark of the moon, spread a table with some cloth of a dark color. Ragged and dusty. At the four corners, set black candles unlit. In the center of the table, set a open wooden box. On a small flat stone, enscribe your enemy's name reversed.... Read more of To Curse an Enemy at White Magic.ca | Informational Privacy |
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Wales PoetryTo Maythe following and several other poems in this collection. ... The Swan Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like... The Lord Of Clas The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and... To The Nightingale river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ... The Battle Of Gwenystrad contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe... Song To Arvon by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... The Poor Man's Grave 'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ... To The Daisy Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,... The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl... The Vengeance Of Owain {96} Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ... The Rose Of The Glen Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c... The Deluge * * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr... Ode To Cambria Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and... Sad Died The Maiden Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s... The Withered Leaf Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ... To The Lark "Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the... Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt... The Hall Of Cynddylan The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th... |
Llywarch Hen's Lament On CynddylanCategory: The Patriotic. Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the battle of Cattraeth, where he witnessed the fall of three of his sons, and in the endless wars of that period. He had twenty four sons, all of whom were slain in battle in the bard's lifetime. He retired for refuge to the Court of Cynddylan, then Prince of Powys, at Pengwern, now Shrewsbury. The Saxons at length drove Cynddylan from Pengwern, and the bard retired to Llanfor, near Bala, in Merionethshire, where he died at the long age of 150 years. Hence the appellation _hen_, or the aged. Twelve poems of this bard remain, but all are imbued with the melancholy of the poet's life.] Cynddylan's hearth is dark to-night, Cynddylan's halls are lone; War's fire has revell'd o'er their might, And still'd their minstrel's tone; And I am left to chant apart One murmur of a broken heart! Pengwern's blue spears are gleamless now, Her revelry is still; The sword has blanched his chieftain's brow, Her fearless sons are chill: And pagan feet to dust have trod The blue-robed messengers of God. {92} Cynddylan's shield, Cynddylan's pride, The wandering snows are shading, One palace pillar stands to guide The woodbine's verdant braiding; And I am left, from all apart, The minstrel of the broken heart! Next: The Lament Op Llywarch Hen Previous: The Eisteddfod,
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