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Wales Poetry

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

The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...

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

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

To May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...

That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire
Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless min...

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

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

The Lord Of Clas
The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and...

The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd
All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m...

An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

To The Daisy
Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,...

The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...

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

The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...

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

Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...

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

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



Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan






Category: 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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