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Wales PoetryGlan 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 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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