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Wales Poetry

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

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

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...

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

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

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

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

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...

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

Ode To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...



Roderic's Lament






Category: The Patriotic.

Farewell every mountain
To memory dear,
Each streamlet and fountain
Pelucid and clear;
Glad halls of my father,
From banquets ne'er freed,
Where chieftains would gather
To quaff the bright mead,
Each valley and woodland
Whose coverts I knew,
Lov'd haunts of my childhood
For ever, adieu!

The mountains are blasted
And burnt the green wood,
The fountain untasted
Flows crimsoned with blood,
The halls are deserted,
Their glory appear
Like dreams of departed
And desolate years,
The wild wood and valley,
The covert, the glade,
Bereft of their beauty,
Invaded! betrayed!

Farewell hoary minstrel,
Gay infancy's friend,
What roof will protect thee?
What chieftain defend?
Alas for the number,
And sweets of their song,
Soon, soon they must slumber,
The mountains among;
The breathing of pleasure
No more will aspire,
For changed is the measure,
Of liberty's lyre!

Adieu to the greeting
Of damsel and dame,
When home from the beating
Of foemen we came,
If Edward the daughters
Of Walia would spare,
He dooms them the fetters
Of vassals to wear;
To hear the war rattle,
To see the land burn,
While foes from the battle
In triumph return.

Farewell, and for ever,
Dear land of my birth,
Again we shall never
Know revels or mirth,
The cloud mantled castle,
My ancestors' pride,
The pleasure and wassail
In rapture allied;
The preludes of danger
Approach thee from far,
The spears of strangers,
The beacons of war.

Farewell to the glory
I dreamed of in vain;
Behold on the story
A blood tinctured stain!
Nor this the sole token
The records can blast,
Our lances are broken,
Our trophies are lost;
The children of freedom,
The princely, the brave,
Have none to succeed them
Their country to save.

Yet still there are foemen
The tyrant to meet,
Will laugh at each omen
Of death and defeat;
Despise every warning
His mandate may bring
The promises scorning
Of Loegria's king:
Who seek not to vary
Their purpose or change,
But firm as Eryri {81}
Are fixed for revenge.

Between the rude barriers
Of yonder dark hill,
A few gallant warriors
Are lingering still;
While fate pours her phials,
Unmoved they remain,
Resolved on the trial
Of battle again;
Resolved on their honour,
Which yet they can boast,
To rescue their banner
They yesterday lost.

Shall Roderic then tremble,
And cowardly leave
The faithful assembly
To fight for a grave?
Regardless of breathing
The patriot's law,
His country forsaking
And basely withdraw
From liberty's quarrel,
Forgetting his vow,
And tarnish the laurel
That circles his brow?

But art thou not, Helen,
Reproving this stay,
While fair sails are swelling
To bear thee away?
And must we then sever,
My country, my home?
Thus part and for ever
Submit to our doom?
Ah! let me not linger
Thus long by the way
Lest memory's finger
Unman me for aye!

Hark, hart, yonder bugle!
'Tis Gwalchmai's shrill blast
Exclaiming one struggle,
Then all will be past,
Another, another!
It peals the same note
As erst when together
Delighted we fought!
But then it resounded
With victory's swell,
While now it hath sounded,
Life, liberty's knell!

Adieu, then my daughter
Loved Helen adieu,
The summons of slaughter
Is pealing anew;
Yet can I thus leave thee,
Defenceless and lorn,
No home to receive you,
A by-word and scorn?
'Tis useless reflection,
All soon will be o'er,
Heaven grant you protection
When Roderic's no more

Cease, Saxons, your scorning
Prepare for the war;
So Roderic's returning
To battle once more!
The vulture and raven
Are tracking his breath;
For fate has engraven
A record of death:
They mark on his weapon
From many a breast,
A stream that might deepen
The crimsonest crest!

While darkness benighting
Engirdled the zone,
The chieftain was fighting
His way to renown;
But ere morn had risen
In purple and gold,
The heart's blood was frozen,
Of Roderic the bold!
The foemen lay scattered
In heaps round his grave;
His buckler was battered
And broke was his glaive!

And fame the fair daughter
Of victory came,
And loud 'mid the slaughter
Was heard to proclaim,
"A hero is fallen!
A warrior's at rest,
The banner of Gwynedd
Enshrouded his breast,
His name shall inherit
The conqueror's prize,
His purified spirit
Ascend to the skies."





Next: The Battle Of Gwenystrad

Previous: The Death Of Owain



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