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Wales Poetry

Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc...

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

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

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

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

Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...

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

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

The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

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

The Dawn
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ...

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...

Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...

The Swan
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...

To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

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

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival
Too long I've loved the fickle maid, My love is turned to ...

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

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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