Wales PoetryTaliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...
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 Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...
The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...
Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...
Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...
The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...
May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...
My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...
The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...
Song Of The Foster-son, Love
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu...
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...
The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...
Short Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t...
The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...
The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church...
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ...
The Battle Of Gwenystrad
Category: The Patriotic.
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appears to have been a
native of Cardiganshire, for we find him at an early age living at the
court of Gwyddno, a petty king of Cantre y Gwaelod, who appointed him his
chief bard and tutor to his son Elphin. He was afterwards attached to
the court of Urien Rheged, a Welsh prince, king of Cambria and of
Scotland as far as the river Clyde, who fought and conquered in the great
battle of Gwenystrad, and is celebrated by the bard in the following
song. Taliesin composed many poems, but seventy seven of them only have
been preserved. The subjects of his poetry were for the most part
religion and history, but a few of his poems were of a martial
If warlike chiefs with dawning day
At Cattraeth met in dread array,
The song records their splendid name;
But who shall sing of Urien's fame?
His patriot virtues far excel
Whate'er the boldest bard can tell:
His dreadful arm and dauntless brow
Spoil and dismay the haughty foe.
Pillar of Britain's regal line!
'Tis his in glorious war to shine;
Despair and death attend his course,
Brave leader of the Christian force!
See Prydyn's men, a valiant train,
Rush along Gwenystrad's plain!
Bright their spears for war addrest,
Raging vengeance fires their breast;
Shouts like ocean's roar arise,
Tear the air, and pierce the skies.
Here they urge their tempest force!
Nor camp nor forest turns their course:
Their breath the shrieking peasants yield
O'er all the desolated field.
But lo, the daring hosts engage!
Dauntless hearts and flaming rage;
And, ere the direful morn is o'er,
Mangled limbs and reeking gore,
And crimson torrents whelm the ground,
Wild destruction stalking round;
Fainting warriors gasp for breath,
Or struggle in the toils of death.
Where the embattled fortress rose,
(Gwenystrad's bulwark from the foes,)
Fierce conflicting heroes meet--
Groans the earth beneath their feet.
I mark, amidst the rolling flood,
Where hardy warriors stain'd with blood
Drop their blunt arms, and join the dead,
Grey billows curling o'er their head:
Mangled with wounds, and vainly brave,
At once they sink beneath the wave.
Lull'd to everlasting rest,
With folded arms and gory breast--
Cold in death, and ghastly pale,
Chieftains press the reeky vale,
Who late, amidst their kindred throng,
Prepar'd the feast, and join'd the song;
Or like the sudden tempest rose,
And hurl'd destruction on the foes.
Warriors I saw who led the fray,
Stern desolation strew'd their way;
Aloft the glitt'ring blade they bore,
Their garments hung with clotted gore.
The furious thrust, the clanging shield,
Confound the long-disputed field.
But when Rheged's chief pursues,
His way through iron ranks he hews;
Hills pil'd on hills, the strangers bleed:
Amaz'd I view his daring deed!
Destruction frowning on his brow,
Close he urg'd the panting foe,
'Till hemm'd around, they met the shock,
Before Galysten's hoary rock.
Death and torment strew'd his path;
His dreadful blade obey'd his wrath:
Beneath their shields the strangers lay,
Shrinking from the fatal day.
Thus in victorious armour bright,
Thou brave Euronwy, pant for fight:
With such examples in thine eyes,
Haste to grasp the hero's prize.
And till old age has left me dumb--
Till death has call'd me to the tomb--
May cheerful joys ne'er crown my days,
Unless I sing of Urien's praise!
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