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Wales Poetry

Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...

Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...

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

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

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

From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...

The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...

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

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

Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...

The Hall Of Cynddylan
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th...

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ...

An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...



The Castles Of Wales






Category: The Patriotic.

Ye fortresses grey and gigantic
I see on the hills of my land,
To my mind ye appear terrific,
When I muse on your ruins so grand;
Your walls were a shelter the strongest
From the enemies' countless array,
When they spilt with the blood of the bravest,
Your sides in our ancestors' day.

Around you the war-horse was neighing,
And pranced his rich trappings to feel,
While through you were frightfully gleaming
Bright lances and spears of steel;
The fruits of the rich-laden harvest,
Were ruthlessly trod by the foe,
And the thunder of battle was loudest,
To herald its message of woe.

While viewing your dilapidation,
My memory kindles with joy,
To think that the foes of our nation,
No longer these valleys destroy;
By sowing his fields in the winter,
In hope of a rich harvest-home,
The husbandman now feels no terror
Of war with its havoc to come.

When I look at the sheep as they shelter
In safety beneath your rude walls,
Where erst the dread agents of slaughter
Fell'd thousands, nor heeded their calls;
The hillock where crossed the sharp spears
Now shadows the ewe and its lamb,
While seeing the peace of these years,
My heart is with gratitude warm.

Ye towers that saw the wild ravens,
And the eagles with hunger impell'd,
Exultingly gorge 'mid your ruins.
On corpses of men which they held;
How sweet for you now 'tis to hear
The shepherd, so peaceful and meek,
Tune his reed with a melody clear,
While his flock in you shelter do seek.

Upon your battlements sitting,
To view the bright landscape below,
My heart becomes sad when remembering
That silent in death is the foe,
And the friends who bravely did combat,
And raised your grey towers so steep,
Declaring their life-blood should stagnate,
Ere ever in chains they would weep.

When I think of their purpose so pure,
The tear must fast trickle from me,
Their hearts did Providence allure
To their country, and her did they free;
We now live beneath a meek power,
And feel the full blessings of peace,
While on us abundantly shower,
The mercies of Heaven with increase.





Next: The Eisteddfod,

Previous: Farewell To Wales



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