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Wales PoetryThe Sick Man's DreamDans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste... Taliesin's Prophecy A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,... To The Spring Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte... The Faithful Maiden At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi... From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of... Tribanau Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin... Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a... Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt... The Rose Of Llan Meilen Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i... A Bridal Song Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are... The Banks Of The Dee One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... The Farmer's Prayer poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ... Walter Sele O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo... Glan Geirionydd . One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor... My Native Cot The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo... The Day Of Judgment was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church... The Lily And The Rose Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the h... Ode To Cambria Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and... The Monarchy Of Britain Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h... |
The Death Of OwainCategory: The Patriotic. Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's van; See the splendid warrior's speed On his fleet and thick-maned steed, As his buckler, beaming wide, Decks the courser's slender side, With his steel of spotless mould, Ermined vest and spurs of gold! Think not, youth, that e'er from me Hate or spleen shall flow to thee; Nobler deeds thy virtues claim, Eulogy and tuneful fame. Ah! much sooner comes thy bier Than thy nuptial feast, I fear; Ere thou mak'st the foe to bleed, Ravens on thy corse shall feed. Owain, lov'd companion, friend, To birds a prey--is this thy end! Tell me, steed, on what sad plain Thy ill-fated lord was slain. Next: Roderic's Lament Previous: An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
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