Long, long ago a farmer named Lenine lived in Boscean. He had but one son, Frank Lenine, who was indulged into waywardness by both his parents. In addition to the farm servants, there was one, a young girl, Nancy Trenoweth, who especially ... Read more of The Spectre Bridegroom at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Wales Poetry

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

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

Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ...

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

Twenty Third Psalm
My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to...

The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ...

By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma
...

The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife
Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win...

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

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

The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ...

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

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

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

Pennillion
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...

An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...

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

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

Concerning The Divine Providence
...

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



The Deluge






Category: The Sublime.

* * * * *

Whether to the east or west
You go, wondrous through all
Are the myriad clouds;
Dense and grim they appear--
Black and fierce the firmament,
Dark and horrid is all.
A ray of light's not seen,
But light'ning white and flashy,
Thunder throughout the heavens,
A torrent from on high.
A thousand cascades roar
Boiling with floods of hate,
Rivers all powerful
With great commotion rush.
The air disturb'd is seen,
While the distant sea's in uproar:
The heaving ocean bounds,
Within its prison wild;
Great thundering throughout
The bottomless abyss.
Some folk, simple and bewilder'd,
For shelter seek the mountains;
Shortly the raging waters
Drown their loftiest summits.
Where shall they go, where flee
From the eternal torrent?
Conscience, a ready witness,
Having been long asleep,
Mute among mortals,
Now awakens with stinging pangs.

* * * * *





Next: The Shipwreck

Previous: An Ode To The Thunder



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