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| In the year 1676, about the 13th or 14th of this Month October, in the Night, between one and two of the Clock, this _Jesch Claes_, a cripple, being in bed with her Husband, who was a Boatman, she was three times pulled by her Arm, with wh... Read more of The Miraculous Case Of Jesch Claes at Scary Stories.ca | Informational.ca Privacy |
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Wales PoetryTo The Lark"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the... Song Of The Foster-son, Love I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu... Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa... The Dawn Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ... Farewell To Wales The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ... The Castles Of Wales Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of... The Cuckoo's Tale Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the... The Monarchy Of Britain Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h... By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma ... 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 ... May And November Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... Woman Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc... Song To Arvon by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng... The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m... The Deluge * * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr... The Withered Leaf Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ... 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... Translated By The Rev William Evans God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ... The Eisteddfod, Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h... |
The Fairy's SongCategory: The Beautiful. "Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. I am a wand'rer o'er earth and sea, The trackless air has a path for me; Ye may trace my steps on the heather green, By the emerald ring, where my foot hath been; Ye may hear my voice in the night wind's sigh, Or the wood's low moan when a storm is nigh. My task is to brighten the rainbow's hue, To sprinkle the flowers with glit'ring dew, To steep in crimson the evening cloud, And wrap the hills in their misty shroud; To track the course of a wandering star, And marshal it back to its home afar. I am no child of the murky night, But a being of music, and joy, and light; If the fair moon sleep in her bower o'er long, I break on her rest with my mirthful song; And when she is shining o'er hill and heath, I dance in the revels of Gwyn ab Nudd. {65} Few are the mortals whose favoured feet May tread unscathed where the fairies meet; Wo to the tuneless tongue and ear, And the craven heart, that has throbbed with fear, If I meet them at night, on the lonely heath, As I haste to the banquet of Gwyn ab Nudd. But joy to the minstrel, whose deathless song On the breeze of the mountain is borne along, And joy to the warrior, whose heart and hand Are strong in the cause of his native land; For them we are twining our fairest wreath, They are welcome as moonlight to Gwyn ab Nudd! Next: Walter Sele Previous: The Sick Man's Dream
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