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Wales Poetry

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

The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church...

The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...

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

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

Concerning The Divine Providence
...

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

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

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

To May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...

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

Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

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

The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...

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

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...

Under The Orchard Tree
Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid...



The Faithful Maiden






Category: The Sentimental.

At the dawning of day on a morning in May,
When the birds through the forests were skipping so gay;
While crossing the churchyard of a parish remote,
In a district of Cambria, whose name I don't note:

I saw a fair maiden so rich in attire,
Second but to an angel her mien did appear;
Quick were her footsteps in tripping the sand,
And flowers resplendent were borne in her hand.

I fled to concealment that I might best learn
Her object and wish in a place so forlorn,
Without a companion--so early the hour--
For a region so gloomy thus leaving her bower.

Anon she advanced to a new tomb that lay
By the churchyard path, and there kneeling did stay,
While she planted the flowers with hands so clear,
And her looks were replete of meekness and fear.

The tears she would dry from eyelids fair
With a napkin so snow-white its hue and so rare;
And I heard a voice, that sadden'd my mind,
While it smote the breeze with words of this kind:--

"Here lieth in peace and quiet the one
I loved as dear as the soul of my own;
But death did us part to my endless woe,
Just when each to the other his hand would bestow.

Here resteth from turmoil, and sorrow to be,
The whole that in this world was precious to me;
Grow sweetly, ye flowers! and fair on his tomb,
Altho' you'll ne'er rival his beauty and bloom.

He erst received from me gifts that were more dear,
My hand for a promise--and a lock of my hair,
With total concurrence my portion to bear
Of his weal or his woe, whether cloudy or fair.

While sitting beside him how great my content,
In this place where my heart is evermore bent;
If I should e'er travel the wide globe around,
To this as their centre my thoughts would rebound.

Altho' from the earth thou dost welcome nor chide,
Nor smilest as once thou didst smile on thy bride;
And yet my beloved! 'tis comfort to me,
To sit but a moment so near to thee.

Thy eyes bright and tender my mind now doth see,
And remembers thy speech like the honey to me;
Thy grave I'll embrace though the whole world beheld,
That all may attest the love we once held."





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