Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales

Wales Poetry

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

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

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...

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

The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...

Song Of The Foster-son, Love
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu...

King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...

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

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

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

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

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

The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...

Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...

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

The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...

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

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

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

An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d...

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."

Next: The Ewe

Previous: Woman

Add to Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network

Viewed 1859

Untitled Document