| 1340. If the right cheek burns, some one is speaking well of you; if the left, they are speaking ill of you; if both, they speak well and ill at once. Moisten the finger in the mouth and touch it to the cheek, naming those whom you suspect; the... Read more of Bodily Affections at Superstitions.ca | InformationalPrivacy |
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Wales PoetryThe Vengeance Of Owain {96}Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ... From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of... The Death Of Owain Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v... Farewell To Wales The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ... An Ode To The Thunder his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1... To The Spring Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte... Under The Orchard Tree Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid... Snowdon King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares... The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ... Translated By The Rev William Evans God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ... A Bridal Song Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are... Taliesin's Prophecy A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... My Father-land Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str... Short Is The Life Of Man Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t... The Rose Of Llan Meilen Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i... To May the following and several other poems in this collection. ... May And November Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... The Flowers Of Spring beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ... Ode To Cambria Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and... |
The Farmer's PrayerCategory: The Religious. poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be incomplete. This excellent man was born at Llandovery, in Carmarthenshire, in the year 1579, and died there in 1644. After a collegiate course in Oxford he was inducted to the Vicarage of his native parish, and received successively afterwards the appointments of Prebendary, and Chancellor of St. David's. He composed a multitude of religious poems and pious carols, which were universally popular among his contemporaries and had great influence upon the Welsh of after-times. They were collected and published after his death under the title of "Canwyll y Cymry," or "The Candle of the Welsh," of which about twenty editions have appeared. The "Welshman's Caudle" has for the last two hundred and fifty years found a place beside the Holy Bible in the bookshelf of almost every native of the Principality, and has been consecrated by the nation. It consists of pious advice and religious exhortation suited to all conditions and circumstances of life. An English translation of the poems was published by Messrs. Longman & Co., in 1815.] O Thou! by whom the universe was made, Mankind's support, and never failing aid, Who bid'st the earth her various products bear, Who waterest the soft'ned soil with rain, Who givest vegetation to the grain, Unto a peasant's ardent pray'r give ear! I now intend, with care, my land to dress, And in its fertile womb to sow my grain; Which, if, O God! thou deignest not to bless, I never shall receive, or see again. In vain it is to plant, in vain to sow, In vain to harrow well the levell'd plain, If thou wilt not command the seed to grow, And shed thy blessing on the bury'd grain. For not a single corn will rush to birth Of all that I've entrusted to the earth, If thou dost not enjoin the blade to spring And the young shoot to full perfection bring. I therefore beg thy blessing on my lands, O Lord! and on the labour of my hands, That I thereby, may as a Christian, live, And my support, and maintenance receive! Open the windows of the skies, and pour Thy blessings on them in a genial show'r; My corn with earth's prolific fatness feed, And give increase to all my cover'd seed! Let not the skies, like brass in fusion, glow, Nor the earth, with heat, as hard as iron grow, Let not our pastures and our meads of hay, For our supine neglect of Thee, decay! But give us in good time and measure meet, A temp'rate season, and sufficient heat, Give us the former and the latter rains, Give peace and plenty to the British swains. The locust and the cankerworm restrain, The dew that blights and tarnishes the grain, The drought, the nipping winds, the lightning's glare, Which to the growing corn pernicious are. O, let the year be with thy goodness crown'd, Let it with all thy choicest gifts abound, Let bleating flocks each fertile valley fill, And lowing herds adorn each rising hill. Give to the sons of men their daily bread, Give grass to the mute beasts, that crop the mead, Give wine and oil to those that till the field, And let thy heritage abundance yield. Give us a harvest with profusion crown'd, Let ev'ry field and fold with corn abound, Let herbs each garden, fruit each orchard fill, Let rocks their honey, kine their milk distill. Prosper our handy work thou gracious God, And further our endeavours with success: So, on our knees, shall we thy name applaud, And night and morn our benefactor bless. Next: The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman Previous: Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
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