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| A lady very well known to myself, and in literary society, lived as a girl with an antiquarian father in an old house dear to an antiquary. It was haunted, among other things, by footsteps. The old oak staircase had two creaking steps, numbers... Read more of The Creaking Stair at Scary Stories.ca | Informational.ca Privacy |
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Wales PoetryRoderic's LamentFarewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet... Under The Orchard Tree Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid... The World And The Sea: A Comparison Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ... The Mountain Galloway My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy... My Father-land Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str... Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a... 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... 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 ... Farewell To Wales The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ... The Banks Of The Dee One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er... The Monarchy Of Britain Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h... The Flowers Of Spring beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ... To The Daisy Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,... The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win... The Ewe So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles... Twenty Third Psalm My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to... May And November Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... The Circling Of The Mead Horns Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... The Lament Op Llywarch Hen The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ... |
The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of GotheCategory: The Beautiful. There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; To whom in death his lady A golden goblet gave. When Christmas bowls were circling, And all was joy and cheer, He passed that goblet from him With a kiss and with a tear. When death he felt approaching, To all his barons bold, He left some fair dominion-- To none, that cup of gold. He sate at royal banquet, With all his lordly train, In the castle of his fathers, On the rock above the main. Upstood the tottering monarch, And drank the cup's last wine; Then flung the holy goblet, Deep, deep, into the brine. He watch'd it, bubbling, sinking, Far, far, beneath the wave; And the light sank from his eyelid, With the cup his lady gave. Next: The Sick Man's Dream Previous: The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
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