A simple little game for amusing two children is the following. Write on the top of a slate or paper the words "Bird, beast, and fish." One child thinks of the name of some animal and puts down the first and last letters of the word, markin... Read more of BIRD, BEAST, OR FISH. at Games Kids Play.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Wales Poetry

An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...

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

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

The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ...

The Hall Of Cynddylan
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th...

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

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

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

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

Childe Harold
"Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t...

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

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

Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...

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

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

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

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

May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...

The Shipwreck
a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet....



The Hall Of Cynddylan






Category: The Patriotic.

The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night,
I weep, for the grave has extinguished its light;
The beam of its lamp from the summit is o'er,
The blaze of its hearth shall give welcome no more!

The Hall of Cynddylan is voiceless and still,
The sound of its harpings hath died on the hill!
Be silent for ever, thou desolate scene,
Nor let e'en an echo recall what hath been!

The Hall of Cynddylan is lonely and bare,
No banquet, no guest, not a footstep is there!
Oh! where are the warriors who circled its board?--
The grass will soon wave where the mead-cup was pour'd.

The Hall of Cynddylan is loveless to-night,
Since he is departed whose smile made it bright:
I mourn, but the sigh of my soul shall be brief,
The pathway is short to the grave of my chief!



THE GRAVE OF KING ARTHUR. {94a}


I called on the sun, in his noonday height,
By the power and spell a wizard gave:
Hast thou not found, with thy searching light,
The island monarch's grave?

"I smile on many a lordly tomb,
Where Death is mock'd by trophies fair;
I pierce the dim aisle's hallow'd gloom;
King Arthur sleeps not there."

I watched for the night's most lovely star,
And, by that spell, I bade her say,
If she had been, in her wand'rings far,
Where the slain of Gamlan lay. {94b}

"Well do I love to shine upon
The lonely cairn on the dark hill's side,
And I weep at night o'er the brave ones gone,
But not o'er Britain's pride."

I bent o'er the river, winding slow
Through tangled brake and rocky bed:
Say, do thy waters mourning flow
Beside the mighty dead?

The river spake through the stilly hour,
In a voice like the deep wood's evening sigh:
"I am wand'ring on, 'mid shine and shower,
But that grave I pass not by."

I bade the winds their swift course hold,
As they swept in their strength the mountain's bre'st:
Ye have waved the dragon banner's fold,
Where does its chieftain rest?

There came from the winds a murmured note,
"Not ours that mystery of the world;
But the dragon banner yet shall float
On the mountain breeze unfurl'd."

Answer me then, thou ocean deep,
Insatiate gulf of things gone by,
In thy green halls does the hero sleep?
And the wild waves made reply:

"He sleeps not in our sounding cells,
Our coral beds with jewels pearl'd;
Not in our treasure depths it dwells,
That mystery of the world.

"Long must the island monarch roam,
The noble heart and the mighty hand;
But we shall bear him proudly home
To his father's mountain land."





Next: The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Previous: The Lament Op Llywarch Hen




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