VIEW THE MOBILE VERSION of www.storiespoetry.com Informational Site Network Informational
Privacy
Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales

Wales Poetry

The Ewe
So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles...

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

From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...

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

Tribanau
Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...

To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

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

The Immovable Covenant
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ...

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

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

Ode To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...

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

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

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

By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma
...

A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...

My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...



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



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 2334


Untitled Document