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Wales Poetry

The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...

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

To The Daisy
Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,...

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

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

The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd
All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m...

The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...

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

The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...

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

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

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,
Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o...

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

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

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

Under The Orchard Tree
Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid...

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

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

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



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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