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Wales Poetry

The Lily And The Rose
Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the h...

My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...

To May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

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

To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...

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

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

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

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

Concerning The Divine Providence
...

Twenty Third Psalm
My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to...

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

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...

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 ...

The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...

The Mountain Galloway
My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy...

The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ...

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

The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h...



The Lord Of Clas






Category: The Sentimental.

The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone,
Over plain and sedgy moor;
The glare of his bridle bit has shone
On the heights of wild Benmore.

Why does he stay away from hound?
Nor urge the fervid chase?
Where is the shrill blast of his bugle sound?
And the bloom of his radiant face?

The Lord of Clas has found other game
Than the buck and timid roe;
His heart is warm'd by other flame,
His eyes with love-light glow.

On the mountain side a damsel he met
Collecting flowers wild;
Her eyes like diamonds were set,
And modest as a child.

Fair was her face, and lovely to see
Her form of slender mould,
Her dark hair waved in tresses free
On shoulders arch and bold.

The Lord of Clas did blush and sigh
When the lovely maid he saw;
He stoutly tried to pass her by;
His bridle rein did draw.

But his heart quick flutter'd in his breast,
The rein fell from his hand,
In accents weak the maid address'd,
While trembling did he stand.

"Fair lady, may I ask your name?
And what your purpose here?
From what bright homestead far you came?
And is your guardian near?"

Answer'd the maid with haughty mien,
That show'd her high estate:
"I know not, sir, why you should glean
Such knowledge as you prate.

I ask'd not your name, or whence you came?
Nor on you deign'd a look;
Wherefore should you my wrath inflame,
By taking me to book?"

The chieftain high was now subdu'd,
And lower'd was his crest;
With deep humility imbued
The maid he thus address'd:

"My lady fair, your beauteous mien
My heart has deep impress'd;
Altho' I hear the chase so keen,
My thoughts with you do rest.

I did essay to pass your charms,
And spurr'd my steed to flight,
But your dazzling beauty numb'd my arms,
And chain'd me to your sight.

If I may humbly crave your love,
I'll tell you my degree:
I am the Lord of yonder grove
And of this mountain free.

These broad lands will your dowry be,
If you my suit receive,
And ye shall urge the chase with me
From morn to winter eve."

The maid's reply was firm, yet bland,
And in a calmer mood:
"I thank you, sir, for your offer'd hand,
With dowry large and good.

I thank you for all your praises fair,
And for your gallant grace;
Had we but met an earlier year
I might be Lady Clas.

Behold this ring on my finger worn--
A token of plighted love;
Lo, he who plac'd it there this morn
Sits on yon cairn above."

The chieftain look'd to the lonely cairn
And saw the Knight of Lleyn!
Like mountain deer he flew o'er the sarn,
And there no more was seen!





Next: The Rose Of The Glen

Previous: Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn



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