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Wales Poetry

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

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

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

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

The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...

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

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

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

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

Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...

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

To The Nightingale
river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the...

Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...

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

Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...

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

The Dawn
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ...

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

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

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

The Monarchy Of Britain

Category: The Patriotic.

Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time,
Ere spoilers had breath'd the free air of your clime!
All that its eagles beheld in their flight
Was yours from the deep to each storm-mantled height!
Though from your race that proud birthright be torn,
Unquench'd is the spirit for monarchy born.
Darkly though clouds may hang o'er us awhile,
The crown shall not pass from the Beautiful Isle! {88}
Ages may roll ere your children regain
The land for which heroes have perish'd in vain.
Yet in the sound of your names shall be pow'r,
Around her still gath'ring, till glory's full hour.
Strong in the fame of the mighty that sleep,
Your Britain shall sit on the throne of the deep.
Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile,
Who died for the crown of the Beautiful Isle!

Next: Farewell To Wales

Previous: Taliesin's Prophecy

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