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Wales PoetryA Bridal SongWilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless min... Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a... The Battle Of Gwenystrad contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe... The Grove Of Broom The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... The Fairy's Song "Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ... To The Spring Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte... The Cuckoo's Tale Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the... The Faithful Maiden At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi... Childe Harold "Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t... Tribanau Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin... The Monarchy Of Britain Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h... By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma ... An Ode To The Thunder his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1... Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire, Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o... The Banks Of The Dee One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er... From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of... The Vengeance Of Owain {96} Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ... Short Is The Life Of Man Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t... |
The Mountain GallowayCategory: The Sentimental. My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy breed, Elate of spirit, low of flesh, That sham'st thy kind of vallies fresh; And three score miles and twelve a day Hast sped, my gallant galloway. Like a sea-boat, firm and tight, Dancing on the ocean, light, That the spirit of the wind Actuates to heart and mind Elastic, buoyant, proud, and gay, Art thou, my mountain galloway. Thou'st borne me, like a billow's sweep, O'er mountains high and vallies deep, Oft drank at lake and waterfall, Pass'd sunless gulfs whose glooms appall, And shudder'd oft at ocean's spray, Where breakers roar'd, destruction lay. And thou hast snuff'd sulphureous fumes 'Mid rural nature's charnel tombs; Thou hast sped with eye unscar'd Where Merthyr's fields of fire flar'd; And thou wert dauntless on thy way, My faithful mountain galloway. There is a vale, 'tis far away, But we must reach that vale to-day; There is a mansion in that vale, Its white walls well the eye regale! And there's a hand more white they say, Shall pat my gallant galloway. And she is young, and she is fair, The lovely one who sojourns there; Oh, truly dear is she to me! As thou art mine, she'll welcome thee: Then off we go, at break of day, On, on! my gallant galloway. Next: Glan Geirionydd Previous: The Rose Of The Glen
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