Wales PoetryOde To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...
The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...
Under The Orchard Tree
Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid...
The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi...
The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h...
Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...
Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...
An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d...
To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...
The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...
The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...
The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ...
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...
Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...
Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...
The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...
The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...
The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...
The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...
The Mountain Galloway
Category: 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.
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