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| This is also considered an emergency spell. You need a white votive candle, good visualization skills. Light the votive candle and think about the person you want to help heal. When you are finished meditating, say this cha... Read more of PERSONALIZED HEALING SPELL at White Magic.ca | Informational Privacy |
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Wales PoetryThe Grove Of BroomThe girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... The Rose Of The Glen Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c... Taliesin's Prophecy A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,... The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a... Glan Geirionydd . One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor... Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire, Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o... The Lament Op Llywarch Hen The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ... To May the following and several other poems in this collection. ... Under The Orchard Tree Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid... Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa... Pennillion Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g... The Rose Of Llan Meilen Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i... The Immovable Covenant the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ... Sad Died The Maiden Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s... The Vengeance Of Owain {96} Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ... The Sick Man's Dream Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl... Twenty Third Psalm My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to... |
The ShipwreckCategory: The Beautiful. a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet. His Ode on the wreck of the ship Rothsay Castle, off Anglesea, is a very graphic and forcible Poem, and won the chief prize at an Eisteddfod held at Beaumaris in 1839, which was honoured by the presence of Her Majesty the Queen, then the Princess Victoria, who graciously invested the young bard, with the appropriate decoration.] Boiling and tearing was the fearful deep, Its raging waves aroused from lengthened sleep Together marching like huge mountains; The swell how great--nature bursting its chains! The bounding spray dashed 'gainst the midnight stars In its wild flight shedding salt tears. Again it came a sweeping mighty deluge, Washing the firmament with breakers huge; Ripping the ocean's bosom so madly, Wondrous its power when roaring so wildly, The vessel was seen immersed in the tide, While all around threatened destruction wide. God, ruler of the waters, His words of might now utters, His legions calls to battle: No light of sun visible, The firmament so low'ring, With tempest strong approaching. Loud whistling it left its recesses, Threats worlds with wreck, so fearful it rages, While heaven unchaining the surly billows, Both wind and wave rush tumultuous, Sweeping the main, the skies darkening, While Rothsay to awful destruction is speeding. Anon upon the wave she's seen, Reached through struggles hard and keen: Again she's hurled into the abyss, While all around tornados hiss, Through the salt seas she helpless rolls, While o'er her still the billow falls: Alike she was in her danger To the frail straw dragg'd by the river. The ocean still enraged in mountains white, Would like a drunkard reel in sable night, While she her paddles plies against the wave, Yet all in vain the sweeping tide to brave: Driven from her course afar by the loud wind, Then back again by breezes from behind; Headlong she falls into the fretful surge, While weak and broken does she now emerge. The inmates are now filled with fear, Destruction seeming so near; The vessel rent in awful chasms, Waxing weaker, weaker she seems. * * * * * Anon is heard great commotion, Roaring for spoil is the lion; The vessel's own final struggles Are fierce, while the crew trembles. The hurricane increasing Over the grim sea is driving, Drowning loud moans, burying all In its passage dismal. How hard their fate, O how they wept In that sad hour of miseries heap'd; Some sighed, others prayed fervently, Others mad, or in despair did cry. Affrighted they ran to and fro, To flee from certain death and woe; While _he_, with visage grim and dark, Would still surround the doomed bark. Deep night now veiled the firmament, While sombre clouds thicker were sent To hide each star, the ocean's rage No cries of grief could even assuage. The vessel sinks beneath the might Of wind, and wave, and blackest night, While through the severed planks was heard The breaker's splash, with anger stirred. Next: An Address To The Summer Previous: The Deluge
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