Wales Poetry

The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church...

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

The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ...

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...

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

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 Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...

Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...

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

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

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

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

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

The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

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

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

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...

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

The Shipwreck

Category: 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.





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Previous: The Deluge

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