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Wales Poetry

Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...

An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...

The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...

An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d...

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

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

To May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...

Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...

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

The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...

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

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

The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...

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

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

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...

The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...

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

The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...

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



The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife






Category: The Sentimental.

Restless wave! be still and quiet,
Do not heed the wind and freshet,
Nature wide is now fast sleeping,
Why art thou so live and stirring?
All commotion now is ending,
Why not thou thy constant rolling?

Rest thou sea! upon thy bosom
Is one from whom my thoughts are seldom,
Not his lot it is to idle,
But to work while he is able;
Be kind to him, ocean billow!
Sleep upon thy sandy pillow!

Wherefore should'st thou still be swelling?
Why not cease thy restless heaving?
There's no wind to stir the bushes,
And all still the mountain breezes:
Be thou calm until the morning
When he'll shelter in the offing.

* * * * *

Deaf art thou to my entreaty,
Ocean vast! and without mercy.
I will turn to Him who rules thee,
And can still thy fiercest eddy:
Take Thou him to Thy protection
Keep him from the wave's destruction!





Next: The Withered Leaf

Previous: The Ewe



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