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| Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales |
Wales PoetryThe Eisteddfod,Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h... Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa... My Father-land Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str... An Ode On The Death Of Hoel of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d... The Holly Grove Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ... Glan Geirionydd . One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor... Tribanau Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin... 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 ... The Grove Of Broom The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... Walter Sele O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo... To The Spring Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte... The Poor Man's Grave 'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ... Ode To Cambria Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and... Snowdon King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares... Concerning The Divine Providence ... Short Is The Life Of Man Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t... The World And The Sea: A Comparison Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ... The Lily And The Rose Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the h... Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright... |
Walter SeleCategory: The Patriotic. O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallow'd roam; For here the grave hath found a grave, The wanderer a home. This little mound encircles round A heart that once could feel; For none possess'd a warmer heart Than gallant Walter Sele. The primrose pale, from Derwen vale, Through spring shall sweetly bloom, And here, I ween, the evergreen Shall shed its death perfume; The branching tree of rosemary The sweet thyme may conceal; But both shall wave above the grave Of gallant Walter Sele. They brand with shame my true love's name, And call him traitor vile, Who dar'd disclose to Charlie's foes The secret postern aisle; But though, alas! that fatal pass He rashly did reveal, He ne'er betray'd his maniac maid,-- My gallant Walter Sele! Next: My Father-land Previous: The Fairy's Song
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