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Wales Poetry

Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...

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...

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

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

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

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

The Immovable Covenant
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ...

Childe Harold
"Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

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

Tribanau
Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...

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

Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...

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

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

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

May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...

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

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...



Walter Sele






Category: 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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