Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs,
Their cry is not so fine:
And if you have not, don't delay,
'Tis nearly half-past nine.
Wife.--There, now your noisy din begins,
Ding, ding, and endless ding,
I do believe your scolding voice
Me to the grave will bring.
H.--Were you to drop in there to-day,
This day would end my sorrow.
To-day, nor yet to-morrow.
H.--Oh! were you, Jane, to leave this world,
W.--And you to beg and borrow,
H.--Stop, Jane, talk not so silly, Jane,
W.--Not at your bidding, never;
I'd talk as long as I thought fit,
Were I to live for ever.
H.--Your voice if raised a little more,
Would rouse the very dead,
A pretty noise, because I ask'd
If you the pigs had fed.
W.--I'll raise my voice, Mog, louder still,
As sure as you were born,
Why should you ask "How many loaves
Came from the peck of corn?"
H.--Should not the master of the house
Know every undertaking?
W.--And wear his wife's own crinoline,
And try his hand at baking!
H.--The breeches you would like to wear!
W.--What vulgar jests you're making!
H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, don't speak so loud,
Your noise will stun the cattle!
W.--The only noise that could do that
Is your continued rattle.
H.--As sounds a bee upon her back,
So does this wasp I've got,
And all because I ask'd if she
Had fed the pigs or not.
W.--Your peevish growling, Mog, is worse,
Yes, ten times worse and more,
Still asking, "How this churning gave
Less than the one before?"
H.--You know the butter pays our rent,
And many another matter.
W.--I know that if the cows are starved
They won't get any fatter!
H.--I give the cows enough to eat.
W.--Well do, and hold your clatter.
H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, confound your noise,
'Twould shame a barrel organ.
W.--If I were half as loud as you,
I think it would, Old Morgan!
H.--Your temper, Jane, will drive me soon
To share a soldier's lot,
To march with gun and martial tune
'Midst powder, smoke, and shot.
W.--What! you a soldier? never, Mog!
Your heart is coward too,
You'll fight with no one but with me,
You've then enough to do!
H.--I'll go and fight the mighty Czar,
To aid the Turkish nation.
W.--Then go, a greater Turk than you
Breathes not within creation!
H.--For shame, to call your husband Turk.
W.--Such is my pledg'd relation.
H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, let's now shake hands
And we'll be henceforth friends.
W.--No, not till you have stopp'd will I,
Be still, or make amends.
More
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A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are fresh, and the sweet bells chime? Listen, and learn from my roundelay, How all life's pilot-boats sailed one day, A match with time. Love sat on a lotus leaf afloat, And saw old... An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about the year 1340. The bard was of illustrious lineage, and of handsome person. His poetical talent and personal beauty procured him the favourable notice of the fair sex; which, however, oc... An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and distinguished himself at the battle of Cattraeth, fought between the Welsh and Saxons, in or about the year 560, but was disastrous to the former and especially to the bard, who was there t... An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1751 at Glanmorfa, near Towyn, Merionethshire, and died in 1827. He was educated at Ystradmeurig Grammar School, with a view to entering the Welsh Church, but his academic career was cut s... By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma
... Childe Harold
"Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, thy rights invaded, And hopelessly the strong oak pineth, Where the tall sapling faded; The mountain eagle idly cowers Beside his slaughtered young, Our sons must bow to other power... Concerning The Divine Providence
... Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods away, Sporting,--blending with the sea, Like the moonbeam--gleamily. Wilt thou leave thy sparkling chamber Round my lady's tower to clamber? Thou shalt fairer charms behold Than Talie... 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 grief and pain; In vain delusive hopes I stray'd, Through days that ne'er will dawn again; And she, in beauty like the dawn, From me has now her heart withdrawn! A constant suitor--on he... Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,
Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion of Ivor Hael. The bard, speaking from the land of Wild Gwynedd, or North Wales, thus invokes the summer to visit the sweet pastoral county of Glamorgan with all its blessings: "And wilt ... Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; and a blessing be with thee, Greenland; In thy halls, thy hearths, in thy pure mountain air, On the strings of the harp and the minstrel's free hand; From the love of my soul with my tears... From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of Llanfair-on- the-hill, in Carmarthenshire, in the year 1717. He was educated for the ministry, and appointed to the Curacy of Llanwrtyd and Abergwesyn, in Breconshire, in 1740. After se... Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shore Of swift Geirionydd's waters blue, Where oft I walked before In youth's bright season gone, And spent life's happiest morn In drawing from its crystal waves The trout beneath... Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright and sunny, Ruth was nurtured fair and slender Neath a mother's eye so tender. Listening to the thrush's carols. Was her pleasure in her gambols, And ere she grew up a maiden Gwilym's... Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the battle of Cattraeth, where he witnessed the fall of three of his sons, and in the endless wars of that period. He had twenty four sons, all of whom were slain in battle in the bard's lifetime... May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for thy wild band of choristers weaves; Proud knight, that subduest with glory and power, Each glen into verdure, to joy every bower; That makest the wilderness laugh and rejoice, In the cha... My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, stream and hill, As wild and grand; As thou hast been in days of yore, As thou hast ever been before, As thou shalt be for evermore, My Father-land! Where are the bards, like thine... My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mountain side, The stream which flowed beside the door Adown the mossy slope doth glide; The holly tree that hid one end Is shaken by the moaning wind, Like as it was in days of yore... My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my heart prevails, Whilst chill'd with grief, it mourns and wails For my old Native Land. Gold and wine have power to please, And Summer's pure and gentle breeze,-- But ye are dearer far... Ode To Cambria
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Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is not so fine: And if you have not, don't delay, 'Tis nearly half-past nine. Wife.--There, now your noisy din begins, Ding, ding, and endless ding, I do believe your scolding voice Me t... Pennillion
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh gentry. The pennillion were sung by one voice to the harp, and followed a quaint air which was not only interesting, but owing to its peculiarity, it set forth in a striking manner the hum... Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet and fountain Pelucid and clear; Glad halls of my father, From banquets ne'er freed, Where chieftains would gather To quaff the bright mead, Each valley and woodland Whose ... Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish she felt in expiring, The moonbeams were weeping the evening dew When the life of the Maiden was sinking. Sad died the Maiden! beside the fast door, With her head resting low on th... Short Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a tender flow'ret, droops and dies, Or, like a race, it ends without delay, Or, like a vapour, vanishes away, Or, like a candle, in each moment wastes, Or, like a packet under sail, it has... Snowdon
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou rearest in the clouds, as if to mock The littleness of human things below; The tempest cannot harm thee, and the shock Of the deep thunder falls upon thy head As the light footfalls of an in... Song Of The Foster-son, Love
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endued with beauty from above. To bring him up with fond and _tender_ care-- Was an obligation from my fair.-- And for the guileless, beaming star's sweet sake Him to my bosom did I kindly ... Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of England, better known by his bardic name of _Ieuan Glan Geirionydd_. He was born in 1795 at a freehold of his father, situate on the banks of the river Geirionydd, in Carnarvonshire, and die... Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among, O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung, The path of unborn ages is trac'd upon my soul, The clouds, which mantle things unseen, away before me roll. A light, the depths re... That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire
Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless mind--long hast thou been A wand'rer from thy native rocks; With canopy of tissue green, And stem that 'mid the sylvan scene A sceptre of the forest stood-- Thou art a traitress to the wood... The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er Dee's pleasant tide with a ripple and swell, A shepherdess tended her flock that was feeding Upon the green meadows that lay in the dell, Her blue eye she raised, and she looked all ar... The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd
All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden mien!" I have loved beyond belief, Many a day to love and grief For her sake have been a prey, Who has on the moon's array! Pledged my truth from youth will now To the girl of glossy bro... The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appears to have been a native of Cardiganshire, for we find him at an early age living at the court of Gwyddno, a petty king of Cantre y Gwaelod, who appointed him his chief bard and tutor to ... The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of my land, To my mind ye appear terrific, When I muse on your ruins so grand; Your walls were a shelter the strongest From the enemies' countless array, When they spilt with the blo... The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead in the buffalo horn: As the cuckoo in spring, as the lark in the morn, So natural is mead in the buffalo horn. As the cup of the flower to the bee when he sips, Is the full cup of mead... The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the tidings of summer thy bright pinions roam-- The summer that thickens with foliage the glade, And lures to the woodland the poet and maid. Sweet as "sack," gentle bird, is thy beautiful vo... The Dawn
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light arise, Delightful day--shed by the sun-- Breaks forth from eastern skies, He--in his course o'er oceans vast And distant lands--returns Firm to his purpose, true his way, He na... The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church, but removed to Donington in Shropshire, where he officiated as Curate for several years. There the following poem was composed and afterwards translated by the poet. The poem has been c... The Death Of Owain
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's van; See the splendid warrior's speed On his fleet and thick-maned steed, As his buckler, beaming wide, Decks the courser's slender side, With his steel of spotless mould, Ermined vest a... The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondrous through all Are the myriad clouds; Dense and grim they appear-- Black and fierce the firmament, Dark and horrid is all. A ray of light's not seen, But light'ning white and flashy, ... The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be heard this day In music's witching strain! Wide let her ancient "soul of song," The echo of its notes prolong, O'er valley, hill, and plain! Minstrels! awake your harps aloud, Bid ... The Ewe
So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles feeling; And every bosom doth bedew, Each true affection stealing. Thou hast no weapon of aught kind Against thy foes to combat; No horn or hoof the dog to wound That worrie... The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. I am a wand'rer o'er earth and sea, The trackless air has a path for me; Ye may trace my steps on the heather green, By the emerald ring, where my foot hath been; Ye may hear my voice in ... The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the birds through the forests were skipping so gay; While crossing the churchyard of a parish remote, In a district of Cambria, whose name I don't note: I saw a fair maiden so rich in attire, ... The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be incomplete. This excellent man was born at Llandovery, in Carmarthenshire, in the year 1579, and died there in 1644. After a collegiate course in Oxford he was inducted to the Vicarage of... The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation is made, was an eloquent minister of the Baptist Church in Wales, and died on the 20th day of January, 1873, at the age of 54 years, at Beaufort, in Monmouthshire, leaving a widow and seve... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; To whom in death his lady A golden goblet gave. When Christmas bowls were circling, And all was joy and cheer, He passed that goblet from him With a kiss and with a tear. ... The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in golden dress, No longer dares to give her plight To meet the bard at dawn or night! To the blythe moon he may not bear The maid, whose cheeks the daylight wear-- She fears to answer to his... The Hall Of Cynddylan
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for the grave has extinguished its light; The beam of its lamp from the summit is o'er, The blaze of its hearth shall give welcome no more! The Hall of Cynddylan is voiceless and still, The s... The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed bower! In front of all the forest Thy coral-loaded branches tower. Thou shrine of love, whose depth defies The axe--the tempest of the skies; Whose boughs in winter's frost display The ... The Immovable Covenant
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist Church, and was possessed of extensive learning, and a highly critical taste. After officiating as Minister at a Church in Swansea and other places, he finally settled at Builth, where he... The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing With song, and the hills are all mantled with bloom; But fairer than aught which the summer is bringing, The beauty and youth gone to people the tomb! Oh! why should I live to hear mu... The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battle, against the Saxons, and his three sisters came down here to meet him; and, when they heard him coming, they said, "It is Trwst Llywelyn," (the sound of Llywelyn,) and the place has been... The Lily And The Rose
Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the hill, One a lily fair and handsome, And one a rose with crimson frill; Erect the rose would lift its pennon And survey the garden round, While the lily--lovely minion! Meekly re... The Lord Of Clas
The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and sedgy moor; The glare of his bridle bit has shone On the heights of wild Benmore. Why does he stay away from hound? Nor urge the fervid chase? Where is the shrill blast of his b... The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers had breath'd the free air of your clime! All that its eagles beheld in their flight Was yours from the deep to each storm-mantled height! Though from your race that proud birthright be torn...