
(delwedd J4247) (tudalen 00A)	Y Caniedydd Cymreig. The Cambrian Minstrel; Being A Collection Of The Melodies Of Cambria, With Original Words In English And Welsh; Together With Several Original Airs. By John Thomas (Ieuan Ddu) Merthyr Tydvil. Merthyr Tydvil. Printed for the author by David Jones, High-Street. 1845.

(delwedd J4248) (tudalen 00B)	TO THE ABERGAVENNY CYMREIGYDDION SOCIETY THIS VOLUME OF CAMBRIAN NATIONAL AIRS AND SONGS, IS MOST REPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY THEIR MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT, JOHN THOMAS, (Ieuan Ddu).

(delwedd J4249) (tudalen 00C)	PREFACE. To the Author of the songs, which the public are now presented with in this volume, it appeared, long before he had become acquainted with a collection of Welsh Airs which could benefit the vocalist, that many of our finest tunes were destitute of appropriate verses; and after be had from time to time endeavoured to supply that desideratum in the Welsh language, he must have been convinced that by merely singing a select number at an Eisteddfod, he did what might, after all, have proved ineffectual to make those same Airs a source of permanent delight to his countrymen. Hence, he formed the resolution to present them in the best manner he was able, with the songs he had composed in, or translated into, either language; and, if possible, to furnish that class which was least likely to purchase more expensive works of the same nature, with a tolerably complete volume of our National Melodies, and to add to such as were already published, as many as possible of the unpublished ones, which, in another half a century, if not now snatched from oblivion, would, in all probability be irretrievably lost. In doing this, he has not only felt solicitous that Welshmen should chant our Airs, but that Englishmen also, who reside in the principality might, if they choose, participate as far as the singing of these may be deemed a pleasure, in the musical enjoyments of Cambrians. This having been once resolved upon, the English subscriber naturally expected that a due proportion of each number should be allotted to him. The number of the hitherto unpublished Airs which this volume contains is about fifty - these are principally the Airs of Dyfed; some of them are common to Dyfed, Gwent, and Morganwg. Notwithstanding the many defects and errors, which the eye of the critic must detect in the perusal of this volume; the Author persuades himself that inasmuch as other collections of the Melodies of Cambria, must from their high price, be necessarily confined to the libraries of the wealthy, he has done much to cause them to be as generally known and sung as they ever were; and more so, because henceforth, no melodies of Wales can be long confined to any particular locality. But in doing this, he has too often had reason to lament, that he had so little time to devote to a work which required so much undivided attention and on that ground, he begs leave to apologise for the errors, musical, as well as literal, which have crept into the work. In the translations, which are, with the exception of Sir Walter Scott's Norman Horse Shoe, and three shorter songs in the Welsh, all of the Author's own songs in both languages; he has sometimes been more free than he should in translating the verses of another for this be can hardly consider himself answerable to any tribunal, unless it might be for neglect, where he has happened to render the translation much worse than the original. The Airs are all Welsh, excepting one, which is a Scotch Air, to which some popular songs of the Author had been written some years back. In a number of instances, the old lyrics of the principality would have been inserted with the tunes, to which they had been adapted, were it not that the trouble and expense of hunting for the best, would have proved more burdensome than the writing of original ones; but it is too true, that by far the greater number of our best harp tunes were never called for by vocalists, because the want of suitable words had virtually proved their death; and it may be said that they are now being resuscitated, after being for years, no one knows how many, dead to all intents and purposes, excepting when struck by a Northwalian harper to a pennillion singer; but, as to songs, that breathed any thing like the spirit of the Airs, both North and South Wales were sadly destitute.

(delwedd J4250) (tudalen 00D)	PREFACE. To the wealthy portion of the subscribers for the work, who would have preferred it in a more expensive form, with harp or pianoforte accompaniments, the Author would beg leave to suggest that by becoming purchasers of this volume, they have assisted bim very much to enable their less affluent neighbours to become purchasers of it as well, in the only form that could render it generally useful to Welshmen. The persons from wbose singing I have written the Airs which are hereunder named, (and which, with my own original Airs, to which my name appears attached throughout the book, are copyright,) are Mr. Edward Thomas, Cefn Penar; Mr. Rees Evans, Ton Côch; Mr. Robert Roberts, Merthyr; Mr. J. Price, Gyfarthfa, (from whose singing all the Dyfed Airs were written, with the exception of those I knew from my childhood,) and some five or six others, who contributed each a tune to the list given below Page Dros yr Afon 14 Y Gelynen 22 Pa bryd y deui etto 28 Y Dyddiau ni ddont 'nol 46 Pe cawn i hon 47 Blodau'r cwm 64 O gylch y mwdwl gwair 72 Beth yw dy air 73 Mae dau ddrws ar y dafarn 74 Seren Llanedi 75 Y nant wrth fy nhy 80 Ar foreu teg 82 Yr eneth lan 90 Wil a'i fam 92 Saith nôs olau 93 Y berllan 98 Gwel yr adeilad 100 Cwynfan Prydain, yn oll dull Deheudir 101 Pam y canaf 104 Cul y drws 110 Trafaelais i Gymru 116 Mae gennyf fi bwthyn a gardd 118 Y ddimau goch 120 Hen wr o'r coed, yn ol dull Dyfed 140 Mentra Gwen, yn ol dull Dyfed 146 Pan own i ar frig noswaith 147 Mi af tua glan yr afon 149 Gofid gwynau 151 Peth 'wedi di, &c, 152 Y bachgen tawel 153 Ni waeth i mi, &c 154 Y galon drom 157 Y ddafad las a'i hoenyg 158 Y gofid glâs, 'nol dull Morganwg 160 Mae'n dda gan y scwarnog 162 Y garreg lwyd 172 A mi yn dod adre 173 Gyda'r wawr 178 Cil y Fwyalch, 'nol dull Dyfed 190 Y fedwen las 195 Pam yr oedi 196 Borau dydd Llun 203 Llaes ei afael 203 room. I have more of these Airs by me, which cannot now be published, for want of room. Very soon I shall publish a small Supplement to this work, in which all the Airs that have been left out in this Compilation may be had of the publisher of the Cambrian Minstrel.

(delwedd J4251) (tudalen 001)	Y Caniedydd Cymreig. The Cambrian Minstrel Gogoniant yr Haf. Blodau’r Grug. Y gangen las a'r ffynon glir, A'r borfa deg ar bêrfwyn dir, Dy eiddo Haf y’nt hwy yn wir, A'r gweirdir haf a grwydraf. Y boreu esgor ar ei fyrdd. Y lliwiau fil ar balmant gwyrdd, A'r pryfed man wnant rhyngddynt ffyrdd, A gwenau'r hirddydd harddaf. Y twf eneinir gan y gwlith, Y fro a droir mewn awr yn frith, A'r dwr adlunia bob teg rith, A mwg y llefrith mwyna', Y nant eill baban rifo'i physg, Y defaid flinant ar eu gwig, A'r bugail gwaraidd yn eu mysg O fyrddysg dy^n i fawrdda. Dy eiddo Haf yw'r gwres a'i rin, A'r gwlaw a dry mewn dyddyn win A mwy o drysor per i'w drin Nas medr min ei draethu; Dy 'roglau ant o fôr i fôr, A'r newydd am dy rad a'th stor, A gwydd nid oes na rydd ei gôr - Hawddamor i’th fawrygu.

(delwedd J4252) (tudalen 002)	2 Y Caniedydd Cymreig. Yr arwaf ddol a aeth yn ardd. Y gwanaf hedyn fry a dardd. A chred pob bugail yw gwnai fardd. Tra chwardd y tir o'i ddeutu; Y troednoeth grwydryn yn ei dro Dostoria wrth y gw^r o'i go' A gerdd mewn 'sgydiau loriau'r fro Wnawd iddo mor esmwythgu. Dros fyd ei flodau ynt mor sarn. 'Does oen yn awr neweidia'i garn. Na rhaid i'r ebol bach o'r h'arn Wna'n gadarn droed at dynfa; A'r 'deryn gwan ymedy a'i nyth. Os cwympo wna ar lawr mor frith Heb ddolur bydd mewn man di chwyth, Yn yfed gwlith ei wala. RHWNG UCHEL LENYDD CYNON. Dull o’r Triban. Rhwng cribog lenydd Cynon, Y pawr fy nefaid gwynion, A'm cân sy’n dyst fel bref fy w^yn, 0’r manau mwyn lle crwydron'; A’m cân sy'n dyst fel bref fy w`yn, O’r manau mwyn lle crwydron'; Os anhawdd im' en rhifo Rhwor twyni fynai 'eu cuddio, I'm helpu ryw bryd oddi draw Pwy wyr na ddaw fy Ngwenno? Tra b’wy'n bugeilio'm defaid Rhag gwaharddedig damaid, Fy Ilygad inau'n fynych dry Am gip ar dy^ lliw’r ganaid. Hiraethlon ar hiraethlon A ro’w’d yn geidwad cyson, Os cofla’i serth at fywyd rhydd, Pa wedd na fydd yn dirion? Rhwng deri mawr y dyffryn Mae llais yn gwatwar pob dyn, Caiff fy nynwared yn y gân Sy'n dweyd mor lân yw rhywun. Fel cuddia’r llwyni gleision Ddolenog grwydrad Cynon, Dymunwn inau lechu’r ferch, Enynodd serch fy nghalon. Mae dull arall i ganu’r Triban, yr hwn a ymddengys yn y Caniedydd Cymreig.

(delwedd J4253) (tudalen 003)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. 3 T'REWCH FYSEDD CAIN. Syr Harri Ddu. T’rewch fysedd cain Ar dennyn main, Beraidd gydsain gyda’r gân, Nes b'o caerau’n trefi Glanwedd yn my^gloni A'r holl dwyni draw ar dân, Aed ffrw^d y tannau dros y muriau mad, Melus bo’r gydgordd I’r hen lonwedd wlad, A ch’lonau milo’dd lle gwiw gurodd gwa’d, Uno gwnant o glymiad gân. From Cambria's string O minstrel fling Sounds that bid her name not die, Till the wild notes swelling Reach remotest dwelling And the rocks and groves reply, O’er walls and turrets let the music float, Till Cambria's mountain echo every note, Whilst hearts united to her lore devote Days of mirth and festal joy. At music's call, ’Neath dome and hall, See we not her children meet? And from ancient story, Point the rays of glory That adorn her buried great? Penaethiaid gwlad, O uchel stad, Do'nt i lygad ter y llu, Iawn gofiant y dyddiau, Bu ein henwog dadau, 'N brif golofnau gwlad oedd gu;

(delwedd J4254) (tudalen 004)	4 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. O may the epochs of her past renown. Their brightest halo shed around our own. And age to age transmit that glory down. Other lands shall long repeat. Where Britons throng. Hallow'd be the song. That a patriot's deeds records: Harmony undying. Time and change defying. Ring it to immortal words. Say whilst our country owns a deed she'd name. Her's be hard and minstrel to enrol the same. And ears to hear the claims of rising fame With the heart that praise accords. Harp of the north. As prov'd thy worth In the hour of Freedom's fate, When the hill and valley At thy sound would rally. Be thy lay inspiring yet: - Now that Britannia's sway again is one. Let ev'ry strain that Cambria's battles won That empire gladden, on whose bounds the sun In his course doth never set. Cof am wrolder a grymusder mawr Yr hên Frythoniaid, o enyned 'nawr Mewn myrdd ddymuniad am agoriad gwawr Oriau breintfawr rhai o'u bri. O yn ein gwydd. Sancteiddier swydd Gw^r cyfarwydd yn y gân. Ei ddewis waith f'o coffa Hen anrhydedd Gwalia Byth i'r dyrfa deimlo'i dân, Tra enwir rhinwedd rydd i'n tir fawrád. Boed hardd a thant i wneud o'r fath goffâd. A chlust a wrendy bob ymgeisydd mâd. Am'r enwogiad teca'i rân. Delyn y bryn. Tra'th danau'n dyn. Ynom enyn er mwynhad. Serch at wlad ein tadau Fel bu yn mynwesau Gwy^r wnaeth gathlau'n hy i'r gâd. Y tônau unwaith hogent fin y cledd. Prawf Cymru heddyw fel melusant hedd. Tra’u sain anwylgu yn sefydlu sedd Y deyrnedd addef c'nifer gwlad. TY FY NHAD. Tân a gyfansoddwyd gan J.T. Cenir y gân hon i “O we never mention her.” ’Nol treulio blin flynyddau maith Fel crwydryn o fy ngwlad. O pa mor hyfryd dechreu taith tua thawel dy fy nhad; Can’s ar ei bwys mae llwyni glâs. Ac adar hoff eu cân, A roisant gynt i’m horiau flas. Wyf ’nawr yn golli'n lân, A roisant gynt i'm horiau flas, Wyf 'nawr yn golli'n lân. To me whom many a thriftless year Have taught the wand'rer's lot, How sweet the toil that brings me near My father's peaceful cot; There bushes green hath childhood seen Possess’d by many a bird, Whose blissful song I yet can long To hear as I have heard, Whose blissful song I yet can long, To hear as I have heard.

(delwedd J4255) (tudalen 005)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL, 5 Y galon oedd yn ddewr fel dûr, A chryf ar faes y gwa'd, A gryna fel y ddalen ir, Wrth weled ty fy nhad: Mi wela'r drws, mi wela'r fainc, A'r 'stôl fawr bedair tro'd, Ond nid wy'n clywed tyner gainc Fy mam wrth droi ei rhôd, Pa fodd y gallaf fynd i'w clyw? Pa fodd y rhoddaf gam? Ac os dangosaf 'mod i'n fyw, Pwy ddengys 'nhad a mam? Tyngedaf chwi a thyner gais, Gartrefol adar bach, I ro'i im' arwydd llon â'ch llais, Eu bod hwy'n fyw ac iach, Mae'r mwg yn wyn o'r simne gul, Yn taenu gwres trwy'm gwa'd; Ond gwell f'ai genyf weithiau fil, Wel'd copa gwyn fy nhad; I b'le'r aeth pob rhyw wyneb llon? B'le'r aeth y lleisiau mwyn? A yrrwyd pawb hyd daear dòn, Fel fi, heb nyth na llwyn? Mi wela 'ngorgi hach yn fyw, A'i groen yn dyn a thlws; A dacw'r ben berchenog syw Yn agor iddo'r drws: O clywch, hên wr, un gair gen'i, Cyn troioch yn eich ol, Os nad yw'ch tŷ yn llai na bu, Awo iddo gôl yn nghôl. This heart which 'mid the clang of arms Was prov'd the last to fear, Oh how it beats with fond alarms At sight of scenes so dear; The door I see and sod-grown seat, - The spinning wheel and stool; But ah my mother's chant so sweet Where is its pensive dool? If I should tell my boyhood's home Who seeks its humble hearth, Who knows the welcome sweet would come From her who gave me birth? Ye birds that never from this dell Have fled in search of bliss, Grant but a sign that they are well, I dread so much to miss. Between me and the well known rocks White wreaths of smoke arise, Would that my father's whiter locks Were so to greet my eyes, The only voices I would hear, The dearest forms I'd see, O how this throbbing heart doth fear They bide no more for me. Do I behold thee little cur, So sleek and tight of skin? And there the owner opes his door To let the brawler in. Hear me old man - if now your cot For all it lodg'd hath place, Then enter it with one forgot, Lock'd in his fond embrace, THE ROSE OF THE HILLS. (HAF GAN.) Glân Weddwdod Mwyn Hoarse Tâf if the Cuckoo doth visit thee late With the tidings of bright days thy

(delwedd J4256) (tudalen 006)	bleak hills must wait; If the flow'ret that opes on thy mead with the light is nipt in its bloom by the frost of a night; Tho’ the season retarded men’s ardour oft chills, How few are the young hearts that brood o’er its ills in the presence of Susan the Rose of the Hills. The song of the vale at the red mass that ply, To the homes of their childhood advert with a sigh, The swains of Glan Tawy's regrettings who'll hide, As they sing the green spots where their kindred reside? But lo! as the tear drop the sadden'd eye fills, How sudden the pleasure that dries up its rills, If it haply espy the sweet Rose of the Hills. 'Mongst workers of metal whose red glare makes like, The brow that's bent o'er it, or hand that doth strike, What youth has not own'd as this fair one he ey'd, How softened heart was that beat at his side? Whate'er is made pliant at furnace or mills, The bright charm that mouldeth all hearts as it wills, Whose is it but Susan's the Rose of the Hills? Mae'r maesydd meillionog, a'r llwyni'n dra llòn, A'r coedydd cauadfrig yn harddu'r lâs fròn; Mae'r cwmydd, a'r dolydd, y mynydd a'r fro Yn dweyd fod yr haf-ddydd yn d'od ar ei dro: Yr adar gyd-ganant yn mynwes pob pren, A'u cyd-gerdd wasgara trwy gorau'r las len, Ac anthem y goedwig a esgyn i'r nen: BYRDWN,* I'r Haf rhoed pob dyn ac aderyn ei gân, Yr Haf sy'n adfywio pob mawrion a maân, A'r ddaear a wisga â newydd wisg lân. Mor fwyn yw'r afonydd a llonydd pob rhyd, A'r nentydd arianlais, sisialant ynghyd; Y dail îr a'r blodau anadlant yn ber, A'r haul yn eu cymhell i froydd y ser, Yr wyn a chwareuant fel plant mewn hoff swydd, A'u gwlanog rieni yn lloni'n eu gwydd, Heb ofid na gofal am gyfoeth na llwydd: I'r Haf rhoed pob dyn, &c, * Y tair llinell o Fyrdwn a genir i'r ail ran o'r Dôn pan ei dyblir

(delwedd J4257) (tudalen 007)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 7 What presence soever her beauty may grace. What eye would not see her? what arm not embrace? Or who that hath labour'd, when day's toil is o'er, For her sake doth not feel he could labour still more? Since the form whose perfection with wonder all fills. A soul for its virtues more wond'rous conceals. What man would not bide with the Rose of the Hills. Mae gweiriau'r gwastadedd yn uchel a hardd, A'r dyffryn blodeuog yn gwenu fel gardd; Y bugail a'i braidd a orweddant ynghyd. Yn ddieithriaid i gynnwrf a ffwdan y byd; Mewn hawddfyd a blodau cânt wynfyd bob awr. A'u dyddiau a rifir gan geiliog y wawr. A'u horiau diweddaf fydd beraidd eu sawr; I'r Haf rhoed pob dyn, &c. MARY DEAR. (HEDYDD LON.) Air - "Mentra Gwen.” In Vaenor’s peaceful glade, Mary dear, Mary dear, The rose begins to fade, Mary dear; The bloom thy hand should gather, While lasts the summer weather, Behold it ’gins to wither, Mary dear, Mary dear.

(delwedd J4258) (tudalen 008)	8 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. The blackbird on the spray. Mary dear. Mary dear, Doth chant his farewell lay. Mary dear. And thou who lov'dst to listen. Ere meadows cease to glisten To hear him wilt not hasten. Mary dear. Mary dear. The lay that greets not thee. Mary dear, Mary dear, Can that have charms for me? Mary dear. Fair objects thou'lt not reckon. To me howe'er thy beckon; This heart how can they quicken? Mary dear. Mary dear. Ere Summer's farewell lay. Mary dear, Mary dear, And bloom have past away. Mary dear. Where hill and glen are fairest. Of nature's gems thou rarest. O hear the praise thou sharest. Mary dear, Mary dear. 'Rwy'n disgwyl am y dydd. Hedydd lon, hedydd lon, O ddwyfron galon rydd; Hedydd lon. A phan y daw mi ganaf, A thithau am yr uwchaf. Yn llawen i'r cynhauaf. Hedydd lon, hedydd lon. Mae'r gweiriau ar y llawr. Hedydd lon, hedydd lon, Paham nas ceni 'nawr? Hedydd lon. Ai'th gywion hach a laddwyd. A'th nyth gan ddyn wasgarwyd. A'th fron gan hiraeth dorwyd? Hedydd lon, hedydd lon. Os galar ddaw i ti. Hedydd lon, hedydd lon, I ddyn pa sail o'i fri? Hedydd lon. Os gofid ddal mewn gaf'el. Un esgyn fry mor uchel? B'le ffy'r ymdeithydd isel? Hedydd lon, hedydd lon. OCHNEIDIAU BRWD. Duet: - “Cwynfan Serch,” Composed by J.T. Where blooms the sweetest rose of June, As if 'twould bloom for ever more? Where sings the thrush her sweetest tune, And larks are earliest seen to soar? Where did my passion spend its sighs, As,

(delwedd J4259) (tudalen 009)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 9 roses waste their odours sweet; And kindle by my fair one's eyes, In fields where we no more shall meet? O hours of pleasure! how could grief Spring from a source so sweet and pure? Could joy's fair sunshine, tho' so brief. Be follow'd by so dark a show'r: Alas! that youth should taste of love. That leaves such aching dreams behind; And seek for comfort as a dove. The wheat that's scatter'd with the wind. Sing on sweet bird, for all things change. As notes in thy unstudied strain; Each day and hour brings something strange. And pleasure's ever link'd with pain: My love Is far, my hope is fled, And Towy’s banks I seek no more; But wonder as among the dead, And live to know that life is o'er. Bless’d be those dewy haunts so green, Where early love an Eden found; Bless’d be the clouds at noon that screen, From parching sun that fairy ground; Bless’d be the lovers on those banks, And blessed be all that once bless’d me; And O! kind heaven, accept my thanks, For her I'm doom'd no more to see. Ochneidiau brwd o'm calon fach, A rifant oriau pan bwy'i mhell; I'm henaid trist 'does enyd iach, Wrth gofio'r amser gynt fu well: Y glenydd a adawais draw, Sy'n galw 'nol fy'm serch a'm bryd; Ond mwy na dim disglaerwen law Y ferch a bia’m calon glyd. Fe newid dail y coed eu lliw, A'r glaswellt îr a dro'nt yn wyn; Hoff air y gog a ffy o'm clyw, Ac odlau'r adar ant yn brin; Ond er diflaniad pob peth mwyn, Gan haf daw 'nol i loni’n tir, Ond mwy parhaus yw'm galar gw^yn, Na holl dymorau'y flwyddyn hir. Pa bryd dirwyna'r oriau maith I ben, a'n dwg ni'n dau ynghyd; Ca hiraeth ganfod pen ei daith, A chariad ddechreu newydd fyd: Nid oes un cartref im' i'w gael Ond rhwng dy freichiau gwynion di; Na goleu clir nod dan dy ael, A ddengys b’le mae nef I mi. GALARGWYN UN AR OL El GARIAD. Mesur — “Yr hen amser gynt.” Mae f' enaid trist yn treulio'r dydd Mewn galar trwm a phoen, A'r nos mae dagrau ar fy ngrudd, Fel gwlith ar wlan yr oen: Mae nghariad fach ar waeled bedd, O! dodwyd f' anwyl ferch I oeri yn y ddaear ddu, Ond byth ni oera'm serch. Tydi yn fwy na gwres yr haf. Na ffrwythau hydref llawn; Neu feddyginiaeth pan b'wy'n glaf. A geisiais fore a nawn. Ond mwy fy llygaid pwlu wnant, A'm clustiau gyll eu clyw; Aeth pob hyfrydwch genyt ti, I'r bedd o dir y byw. Cymhellaf mwy yr adar man I alaru yn mhob llwyn. A'r ëos ddysg fy ngalar gan Pan wylwyf ar y brwyn; Ar lan y nentydd ganol nos. Yn nghwmp'ni'th ysbryd gwyn. Dirwynir fynu oriau'm hoes. Trist oriau'r bywyd hyn.

(delwedd J4260) (tudalen 010)	10 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. CLOD Y FENNI. (SONG TO CAMBRIA.) Tôn - "Bardd yn ei Awen.” (“The Inspired Bard.”) Air. Alto. Tenor Bass. Harddaf dref uwch harddaf ddôl, Y dyffryn gynnwys yn ei gôl Bob hudol beth fwynhawn O eithafoedd Cymru lân, I’th gol ymdynnant meib y gân; A mawrion Ewrop frwd neshan’ i wrando gyngan gu; Fal dilyna’r nentydd Wysg O! ri’r cerddorion Fenni enwir mwy gan fyd Yn dref y bardd, mor deg dy bryd Ar galon dwym-fryd dawn! Land of estrades, dells and hills, Where heav’n its balmiest dews distils, Thy lay wilt thou forsake? Where should instrument and song Be heard if not those hills among, That oft’nest dar’d and fought the wrong, And oft’nest did prevail? Where, O Cambria, but in thee Should Truth and Bards of Land of forests, rocks and streams, Where bards have dreamt prophetic dreams, O bid thy harp awake.

(delwedd J4261) (tudalen 011)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 11 ri’r cerddorion at dy rwysg A ’marllwys gyda mi! Truth and Bards of Truth be free As thy own mountain gale? Gymro, mwy, pa raid o'th gell, I grybwyll bri Parnasus* bell? Neu 'serifell ddawnus Gryw?Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. Scyrid a'r Eryri draw Dan nef pa fanau gwell i'r NawY CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. * Fyfyriaw ac i fyw? Mwy am Helicon* a'i ddwr Oes dyn a wna fabanaidd stwr? Y ffrwd a lona galon gwr, A'r dwndwr huda'i dân; Tra b'o Wysg yn gwneyd ei thro Am frasaf ddolau'r araul fro, Uwch hòno bydd ei chân. Mwy i fardd y fro a'r dre' Y’nt well na'i enedigol le, O wele'u heuraidd wawr! Fel y diliau mêl neu'r gwin Y blas-red fydd ar ddawnus fin O’u henwi'n unrhyw awr: Hwnw dystio yn ei fyw Ei serch at finion lle mor wiw, Yn wyneb angau ereill glyw Y cyfryw'n dweyd mewn cân: O! os marw gaf mewn hedd Er mwyn fy ysbryd boed fy medd Wrth annedd cerdd â'i than. Iaith fy Nhad, os dydd sy'n dod I'th gladdu di, a fydd i'th glod Heb ddwys-nôd fyn'd i dda'r? Who beholds thy naked heights, And then forgets who for their rights Their keenest blasts endur'd? Who doth hear thy cataract's roar, And them despise who like it tore Their way whene'er immur'd? Whilst the eagle seeks the cloud, Of thee what Cambrian is not proud, Whose fathers' blood so often flow'd For her he deem'd so near? Whilst a stream doth lave thy meads, Shall we forget to sing the deeds That sav'd a land so dear? Thee whose soil the great and good Have made so sacred with their blood, O do we ask in vain? Shall there not be good and great, For Wales to think, for Wales to meet, And keep her fame from stain? Where the patriot hath his tomb, Shall not his virtues’ latest bloom, And ever raise to seek his doom Embalmers of his name? What son of thine thy air inhales, Whose good is not the good of Wales - Whose fame is not her fame? We who love our father land Have love for him that doth command, And him that doth obey; Parnasus a Helicon - dau fynydd tra enwog am ei nawdd i awenyddion. - 0 Helicon tarddai y ffrwd Hippoctene. Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. Greete. Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. Bu I Homer gerddber gynt, Awenyddion naw oeddynt.” – GRO. OWEN.

(delwedd J4262) (tudalen 012)	12 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL Na, na, bydd rhai mewn co' I gadw'th fri, a’r dre' a’r fro Sy'n cwyno am eu câr: Yn yr ardal deca’I gwedd Dros fyth boed hoffwyr beirdd a hedd Yn gwasgar blodau dros y bedd Lle gorwedd bardd a’i gân; A'r llaw wasgaro dros y bardd, Dy fedrodd dithau gwna mor hardd, A blodau’r my^gdardd mân. Love that hourly doth embrace In kin and neighbour all the race That own'd her ancient sway; We who bid our country speed Have hearts to honour ev'ry deed That raises worth or succours need Within her limits fair; And affection for the strain That mourn’d for Cambria's heroes slain, Or bade them glory share. GOLWG AR DY GYFAILL. Tôn. - Toriad y Dydd. Pan b'wyf ar daith flinedig, Yn Ilibyn ar brydnawn, 'Nol croesi gwlad fynyddig, Trwy ddyfnder pridd a mawn; Pan byddo careg filldir, Yn well na delw saint, A chanllath dros borfeldir Fel dwfr oer mewn haint; Beth wna i gronfa'r gaIon I dori'n ffrydiau rhwydd, Fel canfod ty^ rhyw gyfaill cu, Yn codi'n llon i'm gwydd? Mi deimlaf yr awelon, Fel newydd am ryw lwydd, Can's acw draw fe egyr llaw, Na chaua'r ucha’i swydd. Nid yw gwynebau dynion, Ond brau fel llestri pridd, Fo'n gwisgo lluniau oerion, Heb werth ein cred na'n ffydd; A chyfarch â theg eiriau, Beth y’nt, a d'weyd y gwir, Ond clych i daro'r oriau, I’r ffol wrandawo' u cur? A thai er fy nghysgodi, Rhag oerni, gwynt, a gwlaw, Heb gyflawm dâl, gwell i mi wâl Y llew yn Affric draw; Ond pe b'ai lifrau tlodi l'w gwel'd o'm gwddf i'm llaw, Mi wn am fwrdd lle beiddiaf gwrdd A'r decaf dorth heb fraw.

(delwedd J4263) (tudalen 013)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 13 Mae llwyn yn ngardd fy nghyfaill Yn dew fel mwdwl crwn; Nid hawdd i berchen asgell Wneyd ffordd i ganol hwn; Ond wedi cael ei ganol, Pob 'deryn, diogel fydd, Rhag ciryll lygad manol, A'i galon fach yn rhydd; A d'wedaf am ei berchen, Er nad eir mewn trwy rith, I’w fynwes glau, mewn dydd neu ddau, A gwneuthur yno nyth; Ond ni bydd aches ochain Gan neb, dan Iwyth el bwn, A gaff roi’i bwys ar fynwes lwys Y cyfaill ffyddlon hwn. TORIAD Y DYDD. -- (Ar yr un Dôn.) Y llwyni ddônt i'm golwg Lle cysgai'r adar man, A'r gwawl a'u gwna mor amlwg Glodforir yn eu can: 'Does 'deryn egyr lygad, Na egyr hefyd big, I dystio'r hyfryd deimlad A'i ceidw ar ei frig: Ond uwch na brig y dderwen, Yn uwch na thalaf wŷdd, A thyrau tref, Mi glywaf lef, - Tryloewlef ysbryd rhydd: Yr hedydd yn ei elfen O'i gwynias awen sydd Yn deffro gwlad, I uno'n fad Ei chlod i doriad dydd! Cyn torri borau newyn, Cyn 'mofyn dim o'u bwyd, Na drachtio'r disglaer wlithyn, Na boddio unrhyw nwyd: I atteb cân yr hedydd Trwy'r coedydd myrdd sy'n gwau, Nes delo'r haul ysplenydd I loni'r moelydd mau; Y gwlithyn per wreichiona Dan lewyrch ter ei rudd, Nid harddach yw Na llygad byw Y 'deryn siw-fryd sydd Yn datgan yr argoelion Enyna'i ffraethlon ffydd, Mewn haulwen fad, Oreura'n gwlad, Nol hyber doriad dydd. Mwyn ana'l yr anifail, Ar sâl ddifaniad sêr, O'r gwely glas a'i arddel Sy'n codi'n aberth pêr, A'r blodau wasgwyd neithiwr Dan wiw bwys ych ac o'n, I ffroen boreuaf rodiwr Eu gwerthfawr 'roglau rhô'n', Pob lloches glyd ddatguddir, Mewn doldir, gallt, a gwy^dd, A'r carwr â'd Ar ddolau mad Rai olion tra'd rhy rydd, A chyn cyrhaedda'i artref Rhwng hylef dyllau'r gwydd, O’i auraidd byst Rhydd haulwen dyst, Anathrist iawn o ddydd. Os llawen yw'r aderyn, Boed lawen ych ac oen, A gwinged pob pryfedyn, Arwyddiad bron ddi boen, A llawen byddwyf finnau Dan frigau'r coedydd cain, I ganu croesaw'r borau, Tra'i ddorau draw ar daen: Tra trefig ferch yn cysgu A'r glystog dan ei grudd, Mae un gerllaw Gan fardd a ddaw I roesaw'r tymor rhydd; A phan y del caiff syllu, Ar beth tebycaf sydd, I'w gwên ddi frad: - Y gwridiad mâd A ganlyn doriad dydd.

(delwedd J4264) (tudalen 014)	14 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. COF AM BARCH A FU. Ton — Dros yr Afon. Rather Slow. Am fod y coed mor deg yr haf, 'Does neb y gauaf genfydd, Na thegwch prenau Ilyfna’u crwyn, Na mwynder llwyni mânwydd: Am i mi weled byd mor dda 'Does dim a'm llona finnau; Y bri fu gynt fel deiliog haf Wna 'nawr fy oeraf oriau. From Aberaeron's neigh'bring height A cot o'erlooks the ocean; And on its hearth is heard each night The voice of meek devotion; There prays a father for his son Who ploughs the roaring billow, There mother too the prayer doth con, Upon her resting pillow. Y cof am ie'nctid wna mor drwm Yr henaint plwm a'i oerni, A chof am gywaeth gaed i'w drin Wna cynddrwg fin y t’lodi; Y clod a fu fel blagur gwyn I mi cyn hyn yn offrwm, Mor ddiflas gwna'r resymol gred Wy'n glywed 'n ol fy nghodwm. Dan lwyni'r perthi brig-noeth draw Tan wylaw af i gwyno, Ni welaf 'nawr ond prenau mud A mi i gyd ymdeimlo: Ond ow! pan ddel y gwanwyn brith A minau byth mewn t'lodi, Fel pob peth arall yn ei fri Pob llwyn wna'm diarddelu. Mor hael a’r rhos o'n 'roglau per Bu'm i o'r llawnder feddwn: Yn waeth ei wedd na'r drysni mo’l Mae heddyw'r ffôl a’I fwrdwn. Yr haf pan ddel i'r coed a ddyg O bob rhyw big ganmoliaeth, A mi heb ddalen o'm hen glod A gofiaf dafod gweniaeth. 'Neath willow branches near the door A maiden fair and healthy, Before the nightly prayer's o'er Doth creep with footsteps stealthy: And would you know what brings her there A list'ner 'neath the willows? A wish to join the parent's pray'r For him that ploughs the billows. If e'er that youth shall see his home A mother fond will tell him What vespers did avert his doom When danger did assail him: But if a heart-breath'd wish avails A maiden's breathings paler, Where'er he lands, where'er he sails, Assist to save the Sailor. When Seamen brave are far on sea With perils dark surrounded, What marvel if they b end the knee With heart and head confounded, But ev'ry hour for them on land Blest orisons are utter'd, And the wither'd and the lily hand Are rais'd with that they've mutter'd.

(delwedd J4265) (tudalen 015)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. 15 FROM BRECON'S HIGH BEACONS. Ton - Cader Idris (Jenny Jones.) Moderato. From Brecon’s beacons the snow is fast melting, And Taf’s angry torrent is swelling apace, As show'r after show’r oe’r the dark hills come pelting, Around him the peasant no landmark can trace: The cot of my dear one stands close by that river, And I through the tempest must plod as I can, From danger the last that I love to deliver, Or smile at her safety beneath the tall van; Os aelwyd fy mwthyn gan draul sy'n anwastad, Ai hyn a wna im' wgu tra chofiwyf pwy rai Ddaw arni bob hwyrddydd i dori'r mân siarad, Wna'n nyfnder gauaf eu hirnos yn llai? Os crwn dwIl y cliced bob blwyddyn helaetha, Am hyny a dybiaf bod hwn ryw beth gwaeth! Y traul wnaeth ei olwg i ryw radd er gwaetha’, A wyddoch mai bysedd rhai anwyl a'i gwnaeth! My fair one is brave and full oft from her dwelling,. To rescue her cattle and lambkins she hies, And when the hoarse stream o'er its dark shores is swelling Too oft she forgets her own safety to prize; O now as I love her to share of her danger, What is there so fitting the love I profess, And hear her sweet breath with her kine's by the manger, Where oft'nest I've waited her form to caress! My Nancy tho' fam'd for her wit and her beauty, Of beauty and all its warm praises think less, Than the love of those parents who taught her what's duty And prizes their good word 'bove tinsel and dress; No youth she declares in this world shall possess her Who knows not some hardships and at them can smile, Then who but the man she permits to caress her, Should seek her while danger her home doth assail? Then rise angry Taf, as I ken thy swift swelling, Love swells in the heart that has plighted its vow: As quick as the wind shall I fly to that dwelling, Where all that I love is endanger'd e'en now: As bold as the flood and as swift as the tempest To wrestle with both let me fly unto thee, In thy stead should I meet ev'ry peril thou temptest; Than safety itself it were sweeter to me. Un 'stafell a feddaf ac ynddi rhaid dangos Llawenydd a blinder, a gwenau a gwg, Ac os bydd awr wgus rhai'r tegwch wnant aros, Mor rhwydded a'r gwynt, a o'm aelwyd a'i mwg; A mynych ce's i a chyfeillion f'ai'n agos, 'Nol elai'r llwyd gaddug gymylau fy nhân, Wel'd tristwch'n ei dilyn a bychan iawn achos, Yn rho’i i ni'r tes a siriolai ein grân. Mae clo ar fy myrddrws, ond onest im' addef, Anfynych y cofiaf cyn cysgwyf ei gloi; Os rhydu mae'r allwedd nid felly y tangnef A ddena i'm aelwyd wyr hoff i grynhoi; Os da ydyw'r cauad ddyfeiswyd i'r annedd, Mil gwell y g’nabyddiaeth wna'n ddiwerth y clo; Rhai gadwant allweddau'u calonau, ai rhyfedd Anghofiant i allwedd eu drysau ro'i tro? Drws egyr i gyfaill heb guro pan delo, A ffenestr roesawo belydrau yr haul, Yr aelwyd f'o traed rhai cyfeillgar yn dreulio, Os caf, nid yn fynych och'neidiaf am fael; Ychydig i ro'i, ac ychydig droi heibio Rhag damwain a erys bob dyn dan y nef; Ond cyfoeth nid caled i mi yw bod hebddo, Os ce's i'r boddlonrwydd a leinw ei le.

(delwedd J4266) (tudalen 016)	16 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. HAFREN. Adante. Thou deep flowing stream whose meandrings embrace, More meads than the ken of the eagle can trace, To tribes whose mix’d gore did thy waters erst dye, How sweet in thy peace - making windings to lie, Where nought that is known gives a tinge to thy wave, Save the red soil that nourishes all it doth lave. Ti afon drom rediad gofleidi a'th lli, Mwy llenyrch na roddai trem eryr eu rhif, l'r ddwy blaid a'th liwient di gynt a’u brwd wa’d, Mor hyfryd dy wedd yn cofleidio dwy wlad, Heb wryd yn dy don ond a wneir gan y pridd, Achlesa dy ddol ac ireiddio dy wydd. By the shores where of old glist’ning hedges of spears Fill’d shepherd and flock with the same chilling fears; Where warsteeds with nostrils wide steaming afar, In answer did neigh to the trumpet of war; What see we now move the tall willows among But the swain and the team he awakes with a song. That stream which reflected so oft from its breast Hath shown to the gloomy brow'd warrior his crest, When Saxon and Cambrian each thirsting for blood Of their wrath made a picture of Severn's vext flood, How sweet to reflect that his waves or his shore No feud shall e'er dye with the proudest blood more. Evermore when the crops of thy meadows are ripe, Instead of that weapon the warrior did gripe Bright sickles and scythes thy mild waters shall cross, To save for man's sust'nance what none turns to loss; And the lover at nightfall o'er Severn shall roam With a tale for a sweetheart more fair than its foam. Go harpist wherever thou listest and play To the son of the Saxon thy dear native lay, In England the strain that's so old and so dear With thy guerdon will gain thee a far costlier tear, For know while the Severn doth lave his dark shore, Who met there as foes will be foes never more. Ar finion lle gynt bu tywyniad eirf berth Yn difeddu y bugail a'i ddefaid o'u nerth; A'r cadfarch o ffroenau amlygai eu tarth, Yn atteb yr udgorn fygythiai bob parth, 'Does 'nawr ond dôf 'nifel a dyn ar dy lan, Yn gweithio wrth ganiad dan frig helyg plan. Ti welwyd mor fynych gan Gymro a Sais Yn taflu adluniad o'i helm-grib a'i hath; Mor hyfryd dy ganfod 'nol oesoedd o gâs Yn tystio rhwng dolau feithrini mor las, Na welir byth mwyach dy faesydd na'th don Yn wridiog drwy frwydrau y wiw Ynys hon. Byth mwyach pan aeddfed b'o cynnyrch y ma's, Yn lle'r erfyn miniog ddifodai bob tras; Y bladur a'r cryman hy groesant dy ffrwd Yn brydlawn gynorthwy i dori'th dew gnwd; A'r carwr yr hwyrnos heb fraw dan ei fron Dros Hafren a â am un harddach na'i thon. Dos gerddor a'th delyn yn hy' yn dy law Dros Hafren, a tharo'r ben donau'r tu draw; Yn Lloegr cei 'nawr gyda thal am waith hardd Yn wobrwy ddrud deigryn am Gymru a'i bardd; Canys mwyach tra golcho hen Hafren ei glan Rhwng Lloegr a Chymru bydd hedd yn mhob man.

(delwedd J4267) (tudalen 017)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 17 BANKS OF USK. Composed by J. T. Rather and with expression. Where I would earliest gladliest run The infant spring to meet, Or best embrace with rising sun Young Summer's rosy feet; There — there with rapture greater yet, At dawn, or noon, or dusk, Mi glywa'r fronfraith ar ei phren, A'i hawen ar ddihun, a’r mwyalch ettyb nerth ei ben Mewn mwynen* waith ei min; A'r gôg yn brydlawn yn eu plith, Bydd fendith gerdd I Fai, I'd meet thee Jane as I have met Amid the Banks of Usk. A phob aderyn ‘nol ei rith Uwch gwyrdd-dô’I nyth sy’n gwau. *Melody. Where Summer ever loathe to part With deep-wrung sad farewell, Doth leave the red drops of his heart On ev'ry glade and dell; His bright days I would spend with thee ’Till nuts dropt from the husk; His bloom to scent and hear his glee Amid the Banks of Usk. When winter hoary came at last, And saw from heath-clad height A vale his nipping breath had past Still blooming in his sight, There should he see my Jane and me At life's endearing task, By streams unfrozen move as free Beneath the Banks of Usk. With thee, my fairest, let me dwell Where fairest bill and mead, And boldest height and coolest dell The mind with wonder feed.— With thee the wintry tempest brave, Or scent the summer's musk, Till life is past, then in one grave Lie 'mid the Banks of Usk. Mor Iwysfyw 'r gerdd, mor hoenwiw'r fref A ganmol Nef am nawdd! A mado 'nawr ii dwndwr tref Ddidangnef beth mor hawdd? A ganmol Nef am nawdd ! A mado 'nawr â dwndwr tref Ddidangnef beth mor hawdd? Ond ow! fy Henwlad, d'wed im' b’le Mae'r cathlau glywsit gynt Gan was a morwyn gylch eu tre' Lon hwythau'n brawf o'u hynt? Ai teg fod e' wna'r maes mor hardd, A Ilwyni gardd mor Ilad, Heb fedru gair o waith y bardd A gynal harddlun gwlad? Ai teg fod ef arlwya'r ddol I’r oen a'r ebol rhydd, Yn magu'r prudd der yn ei gof, Mor rhwygol brawf i'w rudd? Gantorion gwy^dd, eich cerdd boed fud Nes del pob astud was Fel gynt i deimlo gwerth yr hud Cyn rhoddo'r yd i'r ma's; Os min y gweithiwr gyll ei gân 0 f' anian beth all fod I'm mwy o werth drwy'r Ilanerch werdd, Er amled cerddi'r co'd?

(delwedd J4268) (tudalen 018)	18 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. THE NORMAN HORSE SHOE, (Y BEDOL NORMANAIDD). Words by Sir Walter Scott, Translated by J. T. Air - Glamorganshire March. Red glows the forge in Striguil's bounds, And hammers din, and anvil sounds, And armourers, with iron toil, Barb many a steed for battle's broil, Foul fall the hand which bends the steel Around the couser’s thundering heel, That Ar finion Strygyll gwreichion fyrdd, a therfysg poeth a th’rawiad gyrdd, Gyhoeddant pwy sy’n gwisgo tra’d Y merich carlamawg at y gad. Yn boeth bo'r llaw a blygo'r dur O gylch carn sy’n bygwth cur, A

(delwedd J4269) (tudalen 019)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 19 e'er shall dint a sable wound On fair Glamorgan’s velvet ground. rhwygiad bro Morganwg deg, A'r Norman caffed 'nol el reg. From Chepstow's towers. ere dawn of morn, Was heard afar the bugle horn; And forth in handed pomp and pride, Stout Clare and fiery Nevile ride. They swore their banners broad should gleam, In crimson light on Rymney's stream; They vowed Caerphilly's sod should feel The Norman charger's spurning heel. And sooth they swore — the sun arose, And Rymney's wave with crImson glows; For Clare's red banner floating wide, Roll’d down the stream to Severn's tide! And sooth they vowed — the trampled green Showed where hot Neville's charge had been; In every sable hoot-tramp stood A Norman horseman's curdling blood! Old Chepstow's brides may curse the toll That armed stout Clare for Cambrian broil; TheIr orphans long the art may rue. For Neville's war-horse forg'd the shoe. No more the stamp of armed steed Shall dint Glamorgan's velvet mead; Nor trace be there, in early spring, Save of the fairies' emerald ring. O dw^r Casgwent, cyn toriad dydd, Yr udgorn ei fygythiad rhydd, Ac allan try mewn dirfawr rhwysg Neville a Chlâr, a'u trem dros Wysg: Eu twng oedd gwelit er ein braw Eu baner goch ar Rymny draw, A thelmlai hen Gaerphili garn Y march Normanaidd yn ei sarn. A gwir eu twng — can’s nesaf ddydd Ddangosai draw eu baner rudd, Coch faner Clâr, a chwifiai hon Nes lliwio’r frwd hyd Hafren don; A gwir eu llw — can's ar y ddol Y carn Normanaidd waeth ei ol, Ond beth orlenwai’r ffrwd ei lun Ond gwaed y Norman du ei hun.! Priodferch Gwent all waeo’r dydd Y tyngodd Clâr gwnae Gymru’n brudd; A'i phlant yn hir felldithia’r nerth Bedolodd gadfarch Neville serth: Carlamad anrhaith ganddynt hwy Ni rwyga fro Morganwg mwy; Ni welir yno wanwyn chweg Ond gleislon rodau’r tylwyth teg. Note.—The Norman Horse Shoe, Sir W. Scott informs us, “celebrates a supposed victory obtained by the Welsh over Clare, Earl of Striguil aud Pembroke, and Neville, Baron of Chepstow, Lord Marchers of Monmouthshire. Rymney is a stream which divides the Counties of Monmouth and Glamorgan. Caerphilly the scene of the supposed battle, is a vale upon its banks, dignified by the ruins of a very ancient castle."

(delwedd J4270) (tudalen 020)	20 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. LOVE'S LAMENT. Tune. — Ofer Alar (Unavailing Sorrow), by J.T. Thou sun that mak’st this world so fair, One who so glad as I to see The new-bor morn play with thy hair, Or wake the greenwood's minstrelsy? Who readier join’d the pinioned throng To sing thee welcome loud as theirs; Or made his matin last so long When earlier songs 'gan early cares? But now the bush and meadow green, And trees whose lays awake the glade, Who but myself would leave unseen As things for fools and children made? For all I hear and all I see, Too vain, too merry seem to me. Ye fields, whose verdure morn and eve, This eye unrapt could ne’er behold, Ye streams whose brink I ne'er could leave Till every wave its tale had told, What now but that my tongue did praise The eye of sorrow most offends, What but the greenwood's loudest lays Most hurt the soul that sorrow bends? And oh! the human face divine, What but the smile I can't return Makes me it shun, and steept in brine From all I know go out to mourn! For oh! that day I've lived to see When human mirth is nought for me. Ye happy, in the tone and dress That suits your mirth, that mirth enjoy: While I must seek the loneliness That least doth bleeding hearts annoy. Ti'r galon, gai o degwch gwlad, A gwenau hawddgar bob mwynhad, Pan drist ddynoethir dôl a bryn Beth fel tydi lyfrha pryd hyn? Ac os rhoir gwyneb cu dan bridd Beth fel tydi alara'r dydd? A'th gais gwynfanus dan bob llwyn Ar adar bro i uno'th gwyn? Ond dan y cwmwl dua'i wawr A dyfnaf rwyg hiraethlon awr, Beth gwedi'r cwbl a'th iacha Ond gwedd o'r fath a'th wnaeth yn gla'? Pen achos poen a phleser dyn Y fenyw luniaidd wrtho lyn. Ti'r ddynes feddu uwch dy rudd Siriolach gwawl na'r gwanwyn ddydd, Er gwelaf draw'r gymylog awr, Diflana'r tegwch folaf 'nawr;

(delwedd J4271) (tudalen 021)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 21 The star that hurts not sorrow's rye To me enough of light can give That grave to find, where she doth lie, For whose dear sake I wish’d to live; The yew-tree 'neath whose shade I'd sit I crave not daylight’s aid to dad, Nor lamp to guide my weary feet Where weeping love may speak his mind; Thou, night, that art for mourners made Oh, haste and wrap me In thy shade. Beth bery hyn ond glynu nes Y fron wrth fron weinydda’i lles? I’r beddrod cul os ai o’m blaen, Caed galar yn ei bryd ei gân; Ac os i weryd ar dy ol Dyg hyn un na all fyw o'th gôl, Esmwythach imi gwneir fy medd Gan serch at un mor gu ei gwedd, A thecach wrid y blodau Ilad Addurnant feddrod dau mor fad. CAN — GLENYDD AERON. BLUE-EY'D NANCY. Tune —Y Llwyn Iorwg (Ivy Bush), by J. T. Ble mae'r meibion nas dymunaat Bod o'u henwau hygar gofiant? Melus beth i bawb yw’r moliant Garant doethaf gwyr: Ond i mi o glod mae'n ddigon I rai hoff rhwng glennydd Aeron, Ddweyd pwy fu wrth fodd eu calon Cyn ei fyn'd a bron hiraethlon Arw dro i estron dir. Ar y dolau gynt dramwywn Cael fy enwi gan rai enwn, Onest dweyd yw'r peth ddymunwn Tra anadlwn air: Ie a'm cofio'n ddistaw distaw Gan un rodiai genyf law-law Dan yr helyg dyner wylaw Am nad ydym heddyw'n mudaw Lle mae'r groesaw teca' gair. Dolan Aeron gynta' ac ola' Lon dramwyais gan fy Martha, Dolau Aeron ynt serchoca' Im' ei [sic; = eu] coffa ar gân: Ye who put my voice to trial, Song you'll have and no denial, Then prepare to hear what's real As the noon-day light. 'Tis my love for blue-ey'd Nancy Only object of my fancy, You in turn if that doth suit ye Like myself, my praise the beauty That is worthiest in your sight. You who broke my musings of her, What expect you of a lover But her dear name to go over, While his voice doth bold?

(delwedd J4272) (tudalen 022)	22 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Dolau Aeron deg a’u llwyni, Os caf fi a hon briodi, Hwyr a borau gânt ein lloni Fel gwnaent gynt, y ddau fu'n caru Tan awgrymu ar eu grân. 'Nawr ni chaf and mewn breuddwydion Olwg ar fy ngeneth ffyddlon: A ddaw awr i lennydd Aeron Glywed etto'n dawn? Awr i’r llaw a selia'm Ilythyr Etto ddangos tegwch natur l'r un gawsai orau gysur Yn yr hyntoedd wnaem ar antur Dros y gweirdir mwyna gawn? For this bright chance to commend her Song as well my thanks shall render; While the heart in true love's fullness Thus may plead for lover's dullness, In all else that's ask'd or told. Had I freedom like the thrushes O how oft mid budding bushes, Like the bird would I my wishes Tell in ceaseless song. Had I wings like his to bear me From the spot where now you hear me Soon I'd fly like faithful wooer Where I might repeat unto her Words I sing my friends among. Y GELYNEN, (THE HOLLY). Pa ddyn o deimlad dan y ser Na wyr mor ber yw enwi Y gwyr ethola'i galon glyd i hyfryd gymdeithasu? Ond o'r dewisol rif, pa ddyn Fel cyfaill yn yr angen? Fal hwn rhwng dynion, rhwng y co'd Bydd ffurf a chlod Celynen. What feeling heart knows not how sweet To name the friends we've chosen. And hear what friendship can repeat When each its tongue may loosen. But e'en amongst the few elect, Who like the needful ally, As be 'mongst men — 'mongst trees erect Behold the dark green Holly. Rhag poethder Hâf pa fab ni w^yr Mor dda'r magwyrydd deiliog? A’r dwthwn hwn 'does pren na rydd Y cysgod sydd ddihalog? Ond pan ddyneso'r gauaf blin A'i rewllyd fin i ruo, Beth gynyg fel Celynen las Ei chlog i'r gwas a lecho? Y dydd b'o cnwd y dderwen gref Gan wyntoedd nef ar wasgar, A deiliog harddwch llawer gwig Yn wiwllyd, grig anhawddgar, 'Neath summer sun who hath not own'd The bliss of shady bowers? And then where is not shelter found From sun-beams or from showers! But when the wintry blast is nigh And swelling brooks run foully, To what can threaten'd shepherd fly Like thee, the dark green Holly? Yes, when the giant oak not keeps One leaf to tell its story, And forests bare in wither'd heaps Resign the summer's glory;

(delwedd J4273) (tudalen 023)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 23 Uwch cronfa'r IIi a'r Ilechau iâ A'r eira guddia'r darren, I’n hachub rhag y trymor dig Mor lonwiw brig Celynen. I grynllyd ddyn pan oero'i fron Os gwelwyd hon yn aden, Rhag bachau'r hebog, beth mor dda I fronfraith a mwyalchen! Ganiedydd gwy^dd pan ddel yr Haf O hyn gwna goffa'n Ilawen, A thra b'wyf dani d'wed o'th big Mor wiwlwys brig Celynen. Y beger gwael ga'dd gysgod hon, A'r bugail hylon alwad, A'r carwr ’rosai’n graff ei glust Am wiw dyst troed ei gariad; A'r ffowler glew, bu iddo'n wysg Rhag cenllysg blwng i noethbren, Yn nghyd dadganent gyda blas Ei chlod i’r las Gelynen. O'er torrents fierce, and treach’rous drift And brakes so melancholy, A head unscath'd, what tree doth lift As doth the dark green Holly? Yes, and where man from sleet and rain Has found the best of bushes, From talon'd hawk what shelter thine To blackbirds sweet and thrushes! Ye sylvan songsters in your lays This thing forget not wholly, And 'neath its boughs I'll join the praise, Ye sing the dark green Holly. Let beggarman that shelter found And shepherd lad as often, And lover waiting her foot's sound Whose heart his tale would soften, And fowler bold, that oft hath hid His head from tempest's volley, All sing its praise and be in need What they have found the Holly. Tune — Morfa Rhuddlan. Mournfully. Near where you stream and the breakers of ocean Meet and recede like contenders for life, Who can forget in sad Rhuddlan's commotion, How fatal to Cambria did prove the dread strife? E'en where fair Clwyd with the salt wave doth struggle, Hiding the shores as they mutually swell, Who shall confess it how red-beak'd the eagle When the defenders of Cambria fell?

(delwedd J4274) (tudalen 024)	24 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Land of the muses and mother of heroes. Oh! what a blight day was that to thy pride, When the white seagull on ocean's deep furrows Showed the stain'd breast that thy best blood had dyed! Oh! what an hour when the eagle of Snowdon Turn’d with remorse from the carnage it saw, And the gaunt wolf from the corses it trod on Slunk to his lair with a surfeited maw. Rider and steed that prest onward for battle Told not that surf where they heav'd the last sigh? Sword that its wearer did boast of its metal Went not its lustre with that of his eye ? Names that were destined to flourish in story Owns not yon marsh where their splendour was lost? Tells not the record of Rhuddlan the gory All that the rashness of valour hath cost? Yea that lov'd valley so famed for its beauty Owns not this day what wide roods of its soil Drank of the heart blood of warriors whose duty 'Twas to defend it from carnage and spoil? Yea that fair stream, by whose fairy meand'ring Minstrel and poet for ever would stray, Ever must tell them or settled or wand'ring Where saw their fathers the fatalest day. Where was no glory for him that did perish, Where was no wreath for a Cambrian brow, Where was no deed that remembrance would cherish Snatch'd from the slaughter that brought her so low, Must not the noblest of Cambria's nobles Own how their fathers like autumn leaves fell? Must not the land that prov'd braves: in troubles Own how a day its high stirrings did quell? Saxon, the battle thou madest so bloody Know on thy fame it shall leave such a blot; Thou when there's mention of Rhuddlan the Ruddy Oft'nest wilt wish that its name were forgot; Deep as the wound that thy hard heart hath given Sounds the sad strain that shall tell future years How that a nation, whose trust is in heaven, In heaven's good time can arise from its tears. GALAREB. Gwn beth yw meddu un harddwych ac anwyl, Gwn beth yw gobaith o'i meddu trwy'm hoes, Gwn beth yw gweled y fath yn fy ymyl Yn poeni, heb fodd genyf laesu ei loes : Gwn beth yw cuddio y gwyneb a'm swynai Gwn, â 'r oer bridd na fedd harddwch na lun, Hoelio dan estyll y fraich a'm cofleidiai, Rhoi'm colomen i orwedd lle nad awn fy hun! Tebyg fy nhynged fu’m i i blant Adda, Cariad gudd feddiant o'm calon yn gron, Ond o'r rhai garent nis credaf nad clafa Wyf dan y brathiad 'ro'dd angen i'm bron. Angen f’anwylyd, fy ngh'lomen, fy nheca', Angen pleserau y ddaear o'r bron, Angen pob 'deryn, hardd gerdd, a golygfa, F'ant im’ mor ddengar tra rhodiwn gan hon. Dyddiau o dristwch wy'n ganfod yn f'aros, Oriau anniddan fydd mwyach fy rhan; Galar a'm gwisgodd â mantell liw'r ddunos, Hon rhaid im' yspryd i wisgo 'mhob man: Ffrydiau llawenydd, tywyniad gorfoledd, Mwy pwy a'u sylwa yn egni fy iaith? Wared i ddyffryn distawrwydd mae 'nhuedd, Rhifo fy nagrau hyd fedd fydd fy ngwaith. B'le mewn gwerdd goedwig caf afael mewn 'deryn Gollodd ei gywion dan oer rew y nos? B'le rhwng y d'rysni caf oenig yn grwydryn A'i fref am y famaeth sy'n gelain mewn ffôs? B'le yn mhlith dynion caf gyffaill ddaw genyf I ddirgel anneddle i feithrin y rhai'n, Swm ein moesoldeb, a'n cyfraith a'n cyfrif Fydd magu'r hiraethlon ac enwi f'un gain. Unig yw'r llwybrau gyssegrwyd i alar, Bychan yw'r nifer a'u rhodiant yn hir, Pruddaidd gysgodau y'nt yno'n gyfeillgar, Dagrau yw'r gwlithoedd bereiddiant y tir: Yno mae blodau i hiraeth eu casglu, Hoffach eu 'roglau na cheinion yr hâf: Arnynt i wylo gwna tristwch ei gwely, A'r durtur a'i phlu wna obenydd y claf. Note. — History informs us that offa, in his treatment of the Britons who fell into his hands after the battle of Rhuddlan, was guilty of excessive cruelty in putting all to the sword without distinction of age or sex.

(delwedd J4275) (tudalen 025)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 25 FY NGWLAD. Air – Serch Hudol. Pwy pwy yw’r dyn â’r oeraidd fron, Na wna ei wlad yn destyn llon Myfyrdod calon dda; Y tir gyssegordd dagrau mam, Ddyhidlwyd drosto pan ca’I gam, Pa fryd na ennyn atton fflam Mewn goserch am y ga? Y wlad addef, a’r llanau cu, Lle aent ein tadau weddaidd lu, Wrth

(delwedd J4276) (tudalen 026)	26 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. sain y clych a’n galwant ni I lon addoli gynt; Hoff wlad y temlau wnaethant hwy, In’ (sic; = I’n) lwybrau atynt trwy bob plwy’, I’r manau mad lle cysgant hwy, Hen deidiau’r plwyf - lle’r ynt? Ti - ti fo'r brith dymmorau glân Yn amgylchynu ag un gân O wiw ddiddanus sain; Yr haf a'i wlithawg emau pur, Yr Hydref deg a'i heurwallt hir, Y gauaf iach a'r gwanwyn îr, Ar uchel dir a llain. A'u dwylaw'n gwlwm ar dy fron, Doent yn eu cylch o frig y don, Dan ddawnsio drosot, ynys lon, Gan fad awelon ne', Ac O na foed o’th fewn y dyn I'w derbyn ddaw heb gân ar fin, A'r goreu'i foes fo'r hardda'i lun I ganlyn gydag e'. Byth - byth bo'r gwres a'i foreu wlith, A'r cynnar wlaw yn dwyn i'n plith, Y fendith fo er lles; Come, come, and join the good old song, What warm hearts have preserv'd so long Shall ours allow to die? What made so many dim eyes shine Can that not, too, make lustrous mine, And rouse the heart that's giv'n to pine To aspirations high? It doth belong to sunny hours, Or such as saw the sun through show'rs, And would its gleam not brighten ours As well as by-gone days? The lips that harbour'd least of guile Have left it us to foster while The cares of life permit the smile That feeds on poet's lays. Who, who, but they whose feelings warm A thing so tender kept from harm So many seasons through,

(delwedd J4277) (tudalen 027)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 27 Yr y^ch a frefo caffed nant, A'r march sychedig dôro'i chwant. A bryniau'r haf fo'n las i ddant Diaddellau gant dan dês. Y gweithiwr gaffo, dan ei chwys, Y bara iach am isel bris. A'r adar mân fo'n chwilio'r ûs, Am wobr eu melus gân. A'r drws a geuir 'n erbyn tlawd. Byth na agoro chwaer na brawd. A gwader hwnw gan ei gnawd A wnelo wawd o'r gwan. So many summers, winters, springs, Without the aid of laws or kings Attest its virtue 'neath the stings Of every varying woe? Among the happy sons of toil It always fell on virgin soil, And with the plant they rear'd did smile On ev'ry fostering hand; And when the forest trees were bare The good old song its head did rear, Perfuming round the wintry air And cheering all the land. Doed-doed ar frys yr hyfryd ddydd, Mae'r da a'r doeth yn dweyd y bydd, A daw mewn hafddydd wawr: Pan wna cyfiawnder hardd ei thre' Lle byddo da'r debycca i'r ne', Pan ua fo teliwng mwy beb le Roi'r pen a wylai lawr; Pan wel y da yn mhob dyn frawd, Pan addef gwych nad yw ond cnawd, Pan na fo clo ar gist o flawd, A phawb i'r tlawd yn ffon, Pan bo'm fel teulu un ty'n byw, A'i allwedd loyw'n ngofal Duw, A neb ond halch yn gweld nad yw O'r cyfryw wneir yn llon, Tell, tell what cares it hath beguild How many a stern one made a child, How many a brow unbent? How many a wolf turn'd to a lamb, How many a storm turn'd to a calm, And dark misanthrope with its halm Oft sooth'd to sweet content? How many a worshipper of gold Of that he grasp'd relax his hold? How many bosoms' icy cold Warm'd into mirth and love? How many a hater of his race His kin and fellow made t'embrace? And loves renew'd, that else must cease, With dew-drops from above? Aed-aed ar gynydd goncwest bedd, A gwir fo mwy yr unig gledd Yn myddin rhinwedd lân; A thored lawr anialwch byd, Fal, lle oedd d'rysni tyfo'r y^d, A ffau y llew yn lloches glyd I'r ddafad fud fo hon, Lle chwythai nadredd seinied cân, Trwy'r darren gwridied rhosyn glän, A'r sychdir gan ffynonau mân, Newidied ran ar wen, A phan fo Prydain hardd ei phryd Wrth gadwyn serch yn dal y byd, Derbynied enw newydd drud Gan Awdwr byd a'i Ben. Ye, ye who potent herbs have seen, Shall poesy's own evergreen Your notice not engage, What, though physicians name it not, Nor labell'd glass say where 'tis got, Its virtues prove what drug is bought E'en with the poet's page. What clear'd the eye that could not see And bowels op'd of charity, What may't not do for you and me If to our hearts applied? What unprotected liv'd so long Must it not human life prolong, Then foster yet the good old song, That was our fathers pride. Note. -This air. which possesses the most genuine characteristics of a Welsh melody. is a great favourite among pennillion singers; but they generally sing them. after once commencing. to a portion of the second strain.It is a fact. much to be regretted. that the frequent hearing of pennillion singing. in which the most adroit in the art adapt the strain they chant to every variety of metre. has so confounded our modern poets. that they are at a loss which to deem inost appropriate for the songs they would write for such airs.

(delwedd J4278) (tudalen 028)	28 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. CHRISTMAS FEELINGS. This Song may be sung to “Blodau'r Gryg" - See page 1st. Lov'd Christmas with his feelings old, As pure and good as sterling gold, He's come again —in his season cold, Of snow, and sleet, and rain: His head unwreath'd with fresh blown flow'rs, His smiling rears, mid pelting showr's. And tapping early at our doors. Admittance free would gain. A name that's dear to Christendom, He bears from Norway e'en to Rome, And to old friends, their "KINGDOM COME," His advent long hath been. His path with evergreens we’ll strew: — Like his berries bright our cheeks shall glow, Whilst forth his carol sweet doth flow, Along the pavements clean. "O! in my groups young parents see, Their saplings fair place on the knee Of such as own the staid degree Of mothers' mothers now: The babes are claim`d by wrinkled arms, That fenced their parent's budding charms; And on their cheeks the old blood warms, While gleams the furrowed brow. When days are short, and candles burn, To help the moon to keep her turn; 'Tis weakness end to sit forlorn. Because the summer's far. The rays of friendship must supply, That light the sun doth now deny; Good fellowship's awaken'd eye Is winter's brightest star. Now—now, whilst friend his friend doth pledge. And comfort lines the table's edge; May ev'ry sentence prove a wedge To ope the niggard heart. Let ev'ry Christian's motto be, "The good that's mine, his too may't be, Who bows his head in poverty, And e'en a better part." There's nought in summer's lap that grows — There's nought so goodly on its boughs. As beauty's pledge — when winters snows Have whiten 'd hill and vale. And he whose heart hath charity Plucks fruit from an immortal tree, Whose leaf shall never blasted be By storm or nipping gale. The sharp-breath'd frost that warps the land, And blocks the streams from hill to strand; More widely opens Bounty's band, And thaws compassion's well. The storm whose howl awakens fear — Its loudness quickens Pity's ear, To know the voice of Want when near, And weigh the tale 'twould tell. The storm whose bowl awakens fear To help the moon to keep her turn; Its loudness quickens Pity's ear. 'Tis weakness sad to sit forlorn. To know the voice of Want when near. Because the summer's far. And weigh the tale 'twould tell. 28 Y GOFID DU. Air - Pa bryd y deui etto? (When wilt thou call again) Cyfarfod ydwyf beunydd A rhai rhwng coed a glenydd A dd'wedant, “O mor ddedwydd Gwnaeth Dafydd d’anian di.” A minau ar fy nhafod Ar unpeth wyf mor barod, Dan bwys ’does neb yn gwybod Ei ddyrnod ond myfi.

(delwedd J4279) (tudalen 029)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 29 Trwm meddwl am y dolur Gan fyrddiwn a addefir, Ond am y saethau guddir- O geirwir yw y gân: Mwy poenus yn't a Ilymion Na mil gant ffordd trwy gwynion, A gwaelach gwnant y galon Ry wirion maent yn wân. O d'wedwch beth yw'r gofid Wna dyn a dynes ymlid? Os rhagddo nef a'n gweryd: Gwir enbyd yw — ond gwir: — Pob un fag iddo'i hunan 'Rhyw ledrith bery gwynmfan Mwy hyll na dim oddiallan l'w sïon oernos hir. Nod symudo du ofidiau Wnant ddyfnion iawn och’neidiau, Fal llong don ormod bwysau Ar donau hâf-deg ddydd: Beth welir draw yn treiglo Ond llestryn gwan f’ai’n chwyddo Dan Iwyddlant brawf an soddo Sut les o’I lwytho sydd. Bob dydd wy’n gweled fwy-fwy Taw pwy sydd anmhlantadwy, 'Does neb na fag y mympwy A sugna fwy o'i wa’d Na phlant a'r holl drafferthon Wnant gilwg at ei galon: - Duw’n gwared rhag y duon Ellyllon diwellad! Y CERDDOR PENFELYN. Ar yr un Dôn. Er mwyned llais y delyn Dan ddwylo'r mab penfelyn Yn eistedd wrth ei elin Wedd serchog rhyw un sydd, Ac iddi gwell na danmau Fa’i clywed gair o’I enau Addefai’I wir syniadau Am aelau hon a’I grudd. Pan welir cant yn law-law Wrth seiniau’r tant yn mydaw A'u Ilygaid llon yn gwybiaw Am sylw’r lluaws gwâr; Hon yn mhob tro a wnelo Ond un peth mae'n obeithio; Bod e' sy’n chwareu’n cofio Bod yno’r ferch a’i car. Er nad oes merch o gwmpas Na addef pwy mor addas Yw delw'r delyn ber ias Rhwng breichiau'r glanwas hwn; Er hyn (mae’n anhawdd credu) Y glanaf o’r cwmpeini Pan bo’r bereiddia’n tynu Sy’n eiddigedu, gwn. Wel gwrando'r ferch serchog-lan, Pe cait ti'r mab penfelyn, Pa ddyben wnait o'r tennyn Sy'n enyn 'nawr dy sêl? El dori, neu ei gadw I fagu’r blinder hwnw A ddaw o garu'r gwryw Sy'n ddelw'r man Ile del? Note.-- This air is well known in many parts of Carmarthenshire, as well as Dros yr Afon (see page 14), and it may be safely asserted that both are now published for the first time. Both airs possess, in an eminent degree, the peculiarities of the real Welsh melody: - the easy alternation of the major and minor strains wherein no affected effort of the composer appears to have produced a note; but every transition seems purely accidental, and as spontaneous as that phrase which is most in keeping with the key announced. It would seem hardly credible that in parts of Cardiganshire, in whose very centre so talented a song writer as Daniel Ddu dwells, the Welsh airs are nearly forgot, and that young men at weddings, for want of something more appropriate, actually sing psalm tunes for their amusement. This is not yet the case in Carmarthenshire, but it is no extravagant assertion, that unless efforts were now made to preserve these melodies (of which I have written down from the singing of elderly men, no fewer than from forty to fifty), thirty years hence they would be totally forgot in other parts of the principality as well as Cardiganshire. Whatever may be the fate of our venerable language, our national airs, which are nearly as intelligible to the Hindoo as to the Welshman, need not share that fate, and if my wish could be heard, I would cry, “Long life to the old language and the airs to which its poetry has been sung."

(delwedd J4280) (tudalen 030)	30 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. MY FATHER'S ELBOW CHAIR. Composed by J.T. You've ask'd me when my heart was sad, Why dwelt on that my gaze; blackbird and thrush. Yet answer of ma never had, Though it oft came to my eyes; But could you feel as I have felt, Ere this you’d found ’twas there, I stood, or sat, or meekly knelt By a father’s elbow chair. 'Tis not the wood I prize, or the make Of that or his shining staff, But each from his hand did a polish take, That I ne'er can gaze at enough. Look at it once — look at it twice, And I care not who may stare, When I say that the part above all price Is that which shows most wear. For was it not the hand that seal'd His blessing on my head, That write it — that which hath appeal'd To heaven in my stead? Yes, yes, and there be't likewise known, Mine, too, hath worn its share, That met a thousand times his own Upon that elbow chair. There have I watch'd him in his sleep And all his features scann'd, There have I feign'd his breathing deep And measur'd hand with hand; There have I seen the house-dog vex'd And jealous of my care, When he dared not for my love come next My father's elbow chair. Time made me taller than that chair Which oft had prov'd my height, And time did turn my father's hair From raven black to white, I saw the change, and nothing said, For the will of God was there; But when they laid him with the dead I wept upon that chair. At her water colours grief is quick, And in that hallow'd frame She draws him pausing on his stick Before the flickering flame; And with his features comes the voice Which seems to say "Beware," "Lest that be made your baneful choice, I've censured from this chair." Since he Is gone our lot hath chang'd, And still may go for worse, For many from us are eatrang'd Who help'd to drain his purse; With much we have parted which the heart Doth find it hard to share, But heaven hath our vow, we ne'er will part With our father's elbow chair.

(delwedd J4281) (tudalen 031)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 31 EBW SIDE. Ton — Glan Ebw, by J. T. Down, down, O down where the Ebw doth murmur In music responsive to blackbird and thrush, When, when, O when shall I meet thee, my charmer, And list to the waters beneath the green bush? Where mirth, like the birds, hath long made its dwelling I know that my Mary their neighbour would be; Then near the green spots where the waters are welling Hand In hand by the Ebw I'd wander with thee. Why, why, O why is the winter so lasting And song days of cuckoo and sky-lark so few? Why is the bliss ev’ry heart deems worth tasting As transient as rain-bows, as passing as dew? Yet why, my dear Mary, if summers so vanish Before it hath left us its bliss we decline, And then for the good that our own hearts did banish 'Gainst heav'n and its bounty in sadness repine. There, there, O there where the dark mountains bound us And nought for a ceiling we see but the sky, And nought but the lambkins are skipping around ns And nought but its echoes to man's voice reply; It true love hath pleasures that end not in sorrow Down in yon valley I'll seek it with thee, If youth boasts a joy that may blush not to-morrow By Ebw's green margin the same let us see. Lawr, lawr, O lawr lle mae Ebw a'i dwndwr I fronfraith a mwyalch yn atteb drwy'r dydd, Pam, pam, O pam na ymweli à’th garwr Ddysgwylia am danat dan gysgod y gwydd? Lle dewis cantorion yr Hâf eu barosfa, Naturiol i tithau ymwybiaw gerllaw: Lle gwelir gan darddiant y donen yn lasa’, Mor hoff im’ b'ai eistedd a'm llaw yn dy law. Pam, pam, O pam mae y gauaf cyn feithed, A dyddiau caniadau a chog heb barhâd? Paham mae'r pleserau ynt werth im' eu gweled Fel enfys 'nol cawod, neu wlithen ar wlad t Ond er bod yr hafddydd mor gloi yn ymado, Mor lleied sy'n barod i'w brisio pan ddel: Pan hedo o'u golwg a'i tegwch yw beio Am fendith pan delo 'dos undyn a'i gwel? NOTE. — The author has taken care to annex his name to every air of his own composition, because he does not wish to palm them on the public as ancient melodies. Whatever beauties or detects these may exhibit, the praise or blame for such must attach to their author.

(delwedd J4282) (tudalen 032)	32 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. GLAN TOWY. HOPE FORLORN. Air – Glan Towy. Composed by J.T. Where Ystrad's green churchyard o'er dead ones is blooming My father and mother among them are laid; And there my three brothers, whose thoughts were on roaming With parents are sleeping the sleep of the dead; And there have I wish'd at the thought of the morrow That I might be with them as free from my sorrow ; And wer't not for Jemmy who sails the salt sea Ere this in my grave with my kin should I be. Yn iach i ti Dywy — yn iach i'r cysgodau Y sefais i tanynt i weled dy don, Yn iach i'r hoff nentydd arianber eu ffrydiau, Barablent hyfrydwch yr haf-ddydd i'm bron; Yn iach i chwi lwybrau lle mynych edrychais, Tra'r goedwig o bob tu’n deml hyfrydlais Am oliau y tra'd oent mor anwyl i mi, Nes delai mwy hoffais i g’roni fy mri But why should I live on, still sighing, still hoping, All for the young sailor that hopes not for me? O why from these eyes should the salt tears be dropping When nothing to comfort me comes from the sea? If he that I dream of is still ’mong the living He lives but to kill me perhaps with deceiving; Then on my cold pillow as well might I be As think of young Jemmy that sails the salt seas. If e'er he return to the home of his fathers I've one little cousin will show him my grave, And point out it may be the low shrub that withers O'er one deem'd too mad for a son of the wave; If when he beholds my poor grave he weep o'er it, That cousin shall say it appeaseth my spirit, And when what he feareth comes on him at sea That spirit in danger his guardian may be, Yn iach i ti Dowy; yn iach i'r blynyddau Oedd troion fy mywyd fel troiou dy ddwr; Pan meddwn bob haf-ddydd dy ddilyn trwy'r dolau Ac eistedd lle safet ar 'lennydd di stwr: Pryd hyny mi’th glywswn fel chwaer a siaradaur' A'm mynwes a dynai fad ystyr o'th donau, Ac yn absenoldeb rhai anwyl o'm tre, Per ddwndwr dy ffrydiad fyth lenwai ei lle, Bu imi gyfeillion ar finion hen Dowy, A’u lleisiau a'u hagwedd yn meddu'r fath hud, Y ’deryn distadlaf a'r lasfrig [sic: = ar] y llwyni F'ai'n ddigon a'i fin-gloch i'n galw ni 'nghyd: A phan deuai'r hwyr-ddydd a'r awr i ymad'el, Mor hawdded b'ai rhanu per 'roglaur baf awel, A rhanu glân feibion gynullwyd gan fryd, Sydd felus ei goffa yn mhob cwr o'r byd.

(delwedd J4283) (tudalen 033)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 33 GWYLIAU MEIBION GWALIA. Llwyn On. Daeth sain y telynau i'n plith fel y tonnau, ac oriau llawenydd dorasant o'r nen; Daeth gwledd mwyn galonau, sy'n dyn eu llinynau A roddwyd gan allwedd hawddgarwch mewn tôn, Pa beth ydyw'n bywyd ond tir cras a nychlyd, A chwalir gan boethwynt, a ysir gan wres, Mae hyfryd lais awen fel 'hedydd ar aden, I’r auraidd gymylau'n derchafu ei phen; Pob un sydd yn curo, mewn amser heb w^yro, Peroriaeth a swynodd bob gofid a pho'n; Nes delo cafodydd, a gwlithoedd llawenydd, Gan berwynt peroriaeth i daenu ei les, Caniadau sy'n toddi goll gaerau caledi, A thori'r cronfeydd sydd yn nghalon pob dyn, Nes byddo'n serchiadau yn rhedeg fel ffrydiau; Ar lechwedd y bryniau a chwarae'n gyttun; Rhyw hafaidd orfoledd sy'n cael ei lawn goledd, Nes ydym fel adar ar doriad y dydd, Yn dorf rhwng y manwydd yn enyn llawenydd, A phwy yn ein mwyniant 'n anfoddlon a fydd? O t'rewch y telynau — chwareued y tannau, Nes ysgwyd drwg nwydau o galon pob dyn; A chariad mawn meddiant, o awr ei gogoniant, Mewn lleisiau cydgordiawl a'n toddo bob un.

(delwedd J4284) (tudalen 034)	34 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. CYNON VALE. To the same Air. What I in the valley of Cynon did witness From memory's tablet it never will go;- The charm of those deeds that gave Cambria her greatness, In the days she was envied and fear¡d hy her foe. O'er Cynon's green meadows I've seen them as glowing, As berries that smile o'er the silver-ton'd rill, And as sure as that stream through its meadows is flowing, Those deeds in their beauty are glowing there still. Amid the wild mountains whose hawthorn or holly Through snow flakes beguileth the traveller's speed, I've met with the kindness that dares to be jolly When man of that kindness most feeleth the need. The welcome that erst the old poet did gladden, There still is beheld as 'tis sung in his lay: The welcome of father and mother and maiden, That ne'er to the worthy doth cease to say, “Stay." Beside thee lov'd Cynon where poets did flourish, Who spent but a day that afforded no proof, How master and man in their bosoms can cherish, The lays that could gladden their forefathers' roof? There close to the freshness of cornfield and garden The name of the poet for ever keeps fresh; For there is the song to be heard with its burden, That proves that the heart of Glan Cynon is flesh. 'Tis there I have sat and communed with the sober, Till either of the hours a reckoning could keep No better than drunkard--for neighbour with neighbour Got drunk on the gladness that knoweth no sleep. And there, If I live, I may yet prove how merry The heart may become with the friends that we love, When our ale and our liquor, our port and our sherry, Are sought but the words that our bosoms approve. O delyn, O delyn, hoff eurwawd offeryn, Pa fynwes na enyn dy dennyn o dân? Y sain sydd mor felus a denawl i'r dawnus, Gwna'n uniawn ddiesgus bob gwefus ddigan. Ar d’rawiad dy dannau fy nhynion wythienau, Effeithir fel hwythau, a’m geiriau i gyd, Mewn anghof o'm dolur a asiant i fesur; Ac enllib a'i bradwyr anghofir y'nghyd. O delyn y bryniau, pwy arddel dy dannau, Fel henwlad fy nhadau - a finnau wyf un, A'th gar fel y golau dywyna ar fryniau ’Nol mado’r cawodau wnant loriau’n ddilun. ’Nol ymladd ac ymlid os meddaist I’r dewrfryd, Y cordial wnant adfyd yn hyfryd fel ha’; Heb wadu ein teidau a’u hysig fynwesau, Bydd anwyl i ninau dy dônau a da. Rhag cynwr’ pob goror hyn goeliaf hyd elor 'Does bygwth na chyngor sel cerddor a chân, Beth welais mi' coelia a’m mynwes a'i honna Mae telyn hen Walia hir glyma' wyr glan: Lle t'rawir ei heurdant hen falais a thrachwant O'r golwg oer giliant; a mwyniant rhai mad, Fel haf des ar fryniau dan swyniad per seiniau, A hawlia'i fynydau ar loriau'r hen wlad. Trwy gyrau holl Gymru pen meddyg pob teulu Fo'r cerddor anwylgu a'i resi hardd rân; Ym mroydd sy henwlad na enwer hedd geidwad, Fel melus a difrad ddadgeiniad a'i gan. B'le bynag b'o cynwr' y tannau per ddwndwr A wnelont uwch ungwr wyn gyflwr o'r gwg, Ac os bydd rhaid rhyfel, hy delyn 'r ben genel Fydd etto werth arddel wrth fagnel a'i fwg.

(delwedd J4285) (tudalen 035)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 35 YR HEN WR. MEETING OF FRIENDS. Auld Lang Syne (yr Hen Amser Gynt). 'Rwy'n cofio'r dydd, wrth edrych ’nol, Pan bu’m yn llencyn bach, Pan na chyfrifwn ddim yn ffol A wnelai calon iach; Ond ’nawr a’m pwys ar ben fy ffon, Braidd gallaf roddi gwen, Wrth glywed tyst pob llafar lon, Fy mod i’n myn’d yn hen. Of the same goblet who should drink When grown to man's estate, But those who on the same well’s brink In childhood quaff’d elate? At the same banquet who should meet Like them whose voice of glee Did erst announce the feast they ate On plum and cherry tree? Mae'r llwybrau mwyn dramwyais gynt, Heb ofni colli 'nhroed, Yn rhoddi imi fynych hynt, Fod pob peth yn ei oed; Ond pa'm galaraf am y ddo’, Fel boncyff heb ei ddail, F'ai'n grwgnach yn yr awel dro, Am dyfiant hardd ei ail. Upon each other's backs ere now We've gone through brake and flood, And if a fall caus'd blood to flow How soon was stanch'd that bleed. Such helps as madcaps at a call Could give each other then, In virtue's name, I ask you all, Shall we refuse as men?

(delwedd J4286) (tudalen 036)	36 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Ni welaf mwy y tyllau wnaeth Fy sodlau yn y glas; Fel llwybrau nofiwr ar y traeth, Pob argraff dreuliwyd ma's; A rhwyg y bàr ar wndwn dir, Ni wel mwy goleu'r dydd; Ond pwy na wel, pe d'wedai'r gwir, Y cwysi sy'n fy ngrudd. Ond mae gan henddyn yntau fraint, Fel clopa aur i'w ffon, Myfyrdod yw'r gysurawl saint A dwyma'i oeraidd fron; Gall hon ehedeg 'nol yn mhell, Trwy Iwybrau'r amser gynt, A llanw’i chlôd â chofion gwell Na newydd sur o'r mint.. When erst we met on hill and dale, We us'd no phrase polite; For eyes did spare the tongue a tale It ne'er hath told so right. If Friendship's not an empty name, Some embers yet are here Of love that gave so bright a flame, Our latter days to cheer. If there be signs of wear and tear On monuments and rocks, No wonder Time is loath to spare Poor human cheeks and locks. Yet e'en through man's still changing form Such friendships have been seen, That Time, and ev'ry baffling storm, But caus'd to look more green. CYMELLIAD I’R MAESYDD. EVENING DEWS. Air — Evening Dews. Composed by J. T. Affetuoso Mae'r haul i’w orphwysfa yn araf yn myned, A'i gyrtens o borphor yn lledu o fry, Mae'r adar mewn hwyrawl ganiadau i'w clywed I'r maesydd yn annog cariadau fel ni; O dere fy Elen, mae'r gwlith ar y llwybrau Dy draed gant eu golchi à dagrau yr hwyr O dere f'anwylyd, mae'r blodau i'th odrau, Yn addaw distawrwydd seliedig fel cwyr. The sun to his couch of repose is declining, And the smile of his farewell empurples the sky, The song of the greenwood o'er scenes that are closing Tell lovers like us to the meadows to hie. O haste my dear Ellen, the dew-drop that fringes The eyelids of flowrets that close like thy own, All silence ensure us, while bosom exchanges With bosom the words that are true love's alone.

(delwedd J4287) (tudalen 037)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 37 Maes 'law y fwyalchen, a'i phig dan ei haden, A'r fronfraith a hepiant, yn mynwes y llwyn; Yr oen gyda'i fammaeth rydd heibio ei lefain, Pob llais a ddistawa, ar faes ac ar dwyn: Ond eto y gwyrdd-ddail mewn iraidd gusanau, I ni roddant amnaid yn ddistaw bob un, I wneyd â'n gwefusau yr un sain a hwythau, Tyr'd dithau f'anwylyd, tro ataf dy fin. Y gwenyn orphwysant yn awr yn eu llestri, A'r blodau a 'speiliwyd a gelant eu llun; A'r awr ddaeth i minnau i ymborthi o ddifri' Ar ddiliau dy enau, cyn cym'rwyf fy hûn; Mesura a'th gamrau y llwybrau gysegrwyd I ffyddlon gariadau wrth lewyrch y lloer; O dere fy Elen, a dadlaith fy anwyd, Can's yn dy gymundeb 'dall neb fod yn oer. Soon, soon with their pipes 'neath their folding wings bidden, The thrush and the blackbird in safety shall sleep; And close by their mothers the lambkins unbidden Shall lie in the silence of level and steep: Still, still shall the green leaves in sounds as of kisses Tell us of endearments, of them we might learn, Where every green bough seems to own what its its bliss is, My Ellen, O haste, and thy lips to me turn. The bees in their hive seek the rest that's so downy, And the flowrets they've rifled their beauty conceal, And I would but sip of thy ruby lips' honey, Ere the sleep that I shun not my eyelids doth seal. My Ellen approach, where thy footsteps shall measure The paths that are dedicate to true love's delight, Then in that communion I prize as a treasure, How soon shall I feel not the chill of the night. THE VILLAGE OAK. Composed by J. T. Behold where the tree of ages grew, Where sunbeam parch'd and tempest blew; As widely as stretch'd above its bough, Its root of strength was spread below; A thousand tempests o'er it pass'd, But stronger it prov'd from ev'ry blast; And the blackest cloud that ever it broke, But fell to nourish the village oak. A shade from heat, a shelter from show'r, It stood like a green and lofty tow'r; And many are they who can relate How good they found it, early end late; For the old man's seat when be told his tale, And the merry host’s when he aimed his ale, And the lover's post, who high things spoke; — They were all beneath that village oak.

(delwedd J4288) (tudalen 038)	38 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Its shade hath mark'd the circling hours, To cotters o'd upon their doors; Its top hath been the seat of song To many a bird that held It long; And the lad of daring hath sigh’d for the time When he might venture its height to climb, And would. if he durst, the gods invoke To help him up the village oak. But some have liv’d the world to tell How the tree of might one autumn fell: When mid the storm it had long defied, Above its head red lightnings plied, And tearing their way from branch to root, Its trunk of strength rent like a shoot; And of scores who made it in storm day a cloak, None ventur'd to rescue the village oak. And there It lay where once it stood, With Its glories scatter’d o'er many a rood, The long-rever'd, patriot tree, ‘Twill ever be dear to memory; For a village tale is seldom told. But the tow'ring tree, so strong and old, Comes in, with a wail for the thunder stroke, That brought so low the village oak. THE MAID OF DOL. Air - Difyrwch Gruffydd ap Cynan. (Griffith ap Cynan's Delight). Why looks the maid of Dôl so sad When her eye Is turn’d tow'rds Tivy's stream? ls’t not beside It loves the lad She names so oft In midnight dream? Has Tivy’s flood her lambkins drown'd, Or overflow'd her father’s field? Why seems the maid to dread the sound That rising stream doth nightly yield. The maid of Dôl hath lost no sheep; Nor to her fields have floods broke in, 'Tis not the storm robs her of sleep, Nor fear of loss from water's din: If he that woos her could but cross The stream that doth their homes divide, That would make up the oft mourn'd loss, Of sweetheart prating by her side. Now must he take a circuit long To reach the house of one so near, And cheer his heart with love sick song, Through lanes that nought but love can cheer. I rai mi wnaethum dda cyn hyn, A dalwyd 'nol i mi mewn drwg: I rai mi ddaliais ganwyll gynn, A'm cuddiant i â dudew fwg. Ac os mewn ing gofynais pay Fwriadai mayach les i ddyn; Ai rhyfedd dan siomedig glwy' Na welwn ond ei waethaf lun? Ond wrth wneyd Ilw (nid er fy nghlod) Na wnawn i mwy'r cymwynas wnes; Gwr na fanteisiais i erio'd Ddaeth ar ei dro i mi wneyd lles.

(delwedd J4289) (tudalen 039)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 39 And who can say, but frequent flood May love, as well as plants, destroy — Affection, whose o'er fragrant bud, Less proves the man than fickle boy? If lovers would but own their love, Some one might ferry lovers o'er: His guerdon fair, if not above He'd weekly get by Tivy's shore. Yet if young maidens all did know, They'd own that Tivy does but good; Proves he not better than a vow, The love that doth outlast his flood? Er na wnae'r galon a leshawn Ond duo daln fy mwriad gwell, Y du weithredwn fy nawn, Ennillodd frawd i mi o bell. O mwynch ni ofidiaf byth Am anniolchgarwch pell na char, Y da a wneir (os nid tan rith) Rhyw awr a brawf, ni syrth i'r dda’r; Y frawdol weithred fo o'r ne', Lle bu o les, er gwadir hi, Rhyw dymor, er nas gwn o b’le, Daw 'nol, — daw 'nol mewn da i mi. DUET. Air — Winifreda, or Old Sibyl. Moderate. Treble. Tenor. Where cot or Garden asks our care Our pride it is its toil to share, And hear it ask'd the country round, Where is so neat a dwelling found? In and out All shall find What we've wrought, And why our hearts can dote On a home so unrefin’d. Both. — Where cot or garden asks our care, Our pride it is its toil to share, And bear it ask'd the country round, Where is so neat a dwelling found? She. — In and out He. — All shall find, Y ddau. — Os eiddom fwthyn bach a'i ardd, Ein dewis waith f’o'u trwsio'n hardd; A'n tal ryw dro fydd melus glod Am wal nad oes ei hail yn bod. Hi. — Oddifewn. Fe. — Oddifa's —

(delwedd J4290) (tudalen 040)	40 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. She. — What we've wrought He. — To our mind, Beth. — And why our hearts can dole On a home so unrefined. Beth. — The spot our toil to us makes dear, Now dear it is to ill we rear! And through the day her lowing proves Our vow makes free but as she loves: She. — Hen and brood He. — At our door She. — In their food He. — Share our store Beth. — And where the day's so good, What can the night deplore? Beth. — Since first our marriage knot was tied, Oh, many a turn its strength has tried; And each attempt of guile or spite, Has yet but made that knot more tight; She. — As it proved He. — Prove it will, — She. — As we've lov’d, He. — Love we still, Both. — The love that brought us up Shall take us down life's hill. Hi. — Beunydd gwnawn Fe. — Y gwaith rydd flas: Y ddau. — A’r bwth sy’n berlyn bro, Cyn blino gwnawn yn bliss. Y ddau. — Y fan sy’n artref hoff i ni Yr un fath yw i’n ce’l* a’n ci; Ceffyl A’r fuwch a brawf bob dydd a’i bref — Mor eon ei thro o gylch el thref: Hi. — Iar a chyw Fe. — Gylch ein clôs, Hi. — Bara briw Fe. — Cant a thos; Y ddau. — A lle b'o'n dydd mar wiw Neud cyfryw fydd y noe? Y ddau. — Er dydd ein hundeb, llawer tro A brofodd wrym priodasol glô, Ond er mor rhwygol, hyd yn hyn. Pob tre wnath hwn and yn fwy tyn: Hi. — Fe1 y bu Fe. — Felly b'o; Hi. – Fel ein ty Fe. — Bach a'i do. Y ddau. - O byth canfyddir ni, Yn glynu a'r fath glo. CAN, RHODFEYDD CYFEILLION, Ar y dôn,* “Llwyn Iorwg,'' tu dal. 21 Manau rodiais gan gymdeithion, - Llwyd gan ryg, neu glas gan feillion, Dyna'r manau mwyaf tirion Byth i'r galon gu; Yno'r coed ynt yn cymunaw, Fel nyni pan rodiem law law; Yno'r holl blanhigion distaw Ar ein holau ynt yn wylaw 'Nol in' fadaw am y fu. Byth yn las, a byth yn wlithog, Byth yn 'roglaidd, byth yn heulog, Cyntaf artref serch blodeuog, O mor wenog yw; Cyntaf, olaf i'm ei gofio, Rhwyddaf fyth i'm son am dano; Melus wen a melus wylo Pery'r serch a deimlir atto Wrth ddarlunio'i lun a'i liw. Er na cheisiwyd dawn esgobion I gyssegru'r rhai'n i'r galon, Sanctaidd ynt yn wir a mwynion I bob dynion dwys; Arnynt nid oes pren na charreg Am ryw hoff beth nad yw'n maneg, A phob nant f'o heibio'n rhedeg, Fyth sy'n fyw i draethu chwaneg Am hoff adeg ar ei phwys. Yn fy 'wyllys pe cawn enwi Rhoddion teg i'r gwyr 'wy'n hoffi, Caent у dolau teg a'r twyni, Gawsom groesi gynt; Ac yn ol eu hyfryd feddu Yno ar fy ol eu claddu; Caent i gyd; a'u plant gaent godi Nodau beirdd o'r serch fu'n denu I'r un twyni wyr o’u hynt.

reet the solar day (delwedd J4291) (tudalen 041)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. 41 RISING OF THE LARK. CODIAD YR EHEDYDD. . From dewy pallet green Ascending with a song is seen The Herald of the day The lowliest of the low, Behold him heav’nwards soaring now To greet the solar ray. Above the green hills misty gauze -Above the ken of sylvan throng; Without a rest – without a pause, O list, what tells his morning song, His heart ere day's first dawning was The morning stars among. NOTE. - In singing the Welsh stanzas to this air, the first and seventeenth note of the second part are omitted, without any injury to the melody,

(delwedd J4292) (tudalen 042)	42 Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. Where fall his music's show'rs, Behold how fair the new-born flow'rs That rise t'attest its charm. 'Neath pearly dew-drops bright, The blessed boon of song and light They own in breathings warm. O, if those stars thou’rt gone to seek Thou saw'st from heav'ns blue concave fade, Forget not flow'rs with eyes as meek That call thee to thy native glade; Where each would make its balmy cheek A pillow for thy head. In vain for thee I gaze, I've lost the songster in the blaze Of sunny light and song: Gone thou art to meet above Some kindred sprite of song and love, That for thy lay did long. Where never reached a branching tree, Nor turret, pyramid, nor spire; Above the mountain's summit free, Above this earth - and earth's desire Still, still I hear, but cannot see What sets the sky on fire! Cold is the zeal of saint, And poets frenzy, O how faint Is each compar'd with thine: Such raptures as were death To man inspir'd, lo! in thy breath I hear it all divine. Thy sabbath is thy ev'ry day, And tho' so dear to thee thy nest, The heav'ns must hourly hear the lay Of him its dews and light have blest; And sun-beams twine the radiant spray That bears his warbling breast. Hark! hark! from hedge and brake Wbat melodies are all awake To answer that above! List! list! that shepherd's lay, O tells it not the rising day How man its glow doth love? Where April bursts the flow'rets' tomb, And on it pours his rain-bow dyes; When lambkins leap forth from the womb At the greeting of the earth and skies, Can he that's wise in selfish gloom Consume his hours in sighs? Clywaf hedydd hylon lais Ar glust pob byw yn gwneyd ei drais Fal awrlais arlwy gwawr: Yr haul fe eilw'n llon I ddechreu'n gry' dros ddaear gron Ei daith, goronog gawr. Gwlith у borau'n berlan berlau Dros y dolau pan y del; Dro'nt yn gochion danllyd wreichion Tra'th acenion di'n ddigel; Trwy lwybrau'r gwynt ar hwylus hynt Dwys helynt noda'th sel. Pwy ddaeth drwy'r hwyrawl wlith A'i rybydd neithiwr at dy nyth I blith y gwenith gwan? Neu hiraeth am y ser A wnaeth it' fyn'd o'th wely per O londer bryd i'r lan? Neu i rifo fry dan rwyfo Freintiau'r lwysfro oedd dy fryd? Adrodd imi 'r hyn a weli, Heb ei gelu dyro'i gyd; A mine' wnaf foreuddydd haf Glod glwysaf iti'n glyd. Gwel fyrdd o'r blodau man A aned ’nawr trwy swyn dy gan Mor berlan ar y bryn; Pob un ar wyneb gwiw Ei fedydd ga' fel del yn fyw Yn ol ei liw a'i lun: Bri y bröydd, gwenau'r gweinydd, Caeau, coedydd, manwydd mwyn, Gyda'th garol O mor siriol Ac amserol do'nt a'u swyn; A'r oen o'r bru i'th ganiad di A neidia'n hy' i'r twyn. O na b'ai'n eiddo im' Dy edyn da a'th ddawn a'th wrym, Mor gyflym hedwn fry; Ac yn'th gwmpeini mad Cawn ganu'n glau uwch tref a gwlad A'm llygad uwch y llu: Fry'n yr awyr heb un llyfyr Ond un natur gain, na nôd, A'n calonau'n derbyn lluniau Pob rhyf'ddodau ir y rhod, Ar gwmwl gwyn fal arian fryn I'th ganlyn awn trwy glod.

(delwedd J4293) (tudalen 043)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. 43 AGNHARAD [sic: = ANGHARAD]. SALLY OF THE MILL Air—Banks of Daisies, by. J. T. Attebn ch I'm and yw'n Beth Ohl Bad undyn 'nal pri . odi, Ya tniofyn rhiuwedd yn ei There lives a lass by yonder mill, And all speak highly of her; Ii I've the merit, 've the V 'NMI la MrMa a SIM a• a t 4 Mgil -. IIII a • ••• st_ ziar AD a allEla= ow I i W It :Clam wons 1 Se: wrt not • W'n, A roi't dan Ion wrth cant? Mvfi h eilryth ar Pan nu A throi at liwn will, To be her constant lover, The maid that wins her parent s praise, And ske love of atl tho a a Mogi a' valley ; 'Miele( am dalottiau bery'n chweg 'Nol mechlu Vier: Ancharad. Who hath the use of ears and eyes That would not cult bet his Sally Pert ydyver Ilygad wybia o hyd sylw'r stryd a'r eglwys, Pert yw dyrouniad rluti o'n ho's ' See, of the crowd we beauties call, How few possess the graces, Man would expect to find in all 1. . xxxxx ygml, valley; 'Nlholaf am &Ionia* bery'n chweg Vol meddu tuber Alio:tiara& Who hath the use of ears and eyes ''hat would not call hoc ius Sally 7 Pert ydyster Ilygad wybia o hyd An, sylw'r stryd a'r eglwys, Pert yw dymuniad rhai o'n ho's Wrth gyfryw'n %Ms i orpliwys. Ond gwedi meddu'r eneth fyw Beth nesaf yw'r dymuniad'. Gweled y Ilygad wybia'r Sul Fel Ilygad gwyl Angharad. Hon ni ddinoetha groen Iliw'r 61 Vern dda gan briod guddio; Ni chwardd i ddangos gwynisr dant Bar amldra plant i dduo. Grasusau wnant ei gwedd mor hardd A blodau gardd dan ganad, Fel petbau wywant etto 'nghyd Yr ant a bryd Angharad. Glen yw ei gwedd a glan ei gwisg Pan rodio 'mysg gwyryfon, Ysgafn ei cham a bardd ei Biro Pan gerddo'r dolau gwyrddon. Ond yn y liwdeg ddynes lwys Peth mwyal bwys i'w chariad, Yn mhob rhinweddau da i fyw Y gorau o'i rhyvr Angharad. See, of the crowd we beauties call, Ilow few possess the graces, Man would expect to find in all That own such winning faces But u Weer be others' part, With whom the young men dally, Her lip, and check, and eye, and heart, Say all the same of Sally. Lately I did to her confess, Although she's deemed so beauteous, Of all her charms my soul thought less 'Than of her heart so duteous. Acid what my fair one did reply, I'm not asham'•l to tell ye—Who sought her but to please his eyo, Should ne'er call her his Sally. Whenever comes that honeymoon, For which I'm loath to tarry, Old Cymru's harp shall play the tune That makes the heart most merry ; But where her virtues many shine So brightly in you valley, Many a moon they say will be mine As bright as that with Sally. 03/20n Wèn, A will, To roi't dan len wrth garu ? Myfi wrth edrych ar f’un gu A throi at liwgu be her constant lover, 'The maid that wins her parent's praise, And the love of all the

(delwedd J4294) (tudalen 044)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG.

(delwedd J4295) (tudalen 045)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. 45 IAITH A THELYN CYMRU. Ar yr un Dôn. PAN oedd diffyg tân ar Gyrnro Meddai iaith allasa’i dwymo; 'Nawr rhwng tânau a danteithion Cyll ei iaith, a chyll ei galon. Rhowch i mi'n lle gwledd a gwinoedd, Serch a doniau’r hen amseroedd; Yna dysgaf, yna canaf Fel y gorau feirdd a garaf. Trech na chyfraith, trech nag arfau, Trech na phob peth gan a thannau, D'weded ef amheuo hyny, P'odd mae’n fyw hen Delyn Cymru? Gan ei byw 'nol syrthio'n cestyll, Gan i ing gryfhau eu hesgyll, Tra bo natur, tra bo elfen Byw bo'r delyn, byw bo'r awen. Boed i bob peth gael el amser, Ac 'nol hirwaith na hoed ofer I bob Cymro ganu ei deimlad Gyda thônau per ei Henwlad. Tybia rhai mai da f’ai claddu Iaith, a chan, a thelyn Cymru; Cyn y dygwydd hyn I Walia Gwedy'n nghladdu b'wyf y'nghynta'. MAID OF RYMNY. Affetuoso. Composed by J.T Maid of Rymny, when I see Fields I trod so oft with thee. Heav'n ward soars a pray'r of heart For thee wheresoe'er thou art. Thee I ne'er may meet again In the wilds, or haunts of men; Still beside this mountain brook For thee eye and heart must look; And where Love its tale hath told, Thoughts no change hath yet made cold, Here my tongue wou'd fain repeat As in hours we us'd to meet.

(delwedd J4296) (tudalen 046)	46 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Yonder stands the friend’s tree That so oft o'er shadow'd thee; O'er that spot so cool and green, Still assailing thee 'tis seen. O'er thy like its leafy bough Ne'r again its shade may throw; This I told the heart I'd won — This I say when thou art gone. Maid of Rymny, near this spot Not a shrub doth grow or rot, But doth aid that friendly tree, All things to recall of thee. Gone art thou and gone the time When our hearts that spot did claim, There to hear, and there to tell What made lovesick bosoms swell. True love's hopes, and true love's fears, Now a tale of other years, Only hearts like ours can know Thro' what years their tears will flow. Maid of Rymny, in the place Where we took our last embrace, Fast they fall beneath the spell Of our long and last farewell. CARMARTHEN BELLS. Air- Y Dyddiau ni ddont 'not, (The days that won’t return). How oft -- how oft to mind I call How in boyhood's days By hillock, hedge, and waterfall, Was blest with nature's lays? How many hums and noises sweet Led on thro’ brakes and dells? How midst them all I Check’d my feet To hear Carmarthen Bells? The song of birds and cry of rooks, Gave each its joy to me, And herds that low'd for summer brooks But added to the glee: And then how sweet from distant bounds Their cadences and swells; Till sweeter still I heard the sounds Of sweet Carmarthen bells. Of North,or South,or East,or West I little thought or knew; And little cited from that point best The wind for farmer's blew ; But one a balm more healing brought, Than all Arabia's smells; It gave the music, note by note, Of sweet Carmarthen bells. Lle gwn mor ddiles caid y plâs Rho’f glod i artref siw, Y gwr sy'n feistr fel mae'n was Yr annedd lle mae'n byw: Ei fwg yw'r haner ddengys draw B’le cwyd rhwng llwybrau cro's, Y noddfa lawn rhag gwynt a gwlaw — Y Bwth fir fin y Rhôs. Ei aelwyd er mor guled yw A gynnwys dewyn myg, Adferodd rai cyn hyn i fyw O enau'r bling-rew dig: Ac er mor brin ei Iwyd-ddu dorth Rnag newyn llyma’I lo's, I lawer gwan cyn hyn bu’r borth Wrth deithio min y Rhôs.

(delwedd J4297) (tudalen 047)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 47 Since then I've passed a thousand times The tower where these are hung, All heedless of their joyful chimes, However stoutly rung. Another sound hath won my ear, Another this excels, Till all in turn no more I hear, Than sweet Carmarthen bells. When love, ambition, care, and pride, Have gained and lost their mark, When all desires within have died And life's day ends i'th dark. In Towy's vale my bell shall toll, Telling each that near it dwells, That all the toys that win the soul, End like Carmarthen bells O fewn ci for ui welir fawr O’I droion da mewn scôr, Y swcwr gawd ni roddwyd lawr Ar bared nac ar ddôr: Ond os oes cyfrif yn y ne' Am deilwng bethau’n ho’s, Mae angel lyfra fry yn lle Y Bwth ar fin y Rhôs. Chwi wladwyr wnewch wrth fyrddau llawn Goffad o deilwng wy^r, Chwi godwch fry hyd eitha'ch dawn Rinweddau'r dref a'r sir: 'Nol enwi'r gorau wy^r o'ch rhyw, A moli sêr eich o's, Cofftawch y rhoddwr gwan sy'n byw Mewn Bwth ar fin y Rhôs. FAREWELL TO BEDWAS. Air - Pe cawn i hon. Pe cawn i hon, 'r un g'ruaidd gron, Er tloted hi a'i phobloedd; Cyfrifwn hi yn fwy i mi Na chynyrch pell ynysoedd; Ei gwedd a'i phryd, er nad yw'r byd Yn meddu ar ragorach, O g’neddfau ANN nid ynt ond rhan Weinyddant i amgenach. Ei Ilygad du sy'n dodi llu Hiraethu am ei wawriad, A synwyr hon foddlona'r fron Wna'n hylon unrhyw holiad, A'i thyner wen gwna'r iach a'r hen I deimlo mwy na dd'wedant, Er hyny gyd ni red ei bryd. A’r ynfyd glod a roddant. Green Bedwas, in whose homes I'm known, Green Bedwas, where my sorrow Found friends to make it as their own That I might smile tomorrow; To thee I now must bid farewell — A long farewell, and sad one, For I must from thee go and dwell Where the heart is less a glad one.

(delwedd J4298) (tudalen 048)	48 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Mae hon mor hardd a rhosyn gardd A'i 'rhog!au rhydd yn gyson, I loni'r man rhodd nef ei rhan, Y cartref wna mor wiwlon; Y ferhb fai'n deg ar orsedd chweg Mor foddlon yw i'r bwthyn I haeddu clod o fewn ei rhod, Rhai i liw'r ôd sy'n perthyn. Yn wir, yn wir, pe bawn heb dir, Nac aur y gwyr a'i carant; Yn meddiant hon a'i thymer lon, Cawn gyfoeth na chyfrisant. Lle byddo serch ar deilwng ferch, Da gwyr ei pherchen gerir, Gan synwyr da bod meddiant â Ymhellach na'r un grygir. Farewell ye human dwellings white, That many green trees bosom; Fareweil ye doors that ope at sight To welcome bim that knows 'em; Farewell ye fields where ploughman's song Shows still a heart unbroken! Of sweet acquaintance, though not long, Farewell to every token. Farewell thou church so white and clean, Farewell thou godly Pastor, Who'd keep its flock as free from sin As its walls from storm's disaster: Farewell ye living and ye dead, The living here remember; Peace to your hearths, and to the bed Where each in death shall slumber. Note.- The Song I heard my mother sing to this Air commenced with the line I have adopted for the commencement of my own. The entire stanza (and more I do not recollect) went thus: Pe cawn i hon ’r un g'ruaidd gron Pe meddwn i ar filoedd, C'ymerwn hi yn wraig i mi - Cymerwn heb un geiniog. Dau lygad lon sydd gan 'r un gron Dwy wefus fel y cherries, A'i dannedd mận heb un ar wa'n, A'i gruddiau fel y roses. The Songs of Dyfed although generally destitute of alliteration are notwithstanding more fancifully conceived than those of Norih Wales, whose strict adherence to metrical canons has proved fatal to the Ballad; and were it not, that the beauty of the Welsh pennillion proves the contrary, one would be inclined to believe that the natives of some parts of Wales never possessed the requisite talents for that species of composition. SERCH HUDOL, Ar y Dôn, “ Serch Hudol,” tu dal. 25. Clywch, clywch fe ddaeth y lawen gog A'r fedwen deg mewn newydd glôg A'i hannog idd ei chol; Ac adar fyrdd i gyd ar dân I'r nen a dystiant ’nawr a'u can Ei bod ar ddyn yn mynu'r bla'n I ddiddan wleddau'r ddol. Mor byfryd g’ruaidd yw eu cerdd A'r ddaeren hardd mewn mantell werdd Dan wenau haul yn gu a gerdd Wrth fesur mwysgedd Mai: Pa galon glau na theimlai'n glyd Annogaeth wiw neuaddau byd Yn galw ar frawd i roi ei fryd 'R awr hyfryd i fwynhau? Awn, awn i ma's i'r llenyrch teg, A phob un rhoed o lawen geg I'r adeg foddlon glod; Tra'r blodau iraidd dan ein tra'd, Ac egni ie'nctyd yn ein gwa’d, A rhodd y ne' i ddyn mor rhâd, 'N amddifad pwy all dd'od? I mi os gwnawd y blodau man, Tebycaf iddynt yn fy ngra'n Y dylwn fod a chalon lân Fy nghyfran i fwynhau; Ac os o'm gwirfodd safaf 'nol A llaw sirioldeb ar y ddol Yn fy ngwahodd, pa le i ffol Serch budol i sarhau?
	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 49 OWEN PRIS A GWEN O’R FALFA. Ballad. DACW'r fan at waelod dyffryn Lle mae teg dymhorau'r flwyddyn, Haf a gwanwyn,yn cystadlu, Ca’dd Gwenllian hoff ei magu. Gwrando'r w^yn a gwrando'r adar Oedd ei bryd yn blentyn hygar, A phan tyfodd fynu’n eneth, Gwrando Ilais y Mab o'r Greigleth. Aent yn blant i'r un ffynnonau, Ddyddiau'r haf, a'r dwr i chwareu; O'r un berth caent gnau a mwyar, O'r un twyn y blodau hawddgar. Tyf'sant fynu am yr hardda', OWEN PRIS a GWEN o'r FALFA, A chyn medrai un dyn ddirnad Rhyngddynt tyfodd gwreiddiol gariad. Tad y ferch oedd berchen cyfoeth Fel bu Ilawer trawsddyn annoeth, Rho'i ei rybydd — Owen glywai, Gwaed ei galon 'nol a giliai. Rhodiai Owen yn yr hwyrddydd Dan ysgariad sydyn gerydd. Dan y coedydd mwyn a deiliog, Fel y g'lomen rhag yr hebog Bl’e oedd hi, yr oenig wiwlan? B'le oedd rhodfa ei Wenllian ? Yn yr ardd, a chredwch yno Llygad brad oedd yn ei gwylio. D'wedai'r mab mi af dros foroedd Draw i blith y pell ynysoedd; Os caf gyfoeth, caf yr eneth — Beth na wnaf am feddu'r wiwbleth? Unwaith cwrddwyd cyn ymad'el; Tyngwyd dan y coedydd dirgel, Na wnai un ei serch i roddi Byth ond lle yr oedd pryd hyny.
(delwedd J4299) (tudalen 049)	Dan y bryn wrth oleu'r lleuad, O mor dyner eu 'madawiad; Dan y bryn lle bu'r ymddiddan Cyntaf am eu temilad gwiwlan. Trwm y tra'd a thrwm y galon, Trwm y dagrau ar y meillion, Ac er sychu llawer ffrydiad Llawn er hyny para’i'r Ilygad. B’le tramwya'r ferch hiraethlon Tra bo Owen ar y lasdon; B’le mae clust all gaol ei meddwl? Seren yw dan dduedd gwmwl. 'Nawr mae'r llestr balch dan hwylau Owen welir rhwng y rhaffau, Gair ei gapten dysg adnabod, Dyeithr faith i'w glust a'i dafod. Dros feithderan yr Atlantic, Heibio i boeth geulanau Draw i'r ceftlfot mawr defieuol Dros feithderan yr Atlantic, Delhi° i boeth geulanau Draw i'r Gerbil)* mawr dcheuol Gwnaethaut hwylo 'nol ac wrthol. Tair o feithion lawn flynyddoedd Bu'n ymwrio ar y moroedd; Un yn mhellach oedd ei fwriad Cyn tueddiannail anwyl gariad. Llawer mab i wych dyddynwr Am yr cueth dd'ai'n yryti4a r; Llawer dyfais wnawd i'w denu, Un o hyd wild Gwen yn gam. Gwilynt Gryg oedd ffalst ddichellgar, Tad yr Owen oedd ariangar; C'nygai swm o our i ltwnw Am roi ma's Fr Owen (kw. Aeth yr hanes at Gwenllian, Ar y ddaear syrthiai'n gritddfan: Yna'i thad ofynarn chwerw, A nnacth Put, un dyu and 'maw. G xxxxx xxxxx Teimlai'r eerydd rhwng ei dwyfron Fel dau-finiog gledd yn greulon; Gwacddodd ar y Nef niewn Ilafar Drist, i'w dal dan bwys ei galar. Gwedi treulio misoedd chwerwon, Owilym Gryg a'i ciriau ffeilstion, Trwy grfnogaeth tad y forwyn Ga'tld addewid am 'r un wiwfwyn. Daeth y dydd a'r awr arbenig, Daeth y Perch a'r fron raoedig ; "Khan Vr hwn newidiai henw, Owl y gorau ran Pr mares. Torf drwsiadwy ar geffylau D'rawsant dan cfu chwyrn bedolau, Drwy'r heolyild oll o gwmpas O'ent yn gyru it briodas. Geiriau'r (turf ac auraidd fodrwy, Gwimethant gwItyrn annottadwy ; Deigryn gollwyd'wrth yr alloy Am y mab fu ar y ce'nfor. Had(' yw crybwyll am ddyledswydd, ChWi a chz.riad sy'n gyfarwydd Gellweli Bidden fir un wiwlon "Al yn wrol draw a'r forwyn Ddacth yn wraig i mi morguftsyn." Yn y Rif ei larch sy'r. tychan, Y mein estyn and Wenllian, Ar ei ffrwyn e' golla'i arel Nea gogwyddo dros ei 'offal. Dros ei ben fe soddai'r bostiwr, IIithatt'n grwnswth yn y Ilwyd-dt-lwr Welwyd ar ei wartha'u treiglo Lle L'ai'r cenili'n Ityrnig ruo. I)yma gerbyd gyda hyny At y fan vu cyflym dynu, A chyn crybwyll neb y dygwydd Neidiai dyn Pr llif yn ebrws dd. Gyda'r ffrwd fel cyflym alarch Ai a dewrder Ilwyr ddihafarcli ; Buan gwelwyd yn ei arel Y briodferch 'wadi ei haute'. Owilym Gryg oedd draw yn smith Ileb alluog un i'w noddi, Tra oedd bywyd ei Wenllian 'N agos ar y geulan. xxxxx , wnae tan gw vai nano a wy, Deigryn gollwyt with yr allot Am y mab fu ar y ce'nfor. Hadd yw crybwyll am ddyledswydd, Chwi a cbariad sytt gyfarwydd Gellwch faddeu i'r un v•itvlon Gollodd egin cynta'i chalou. Tra hu'r ddauddyn yn priodi Pfrcid y dvirryn oedd yu codi, Trwm lifogydd rhwng ci glenydd Ddodent Towy'll drist ar gynnydd. I, lawcr pont a llawer pentan tlyda'r gorlif act!, yn gyfan, Ac yn garn yn mblith y rharny It unig un oedd gauddynt groesi. Ar y geulan bu pe trustier Cyn ceid un o gymaint dewrvIcr Ai u'i fareb tray grych y di; lif, Er y bust a'r gciriau Gwilym Gryg ni fynai ddangos Ddillyg dewrder—Uwen yu agos, Owilym Gryg oedd draw yn soddi Heft alluog un i'w noddi, Tra oedd bywyd ei Wenllian 'N agos ar y geulan. Pwy a lawr i gynnorthwyo dyeithrddyn, a'i ddilwytho? Dewch rhag g'wradwydd, medd pot) glanddvn, 'Mawr y dwr iii rwystra undyn. Aethant lawr ytt dorf wylofus At y tlwron fu mor happus; Ynte'n edrych ar y fenyw I)orai macs mewn wylo cbwerw. Pwy yw hwn? medd pawb men syndod, Mae e'n wylo fel ei phriod ; ' Fi tidy lasai, " meddai yntatt, "Gael yr bun sy' rhwng fy mreicbiau." O'i du le•yg mae'n dihuno, Sylwai pwy wnai ci cboffeidio; 0 raginniaeth! beth yw'th ddyben? Pwy oedd yno and ci Howen. Hors.-Th• W.!sh Lair:a:re. in n 'web poetry is more an art than it is in any other, ran boast of no Ballads, rampart.' i•-• cr.taktinC, nut. ss Ilia- tra.sin W,.; as cl•zies on our Milirket 'CPI Fair t•ys be Faith. Mort, t•ri•Lti•rt• our •tallialai steak; nu one who this re Ileetvi on the ineompat.'Iditv of ninteratiou w s:t. the siusplicit) of the Ballad aurratat, cad !I !it a l°4-1 to klin's the cause of the path ity of such eumpusitiuna ausvng W. N. 1. .1 Translation trill nenear in the next Nu. xxxxx Air — Eos Lais, Tenderly. Pa hy frydl ais On k SSW per ei fry, Fr gwidd a'm deaa tri o, tri o, tri t berlais )n ei hymgais w)iaidd len y uos mr dda i'w bron yr hwyrnos hou y law! Ion fed. if ddilo's dd'wcd Alor pa ddys; ai iwi were ei gwiwfri gwyn Fel y canwn 'no! NV ylwn fal hyn. Drwy'r nos am ryw hiraelh dwys geinwaith hyddarr gAn, ad lib. Ei than fad dilynwn, a 'm 1111W11 leisiau man, A mi a'r cos bit ea'em aros rhwng y gwlithros glan. Serch budol i sarhau?

(delwedd J4300) (tudalen 050)	50 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Teimlai'r eerydd rhwng ei dwyfron Fel dau-finiog gledd yn greulon; Gwacddodd ar y Nef niewn Ilafar Drist, i'w dal dan bwys ei galar. Gwedi treulio misoedd chwerwon, Owilym Gryg a'i ciriau ffeilstion, Trwy grfnogaeth tad y forwyn Ga'tld addewid am 'r un wiwfwyn. Daeth y dydd a'r awr arbenig, Daeth y Perch a'r fron raoedig ; "Khan Vr hwn newidiai henw, Owl y gorau ran Pr mares. Torf drwsiadwy ar geffylau D'rawsant dan cfu chwyrn bedolau, Drwy'r heolyild oll o gwmpas O'ent yn gyru it briodas. Geiriau'r (turf ac auraidd fodrwy, Gwimethant gwItyrn annottadwy ; Deigryn gollwyd'wrth yr alloy Am y mab fu ar y ce'nfor. Had(' yw crybwyll am ddyledswydd, ChWi a chz.riad sy'n gyfarwydd Gellweli Bidden fir un wiwlon "Al yn wrol draw a'r forwyn Ddacth yn wraig i mi morguftsyn." Yn y Rif ei larch sy'r. tychan, Y mein estyn and Wenllian, Ar ei ffrwyn e' golla'i arel Nea gogwyddo dros ei 'offal. Dros ei ben fe soddai'r bostiwr, IIithatt'n grwnswth yn y Ilwyd-dt-lwr Welwyd ar ei wartha'u treiglo Lle L'ai'r cenili'n Ityrnig ruo. I)yma gerbyd gyda hyny At y fan vu cyflym dynu, A chyn crybwyll neb y dygwydd Neidiai dyn Pr llif yn ebrws dd. Gyda'r ffrwd fel cyflym alarch Ai a dewrder Ilwyr ddihafarcli ; Buan gwelwyd yn ei arel Y briodferch 'wadi ei haute'. Owilym Gryg oedd draw yn smith Ileb alluog un i'w noddi, Tra oedd bywyd ei Wenllian 'N agos ar y geulan. xxxxx ,wnae tan gw vai nano a wy, Deigryn gollwyt with yr allot Am y mab fu ar y ce'nfor. Hadd yw crybwyll am ddyledswydd, Chwi a cbariad sytt gyfarwydd Gellwch faddeu i'r un v•itvlon Gollodd egin cynta'i chalou. Tra hu'r ddauddyn yn priodi Pfrcid y dvirryn oedd yu codi, Trwm lifogydd rhwng ci glenydd Ddodent Towy'll drist ar gynnydd. I,lawcr pont a llawer pentan tlyda'r gorlif act!, yn gyfan, Ac yn garn yn mblith y rharny It unig un oedd gauddynt groesi. Ar y geulan bu pe trustier Cyn ceid un o gymaint dewrvIcr Ai u'i fareb tray grych y di;lif, Er y bust a'r gciriau Gwilym Gryg ni fynai ddangos Ddillyg dewrder—Uwen yu agos, Owilym Gryg oedd draw yn soddi Heft alluog un i'w noddi, Tra oedd bywyd ei Wenllian 'N agos ar y geulan. Pwy a lawr i gynnorthwyo dyeithrddyn, a'i ddilwytho? Dewch rhag g'wradwydd, medd pot) glanddvn, 'Mawr y dwr iii rwystra undyn. Aethant lawr ytt dorf wylofus At y tlwron fu mor happus; Ynte'n edrych ar y fenyw I)orai macs mewn wylo cbwerw. Pwy yw hwn? medd pawb men syndod, Mae e'n wylo fel ei phriod ; ' Fi tidy lasai," meddai yntatt, "Gael yr bun sy' rhwng fy mreicbiau." O'i du le•yg mae'n dihuno, Sylwai pwy wnai ci cboffeidio; 0 raginniaeth! beth yw'th ddyben? Pwy oedd yno and ci Howen. Hors.-Th• W.!sh Lair:a:re. in n 'web poetry is more an art than it is in any other, ran boast of no Ballads, rampart.' i•-• cr.taktinC, nut. ss Ilia- tra.sin W,• h. nr :,U v.; as cl•zies on our Milirket 'CPI Fair t•ys be Faith. Mort, r P..- r ii.r• to •V t•ri•Lti•rt• our •tallialai steak; nu one who this re Ileetvi on the ineompat.'Iditv of ninteratiou w s:t. the siusplicit) of the Ballad aurratat, cad !I !it a l°4-1 to klin's the cause of the path ity of such eumpusitiuna ausvng W. N. 1. .1 Translation trill nenear in the next Nu. Note.--The Welsh Language, in which poetry is more an art than it is in any other, can boast of no Ballads, comparatively speaking, unless the trashy things we hear sung as elegies on our Market and Pair days be considered such. Morgan Jones o'r Dolau, and some few besides, constitute our national stock; and no one who has reflected on the incompatibility of alliteration with the simplicity of the Ballad narrative, can be at a loss to know the cause of the paucity of such compositions among us. N. B. A Translation will appear in the next No.

(delwedd J4301) (tudalen 051)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. A ir—Eos Lais, Tenderly. Pa hy frydl ais On k SSW per ei fry, Fr gwidd a'm deaa tri o, tri . o, tri t Yr berlais )n ei hymgais w)iaidd len y uos mr dda i'w bron yr hwyrnos hou y law! Ion fed. if ddilo's dd'wcd Alor pa ddys;ai iwi were ei gwiwfri gwyn Fel y canwn 'no! NV ylwn fal hyn. Drwy'r nos am ryw hiraelh dwys geinwaith hyddarr gAn, ad lib. Ei than fad dilynwn, a 'm 1111W11 leisiau man, A mi a'r cos bit ea'em aros rhwng y gwlithros glan. Dderyn dawn, dy addurn di Yw'r ffrydlais dyr yn ffri- Mewn trio, trio, tri; Parhaed dy gerdd I'r goedwig werdd Yo bren-gerdd bri; A chalon dyner sorch i'th annerch daw Trwy lwybrau mwyn Dderyn dawn, dy addurn di Yw'r ffrydlais dyr yn ffri- Mewn trio, trio, tri; Parhaed dy gerdd I'r goedwig werdd Yo bren-gerdd bri; A chalon dyner sorch i'th annerch daw Trwy lwybrau mwyn Y da a'r wyn I'r draiolwyn draw; Ond gwrando'th ganiad bybyr dyg i'm dolur dés, A'r biraeth ges ei fagu, lloni'n lles; Dy wiw delori doniol, Bur swydawl ber ei sawr, Ar ddail fy mron arddelwn A dysgwn hyd yr awr Y rhoddai'r hedydd Fry ei gywydd Ber dd'roganydd gwawr. Hermit bird whose melody With trio, trio, tree, Doth sound so lovingly; Sweet Philomel With me how well Thy strains agree, When 'neath the veil of night unto the stars, And moon so pale Thou tell'st a tale Of lovelorn cares: Ob had I but a voice to join thy pensive strain, How pleas'd within this grove I'd share thy pain. While night's darkness lasted Here seated by thy side, The grief that had fasted In song we should divide; Till morning's beam Should end the dream That wordly hearts deride.

(delwedd J4302) (tudalen 052)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Sylw dyn ni cheisi di Greenwood saint, what boots it thee Na 'deryn doniol i That any eye should see Dy drio, trio, tri; Who sings thy melody? Ond yn y cysgod If on a thorn Mad a'th wiwnod The strain forlorn Wi, wi, wi, Thy balm may be? Cyffesa wrth y nos yr achos rydd, Or none save him who made thy voice so sweet, Fath gynnwrf per That voice delight I'th fynwes der The livelong night Hyd dor ser dydd ! In song to greet? slay, Fel mewn breuddwyd gwylgu ceni yn y co'd, To them whose hearts have felt the meaning of thy A'th lygad dim ni ddirnad-fo'n myn'd na dod: Night it can make as beauteous as the day: 'Nol myn'd haulwen dreiddgar And when the eye of sorrow W nai'n g'w'lyddgar salmydd gwydd; With frenzy cannot close, O'i hoff galon ysig From thee man may borrow Ei miwsig iddi fydd, Notes that may ease his throes, Fel bai i mi And slighted love Pe cawn y bri Like wounded dove O resu gyda'r rhydd. Beneath thy bush repose. This Song was sung with immense applause at Cheltenham by Eos Fach.

(delwedd J4303) (tudalen 053)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. selves—I'll deliver Thoughts that shall need but thyself a believer, Love. Love hath a tale that is sweet if we tell it; \|'N olwg cyfarchiad hen Dowy a Gwily Sweet as the lark's when he leaves his green pallet, 'N forau bwriadaf dy weled di fory, fy Ngwen: my Love. What if my language be homely and simple, Yno tra hepiant drigolion y pentref, If in thy cheek it doth show me its dimple; 'N ol in' glodfori'r dyffryndir a'r lasnef, What can I wish to unfold that is better? Golwg ni gym'rwn mewn serch ar ein gilydd, What when I meet thee; or what in the letter Ac os dy lendid a'm prawf i 'n areithydd, Wherein I've studied what's meetest to utter, my Pwy ond dy hunan gaiff fod yn wrandawydd, fy Love? Ngwen? Yea, where the rivers so happily mingle, Obry lle breichia'r helygen yr irwydd Joys let us seek whereiu none would be single, my Gwelir rhai tebyg a'u pwys ar eu gilydd, fy Ngwen, Love; Lle'r erys y fuwch am y llaw faidd ei godro, Wbere longs thy cow for the hand that doth milk her, Un mewn erfyniad tirionach fydd yno, Soon as thou seest bim, O pardon the skulker 'N barod, os caiff, i anwylyd wneud cyffes That must be heard ere thou touchest the udder; Fanol o ddyfnaf deimladau ei fynwes, And as thou hear'st, tho' thy cheek should wax Hyd oni chaffo beth tebyg yn hanes-ei Wen. redder, Ne'er shall a word of his tale make thee shudder, my Love. MORGAN A'I WRAIG. OLD MORGAN AND HIS WIFE. Hi. DA Fe. Os nad oes im' awdurdod gwr, Na heddwch mwy i'w ga'l, Er mwyn cael stwr i fodd- Vile woman as thy wagging tongue Is never--never still; To drown the voice that does

(delwedd J4304) (tudalen 054)	54 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. llyn Ddaw ar eich pen pan dawo hi Yn brydlon bistyll gwyn. fill The torrent that shall make you blind While rests the clacking mill. Pe bait yn ddistaw ond Wert thou but silent for

(delwedd J4305) (tudalen 055)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 53 Fe.-Wel Sian mae heddwch wrth y drws I'r wraig addefo'i bai; Hi.-I chwi gael myn’d a'ch tafod lws I'w draethu i bob rhai. I'e. -Mae'n hawddach ffrwyno genau'r fall Nac attal tafod ffol. Hi.--Neu sen un eilw'r byd yn gall Am bod ei gopa'n fo'l, He.--If in thy bosom peace bave place First learn thy fault to own. She.---That you may have a day of grace To trump it round the town. H.--Woman, thy strain will bold the same Till stocks and stones cry fie! She. And you I fear will lose your fame For notes deemd once so higli. Fe.-Ow! chwerwed blaned oedd i mi Im' wel'd dy wedd erio'd: Dyn ni adnebydd werth ei fri Nes elo gyda'i glod. Hi.--Fath blaned ddisglaer oedd i mi Wrthodais ddynion glan, I fyw mewn trallod gyda chwi Y dua'i iaith a'i ra'n. Fe.--Am unwaith cofia, mamaeth sen, Beth dd’wedodd y gwr doeth? Hi.--Na chenfydd llawer mawr ei ben Ei feiau mwyaf noeth. Fe.-Wel, rhwng heddwch mwy a mi Yn ffarwel aeth am byth. Hi. Nid chwi yw'r hebog cyntaf fu Yn blino ar ei nyth. He.-Oh what a planet dire did rule My dark nativity; The good that might surround a fool, He lost it all for thee. She. And what a planet bright was mine Who handsome men refus'd, To be thro' life a slave of thine Ev'n for my good abus'd ! lle,-For once but call to mind what said The wisest of mankind, She.---That many with too big a head To their biggest faults are blind. He.--Well, well, the peace I'd make a guest For ever more is fied. She. -The fowl that's tired of his nest May seek a softer bed. bed. from its stroke The trembling thing 't would harm: Then I think of Britain's Isle That nurs'd this I fear will lose your fame For notes deem'd once so high. Fe.-Ow! chwerwed blaned oedd i mi Im' wel'd dy wedd erio'd: Dyn ni adnebydd werth ei fri Nes elo gyda'i glod. Hi.-Fath blaned ddisglaer oedd i mi Wrthodais ddynion glän, I fyw mewn trallod gyda chwi Y dua'i iaith a'i ra'n. Fe.-Am unwaith cofia, mamaeth sen, Beth dd'wedodd y gwr doeth? Hi.-Na chenfydd llawer mawr ei ben Ei feiau mwyaf noeth. Fe.-Wel, rhwng heddwch mwy ân mi Yn ffarwel aeth am byth. Hi.-Nid chwi yw'r hebog cyntaf fu Yn blino ar ei nyth. He.-Oh wbat a planet dire did rule My dark nativity; The good that might surround a fool, He lost it all for thee. She. And what a planet bright was mine Who handsome men refus'd, To be tbro' life a slave of thine Ev'n for my good abus'd! He. For once but call to mind what said The wisest of mankind, She.-That many with too big a head To their biggest faults are blind. He-Well, well, the peace I'd make a guest For ever more is fled. She. The fowl that's tired of his nest May seek a softer bed.

(delwedd J4306) (tudalen 056)	56 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Every land that dreads thy name, That name must love as well, For where valour spreads thy fame, Thy acts of kindness tell. Where thy clouds of anger burst On long devoted heads, Him that dares oppose thee first, Thy mercy's wing first shades, Britain conquer every land, And as thy might prevails, Still be first t' extend a hand To raise the foe that quails, Dros y ce’nfor glas mae 'nbaith, Ac ar ei hirfaith lan, Rhwng pob cene'l, llwyth, ac iaith Mae 'nhre mewn pob pell fan: Mawrglod llawer porthladd teg A dyn fy nghrwydrawl fryd; Llawer caerog ddinas chweg, Ymwelaf gylch y byd. Ond yn mhob arosfa bell, O! ni anghofiaf byth, B'le yn Nghymru ardal well Mae nghyntaf, hoffaf nyth. Ar yr hwylbren lawer tro Lluddedig dderyn ddaw, Feddwl fel fy hun am fro A'i dirion erys draw: Wrth ddymuno llwydd i'w hynt, Mor deg yw'r seren gu I'm tywys trwy bob rhwystrol wynt Dewyna arnaf fry! Fe gyfrwydda'r deryn bach Dros for o wlad i wlad, Hon a dd'wed, dyg finau'n iach Ryw bryd at fwth fy mhad. Still may th' healing misletoe Be badge of Britain's Isle : Where her conq'ring Oak doth go, Let that in greenness smile. Never may this realm subdue What Britons can't restore, Made more beauteous to the view Than ever 'twas before. Strong to strike, and kind to heal, May all that feel her stroke, 'Neath her wing in comfort steal Apd bless the British Oak. AIR-OLD MAN OF THE WOOD. ( See page 44 ) Philomel when few can hear thee, Some will chide the grief that's growing: Thou wouldst own the griefs that wear thee : Some would see our tears o'erlowing: Aught of joy or aught of sorrow, To the heart that hourly bleedeth, Who shall bear thee tell the morrow? Who will give th' advice it needeth ? All whose comforters are hollow, Thy example well might follow: Where the help we seek's denied us, Night brings no one to deride ys. Who to stones would show the furrows Daily made by deep'ning sorrows? Yet the stones are not like many Friendly hearts our woes make stony. llyn Ddaw ar eich pen pan dawo hi Yn brydlon bistyll gwyn. fill The torrent that shall make you blind While rests the clacking mill. [merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small] Fe.-Wel Sian mae heddwch wrth y drws I'r wraig addefo'i bai; Hi. I chwi gael myn’d a'ch tafod lws I'w draethu i bob rhai. Fe. -Mae'n hawddach ffrwyno genau'r fall Nac attai tafod ffol. Hi.-Neu sen un eilw'r byd yn gall Am bod ei gopa'n fo'l. He.-If in thy bosom peace bave place First learn tuy fault to own. She.—That you may have a day of grace To trump it round the town. He.-Woman, thy strain will hold the same Till stocks and stones cry fie! She.-- And you rom its stroke The trembling thing 't would harm: Then I think of Britain's Isle That nurs'd this [blocks in formation] [blocks in formation] (See page 44 ) Pbilomel when few can hear thee, Some will chide the grief that's growing: Thou wouldst own the griefs that wear thee: Some would see our tears o'erflowing: Aught of joy or aught of sorrow, To the heart that hourly bleedeth, Who shall bear thee tell the morrow? Who will give th' advice it needeth? All whose comforters are hollow, Who to stones would show the furrows Thy example well might follow: Daily made by deep'ning sorrows? Where the help we seek's denied us, Yet the stones are not like many Night brings no one to deride us. Friendly hearts our woes make stony.

(delwedd J4307) (tudalen 057)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 57 stony. lais, than ei ais Fe deimlai frathiad dwyslym arf. Qerfrath hiraeth dynai'r dwr Yn heart keen sorrow's smart, Assay'd to wake his native lays: While with trembling hand he swept His thy a'i thwr. vigils kept. ( delyn y bryniau drigi di'n fud A minau dan alar yn Oh! harp of the mountain, say wilt thou be mute, When sickness and sorrow thy at methu rhoi cam? solace demand ? Dy. oddef i'r dwylaw a gurant gan gryd Ddi huno dy dannau Once more let the anguish that strengthens its root, Like snow under sunshine, give heuiaith fy mam. Telyn fy ngwlad Diff'ro'n ddifraw, Gyr trwy fy ngwa’d o'm calon i'm llaw Y Harp of the wind Once more awaké, Gladden the mind its peace doth forsake; And way to this haud. flam a en . ynai pan drawn ar dx dant, Nes tarddent trwy'm doniau lwys flodau'r glas bant. bid me remember the charm of that string That erst could my winter day turn into spring. Tra byddo'r Öd yn wyn ar go'd, While every bough rob’d is in snow; Tra aderyn trist yn fud, While the song-hird sits forlorn: Tra gyro'r rhew a'i birddeint llew With ruthless bite, the wintry night Y gwan a'r glew am loches glyd; Attacks the frame that need hath shorn, Rho imi deimlo rhin dy dôn, Yet once more, shall not thy strain A'i sain fel bu yn swyn i bo'n, With raptures felt assuage my pain? Nes byddo'm llaw i roddi taw Shall not the fears that weigb with years Ar bob hyll fraw a rwylla'r fron, To music's speil give away again? O delyn y bryniau, &c.

(delwedd J4308) (tudalen 058)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. 58 TIM CAMBRIAN MINSTItgl. SPRING. Air—Pa Jeri NO by J. 2'. 0 list to me MASS while I gratefully slug, The advent, the births, and re eking. of spring. To you drowsy dwellers In towuewould my glee Announce her, but rather Ed as "GO and IAA" Where pNWPWrMPNL:i:4- fonds like secrets of children steal forth, Each bearing a dew-pearl onemtall'd in worth. Lambs, &met; and goslings. like rain drop. begot, Behold, but not reckon, for that you can not; A day makes a thousand glad dams on the hills, And another the yard with as happy ones fills; See farmer around thee, what changes are come, Who'll say a week hence thou wilt know thy own home? 'Mid green fields thou eye'st some exceptions I know,—Those brown onesso lately tumid up with the plough: Yet these in a week, such A robe will put on,—That the richest In gram will comparison shun; Then, too in the woodlands more mothers I wean Their joy will confess, than are now on the green. As bursts the rich spray with the life-giving juice, Each udder is hardly restrain'd by its sluice; Come shower, come sunshine, for each time they fill. The rain and the sun-gleam should pass o'er the hill; While shepherd to keep hint from languor and sleep Of shower and sunshine ■ mcksaing will keep. Sing, cuckoo, no minstrel then thou is more free, Who mist not a home hi a bash or green tree; Bet hayed thy eggs, and to hedge-sparrow's are Lear's( the young ones which all but a cuckoo should rear; But careless one, thou mal'at it duty to sing, And pitch the true key to the warblers of Spring. In the greenwood's fresh bosom a bash richly dress'ir In the bosom of this, a well-canopied nest; And in that nest's bosom • hen-bird and brood, That find in her bosom a shelter that's good;— O1 who such a picture can witness as this, And give not his bosom to add to Its bliss? Birds sing to the drams so sweetly that spring; Flow'rscheer with your odours the birds as they sing; Clouds shower your blessings on abideof fresh grass; Fields give your rich incense the clouds as they pass; Thus sweet and delightful to ask and to pay, What Nature's great bounty affords in a day. And sweet it should be for the tiller to own The bounty which daily his labours doll, crown; And give of his means to the servants that toil, As Heaven dispenses to him from the soil; • Then might his rejoicing be free as the And happy he'd feel io his flocks and his herds. lais, a than ei ais Fe deimlai frathiad dwyslym arf. Verfrath hiraeth dynai'r dwr Yn heart keen sorrow's smart, Assay'd to wake his native lays: While with trembling hand he swept His Hiraeth am fri hen Gymru gu Thus did his tongue, In doạting song, A'i mawrfryd fu ei Reveal the grief that ffrydiau heillt dros ruddiau'r gwr. triple Telyn, as he wept, Poco Allegro. fii 8 thy a'i thwr. vigils kept. O delyn y bryniau drigi di'n fud A minau dan alar yn Oh! barp of the mountain, say wilt thou be mute, When sickness and sorrow thy a methu rhoi cam? solace demand? Dy. oddef i'r dwylaw a gurant gan gryd Ddi. huno ny dannau at Once more let the anguish that strengthens its root, Like snow under sunshine, give beniaith fy mam. way to this hand. Telyn fy ngwlad Deffro'n ddifraw, Gyr trwy fy ngwa’d o'm calon i'n llaw Y Harp of the wind Once more awaké, Gladdeu the mind its peace doth forsake; And filam a en : ynai pan drawn ar dy dant, Nes tarddent trwy'm doniau lwys flodau'r glas bant. bid me remember the charm of that string That erst could my winter day turn into spring. Tra byddo'r ôd yn wyn ar go'd, While every bough rob’d is in snow; Tra aderyn trist yn fud, While the song-bird sits forlorn: Tra gyro'ı rhew a'i birddeint llew With ruthless bite, the wiatry night Y gwan a'r glew am loches glyd; Attacks the frame that need hath shorn, Rbo ini deimlo rhin dy dôn, Yet once more, shall not thy strain A'i sain fel bu yn swyn i bo'n, With raptures felt assuage my pain? Nes byddo'm llaw i roddi taw Shall not the fears that weigh with years Ar bob hyll fraw a rwylla'r fron. To music's spell give away again? O delyn y bryniau, &c. O harp of the mountain, &c. H list to me swains while I gratefully sing, The advent, the births, and rejoicing3 of spring. 港 To you drowsy dwellers in towns would my glee Announce her, but rather I'd say, “Goand see" Where flowrets like secrets of children steal forth, Each bearing a dew-pearl unequall'd in worth. Lambs, flowrets, and goslings, like rain drops begot, \| But layest thy eggs, and to hedge-sparrow's care Behold, but not reckon, for that you can not; Leav'st the young ones which all but a cuckoo should A day makes a thousand glad dams on the hills, rear; And another the yard with, as happy ones fills; But careless one, thou mak'st it duty to sing, See farmer around thee, what changes are come, And pitch the true key to the warblers of Spring. Who'll say a week hence thou wilt know thy own. home? In the greenwood's fresh bosom a bush richly dressid, In the bosom of this, a well-canopied nest; 'Mid green fields thou eye’st some exceptions 1 And in that nest's bosom a ben-bird and brood, That find in her bosom a shelter that's good;- know,- Those brown ones so lately turn'd up with the plough: 0! who such a picture can witness as this, Yet these in a week, such a robe will put on,- And give not his bosom to add to its bliss? That the richest in grass will comparison shun; Then, too in the woodlands more mothers I ween Birds sing to the flowrets so sweetly that spring; Their joy will confess, than are now on the green. Flow'rs cheer with your odours the birds as they sing; Clouds shower your blessings on fields of fresh grass; As bursts the rich spray with the life-giving juice, Fields give your rich incense the clouds as they pass; Thus sweet and delightful to ask and to pay, Each udder is hardly restrain'd hy its sluice; What Nature's great bounty aifords in a day. Come shower, come sunshine, for each time they fill, The rain and the sun 1-gleam should pass o'er the hill; While shepherd to keep him from languor and sleep And sweet it should be for the tiller to own Of shower and sunshine a rock'ning will keep. The bounty which daily his labours dotlı crown; And give of his means to the servants that toil, As Heaven dispenses to him from the soil; Sing, cuckoo, uo minstrel tban thou is more free, Then might his rejoicing be free as the bird's, Wbo own'st not a home in a bush or green tree; And happy he'd feel in his flocks and his herds.

(delwedd J4309) (tudalen 059)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. DYFFRYNOEDD CYMRU. HOWEL THE GOOD. Air - Merch Megen (Megens's Daughter). Treble. Counter. Tenor. Bass. Os noethion a Ilwm yw bannau hen Gymru, Beth ydynt ond cloddiau am A phwy ydyw’r Cymro dros enyd all wadu, Dedwyddid ei fynwes wrth lenyrch ei medd? A fwmiodd gwenynen, a ganodd aderyn, Mewn hoffach lloch- canfod ei gwedd? Pwy edrych o’r moelydd ar droion d’afonydd Na fynai eu esau na gelant eu gwlad! A ledodd yr eryr dros fryniau ei dilyn o’r aber i’r mor! Pwy wrendy o hirbell barabliad dy

(delwedd J4310) (tudalen 060)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. TIIII CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. edyn Ln tonna ow. elon nix each, is gourd/ nentydd, Ns On Mari Wynn(' an portion* tea store rim •►•■•1111SIMININI _ — as slIM.MMENAIIM IN MN SEEM/ SS S as SI MOM a I/awn Ma S i arras I MB raaa,•aaaaMMIN. MS SIMI IS■1■11 W7 II•O as INISIOfla= -- MIll ilaa=1 I / a a a/Ma oar !IN M" NM OSUMI l■ MI.au I Mi a a a/a la Man' MP alala a aal • OE as MO nalaa al Mor rbydd o nognrydd a dychryn 'r soneddan Meer gwyngsleh yn tystlo o hW,ell an sedd t Nor fwyned y manydd lunlypnt i'st Ilarybran Y Militias noir drostyat gan prwyr ea hedd I Nor snow] bob earths! rase bye fan yr yaw Mor rhydd o enogrwydd a dychryn 'r anneddau Mae'r gwyngalch yn tystio o hirbell eu sedd? Mor fwyned y maesydd amlygant â'u llwybrau Y teithiau wneir drostynt gan garwyr eu hedd ! Mor swynawl bob cartref mae brefau yr ychen Yn tystio o'i gwmpas ei ddyled i ddyn; A'r llwyni flagurant mor bardd wrth ei dalcen Gwnant imi a'u gorchgudd 'n anwylach ei lun. Mor ddedwydd fugeiliaid a dreuliant eu hafddydd, I enwi a rhifo dros wyrddlawr y fro; Anneddau a wenant mor hoff ar eu gilydd Dros ffrydiau gofleidiant eu dolau 'mhob tro. Dear Cambria, of names that have fourish'd in story What land owns a phalanx more radiant than Ibine? Of kingdoms that panted for freedom and glory, Whose deeds than my country's more lastingly shine? Of Heroes, renown'd as the valiant and courteous A record that's fairer what annals can show? Of Bards, to extol the deserts of the virtuous, What realm as thy own hath so brilliant a row? Then tell me if Cambria boasts numbers so goodly Of warriors that priz'd her renown as their blood, O shall we forget to assert it as proudly, That hers were the virtues of Howell the Good. Fel dwylaw y cerddor ar dannau ei delyn O ddyffryn i ddyffryn fy ysbryd a hed; Pe na b'ai f’arosfa i mi fel y gwenyn I'm taith ni b'ai derfyn ond Cymru a'i lled. Pob ystrad ganfyddaf sy'n ardal addewid, Pob pren yn gysgodfa sy'n aros fy ngham; Pob mynydd yn safle i ddangos mor hyfryd Drigfanau yr henwlad a enwaf yn Fam. Yr uchel, y gerwyn, y gorwyllt a'r apial, Yn Nghymru eu hyllwedd ni wnant ond mwy hardd, Y Ganaan amgylchant, lle gwelir mor ddyfal Y dwylaw wnant ir-ddol gystadlu â'r ardd. 0, who with such raptures would hail the grey mountains And point to their summits so naked with pride, But for the green estrades, the groves and the fountains, Those gloomy old bulwarks so grandly divide? And what were our boast in the list of those heroes That always were foremost the foe to annoy; Wer't not for the wisdom that opened our furrows, When Peace did invite us its blessings t' enjoy? While we sing of our Arthurs, Caswallons, Llewelyns, And him who a captive* 'fore Claudius erst stood: Still sweetest and best as the theme of our Telyns For aye be the virtues of Howell the Good. * Caractacus. “Ond poed fel y bytho am ryfeliad Hywel DDA, nid ydyw yn amddifad o enwogrwydd, a hyny hefyd o'r fath, na all neb oʻi gyf-ber:naethiaid Cymruaidd, ymffrostio ynddo; sef yw, ffurfiad y rheithres odidog, honno, a elwir ar ol ei enw'ef, hyd y dydd heddyw; a pha un a fu yn rheol llywodraethol i'r Cymry, tra parhaodd eu hannibyndod.”—Hanes Cymru, gan y Parch. T. Price, (Carnhuanawe).

(delwedd J4311) (tudalen 061)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 61 BRIDAL SONG. CAN BRIODASOL. Air – Blodau’r Gorllewin (Flowers of the West). O tyred, tyred, tyred, Eneth lwysdeg tua'r llan, I mi'n wraig gu Oni fyddi yn y fan? Neud heddyw yw'r diwrnod? A'r fodrwy aur sy'n barod: A'th dirion gyfeillesau, A'm mâid gyfeillion innau, I gyd a’u bryd I’th hebrwng hyd y llwybrau: Arosant 'nawr am deg ei gwawr O’th gylch yn lonfawr lu I’n dwyn mewn swyn, A'th roi, un fwyn, i fi. O hasten, hasten, hasten, To the church by Rhondda's side For there my fair I'd own thee as my bride: The ring of gold I've bought thee, And in the morn I've sought thee; And all thy fair companions, Like doves of whitest pinions, And mine that shine As their elected minions, Before thy gate E’en now await, To lead thee to the house, Where love may prove The brightest right t’espouse. O dywed, dywed, dywed Pa’m mae’n wlyped 'nawr dy rudd? Pa beth, teg ei phleth, Wna'th fynwes heddyw'n brudd? Dy dad a'th fam y'nt foddion, A'th lan berth'nasau'n ffyddlon, I'th hebrwng di i’r eglw's A'th ro'i i’r mab a'th garws: Paham gwnai gam A'r ddinam fron a'th ddenws? O wele fi Os gallu di Fy ngwadu heddyw 'Ngwen, Am byth heb nyth A melldith ar fy mhen. O tell me, tell me, tell me, Whence that tear drop on thy cheek? What thought, so naught, Would now our compact break? Thy parents not resisting, Thy kindred all assisting, To place thee in the bosom Of him who loves and knows 'em. My dear, what fear So late that thou shalt lose 'em? Bethink thee now But of the vow Thou mad'st to him that woo'd, Thro’ life his wife To be thro' evil and good.

(delwedd J4312) (tudalen 062)	62 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Air – Distyll y dôn (The Ebb of the Tide). Mae gwraig gan Rhys y Crwthwr Wyr hanes pawb a’u cyflwr Hi âi o’r Gogledd oer i’r De, - Gwnai heb ei thê na’i siwgwr, I ddilyn y glec. A thyllau yn ei hosan, A'i parchell trwyddynt allan; Bob borau â trwy gyrau'r plwy' I holi pwy sy'n gyfan, -- Mor felus yw'r glec. At orchwyl ty y borau Ni chodir hi a chlychau, Ond pe b'ai'n ffra ar doriad dydd Twt, yno bydd heb ’sgydiau, Gael cyfran o'r glec. Ni 'rogla Sian trwy'r hirddydd Y baw rhwng ei pharwydydd, Ond os cymydog boba ŵydd, Hi'i gwynta'n rhwydd drwy'r gwelydd, Os geirwir ei chlec Er lleied mae hi'n gynal, Nid bychan yw ei gofal; Ac yn y gwaith ca'dd atto ddawn Pwy fore a nawn mor ddyfa!; Sef dilyn y glec? Un iaith mae Sian yn wybod, Er hyn onid yw'n beth hynod? 'Dos iaith mewn byd na ddeall hi, Os neb fydd ynddi'n trafod Materion y glec. Y ddoe wrth wel’d o ddeutu Pwy'n rhostio oedd neu ferwi, Ei jwyntyn hi o eisiau 'i droi A welwyd gan ddau yn llosgi Tra hwdai ei chlec. Pan byddo Siani farw, Aruthrol ddydd fydd hwnw; A llawer hanes cyn ei phryd I'r gweryd gyda'r fenyw Gynnaliai y glec. O Tippling Dick the growler Of late is turn'd a fowler, And through the town his thund'ring noise Makes girls and boys change colour, For Dic’ks a good Shot. About his dingy dwelling Their danger all are smelling; For t’ other day the fowler swore He'd show no more of feeling Than should a good Shot. His wife oft dar'd in quarrel, Use words as sour as sorrel; Now if the vixen gives a quack He shows her smack the barrel Of him who's a Shot. Around, whate'er is moving, Be't foul or be it loving; Dick's always ready to cry, hark! O there's a mark for proving If I'm a good Shot. On roof or wall, no pigeon But finds low dread his dudgeon: Dick says, the more eyes at one stare The more there are to judge one If he's a good Shot. Tho' Dick till eight and twenty IIad fare both poor and scanty, Of nought but wild fowls now and bares He talks and swears he has plenty: Like every good Shot. To women given in marriage, Cry woe! for Dicky's courage, In cases twenty if not more Has caus’d them sore miscarriage Since dubb'd a good Shot.

(delwedd J4313) (tudalen 063)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 63 THE SONG OF THE MAN OF NEATH VALE. Air - Difyrwch Gwyr Mawddwy (The Men of Mawddwy's Delight.) Where oaks that glory in their growth The cavern’d rock embrace, What joy was mine ere prime of youth The gloomy wilds to trace; Where crag on crag majestic frown High o’er the shelter’d sward, What bliss was mine once to look down On meads their terrors guard, Yes what delight from hoary height That verg’d on the dark brown neath, E’en with a look, like an open’d book, to see the Vale of Neath. Where are the falls whose roar I've heard With joy as mad as theirs? Where lowing ox and warbling bird That earliest charm'd my ears? From river's bauk 10 heath, Where homes l’ve strain'd my eyes to count As shepherds do their flocks; From lofty tree and naked mount As the gale play'd with my locks? And where among the homes I saw Once happiest in its lot, Beneath its humble roof of straw, Arose my father's cot? Again thro' roads of sudden choice I'd follow fox or hare. Where blend the brown, and bright, and green Again I'd be as I have been Beside the winding Neathi. Where dark eyes flash 'neath tresses dark, Like sunbeams on a pool: Where fairy feet scarce leave a mark Upon the pathway cool: To meet those eyes with answ'ring looks, To follow oft such feet; Where mansions fair, and deserts greet, Neath, let me dwell amid the brooks Beside the tow'ring hill; That in thy wiudings ineet; Where danger made my safety sweet Wbere'er I stay, where'er I roam, By dark ravine and rill: As true as sword to sheath, Again I'd hear my echoed voice This heart is to the shelter'd home Amid the summits bare: I left by winding Neath. Note.-It has been often believed among the Hills that the inhabitants of the Vale of Neath are more attached to their birthplace than those of any part of Wales. A Translation of this Song will be given in the next Number. thway cool:Arose my father's cot? To meet those eyes with answ'ring looks, To follow oft such feet; Where mansions fair, and deserts greet, Neath, let me dwell amid the brooks Beside the tow'ring hill; That in thy wiudings ineet; Where danger made my safety sweet Wbere'er I stay, where'er I roam, By dark ravine and rill: As true as sword to sheath, Again I'd hear my echoed voice This heart is to the shelter'd home Amid the summits bare: I left by winding Neath. Note.-It has been often believed among the Hills that the inhabitants of the Vale of Neath are more attached to their birthplace than those of any part of Wales. A Translation of this Song will be given in the next Number.

(delwedd J4314) (tudalen 064)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. A Translation of this Song will be given in the next Number. BREODDWIT D. Air— Blorlau'r Irwin (Flowers of the Dell.) Stow. 1-1—,____N 44 • -• 1WIWI • iMSglialamine '1:" -a-01-`40- s_ • _rt. . V Mi welwn r !IUD ar fore o haf V V Yo Audio glasaf gaeau, Tea chwaria'r gwlith fel arian byw Ar Y bob tog ryw o V fiodau: Mn fwyn oedd gwawl boreuol haul I'w If jr,' oi----11-ts— a • MII ralr IM MINIM. • Nam J■E • AIM MI VI weld ar nut faesydd, Nea teimlais V settled trwy fy mien Fel arm o lawenyddth tehnIais redind trwy fy mum Fel alba gredais fod rhyw newydd fyd Yu Ityfryd altr alma Can adar fyrdd a'u certld fel mAr 1 uno'r cot hygaraf: Fel tend hyfrydwelt oedd yr allt, Kr gwjoid fel gwallt morwynig, Can olew wneir yn ddisglaer wlyb 'Not &milled' crib rauedig. • o lawenydd. Wrth odre'r hryn canfyddwn ferch Yu annerch haul y boron, A newydd gan o waith y bardd Can natur hardd ga'dd urchlau A thrwy ei llais cynhyrfai'n wir Yr awel bur i 'nadlu Aroglau per o'ent fwy ei gwerth Nag aberth y proffwydi. xxxxx

(delwedd J4315) (tudalen 065)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 65 DEFFRO, FY NANSI. AWAKE, MY DEAR NANCY. Air — Deffro, fy Nansi, by J.T. O! deffro fy Nansi, ac agor y drws, Paham 'rwyt mor fyddar ferch heno I'm Ilais? O tafla am danat beb ofn pa mor lws, Can's nid wyt yn ofni i'm law wneuthur trais; Paham caf fi aros dan gafod fel hon, A thithau yn dawel heb loes dan dy fron? A thithau yn dawel heb loes den dy fron. Awake my dear Nancy, and ope me the door, Why art thou so deaf love this night to my call O heed not how loosely thou meetest thy wooer, To thee, shall his honour be mantle and shawl, The rain on me pours, and my Love will not hear, The voice whose petition is all for her ear. The voice whose petition is all for her ear. 0 Ben! mae fy nghopa'o anhwylus gan boen, Nis pilaf dd'od been Yth gwmp'ni yn wit; Ant hyny, dycbwela cyn gwlychot i'r croen, Ond, cred fod fy mharch i ti'n part yn bur, Nos da i ti heno,—Nos da i ti Ben, Ye fy lle gelli godi amgenech merch wen. Oh Ben, such a headache torments me; indeed The courtship thou thInk'st of 'tis folly to name; Ere drencli'd with the showers hie homeward with speed, Nor blame the affection that's ever the same: Good Night I must bid thee—sweet Benny—Good Night, In my stead one that's fairer may pity thy plight. Dear Nancy, of fair ones why talk'st thou to me t Of alt that are beauteous my heart seeks hot One When I spy the ripe apples that grow on the tree, What falls to my brenst is the best to be won : If fate o'er man's destiny ever did, reign. In its book is my name brightly coupled with thine. O Aransi! Pa'm soni fel hyn am fetch wen, Fy ughalon ni 'ieehydd o'r hollfyd and un ; Pan welayf y 'falau yn aeddfed ar bren, 'Il Imo syrthio i *Isglirysless fydd oreu ira' min: Os gwn i pa beth yw rhagluniaeth a than, Yn Ilyfr fy wywyd tnaeth enw Inihob man. Os wyt ti mor sicyr, Ben, pa'm wyt ye trod Ar ooswaith mor arwed fel crw)dryn o'th dy 1 Gelli feddwl am claim( beb wlychu dy dro'd, A'th galua yn esmwyth ar wely u bits'; Ac os yw fy than i fyu'd girds ill lien, Cal heao, 'rwy'a coelio, estawythder i 'mhen. If such is thy faith, Lien, say why wilt thou come Abroad on KO eVellin so boist'rous to stray ? Of me thou might's( dream and enjoy at thy home The rest that is sweet as the coining of May. If Fate bath ordain'd that our like should e'er wed, To-night I may surely have rest for my head.

(delwedd J4316) (tudalen 066)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. O Nansi, er hyny, ni phalli, fi wn, Roi imi wres cusan i fyn'd ar fy min; Mae tamaid i'r 'nifail f'o'n myn'd dan ei bwn, Yn gwneuthur y rbiwiau yn wastad bob un: Os wyt yn fy nanfoo i'r gogledd neu'r de, O dod dy law allan, a dangos i b'le. Ah! wilt thou refuse bim that vainly doth sue The kiss that may cheer him along his dark road? To the steed that is burden'd, a mouthful to cbew The mountains can level whep beaviest his load: If thou bidd'st me depart to the South or the North, To show me my way, put thy lily hand forth. 'Rwy'n dyfod i'th ddangos, Ben, beth yw dy frys, Mae'r lle 'rwyf yn feddwl, ti wyddost, gerllaw; Nid wyf yn gwasanaethu un dyn gyda blys, Na thithau, can's eto nid wyf dan dy law: O garw mor oered yw'r gwynt 'n enw dyn, 'Nawr, dos, dyna'r cusan a geisiaist i'th fin. To show thee I'm coming—Ben, why in such baste? The place I allude to, thou know'st, is not far; No man have I serv'd yet, whate'er his behest, Nor thee, ere my comfort depends on thy care. How chilly the nighi is—now follow thy road, The balm thou didst sue for my lip hath bestow'd. O Nansi ! at bwy'rwyt ti'n fy nanfon i, dwód? To whom would my Nancy transport me this hour? Pwy ferch o'r gym'dogaeth sydd genyt ti'n rhodd? What fair one so lov'd as thyself canst thou find ! O Ben! mae'n bur agos, os rhoi i mi gred, O Ben, she is near thee-times twenty or more Mi'th glywais di'n dweyd bod hi'n llwyr wrth dy I've heard thee declare her the lass to thy mind. fodd: Say, whom but my Nance can I love while I live? Clyw, Nansi, 'dwy'n caru un ferch ond dydi, And whom but that one, Ben, hath Nancy to give? Wel, Ben, pwy ferch arall sy'n rhodd genyf fi? CWYNFAN MERCH IEUANC. Ar y don" Peggy Baud." Beth wna'r bloclitu? beth win'r Ilwyni ? Beth wna coedydd (lawn o ddail? Beth wna'r Aye ar benau'r twynl? Beth wna'r brynian gas ea sail? Beth wna siriol sir yr awyr, A boll barddwch dae'r a nen. I ferch fel ti sy'n caru'n gywir, Ond tyou'r dagrau hallt o'm pen? Gwywa'r blodan, noetba'r Ilwyni, Cwymp y dail oddiar y coed ; Stormydd yrant 'ddiar y twyni, Pan y d'ont, bob perchen trued; Tew gymylitu guddiant lon-ser, Oerwynt wna aderyn meld, 0! fy nghalon, dyna'r amser, Owelaf beth ernes i o'm byd. Am ryw un 'rwyf och'neidio, Am ryw un 'rwy'u colli'r dw'r, Am y mab ga'dd fy nghofleidio,— Rho'wn y byd pe cawn e'n wr; Oni ddengys of y coedydd, Llwyni gin, a blodau hardd; Nid ynt well i mi na chreigydd,— Pob hyfrydwcb o bono tardd. Tynai imi gnaw a 'falai; Tani blanigion Sr, Gwnai im' Gni o flodau'r dolan, Nes Sawn fel gardd yn ogodre'l dir; Ond, ar ddrwg brydnawn daeth awel, 'Drodd fy harddwcb oll i'r llawr? A'r un wy'n garu 'drychai'n dawel Arna' i'n Ovyto am yr awr.

(delwedd J4317) (tudalen 067)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. DAN RYW OFID. Air—Dan ryw ofid, by J. T. Dan rhyw •onct fo amarn pwyso, Rhoddaf laver ochena'd brudd; Ond mae rbyvr un a was heb geisio aa NM all Ire Saran III NM III flit/a Sea Sall111■1 MIP• • fa IIMN■a•M Sychu'r deigryn to sx fy ngrudd: Dan bob locs ro'n Llym a chweriv, Ni waith beth ddirboena 'when, Os rhwng breichiau hoff fy menyw, Caf bwys . o ar ei mynwes wen. Dyna'r hoff obenydd mwynaidd A'm dena I anghofio'r byd ; A thrwy'm gruddiau gwelw-cltfaidd ♦ enyn deg gariadawl wrid; Dyna'r fan lle pilaf dreulio Y oos a'r dydd heb gadw'u rhif ; Can's tra chalen fach yn curo, Ant beibio fel y gwibiog bluf. Ble'r arose rhag y stormydd Y Hong, and yn yr hafan Ion ? 'Neath the griefs this heart bath tasted Many a plaint doth from me break, Still there's one that unrequested Wipes the tear drop off my cheek. Keen as are the pangs of anguish—When my heart bath sorest bled; The breast whereon my soul would languish Still is proffeed for this bead. Spite of envy—spite of slander, 'Neath thy meek eye's friendly beam, A Ble'r arosa rhag y stormydd Y Bong, ond yn yr hafan Ion ? A ph'le, ond dan gysgodawl goedydd, Y trig 'nifeiliaid daear gron? A phis yw'r fan i ddyn osodwyd Iwyr lonyddasi galon glaf ? Ond yn y man lie gynt ei magwyd ? 0 fynwes menyw tarckl ei haf. Dyna'r fan Ile gallaf redden Pob camweddau ddaeth I'm rban, Rbwng dalenau teg ei bronau, Ni ddna enw art gelyn fan : Dyna'r fan lle caiff fy meiau A hoff guaanau en dileu, A gallaf fel y baban chwaren, A chalon newydd wedi'i chreu. Spite of envy—spite of slander, 'Neath thy meek eye's friendly beam, Of the joys no hate can sunder In thy arms I've dar'd to dream : There the darkest day and lightest Equal beauty have for me; Where thy eye-beam glistens brightest Every season's charm I see. There what bath my hate awaken'd Harmless falleth at my feet ; Foe-man's name Lath never blacken'd Her dear bosom's spotless sheet. There each error and each folly Find the grace for which they'd sue; Infantlike till I can daily With heart and feelings made anew. x

(delwedd J4318) (tudalen 068)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. GLENYDD Y TAF. THE BANKS OF THE TAVE. Air-Glenydd y Taf, by J. T. fi Ar foreu yn Mai pan anadl.ai yr awel, Rhwng glenydd y Taf fel newyddion o hedd, One morning in May when the breezes were breathing O'er Tave's mossy coverts like tidings of peace, Canfyddwn fugeil-ferch ar las-dwyn yn ar'el, A'r wyn wnaent o'i hamgylch ar fodau eu gwledd. A shepherdess sat by the lambs that were feeding 'Mid daisies whose whiteness but rivali'd their fleece., Derchafai ei llygaid, a hawdd oedd im' ganfod, Er hardded ei gwyneb, ei bod yn o glaf; Ac Her blue eye she raised that made fairer the weather; Yet, spite of its brightness, with sadness 'twas grave: And, Bod rhyw un yn eisiau ar Lenydd y Taf. Her Lover was gone from the Banks of the Tave. un gair o'i genau a wnaeth im' adnabod words that she utter'd too soon left me gather, Mi giliais o'i chyfer, ond mawr y dymunwn Gael gwrando beth ddelai o enau'r un lân; A hir nid arosais i ddysgwyl cyn gwelwn Ei thyner wefusau'n par'toi i ro'i cân; Ond O! mor alarus y llais ddoi o'i mynwes, Tra syrthiai ei dagrau ar flodau yr haf; Fe gredodd fy nghalon 'r anghofiwn bob dynes, Wrth feddwl am alar y ferch o Lan Taf. Aside I retir'd, yet how great was my ardour To know what might issue from lips so divine: Nor long did I tarry, ere raptur'd I heard her Give tongue to the secrets 'twas pain to confine, But Oh! what a burden of grief did she summon, While fell on the flow'rets the tear-drops they'd save; Methought my sad heart would ne'er dream of a woman Save her I left weeping 'mid Banks of the Tave. Tri haf aethant heibio ar beraidd adenydd, Er darfu i Morgan ymadael â thref; Tri hydref tra ffrwythlon lonasant y glenydd. Er rhoddais i hiraeth fy nghalon a'm llef; Tri gauaf guddiasant ag eira y bryniau, A thri oeraidd wanwyn, trist gyfrif a gaf, Er cefaais i eistedd fan yma ar liniau Y mab oedd orfoledd a hoffder Glan Taf. Three summers around this cool valley have hover'd Since Morgan my Lover did part from his home; Three Autumns with plenty yon ridges have cover'd Since first I deplor'd what impellid him to roam; Three Winters with snow-falls have shrouded the moun tains, And Springs, Oh! as many, well reckoned I have, Since last I sat listening beside the cool fountains To him who was titled the pride of Glan Tave. The lambs that were charm'd by the voice of my Lover Since then have their fleeces thrice grown to be shorn; But my locks that are falling, what time can recover? Or the bloom he compar'd to the blush of the morn? Yr wyn a wrandaw'sant ar berlais fy nghariad, Y'nt ’nawr yn heneiddio, fel dengys eu gwlân; A'r gwallt oedd e'n ganmol, yn hoffder ei siarad, A’m pen sy'n ymadael, a'r gwrid o fy ngrån: Y llwyn a'n cysgododd a ddringir gan iorwg, A phob peth sy'n profi i 'nghalon fach gläf; Mai byr fydd fy nyddiau oddieithr cael golwg Ar Forgan y glanaf o feibion Glan Taf. The bush that did shade us, dark ivy is creeping From all that surrounds me sad warnings I have How few shall my days be of hoping or weeping If soon I behold not the Pride of Glan Tave. Note.- In the pronunciation of the word Tave, the Englishman not conceiving that the letter F in Welsh has the soft sound of the V, thought that a double F would be equivalent to a single one, and wrote it down Taf; and the Welshman, more stupidly still, became the imitator of the Englishman, although he knew that the latter always complained of the number of consonants that the Welsh Language was loaded with. The word Taf should be spelt Tave, so that Englishmen might give it the sound it has always had in Welsh.

(delwedd J4319) (tudalen 069)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG.

(delwedd J4320) (tudalen 070)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG.

(delwedd J4321) (tudalen 071)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. To-morrow brings it very nigh; And who is worthiest now in truth, Does not the harrow's creak With Ploughman Rhys to go; On the last field bid all who may, But she who with the harrow's tooth In pastime end the week? His glebe broke through and through? As passage birds their thoughts make known Who bent on foreign shore; Fitted are these to ipake a pair, So they who seek the merry town, Aye, I'd aver through life: What they intend still more. May they their toil as wisely share When joined as man and wise. As anxious as the sprouting blade, He with a firm and steady arm, Its tender heart to show, All difficulties move; Is many a lad and growing maid She give his every work that charm, There to be known and know; Which makes the world approve. And glad as they is April sun, To see in one proud street Then let us sing God speed the plough. Each tand'd and oft bedazzled one, May ne'er a field it turns, He did on brown glebes greet. Ungladdened be by songs we know, While April's sunbeam buros. They or the birds, 'tis hard to say, May jolly ploughmen every where, Which gladdest are I trow; Get brighter as they toil, That harrow's noise owns pot to May, And in their work sbine as the share We've had a tardy plough. Which breaks the yielding soil. • Plough Saturday, is called in Carmarthenshire “Dydd Sadwrn Barlys,” and is still kept up as a day of pastime in the Vale of Towy.

(delwedd J4322) (tudalen 072)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. Pob llestryn sydd lwysber, lle cyfyd i'n cyfer, Ei thewyn ni ddiffydd; ni edy ei nodwydd Neu'n brydlawn fe'i gweler mewn syber iawn swydd, I rydu'n anghelfydd, na'i gwelydd heb galch, A'r pedyll pereiddia' yn glau am y gloywa' Y dydd ni fyn golli ar gylch pan ddaw'r golchi O ymdrech rhai taera'n bert arwydd. Nag unpeth bar dyfu'r bri difalch. Boreufwyd yn brydlawn roi'r yma'r awr uniawn, A'r plant eu rhan gyflawn yn gyfiawn a gant; A pbawb mewn sirioldeb a'u gwe ar eu gwyneb Yn neddfau callineb call unant. Yn nghanol ei theulu er nawdd ei rhôd nydda Dyd bob dydd i chwyrni tra'r baby, wr bach, Rhwng gwlenyn yn gorwedd, a'i mwyna amynedd Wna enw'r deg annedd ddau geinach.

(delwedd J4323) (tudalen 073)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG.

(delwedd J4324) (tudalen 074)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL.

(delwedd J4325) (tudalen 075)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. FY MENDITH I'R LLEUAD DDISGLEIRWEN, Ar yr un Don. Fy mendith i'r lleuad ddisglaerwen, Pe cuddiet ti Phebe® dy wyneb, *Y Lleuad. Fy mendith i'r seren fach siw, Pe celai'r ser tanhaid eu llun; A'm tywys i'n fynych mor ddifrad Yn fy nghariad mae golau mor lwysga I'r man lle mae 'nghariad yn byw. A'm tywys i atti ei hun. I garwr, mor lwys yw'r nos olau, Ar dwyni a dolau fel dydd; Ond gwerthfawr uwch pob peth yw'r cariad Fo'n seren a lleuad lle bydd, Mae'n seren da synwyr a glendid, A phob peth teg hyfryd i'r fron: Tra meddo ddisgleirdeb mor amlwg A gollaf fi 'ngolwg ar hon?

(delwedd J4326) (tudalen 076)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL.

(delwedd J4327) (tudalen 077)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. Buan ffrydia gwaed ei galon, Du lewygant ei olygon, Ond ei gof am Gymry dirion Deil yn gyson gwiw; Gwa'd Llewelyn wna'th ddiwallu, Euog dir pa wedd yr yfi Ffrwd y fron mae brad yn fraenu? Llais ei giledu clyw. Egwan lamp ei fywyd, Hon ni ddeil ond enyd: Neb gerllaw dderbynia'i law, Na hynaws braw o'i ysbryd. Calon ddur y gelyn dodda Tra mae'n sylwi ar ei wasgfa, Rhwng eu beirf Llewelyn drenga, 'I 'nadliad ola' yw. Darfu clod a chwydd uchelgais, Darfu cân a darfu dyfais, Darfu gloewi cledd i'r ymgais, Darfu'r adlais rydd. Gwa'd Llewelyn sy'n diliwio Pob peth teg yn ngwlad y Cymro, Llais ei fron sy'n glais pob glassro Lle tywyno dydd. Adar coed a'n gwawdiant Pan yn nghyd ymdyrant, Try y blaidd i wrando'n gwaedd, A'n gwyneb baidd ar lasbant; Cam y ddafad bery gryndod, Dan y creigiau yn ein trallod Rhanwn ymborth a'r llwynogod, Cawn dan geudod gwŷdd. 'Nawr ar greigiau mae wylofain, Pwy edrycha 'nol i'r gwersyll, Oer yw'r waėdd ac oer yr adsain; Adar tô sy'n meddu'n pebyll, Brad a dduodd awyr Prydain, A phob cysgod try yn ellyll. Gwel dy gelain gu. Dros y teryll dir. Corph Llewelyn draw sy'n gorwedd Mwyach swydd i feirdd y brynian Ar y dda'r yn ddianrhydedd, Udo'n drist eu galarnadau, Arswyd 'nawr a leinw'r orsedd, Dan y creigydd f'ont o'u gruddiau Lle i'w fawredd fu: Yn ddarluniau gwir. Mwy bydd cuddio gwyneb Draw wrth enau'r ogof Cymru'n drom ddiareb, Bardd a draetha'n wallgof Llais ein gwarth ar dwyn a pharth Werth y Rhi gollasom ni, A gyfarth mewn gerwiveb; A'i angeu ni a'n anghof; Fryniau, cuddiwch ran o'n gw'radwydd, Diles law rydd ar y delyn, Ddagrau, gwnewch ni niwy'n gyfarwydd Byth ni unir mwy yn fyddin, A dwfn adrodd heb ynfydrwydd Lu a wyla am Lewelyn, Haniad aflwydd du. Clywch eu gresyn gri! Llewellyn ap Gruffudd y diweddaf o dywysogion Gymru, ac un o'r galluocaf, a dewraf, a syrthiodd, yn ol yr hanesion mwyaf credadwy, pan oedd gwedi ymranu oddiwrth ei wyr; ac wedy ei fradychu'i ddwylaw ei elynion yn agos i Lanfair Muallt. SONG, TO THE AIR, “ STAR OF LLANEDI." See page 75. My blessing sweet moon on thy splendour, Tho' Phebe's fair visage were hidden, My blessing ye stars on that light, Tho' shrouded and shorn were each star; That so oft would prevent me to wander So bright are the charms of my maiden, From the journey I'm taking to-night. For ever they'd guide me to her. To lovers, how welcome the radiance, The star of good sense and of kindness, That turneth their midnight to day: Or virtues the fairest we deem; As the love, though, that proves its own guidance O who shall accuse me of blindness What planet can boast such a ray? That can ever lose sight of her beam:

(delwedd J4328) (tudalen 078)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. That can ever lose sight of her beam: Another exclaim'd, “ 'Twas last evening I beard Un arall a dd'wedai, “Ond ddoe y pry'nawn A voice that outrivall’d the trill of the bird; Mi glywais gantores nefolaidd o ddawn, The ocean I'd cross its fair owner to view"; Mi groeswn y mor am ddod etto i'w chlyw." “You've heard,” said a fourth, “but the fair Ellen “Ni chlywaist," medd arall, “Ond Wyres Ned Pugh.” Pugh."

(delwedd J4329) (tudalen 079)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. If all these perfections unto her belong, Said I–I'll bebold her and list to her song: And now I declare: without peril how few Can gaze at the charms of the fair Elleu Pugh. Os pob rhagoriaethau berthynant i hon, Ebe fi, mynaf olwg ar fyr o'r un gron; Yn awr wy'n claf dystio fath berygl yw Bod wyneb yn wyneb ag Wyres Ned Pugh. To some l've acknowledged how love-sick I've been, Wrth feibion addefais mor glwyfus fy mron From gazing at one so unrivall’d in mien, O herwydd im' syllu mor fentrus ar lon; In answer they tell me, “ If that 'tis you rue, A’r meibion atteb'sant, “Os clefyd serch yw, You feel but what all do who've seen Ellen Pugh.” Mae canoedd yn glafach am Wyres Ned Pugb." Since of all that may look at this paragon's charms, O'r nifer wnaeth harddwch un eneth mor ffol But one can enclasp her at last in bis arms; Ond un yn y diwedd ga'i meddu'n ei gôl; Before she makes love-sick both gentile and jew, Cyn clwyfo ei glendid bob dyn o bob rhyw, Full time 'tis that some one possess Ellen Pugh. Meddianned 'run garo lan Wyres Ned Pugh. h.

(delwedd J4330) (tudalen 080)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. en ddim mwy nag ar lawr; Er hyny trwy bob peth, fel tystia holl Gymru, Ni ddysgodd er

(delwedd J4331) (tudalen 081)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 81 THE SONG OF THE OWL Air – Song of the Owl. Composed by J.T. Since day hath gone from thee, man, listen to me – On the verge of the grove is my favourite old tree: A dark-spreading oak, e'en the gloomiest there seen, In its branches I sing when the night air is keen; I tell how the labour of man and his skill How the thoughts of his heart and the joys of his will All tend to embellish my dreary domain, His pomp, and is schemes, and his cares, and his gain. Yon Castle, – go ask why the spear and the Dealt death from its walls? Who defendeth it now? Its halls, and its chambers, and tow'rs of defence, For whom where they built at a world of expence? Approach it when midnight hath stretch'd its dark pall O'er the premises dim; from the weed-bearing wall, Thou'lt bear me proclaim the extent of my sway, Where the ghost of its founder ne'er utters a nay. What matters it now, tho' its portals were barr'd, No signal, no warning, from warder or guard Betrays my outgoings nor entrance, -and all Are silent in death who might rouse at the call: The feuds of its beirs for possession and might, They're ended, - none living disputes my sole right. Oh tools! did they know that they fought but for me, The truest of heirs, though the last in degree. Man would be a despot, e'en though his heart yearns For the friendship of those whom his haughtiness spurns: A despot should live in his splendour alone, And keep from the envy of rivals his throne I dwell unannoyed in the mansion which pride Thro' the term of man's tenure ne'er ceas'd to divide; And my tranquil possession attested shall be, For ages to come from this ancient oak tree. 'Mid ruins, to ruins I chant my lone son 'Mid ruins I dwell, and my life-term is long. I go forth at my need, when all foes are a-bed, And the fopp'ries of daylight, they turn not my head; From season to season I see not the sun, Nor leave my dark haunt till his race hath been right. And night, when it comes, from the yew and the oak What song but my own doth its darkness invoke?

(delwedd J4332) (tudalen 082)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. CAERPHILLY. Air-Ar Foreu Teg ( On a Fair Morn). fi 8 O who beholds thy once proud wall,That did belcaguering foes appal; And not the pomp whose Pwy ystyr drwch dy gadarn fur, Frawychai c'yd warchaeol wyr, Na chofia'r mawredd gets the festive hours, Whose bounty fell like thunder show'rs Within this fair Caerphilly? gyda'r arfog wr, Am wleddau gynt wnaent rwysgfawr stwr Rhwng muriau hen Gaerphili?

(delwedd J4333) (tudalen 083)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. From Britain's heights all eyes may see How beauteous are her valleys, And fairer, fresher

(delwedd J4334) (tudalen 084)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. The tempests bowl, the zephyr's breath, The flow'ry vale, the dark-brown heath, Alike have fix'd my bees a truant boy, And nought I pluck'd with glowing hand But dearer made my Native Land. Er profi pleserau pob lle yn ddi wad, Ei bryniau, a'i gelltydd, ei hadar, a'i hwyn,Hen Gymru fyth garaf, yr oreu hoff wlad; Pob peth sydd yn anwyl, pob pren, a phob llwyn: Fy nhraed wrth ei thramwy a deimlant lon wrês, Wlad! wlad ! hoff, hoff wlad, &c. A'i hagwedd pan welwyf, i'm llygaid rødd lés: Gwlad fy hên gyfeillion, gwlad 'nbad, gwlad fy Wlad! wlad ! hoff, hoff wlad, mam, 'Docs fan fel fy ngwlad,'does fan sel fy ngwlad. Lle dysgais chwedleua, l!e rho’es gyntaf gam; Lle cysgais, lle codais, lle tyfais yn ddyn, Lle cerais fercb gyntaf, O! wlad lòn ei llun: Pan byddwyf y'mhell, fel y g'lomen drist, trôf Wlad! wlad ! hoff, boff wlad, Fy ngbolwg tua'm cartref, nid å fyth o'm côf, 'Does fan fel fy ngwlad, 'does fan fel fy ngwlad

(delwedd J4335) (tudalen 085)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 85 MAN IN EDEN. DYN YN EDEN. To the Air, “Men of Harlech," page 76. When of Eden's blissful garden Pan osodwyd dyn yn Eden, Man was tenant free and warden; Iddo gwnaed pob perchen aden, Fairest fruit tree's fairest burden Pob anifail, ffrwyth, a choeden, Him was giv'n to eat. Gan y nef yn rhodd; Oft be gazed on tree and flower, Syllai ar y blodau lliwus Pluck'd from ev'ry cluster'd bower; Profai'r ffrwythau mwyaf melus, Yet nor sunshine sweet, nor shower, Eto se ddangosai'i wefus Could his bliss complete. Nad oedd wrth ei fodd: What is furtber wanting? Beth sy'n awr yn eisiau? Flear the song-bird's chanting; Gwrando'r hyfryd leisiau On the spray whose bloom so gay Sydd trwy'r ardd, gan adar hardd, Thy hourly jny's augmenting. Yn gweini'n fwyn i'th glustiau: nb I feel a longing bitter, O! 'rwy'n teimlo yma angen, Every morn and eve makes greater: Na ddigona sain eu pylgen, And my heart its plaint would utter Mae'n dirdynu wrth fy asen, - To the form I'd meet. Gwpaffy nghwyn ar g'odd. Limbs are mine that service render; Form erect to stand or wander; Hands that bend the osiers tender Hourly to my will. But when gazing round on nature: Why behold not form or feature, Like my own as every creature Else on plain and bill? Here, his plaint suppressing, He his wish confessing, In his rest, first o'er bis breast, Felt tear drops, tear drops chasing: But to wipe them who arriveth But the form bis heart conceiveth? In the solace heaven giveth, Straight he knows its will. Rhoddwyd im' aelodau lluniaidd, Corff sy'n syth ar y gwastadedd, Dwylaw blethant wjail iraidd, Fel tuedda 'mryd; Ond paham nad allaf ganfod Uu cyffelyb, a'i hadnabod, Fel gwna'r adar yn y cysgod, A'r bwystflod gyd? Yna fe ddistawai, Oud fe deimlai ddagrau Gyntaf byd ei fynwes glyd, Yn syrthio yn gafodau; Ond pwy ddeuai yno i'w sychu, Ond yr bon oedd e'n ddych'ınygu? Yutau'n union a adnabu Werth ei drysor drud. GWERDDONAU Y LLI. * Cyfieithiad o Mrs.HEM ANS. gan J.T.Yo mble mae gwerddonau hyfrydwch i'w caffael. Yr uchel o fryd-h'le maent heddyw yn gorphwys Mewn tegwch cypeswawl ar fynwes y lli? A hwylient am hafaidd Werddonau y L! i? Pa yspryd gyfrwydda ein taith 'nol ymadael Gan wyntoedd y weilgi eu hanes sydd wiwlwys. I chwilio'r ynysoedd dedwyddawl eu bri. Eu beddau ni welir yn henwlad eu bri.Ein tadau mewn peraidd lewygion a'u gwelsant. Y'nghartre'r awelon. lle unant aroglau Deonglwyd i'r dewrion orwiwder eu gwedd; Ro'nt yspryd anfarwol i drigfan yr hedd Ond y gobaith yn unig o'u mwynder brofasant. Mae eu lle-ond eu camrau ar benwlad eu tadau Cenys neb ni'u hadwaenodd cyn adwen ei fedd.Ni welir-y glasfor fu iddynt yn fedd. * Cred yr Hen Frytaniaid oedd mai yn mhell yn y Mor Gorllewinol oedd trigfan y dedwydd. neu Werddonau y Lli. GWERDDONAU Y LLI.* Cyfieithiad o Mrs. HEM ANS, gan J. T. yn mble mae gwerddonau hyfrydwch i'w caffael, Yr uchel o fryd-h'le maent heddyw yn gorphwys Mewn tegwch cypeswawl ar fynwes y lli? A hwylient am hafaidd Werddonau y L!i? Pa yspryd gyfrwydda ein taith 'nol ymadael Gan wyntoedd y weilgi eu hanes sydd wiwlwys, I chwilio'r ynysoedd dedwyddawl eu bri. Eu beddau ni welir yn henwlad eu bri. Ein tadau mewn peraidd lewygion a'u gwelsant, Y'nghartre'r awelon, lle unant aroglau Deonglwyd i'r dewrion orwiwder eu gwedd; Ro'nt yspryd anfarwol i drigfan yr hedd Ond y gobaith yn unig o'u mwynder brofasant, Mae eu lle-ond eu camrau ar benwlad eu tadau Cenys neb ni'u badwaenodd cyn adwen ei fedd. Ni welir-y glasfor fu iddynt yn fedd. * Cred yr Hen Frytaniaid oedd mai yn mhell yn y Mor Gorllewinol oedd trigfan y dedwydd, neu Werddonau y Lli.

(delwedd J4336) (tudalen 086)	86 THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. DYWED GOG. BANKS OF AERON. Air – Banks of Aeron, by J.T. Dywed gôg. cyn gwelir onen Braidd na derwen lawn o dddail onen, Am wlad bell pam lledu'th aden A gwres haulwen yn neshau? Cyn bo'r blodau hardd yn agor - Cyn bo'u 'roglau llenwi'r ma's, Ymaith i'r bellenig oror Ai â'r ganiad oreu'i blas. Banks of Aeron I have sought you, When the tear drop dimm’d my eye, And with heart such as I brought you, Mourn'd the griefs my fear deem'd nigh: And when turn’d my head in sadness, Thrush and linnet heard I there; In their wild-notes tell, what madness, 'Tis for distant days to care.

(delwedd J4337) (tudalen 087)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. MANTAIS. Air-Difyrwch Guyr Dyfi (The Delight of the Men of Dovey). f cymaint brygawthiram wyrni pob oes, Bhai welir o hyd i rai ereill yn groes: Trwy Rbai haerant mewn trawsder ac weithiau ar wên Gobeithiwn, Frytaniaid, fod tymor gerllaw Mai sicraf a doethaf yw dilyn yr hen! Ar lawer o gleber ragrithiol rydd daw; Hen dybiau, hen deuau, ben hanes, hen dôn, Pan gorfydd pob pleidiau broffesant ein lles A'r henaf ddefodau am danynt b'o son.

(delwedd J4338) (tudalen 088)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. THE CAMBRIAN MINSTRI11.. MA: TATS. Air—Difyrutit Guyr Dyfi ( The Delight of the Alen of Dopey). At bethau a brofwyd i dyna yn pes. Ac ereill dan gecru a'u cegau ar led, Gobeithiwn o'r diwedd 'nol beio a chnoi, Mewn tônau, a dillad, a gwisgad a chred A thynu, a phledio, a thaeru, a throi, Ddyrchafant y newydd-a newydd beth dyn D'wed pob dyn addefo ei rwymau i ddyn Fynychaf yw'r peth fo i'w fantais ei hun. Beth gyll i'w fanteisio o'i fantais ei hun. Mewn ffordd mor wahanol mae gwyr o'r un cnawd Bod llawer peth etto yn Mrydain o le, Yn proti eu serch a'u haelioni i'r tlawd! Mae hyny mor amlwg a'r haul yn y ne':Gwnai rhai ef mor gib-ddall a'r wådd dan ei droed, Bod rhaid cael rhai dewr i wneyd cymwys o'r cam Ac ereill mor benrydd a bwystfil y coed. Mae'n hawdd i ddyn ddeall cyn 'mado a'i fam. Un rhyngddo a phob peth a rwygai bob llen, Ond trwy'r diwygiadau sydd etto i ddod, Nes gwnelai y gwan-ddyn ond llygad a phen; Rbai geisiant eu cyfoeth, ac ereill eu clod, Un arall a'i dysgai mewn pob peth ond un, Wnant achos in' gofio, trwy bob peth bod dyn Sef gweld beth bentyra i'w fantais ei hun. A'i lygad o hyd ar ei fantais ei hun. Mae petit/wen loud. eli s'm fluent Fe faro: Eel gwelais hwy'a Itenmanti awe's( yn awe. Er =Oa r mom= =1,.■1■S'ENI.■ I a =Nam =RnSISMIl Mr MV • aIMn a I • emnsint ymilmettir eysool't Lea Ott. Aiwa anneals • Maestro si'a pan o hyd. Er mmaiat brygantbir am —1=W writ' pub nes, Beat wclir o byd I nai trail! yu mom: Trw 1411 ■t ■ Warn-at Ste YIN 'MNICIn MI".■ bob petit lied ofeal mat cyfaill me dye, %Vet Rho! baerant mown trneader ac weithiau ar wee Mai Mcrae a decibel yw dilys yr bent lien dybiau, hen &gnu, hen hears, lien dim, A'r bent ddeforhu am &aqui b'o son. Ac trout dan gecru a'st cent ar led, Mown then,* dillad, a gwisgad a chred Ddyrchatant y ntoydd-a eewydd beth dyn Epochal' yw'r peth fo i'w rentals ei bun. Mena ifordd toot wabanol role gwyr o'r un caned Ye prod to lurch a'u boohoo' i'r tiawdl Gwnai Thai of mor giMddall er wield den el deceit. Ac ereill mor benrydd a ItwystAl y coed. Vu rbyngddo a phob peth • rwygai bob Ilen, Net gwneial y gwao•eltlyn end Ilygad a puce; Un trail 411 dysgai mown pob petit and en, Set gwerd bolt bentyra i'w fautais ei bun. 1 1- orau o bob peth ei &antis ei bun. Bobeithiwa. Erytaniald, fed tymor gerllaw Ar lower o gleber ragrithiol rydd daw; Pan gorfydd pob pleidiau broffesant tin Iles At bethau a brofwyd i dyne yn nes. Onbeithiwn o'r diwerld bole a chnoi, A thyme, a phledio, • thane, a throi, freed pob dye addefe el rwymmt i ddya Beth gyll I'w fantcisio o'i (totals ei butt. Bed Bawer peth etc ye Mrydnie o le, Mne byny mor Amin a'r haul yn y ne':— lied rhaid cad Thai dewy i wocyd cymwys o'r earn Moen hawdd i ddyn ddeall cyn 'made a'i tam. Ond trwy'r diwygiadea sydd etto i (Mod, }that geisiant eu ey foeth, to treat et clod, Wnant echos iu' gotlo, trwy bob peth hod dyn A'i lygnd o hyd ar el lintels et hue.

(delwedd J4339) (tudalen 089)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 89 THE OLD WATER MILL. To the same Air. O there was the mill stream my lips could once greet As a pilgrim's that sought it to cool his tir'd feet. 'Twas So smooth was its surface, its current so free; The bee that flew o'er it, its picture might see. The pulse of that dingle, now still as the grave, Owns none that doth care from the riv'let to save The water so many did wait to see fill, When Gwilym might need it to turn his old Mill. THE OLD WATER MILL. To the same Air. course. O there was the mill stream my lips could once greet How oft as he went to examine his dyke As a pilgrim's that sought it to cool his tir'd feet. 'Twas puzzling to say what his features were like, So smooth was its surface, its current so free; When he settled with conscience perhaps 'bout the The bee that flew o'er it, its picture might see. toll The pulse of that dingle, now still as the gtave, As it fidgetly told him to think of his soul: Owns none that doth care from the riv'let to save But ere from reflection's bot fit he grew cool, The water so many did wait to see fill, A shrill voice announc'd that the millpond was full, When Gwilym might need it to turn bis old Mill. Then clack went the merry old mill as before, And conscience was hush'd as it rattled the more. No ducks on the mill pond, nor swine in the stye; Nor gander assaulting the lads that run by: With Gwilym the Miller and Jack his white horse Now dead is the miller; but lies not alone, They're gone, and the current knows not its old For with him I'm told went to sleep his wife Joan, Who knew her good time when a farmer's wife came, O'ergrown is the pool, which, when Easter days came, To press ber to tea, and partake of the same. Brought hither stout urchins that boasted their game The crack of a whip as it near'd the old mill, In grasping the eels that gave life to its slime, The carter's loud gee; or bis whistling so shrill When shovels on shovels threw't up in quick time. Were always her signals to haste to her door, Some fav'rite to greet with the corn that came o'er. Ah! well could I name my companions that few Like myself to the miller, when kind was his cue: To have our sweet handfuls of peelcorn ere ground, Whatever Old Gwilym, or fancied or took, While clack went the mill, and the big wheel turn’d Between him and conscience he still kept a book, round. And few of his neighbours most prejudiced durst How loud he would talk, when the storm of his mill Of millers aver that old fellow was worst: His bawling made needful—and then when 'twas still, And few have pass'd by the dear spot where he dwelt, Old Gwilym ne'er knew how to alter his key, Who for bis departure some grief have not felt, For he thought all the world struck with deafness For though he night take, as your men that must live, but he. Ev'n more than he took he was ready to give. DEAR COMRADE. To the same Air. Dear Comrade, those green days no longer are ours, While roar the loud winds at our houses' pine ends, When we hail'd with like rapture the snowflakes and What a lecture they preach on the value of friends! flow'rs; They tell us wbat fellowship's boods have in lieu Or welcom'd the tempest that blew up our hair, Of the green joys of summer, for me and for you. As a playmate that came our wild pastimes to share. And sweet is the thought as the welkio grows dark, Still, winter bas sweets that the manliest of brow That homes are at hand which old friends make their May jointly partake as they smile at his snow; And the frost that converts to hard metal our lands While last in the valleys the falls and the floods Can freeze into union good fellowship’s hards. That shake our old bridges, and deluge our roads. M ark; No docks on the mill pond, nor swine in the stye; Nor gander assaulting the lads that run by: With Owilym the Miller and Jack his white home They're gone, and the current knows not its old course. O'ergrown is the pool, which, when Easter days came, Brought hither stout urchins that boasted their game In grasping the eels that gave life to its slime, When shovels on shovels threw'( up in quick time. AM well could I came my companions that flew Like myself to the miller, when kind was his ene To have our sweet handfuls of pecicorn ere ground, While clack went the mill, and the big wheel tumid round. How loud be would talk, when the storm of his mill His hawlingroade needful—and then n hen 'tyres still. Old Owilym osier knew bow to alter his key, For he thmight all the world struck with deafuess bat he. How oft as he went to examine Lis dyke 'Twits puzzling to say what his features were like, When he settled with conscience perhaps 'bout the toll As it fidgetly told him to think of his soul: But ere from reflection's hot fit he grew cool, A shrill voice announc'd that the millpond was full, Then clack went the merry old mill as before, And conscience was hush'd as it rattled the more. Now dead is the miller; hat lies not alone, For with him I'm told went to sleep his wife Joan, Who knew her good time when a farmer's wife came, To press her to tea, and partake of the note. The crack of a whip as it netted the old mill, The carter's lead yes, or his whistling so shrill Were always her signals to haste to her door, Some faertle to greet with the corn that cams o'er. Whatever Old Owilym, or fancied or took, Between him and conscience he still kept • book, And few of his neighbours most prejudiced darn Of millers aver that old fellow was wont: And few have posed by the dear spot where he dwelt, Who for his departure some grief have not felt, For though he might take, as your men that most live, Ev'u more than he took he was ready to give. DEAR COMRADE. To the same Dear Comrade, those green days no longer are ours While roar the loud winds at our houses' pine ends, When we hail'd with like rapture the snowflakesand fluters; Or welcora'd the tempest that blew up our hair, As a playmate that came our wild pastimes to share. Still, winter has sweets that the manliest of brow May jointly partake as they smile at his snow And the frost that converts to hard metal our lands Can freeze Into union good fellowship's hands. What • lecture they preach on the value of friends! They tell us what fellowship's bonds have in lieu Of the green joys of summer, for me and for you. And sweet is the thought as the welkin grows dark, That homes are at hand which old friends make their ark; While last io the valleys the falls and the floods That shake our old bridges, and deluge our roads.

(delwedd J4340) (tudalen 090)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. there with my cronies: What time for fun we'd jump and run, Like wild black mountain ponies. Oft in a ring, we'd say or sing, What folks too well might listen; And with each joke, through sparks and smoke, Old Griffith's eye would glisten. With every heat, as all thought meet, His verdict he would stammer, And turning back, seal’d with a smack Of his tremendous hammer. There tales of ghosts and doubted posts Were every day gazetted, And there the news of every booze By idlers was repeated: There spread the fame of cocks of game And all high mettled horses, And wond'rous things of lords and kings Were said to grace our farces. If tired with noise-look to 't my boys, He had a way to thunder, When from his chops he threw huge drops His mighty sledge blow under; 'Twas rarest fun to hear his gun, And see some novice frighten'd, When he old cob his nose did rub As his sly eye's corner whiten'd. There masons, crost by rain and frost, With Idiot Tom would meddle; The weaver too, with nose so blue, Would there propound his riddle: And many a sprite the cold did bite There brought fag ends of scandal, All for to teaze, or else to please The rough good natur'd vandal.

(delwedd J4341) (tudalen 091)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. The rough good natur'd vandal.

(delwedd J4342) (tudalen 092)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL.

(delwedd J4343) (tudalen 093)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. curo gan Ivan gurant 'nol b'ont o bob yn rhydd lawn amser у Salmwr. Mae Ivan bob wythnos pan ddel ar ei dro Who'd not as he hears the town bells gaily ring Yn nesaf ei barch i'r gweinidog, Have a peep at the rusty old ringers, A thyrfa a'i dilyn trwy gonglau y fro, Where high as the wall loving daw goes on wing O'i fawrglod a'i barch y'nt gyfranog. They are plying at the loud brazen swingers: A'i bib a'i fforch diwno yn barod wrth law, A peep I have had, and to all I declare, Pob teulu, beth bynag fo'u cyflwr, Where I thought to see fat ones and jolly, I'w trymaf ofalon eu her ro'nt o draw Such barebones I found, that each seem'd by his stare Os gwelant ond pig Ivan Salmwr. To belong to the witch melancholy. 'Nol son am wyr enwog a son am wyr bach, 'Rwy'n credu 'dos ond blewyn cwta 'Nol olrhain gweithredoedd a hanes ac ach, O'r diwedd a brawf pwy sydd fwya'. Old stickers they are at your corners and inns, That claim the best blood in the borough, They get the best stuffing at times for their skins, And at others half famish'd get narrow

(delwedd J4344) (tudalen 094)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL.

(delwedd J4345) (tudalen 095)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. 95 YN MRIG YR HWYR Tôn – Ar Hyd y Nos O mor felus im’ yw rhodio Yn mrig yr hwyr, Lle bo ana’l nos yn gwlitho Yn mrig yr hwyr, Lle bo em qoaaa-lao usa;up aq W oqm gam qava3 Top a,aao.I lut-iq Luz ji 'um VITA L•a, any io ala ag) dog/ influ s! 11 uaqm ajdarrau y quid mpg egg you Ms 1121u g! ly ugght 'igeggeP 0°12010 02 111 .ahaq ad Iliaag uA tom ogoOlo, 1 gpig unit) inuagka•u 1,ogoa guomater a,ogoo poggid 6‘ guns °goo !datri aL 2[1•1 OA 1111[0•1 • lui$ gulag thCmq lL Sq.no uA souo2 p jog;Cs mad I Goal 1•• Wellime•rn at 100tart 101 laaal 1•Eflal•fl•dla•afleig ••• I • •IMNS M.■•■•••■ SINflai•IMISfIS laaa as allinfaup.im masa um due_m nowissisi■e. seaMge a IN 1•1•^1=11~•••11•111=11■••••••1 I e •••••••••11.11111!•111—•• OMENS /04•1•111•• li.1•••••11•1•11••••• !Main OS' •IMIII•Mi• Mel /al= IN • utrapp taupe punii who oinopoy ppm/ oq 31,1 •ILAsq aL Ilpto • MN/1•1••■•■11•1••■• NII•M•111•1•••■ IMOI•Mlia••••1/1=IIIMI11111•1Wlarot 1•••••••1•1 WIN =SIMS.■•• 1■1111rn11111111011 •ILII•lail• •••••••■••Yilalisi 8/1=M=MI•••• =Pan Ma ••I 641=111n• • as rrn. MI" IMINI•1•II■1fll im am ••••••INtai ■••■ riNINIMIMM•••••••• M•111•••~4IOnSim••■11 n•I•1111•fl =NMI= MIMEOS-4E1-S In MB_ ••••••••••flin••••Illair IS ar•••••• • 1••11 inn ••/ L 0' MI IN IIIIINIF I Mom( 10' ag,110 aliowle. i ma. niolaM..■ SS 1111111■11■Ir NI OM. SIMIISISMIU MIMMON11•1•111M111W INallaiflair./ lli■SENNIMMINII■li■=1 VI OM 6/1•=1=len iNi■Si■■it !SIMI. II elillmIS=111•IIIIIM ilia•■IMIII/MMIN as ea • 4•9111•A2 vi vavUm oq 017 Wet,' AI 24til mA 1011,041 ma(.031 gulai egul 0 01•00MOMMINI∎0110 0MINI■SIL Ca ••••■101•0•001a •s•01 01f.01111 i■a 10•11010a•••1116/INNeSIII 1•0a Illiflart SNOWMEN'S/IN 'flail's, 010110 MInMI 1•■Il oSt=••■ 26 11AA111 ILA OXUW NA 01SgligA0 cia,tasuara A •soN av—un

(delwedd J4346) (tudalen 096)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. hwng cyfeillion pur eu helfen Mil goleuach canwyll frwynen Nag i'r coegfalch lamp ddisglaerwen. Ar byd y no3. And in converse. not unholy. With the stars o'er rolling slowly. Day forget and day-light's folly. At dead of night. Cân a chwedl. pwnc a rheswm. Ar hyd y nos. Amryw geinciau y'nt o'r cwlwm. Ar hyd y nos. Sydd yn dal heb rwym na gorfod Wýr y'nghyd o'r un gydwybod. Hwn os gall gwnaed ffol ei ddatod. Ar hyd y nos. When the rest of toil is sweetest. At dead of night. And the heart for musing meetest. At dead of night.

(delwedd J4347) (tudalen 097)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG. In the wondrous tale of Nature Let joy ear as sole narrator Hear the voice of my Creator At dead of night. CAN I FIS MAI. Ton-Hoffedd Howell ap Owen Gwynedd (The Delight of Howell son of Owen Gwynedd). lamp ddisglaerwen, Ar byd y no3. And in converse, not unholy, With the stars o'er rolling slowly, Day forget and day-light's folly, At dead of night. Cân a chwedl, pwnc a rheswm, Ar hyd y nos, Amryw geinciau y'nt o'r cwlwm, Ar hyd y nos, Sydd yn dal heb rwym na gorfod Wýr y'nghyd o'r un gydwybod, Hwn os gall gwnaed ffol ei ddatod, Ar hyd y nos. When the rest of toil is sweetest, At dead of night, And the heart for musing meetest, At dead of night, In the wondrous tale of Nature Let joy ear as sole narrator Hear the voice of my Creator At dead of night. CAN I FIS MAI. Ton-Hoffedd Howell ap Owen Gwynedd (The Delight of Howell son of Owen Gwynedd).

(delwedd J4348) (tudalen 098)	THE CAMBRIAN MINSTREL. hwng cyfeillion pur eu helfen Mil goleuach canwyll frwynen Nag i'r coegfalch

(delwedd J4349) (tudalen 099)	Y CANIEDYDD CYMREIG.

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