The Poetry of Wales Part 4
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BY THE REV. DANIEL EVANS, B.D.
[The Rev. Daniel Evans, B.D., Fellow of Jesus College, Oxford, composed the following and several other poems in this collection. He was a native of Cardigans.h.i.+re, and, following the example of his countrymen, he a.s.sumed the bardic name of _Daniel Ddu_. He was born in 1792, and died in 1846. His compositions were very miscellaneous, and appeared separately, but the whole were afterwards published in one volume by Mr.
W. Rees, of Llandovery, in 1831. This poet's writings are distinguished by great pathos, and a truthful description of nature.]
How fair and fragrant art thou, May!
Replete with leaf and verdure, How sweet the blossom of the thorn Which so enriches nature, The bird now sings upon the bush, Or soars through fields of azure.
The earth absorbs the genial rays Which vivify the summer, The busy bee hums on his way Exhausting every flower, Returning to its earthen nest Laden with honied treasure.
How cheerful are the signs of May, The lily sweet and briar, Perfuming every shady way Beside the warbling river; And thou, gay cuckoo! hast returned To usher in the summer.
How pleasant is the cuckoo's song Which floats along the meadow, How rich the sight of woodland green, And pastures white and yellow, The lark now soars into the heights And pours her notes so mellow.
To welcome May, let thousands hie At the sweet dawn of morning, The winter cold has left the sky, The sun is mildly beaming, The dew bright sparkles on the gra.s.s, All nature is rejoicing.
Let May be crown'd the best of months Of all the pa.s.sing year, Let her be deck'd with floral wreaths, And fed with juice and nectar, Let old and young forsake the town And shout a welcome to her.
THE DAWN.
BY THE REV. DANIEL EVANS, B.D.
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light arise, Delightful day--shed by the sun-- Breaks forth from eastern skies, He--in his course o'er oceans vast And distant lands--returns Firm to his purpose, true his way, He nature's tribute earns: Before him messengers arrive And sparkle in the sky, These are the bright and twinkling stars Which spot the sable canopy.
The c.o.c.k upon his lofty perch Has sung the break of day, The birds within the sheltering trees Now frolic, chirp and play; I see all nature is astir As tho' from sleep restor'd, Alive with joy and light renew'd By the Creator's word: Now every hill and valley low Appear in full charm, Beneath the sun's benignant smiles, Which now creation warm.
TO THE DAISY.
BY THE REV. DANIEL EVANS, B.D.
Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest, Some great delight possesses me When thy soft crystal bud I see.
Thou art the first of the year To break the bonds of winter, And for thy gallant enterprise I'll welcome thee and sing thy praise.
And hast thou no misgiving?
Or fear of tempests howling To issue from the hardy sod Before thy sisters break their pod?
Behind thee millions lie And hide their faces shy, Lest winter's cold continue, Or tempests charged with mildew.
Inform thy sisters coy The spring's without alloy, Tell them there is no snow Or icy wind to blow.
Tell them the cattle meek Will joy their heads to seek, The lamb delighted be To see them on the lea.
Speed therefore all ye flowers That gleam upon the pastures, Ye white and yellow come And make the field your smiling home.
A thousand times more comely Your cheerful features lively, Than all the gems that s.h.i.+ne In royal crown of princely line.
How pleasant then to roam Through field and forest home, And listen to the song Of birds that carol long.
THE LILY AND THE ROSE.
Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the hill, One a lily fair and handsome, And one a rose with crimson frill; Erect the rose would lift its pennon And survey the garden round, While the lily--lovely minion!
Meekly rested on a mound.
Tempest came and blew the garden, Forthwith the rose fell to the ground, While the lily, like brave maiden, Steadfast stood the stormy bound; The red rose trusting to its prowess Fell beneath the wind and rain, While the lily in its meekness Firm did on its stalk remain.
THE CIRCLING OF THE MEAD HORNS.
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead in the buffalo horn: As the cuckoo in spring, as the lark in the morn, So natural is mead in the buffalo horn.
As the cup of the flower to the bee when he sips, Is the full cup of mead to the true Briton's lips: From the flower-cups of summer, on field and on tree, Our mead cups are filled by the vintager bee.
Seithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous, the bold, Drinks the wine of the stranger from vessels of gold; But we from the horn, the blue silver-rimmed horn, Drink the ale and the mead in our fields that were born.
The ale-froth is white, and the mead sparkles bright; They both smile apart, and with smiles they unite: The mead from the flower, and the ale from the corn, Smile, sparkle, and sing in the buffalo horn.
The horn, the blue horn, cannot stand on its tip; Its path is right on from the hand to the lip; Though the bowl and the wine-cup our tables adorn, More natural the draught from the buffalo horn.
But Seithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous, the bold, Drinks the bright-flowing wine from the far-gleaming gold, The wine, in the bowl by his lip that is worn, Shall be glorious as mead in the buffalo horn.
The horns circle fast, but their fountains will last, As the stream pa.s.ses ever, and never is past: Exhausted so quickly, replenished so soon, They wax and they wane like the horns of the moon.
Fill high the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn; Fill high the long silver-rimmed buffalo horn: While the roof of the hall by our chorus is torn, Fill, fill to the brim, the deep silver-rimmed horn.
DAFYDD AP GWILYM TO THE WHITE GULL.
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods away, Sporting,--blending with the sea, Like the moonbeam--gleamily.
Wilt thou leave thy sparkling chamber Round my lady's tower to clamber?
Thou shalt fairer charms behold Than Taliesin's tongue has told, Than Merddin sang, or loved, or knew-- Lily nursed on ocean's dew-- Say (recluse of yon wild sea), "She is all in all to me."
TO THE LARK.
The Poetry of Wales Part 4
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