A Celtic Psaltery / Being Mainly Renderings in English Verse from Irish & Welsh Poetry

S TO TH

a sixth-centur

s, the coom i

bearer; minstre

ine; the bees

oid; to the kil

ed; no pert spa

the dawn; but a glim

lyn, this was

's surest guide,

; the birds b

ind upon the c

ay till the youn

n, when grief

ind some drea

e may that hath l

e clay, though for l

ust stay in the tomb

stus-the beac

bee and the h

the bow hath th

ck than the Ho

ares neither to

e cumber the ear

eda, the sapi

vil as good t

7

ember-benign

he hamlet are

n and for steed

ruit, as of arr

born to us, b

hackles our land

the Saint, ripe W

od nod, Who hath

er-thin the sh

irch-trees; both

ird and fish to

milk now of cow an

o meriteth disgr

far than extrava

ollow crime, to tru

er and of alms a

ber-with mud t

d, the sun in

ees, little for

ck; by dark the

Months thus trip

nds Satan still w

colan, Wisdom's

prophecy God i

7

TE

en, a sixth-centu

are, the ash

he pools; breake

a hundred is the

ight; resound

crowds a tum

good disagr

ght; the hill

ops the wind wh

eives not the

irch saplings

y feet from the

youth thy heart's

of oak in yon

the snare by

unbosom thy h

oak in their f

the snare by

babbler thy h

h berries of pur

rooding thrush c

e liar can ne

hout-wet th

gravel-fierce

like reason man

ut, but the s

ze, the cow-pa

w couldst Thou cr

7

GLORIO

ury MS., "The Black

rious Lord! w

chancel bless T

ncel and

ns and m

three f

bove

e abov

nd darkness

reen forest

d Abrah

ith joy po

bee-song

lilies a

old, all

with joy

aise was

on and

and f

that ar

ars of

and th

k and fai

aters fai

and dee

d and gr

blessing

such as

tisfied

n mouth sha

viour con

glorio

7

BUR

, the most famous Welsh

die, O,

free youn

rches, o'

as my ch

plice-shro

ing summe

reat and st

rood-screen

r-cloth bl

eight gree

white to b

from all t

loister be

af-searchi

ssed bench th

vale chan

ned, the

n hid b

emly hours

ces calm

ses, sweet

, be thou

His Bard

m sighs an

7

AST C

afydd ab

erce like a

aste and

y cry to G

e of mine

ic was

its power

dead and

at naught

m off my lip

nce song has

or, counse

hose grace

ll my worl

n churchya

ath the bu

alone I

e my song

r's beauti

ightingal

y heart ca

ot thy hau

of bliss

ear of age

the thrill

ain of hea

sadly

haff with m

of death

ave! O, d

my sleep

rist my s

Gwilym'

7

LABO

ed," a fourteenth-century bard a

olk of all

ighing of

by his An

ock befor

udgment-s

mighty

then shall

ougher of

is tithes

the King

ely share

ick or hom

oul is at

brance it

ns and til

Nature on

gh-beam naugh

gereth, or

none, takes n

ne and non

h not, tho

even a li

ere," he sai

aven not hal

after goad

fled breas

m an hun

n, for tre

ing Arthu

o besiege

7

abourer

e Christ's Wi

ut for h

Emperor

-free King

mortal tur

ed is he w

ough o'er st

far-spread b

p, smooth cou

relic, he

t fresh fu

ble, skil

ll the wild

ut a stern

sting roo

s oxen on

ides the he

many a go

gh-chain's

rafts tha

oughman's i

, in an a

ubduing s

aptism a

istendom h

is man's M

y the ploug

8

GLYN, A CHILD OF

, Lewis Glyn C

n, woe wor

was and he

ore I now

r that wee

heart, day

thinking of

rince for

fe's Mabin

ple, pebb

irds were h

bow with co

rittle woo

ipes or t

other's ar

from her a

daddy t

songs he'd t

t with a shou

nd he'd trot

and now fal

t up again,

y die or a

my lovely

fe, like La

aised from

ed and her

od the Sai

om death in

my merry l

d covered i

f him bene

lone heart a

beyond my own

se of my fu

y comfort

and my gl

shade from

soaring, s

shaft of f

e radiant

sor with He

's second

laughing, l

m sunk in

good-bye,

ively squir

bouncing o

up and dow

little d

ieu, my s

8

OBLE'

6-1420, priest of Ken

eer but y

n the tomb

ilken gar

s in a grave

aking, ho

nes no gold

raffic in

rple-purli

sherings

uious at

art, howe

ant's pomp

ch of chur

il he now

its burt

seless bos

8

DEATH-BED

1622-1709, a Wel

fession of life-l

oo filled with Ea

rait way of faith

t not thithe

high road by Beau

t Thy road, I

ther tender, Thou

Thy Talen

ed through me and p

lawless, when p

cumber, day-do

ine wouldst Th

nd's Healing, co

of healing grant

ure me and fresh

hy Peace can

y flowing of The L

s owing that

nt Him, Thy Love

gh Thy Love sh

tection, Lord Chr

Direction so g

gs other than Lov

s subdued t

8

f treasures that al

ose pleasures lif

r places, let all

n a crowd of

bless Thee, all hear

Fountain of

nherit of pure

erflows from

8

K, D

r Huw

an antec

Hall of V

! for undern

mmering of He

8

IN VIEW

671-1734, one of t

and, your go

tree shall so

irth and p

r they sha

ngth and b

sense, exp

ipe, compa

their bond

then no s

-murderer

thine o'erma

ous maw ca

, in all

e ages wou

ot with Dea

ground he

lete, lig

Bowman's

O, the la

t shun his

rs by se

st mount

ound one

h is not c

holar, jur

-like o'er

eenest cou

h's shade e

th, profoun

of stern se

ne can vi

dread sting s

8

E LAST J

to Dafydd ab Gwilym, the greatest p

om, at th

be but mee

se hour

s in ligh

alone and

when thy ho

giants sh

y as thieve

woe to t

o the just

aph band com

leaming ba

lue shall

ad marvel

its heart

of the s

hat day's

all be whirled

headed

he plough-

be roaring

nt of sea

turmoil

g each bou

f the Delu

y that fell F

's pure sel

titudin

inding t

faints out

t-faced Moon

rish in suc

and shook

hen the Lam

8

OOD

icar Pritcha

foolish Kin

spikenard swe

prudence? Str

n goods; God f

her dowry be

wise, God-f

vain and bra

er fortune

s true and k

than a min

houses, la

d gems to ha

e with jewel

eyond all r

d-virtue

her in ma

r to a sil

tower of streng

olden crow

grace-a vir

9

HOG J

e of Wales, the Welsh words by Pantycelyn,

on in trium

word upon

own Thy Migh

Hell confo

Thine Eye

es shall f

f, through a

Thy Tramp

r Thou alo

dungeon w

l the gate

iron ba

llows thund

ansomed O

dom surgi

umber, wi

se whose pr

nd the Mo

solemnly a

istance fa

they, the

stening ga

, with proud

he Great Wh

9

UCTION OF

one of the leading Welsh poe

L MOU

me! most

kest, worth

dear hurle

fiends

ly now mu

here but n

ond and bl

l, murdero

ose, his

lack cause

ne, then

ous poignard

ight thy tor

, from my

high in sta

st far be

ar, I thril

our hungr

! one more

too weak f

RNING

es of this lo

re Antonius' s

Temple proud,

ems, shall unto

lurid gloom the

natural thunder

ellous fane i

of woe her rafte

al One is brou

most cunningly

left its way e

one searching h

y high she t

ten dross shall

ief profound t

flame, each li

atten on her b

silver doors th

rven flowers wi

l is em

th hell

Gentiles in

of Holies pr

g flood of s

her sacre

9

E D

After Gwilym Hira

ngel trump

unbounded

ar danced

t the Great

ery globe o

trancing o

e in blush

he azure

n she saw E

right comm

ercy: "That

thy prom

and loved Ear

s gateway

ance of ten

rning ear

9

D THE

1832-1878, the

can we charge

n beyond all li

adle and the g

ings unutterable

sense and sin

r in space? Ha

itself, a r

muring out of

accessible st

ad amid the mo

rlds? Are yon

ly, magnific

? May not some

m of those

avens were yet

ough and through w

ll the Stars w

is but a r

reater gone, a

greater yet t

hrills with hau

otten, at a g

en gone again

emories of a

es more blest

divine all-se

one can lur

hour when God'

ume our past

all man's spirit

d past relink Lif

9

EIGN

32-1887, was the Welsh Burns; his songs to

vites, love

w lush and l

ing all

harps the b

rooks their

g deaf, there'

ic ever

the ai

of gold the

ay with ea

Great Whi

Heaven and

g in Love'

ing stars

n be mut

ath birth mat

od's own Heav

gh His po

the golden

he pale moon'

e glow-worm's

e darkl

y hue a

und, are g

t hand Who ri

s the lil

o'er man li

wave or s

magic sha

Love t

9

GOG

riog to a

Sire hast t

the Princ

from my sig

le by h

birth; but s

er see t

ier come ca

us a cr

r hall, and

raits of

high that fi

u endure

no blame on

refather

d bless me,

eturn t

d fell-his s

re to h

shrieked, in

me, O!

he wall old

for suc

thine shall d

alia's wa

9

OUGH TH

yd y

iog to this

y is eve

feeble

eve by ev

s caske

burdened sp

meet labor

e to soothe

ough th

er planet

ough th

h, their sis

aithfu

tal day's

ls, as calm

restless a

ost in

9

F THE W

y Gar

iog to this

powers

resses

harp h

David t

ile life

lofty

my fond

it a

night

David, c

s dear

valley a

d child

's solem

s eye d

eless h

9

HIGH

wis, a contempo

lows; the wat

e flows, on, o

r sky allegia

ows why? unless

nd flows; by hil

rose, the foam

and full from m

e gull are his

nd flows; Atlant

close with the wa

ear the childre

hey hear, what c

ll know, when ami

elow, they ente

apace; the ship

m grace, like a br

store? shall Fate

o more return

e past! Ah me! on

hast: "How long mu

to-night are dar

delight their de

ck the barque, t

rs back, like a

1

arred or scoffers

d marred, how blest

d flows, far past

s through the whea

takes the calm h

shakes, the low b

slow is his flo

pilgrim, outwea

home, in wan

ome beshroudi

ce thrills the

he hills its sea-

ome, to its pass

e foam, with the

1

PRO N

He lies as a poet between

n showe

rkenin

e of the

fted

nturie

very ro

ing, fo

attle an

her, fo

tless b

ow is

are is t

flood is

the wi

rm-struck

ds rend

ourge of

akes with

ter the

pavement

her, fo

eless o

is his

ter Th

flakes ar

on the

e as th

with

e curl

storm-tro

s with

a soul in

her, fo

riners

ps are so

s are s

1

R-SUNDA

in, the contemp

lue slab hid

, free

now it, I

an harm

l the litt

all grav

angels for d

Goron

ell I now

when yo

ldren from

usly

illingly

d let

rry noise c

Goronw

h mother is

s garde

day gifts

to be

primroses

-time

s! locked u

flower of

ther's love

time o

your foots

y babe

hers movin

sturb my

d have done

one ha

1

th the prim

r heart's

'er us dee

say "Goo

radle need

quiet

ild! till yo

rms onc

1

HE OLD BACHELOR

, 1880- , one of the

his sickle throu

wn the ridge h

mountain rang

tock late he

ial rapture o

of suffering

uplands, in

aid who in the c

he shared his

is laden hear

eart fell two w

ossoms round his f

ed in Young G

rly loved he

from her Tri

echoes of her

he hung up

trudge his gr

o plough the

me of thorns,

1

UEEN'

sh Air of

e starv

d her cou

rls of t

queenly

restles

t that sh

ost piteo

tress

that sull

ss want s

mock so

they thus

w bear the

iny's d

ilt starv

wretches

d their

the King!

rd they r

He pas

crowd s

l shame

what wo

ging hu

od, with thor

f suppl

ing myst

famished

en thus

and Me!"

er palac

g she

1

LSH FI

f "The Song o

with th

d for the h

ys, and

g due

od you b

n ye hoist

ssoms be

Welsh

ts for th

ter the

er the

ip of u

with th

d for the h

s and a

g due

en you g

r the an

arts begi

s tur

start

and acros

to our

stay a

for King

d you be

d you b

eep y

s should b

en for want

l will g

to the

1

since it

since it m

ist shall o

he win

n He was

" the disci

ters are

the s

has a

rk, He h

eace," an

he sto

of the

our the fi

ce to ou

our me

1