Welsh Lyrics of the Nineteenth Century Part 3

Yet answer there comes and as clear as can be, In his eyes bright and sparkling his soul you can see.

To all that is said of him, all that is heard He looks his reply, though he says not a word.

CALEDFRYN.

William Williams was born at Denbigh February 6th, 1801. A weaver by trade, he showed signs of fitness for the ministry, was sent to Rotherham College, and was ordained minister of the Independent body at Llanerchymedd in 1829. He died at Groeswen, Glamorganshire, March 29, 1869. He published a volume of his poems in 1856, "Caniadau Caledfryn."

The Cuckoo.

Dear playmate of the verdant spring, We greet thee and rejoice, Nature with leaves thy pathway decks, The woodlands need thy voice.

No sooner come the daisies fair To fleck the meadows green, Than thy untrammelled notes are heard Rising the brakes between.

Hast thou some star in yonder heights To guide thee on thy way, And warn thee of the changing years And seasons, day by day?

Fair visitant, the time of flowers, We welcome now with thee, When all the birds' unnumbered choir Warbles from every tree.

The schoolboy on his truant quest For flowers, wandering by, Leaps as he hears thy welcome note And echoes back thy cry.

To visit other lands afar Thou soon wilt flying be; Thou hast another spring than ours To cheerly welcome thee.

For thee the hedgerows aye are green, Thy skies are always clear, There is no sorrow in thy song, Nor winter in thy year!

GWILYM MARLES.

William Thomas was born in Carmarthenshire, 1834. After graduating at the University of Glasgow, he entered the Unitarian ministry. He died December 11th, 1879. He seems to have published one volume of poetry in 1859, but most of his works are still in MS. Judging from the specimens given in the "Llenor" No. 3 (July, 1895), their publication would be a real service to Welsh literature.

New Year Thoughts.

As to the dying year I bade farewell, Within my hands she left a mantle dark, Whereon mine eyes did mark Loved names I scarce for blinding tears could read; But from its folds fresh blushing flow'rets fell Of that fair spring-tide I had mourned as dead.

And now her youngest sister draweth nigh, 'Neath modest starlight and with noiseless feet, Whom thousands flock to greet-- Thousands of every age, who fain would know, As in her face each peereth wistfully, What fate she bringeth--happiness or woe?

She answereth not, but pointeth silently To where far off the hidden future lies, All dark to mortal eyes, Save where, from out the gloom, faint stars appear.

She will not linger--haste and thou shalt see From chaos order as thou drawest near.

Who in this new G.o.d's acre?

Who in this new G.o.d's acre first shall rest?

Or gallant youth, or baby from the breast?

Or age, beneath it's crown of snow-white hair?

Or queen of smiles and charms, some maiden fair?

Time only can the answer give--and G.o.d, Who first shall lie beneath the upturned sod.

It matters not; whom e'er death first may reap Here in a Father's arms shall quiet sleep, The tender flowers shall grow above his head And drink the dews that fall upon his bed.

The silent grave is safe from foolish sneer And persecutor's rage is baffled here.

Who _first_ shall rest here? Ah! the days soon come, When all the love of many a village home Shall centre round this spot, where kith and kin Are laid to rest, this virgin soil within.

From far and near men by the graves shall stand Of friends who rest within the Better Land.

Who first shall rest here? G.o.d o'er all doth reign, The life He gave us we must give again.

Our chiefest duty here to work and strive To His great glory while we are alive, And He some resting place will then provide, Or far from town or by the Cletwr's tide.

IEUAN GWYNEDD.

Evan Jones was born near Dolgelley, September 20th, 1820. He was ordained to the Independent ministry in 1845. Always weakly, he found a pastoral charge too great a strain on his health, and he devoted himself to literary pursuits, but he died Feb. 23, 1852, having in his short life served his country well. His Life and Works were published in 1876, "Hanes Bywyd a Gweithiau Barddonol Ieuan Gwynedd" (Hughes & Son, Wrexham).

The Cottages of Wales.

Fair cottages of Cymru, with walls of gleaming white, Whose smoke curls round the valley and up the mountain height; The bees hum 'neath the gable or sheltering garden wall, While all around grow flowers, red rose and lily tall.

Oh lowly cots of Cymru, blest, yea, thrice blest are ye!

Ye know not this world's greatness nor earthly dignity; Yet dwell within you ever, the love and peaceful rest Which fly from hall and palace of those the world holds blest.

Oh lovely cots of Cymru, that smile beside the rill, Your rooms the children gladden, as flowers your gardens fill; Their eyes are bright and sparkling, like water in the sun, Their cheeks are like the roses, red rose and white in one.

Grey cottages of Cymru, that nestle 'mid the leaves, No marble walls surround you, straw thatched your lowly eaves, Yet thither many an angel in love delights to come, And watch in joy and gladness the heirs of his bright home.

O quiet cots of Cymru, far from the city's din, Your peace no tumult troubles, no discord enters in; No sound breaks on your stillness but merry children's cry, Or murmur of the rustling leaves or brook that babbles by.

O pleasant cots of Cymru, within, at dawn's first rays, As in the wood around them, are heard glad hymns of praise, And early in the morning the birds and goodwife sing Their matin song of grat.i.tude to G.o.d, their Lord and King.

Dear cottages of Cymru, what country holds their peer?

Long may they stand unshaken, nor ill their hearths draw near!

G.o.d keep, as fair and fragrant as on the hills and dales The flowers which smile and blossom, the cottages of Wales.