Welsh Journals

IMITATION OF LLYWARCH HEN.1 Cold is the win trie wind and wave, Forlorn the lightning shattered tree But colder is my children's grave, And more forlorn my lot, ah me All nature mourns the throstle's song, Even the forlorn and blasted tree So for my children's voice I long, And all forlorn my lot, ah me Bright was the summer-shining sky, And verdant once the blasted tree So were mv children brave and high. So was I happie once, ah me The summer sky will smile again, But neer shall spring the blasted tree My sons will in their grave remain, And still forlorn my lot, ah me The throstle will renew his song, Though not upon the blasted tree I for their voice in vain shall long, And still forlorn my lot, ah me Nought but the axe or tempest's rage Shall visit now the blasted tree So for my wearie pilgrimage Nought but the grave remains, ah me Lays from the Cimbric Lyre.2 1 For a full account of Lhowark or Llowarch Hane, the Priam of Wales, who after losing his numerous sons in successive battles, lived to extreme old age and retired to the neighbourhood of Bala, where he lamented his fate in somewhat rugged strains, the curious reader may consult Dr. Owen Pughe's edition of his remains. He is the earliest authority who mentions Arthur. 1 will only add a suspicion that he is represented by the Lamorac of the romance writers; requesting also the reader to remember, that the present poem is professedly an imitation of a quaint and rugged style, 2 By "Goronva,Cam!an," the Rev. Rowland Williams, D.D., author of Rational Godliness, &c., the son of Canon Rowland Williams, who was successively Rector of Halkin, Vicar of Meifod and Rector of Ysceifiog. He took his name from those of two farms, which belonged to him, Goronva and Camlan in the Parish of Mallwyd, of which his father was a native.