Welsh Journals

through the dusty window pane into the blackness without; every rattle of the door seemed fraught with doom. So the long night wore through slowly, slowly, in the low, mean cottage, haunted by a cry, the old crone's mind fumbling back fitfully amid the memories of endless funerals of those whose tomb- stones were the only landmarks of her recollections, grim milestones, as it were, along the long road of a life. That night, indeed, Death flew over the valley and the heath with silent muffled wing-beats, but his havoc was among the field-mice and the young rabbits and at intervals the stranger's weird screaming cry rose in triumph over some swift swoop upon an unsuspecting victim. Dawn came, a grey cold streak across the eastern sky as the black form, sated with prey, flew back for its perch on the edge of the cliff. Suddenly some- thing arrested his gaze, though his sight was fast getting dimmer with the growing light. Now, indeed, he had good reason to remember let night's commotion among the birds. W Again there was a swirl of screaming gulls-about the cliff-head, and up into the air there mounted a I RYWUN Y gaeaf ddaethai ar fy nghalon drom A Rhagfyr daenai farrug yn fy ngwallt, Fy mad yn degan chware'r wendon hallt A phen y daith yn ddim ond creigle lam Y niwl a guddiai las y nef uwchben Marw oedd claer obeithio- dvddi u gynt, Eu cerddi galar glywn yn? nghwyn y gwynt, Ofer i mi oedd tremio tua'r nen. A mi yn crymu dan fy nhynged brudd Dynesaist ataf yn v gwynt a'r glaw, Yn dyner iawn gafaelaist yn fy llaw A minion mwymon mel roist ar fy ngrudd. Clybum dy chwerthin llawen ffodd y nos, Torrodd fy euraidd wawr mewn lifrai rhos. Rhosyr. mighty bird: with powerful wing-beats it headed straight for the interloper a regal bird feathered to the talons and with the strong curved beak of an eagle, a bird which it resembled in almost everything except that it was smaller, though not much smaller. It was a buzzard, one of the few survivors of its race, which had found an asylum on that deserted coast. The eagle-owl knew it only too well, and wheeled out and up over the cliffs and the sea in a desperate effort to avoid its pursuer. P- It was a very short combat. Scream after scream rent the air from the combatants as they mounted up and up, each trying to get above the other. But, exhausted by the night's hunting and half-blinded by the light, gradually the stranger ceased to climb. A few strokes of the curved talons, a few jabs of the cruel beak, and all was over. A dark mass of mottled brown feathers dropped down from the heights of air; swiftly it fell past the smooth face of the cliffs and into the sea. There for a moment it dipped and rose as the swell heaved. Then a screaming cloud of gulls swooped down upon their prey. E. R. W. MIST From the haven into the fog She sailed right gallantly- There is always a mist on Cardigan Bay When The Dora puts out to sea. For days did I climb the cliff, But the haze hung heavy and grey- There is always a mist on the dim sky-line When The Dora is long away. She comes Though so blurred and faint, My heart just knew it was she-- There is always a mist on the harbour bar When The Dora comes back to me. Bridgend. Wm. Evans