Welsh Journals

Judging by the^dedication, the Editor of this volume seems to be satisfied that he knows what the author meant by the narrator, Merch y Drycinoedd," in the*ode to Yr Arwr." Personally, I am doubtful on that point; but there can be no doubt, at least, that the Hero himself was, to him, the liberator of men in all ages, not, as commonly praised, their enslaver. The Greek conception of Prometheus appeals strongly to him. In Fy Ngwynfa Goll," he describes the paradise for which he has longed with invincible desire, And the shadow of which," he says, I have seen in Greece and the land of faery and to the passion of the tempests," he pro- claims proudly- Am hynny gwybydd di, nwyd y tymestloedd, Mai fi ydwyf Brometheus prydwelw ei fin Fy nghleddyf a dery ddolefau o'r gwyntoedd A'm henaid fel marchog adeiniog ar hyntoedd A lama ynghyfwrdd y bore o win." In Yr Arwr," Prometheus again symbolizes the hero for him- Er maith sen, Prometheus wyf, Awdur pob deffro ydwyf, A'r oes well wrth wawrio sydd Ar dan o'm bri dihenydd." In Myfi Yw,in some respects, the finest poem in the book-he traces the revelations of the Divine through the beauty and grandeur of nature, in the songs of the prophets of old," in the words of Christ, in His death and His appearance on the way to Emmaus; then finally, he describes a picture he has seen in a gallery, the picture of a man, nameless and young:- 0*1 flaen 'roedd niwloedd a gwae yn encilio, O'i ol y wawrddydd yn torri ymhell Ac meddai fy nghalon wrth edrych amo Dyma Brometheus ofnadwy rhyw chwyldro, Arweinydd crwsad y goleuni gwell." His spirit cannot escape from this picture he sees it when the saints sing of eternal bliss, and when he thinks himself of heaven, he knows that he cannot live without this being, who shields him from death and sorrow. And he breaks out into this acute confession Nawnddydd arall wrth finion y darlun Fe waeddais, fel rhywun Fy Arglwydd a'm Duw Pan welais ar ymyl ei wisgoedd claerwyn Ddyferynnau rhuddgoch o waed yn disgyn­ Y gwaed sy'n llefaru fyth, — Myfi Yw.' And this is not the cry of mere emotion. It is worked out. In Cyfrinach Duw," he repeatedly describes his own resignation. He has longed for certainty when God has come to him in undertone and colour," and has wept his soul away until God speaks to him Pand digon i'th enaid a thithau weithion Yw suon fy mentyll yng ngwynt y'nos ?/' Have you yet sent the Welsh Outlook to a Soldier at the Front ? Only a!great soul could have written this stanza. An elderly man comes to him on the way of Sorrow, and tells him not to pray or to trouble about right or wrong, as poverty and suffering will only end with death, but he replies that nothing can overcome his faith or drive him outside the care of God. Intellect then urges that all the creeds are but dreams, that science and art are but dying charms, and that God remains for ever divinely un- intelligible, yet he answers :­- Pand bregus fel niwl yw deall yr awron ? Ac ofer y ceisia 'r gwyddorau gloewon Gyfieithu bwriadau'r anneall lef. Gan hynny, gad ymaith dy reswm materol A phlyg megis plentyn i dwyfol hud Ac yna, di glywi yr ysbryd tragwyddol With grymu trosot yn murmur gwyryfol DIws hwiangerddi'r cyfriniol bell fyd." Again in Crist ar binacl y deml," another notable poem, he says Dos hwnt a'th reswm materol amhur, Na themtia mo'r Ysbryd byw, Cans enaid di ddichell, a chalon bur, Yn unig a ddeall Dduw." The spiritual experience implied in these poems is not that of an ordinary soul. And of fine courage he is always full Eithr, ba waeth ? Ni fathr y byd Actau ieuanc dyhewyd A phe drylliai 'r gwyntoedd linynau fy nhelyn, Bydd deufwy y gan ai y tannau fo'n friw." Ni'm temti, 0 ddrycin, cans prynaf y wenfro A thelyn ysgyrion a chleddyf fo ddellt." And his hope-only such as he can afford it, it is the will to immortality. If the poetry of this War period is any indication of what may follow, then, the world is not far from the doom of the dominance of age. Youth seems to have discovered that wisdom and goodness are not the most notable charac- teristics of worn-out intellect and sordid ambition and it is, perhaps, not an accident that wisdom and goodness appear to Hedd Wyn in the shape of youth-he, one of the millions done to death by age, whether crafty and cruel or merely weak and cowardly. The volume is excellently printed; the striking title page, by Mr. Kelt Edwards, surely represents the artist at his best, and the portrait of the poet is an excellent one. T. Gwynn Jones.