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ENGLISH ENGLYNION. We believe the following English stanza to A Friend to be written by Mr. Lewis Hopkins, of Glanmorganshire, who died in the year 1800. Mr. Hopkins is the author of the best part of the Fel Gofod," published at Merthyr Tydfil, 1813 How sweet is to meet a man-old divine Called David by Christian Thee I call, and that I can, The brightest in Great Britain. It is said that the humorous Talhaiarn wrote the following lines to the" Gout impromptu :— The Gout is 'bout me most bitter-tearing My toes like a tiger; Its anguish and its anger, Its keen bite, Oh! who can bear ? In "Jones' Relics of the Welsh Bards is found a fair translation of that popular Welsh stanza to the Spider," which, remarkably, contains no consonants at all— O'i wiw wy i weu e a—a'i weuau," &c. It runs thus- From his own eggs the busy worm Attempts his hasty webs to form, Like rings in ice, they seem to view Beauteous like those, and brittle, too. loan Emlyn's beautiful stanza to The Harp is well worthy of note:— Awake my harp, why warp in woe—why linger And languish in sorrow Let no rough, bluff wind blow, Thy wailings on the willow. The following English englyn was published to- wards the end of the last century. Who the author is we are not aware; but the critic will doubtless find out the stanza is faulty A silly man went to sell a mare-of value To a villain from Worcester After chatting he proved a cheater A curious fool at Caerwys Fair! But here is a more accurate and a far superior stanza to the" Rainbow ":— Love benign thy sign thus sent, we hail it, How wholly resplendent, Attend in grave transcendent God we know his bow has bent. TO THE DRUNKARD. John Owen James to flames you'll flow-why linger And languish in sorrow You will dwell in hell you know If foolish ways you'll follow. Our readers will observe the similarity of these lines to those on The Harp." THE COMING OF NIGHT. Heaven's brow this ev'n is bright—Ah! nature Lies watching the twilight; Come silvery, wanly moonlight Hallow now the tranquil night. Ha! lively sage, come lovely sing-the moon O'er the mount is climbing In rows the stars are rising, In their realms of gold they ring. ELFYN.

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