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TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH VERSE FROM THE POEMS OF DAFYDD AP GWILYM, a Welsh Bard of the fourteenth century. By ARTHUR JAMES JOIINES, Esq. London Hooper, 13, Pall Mall East. 1834. pp. 128. AT the Abergavenny Cymreigyddion meeting, Mr. Ilhya Stephen referred at some length to D. AP GWILYM and this publication by Clowes, of Charing-cross, London, is temptation strong enough for us to call our readers' atten- tion to the work. Mr. JOHNES, who is now, we are glad to say, a district judge in North Wales, and a ripe Welsh scholar, has rendered his countrymen a very essential service by this- publication. He has happily seized the salient points of D. ap Gwilym, and in many instances rendered his thoughts in a more felicitous manner than even D. ap G. himself. In proof let us give the following:- "THE POET'S PETITION TO THE WAVE THAT PREVENTED HIM CROSSING THE 1UVBU DO VIS Y TO VISIT MORVYTH. "Hoarse wave, with crest of curling foam, Back to thy native ocean roam; And leave the fords of D ovey free, That Morvyth separate from me No bard before hath loved to tell Thy glassy tower—thy lordly swell- Thou branch of ocean's mighty stem— Thou sailor's friend—thou briny gem! The storm—the rush of hostile ranks, Jammed 'twixt the close and cleftless banks, The war steed's sinewy chest of might, Are faint to thee, thou billowy height. No organ, harp, no vocal tone, » Are like thy vast and fearful moan. To her no other pledge I'll give, The snoAV-white maid for whom I live, Than call her beauty like the light, And as thy circling waters bright. Thou bright round billow, let me pass Beyond thy ring of azure glass For long my love, awaiting me, Stand's by Lanbadarn's birchen tree. Of sunken rocks, thou mantle hoar, Chafed on the wild and rugged shore. Friend of the sea-knight of the spray— Oh, didst thou know, for this delay, What penalty the bard must pay, Thou wouldst not rise thy gloomy face Between him and the trysting place What though for Indeg's charms sublime, My limbs thy dreadful heights must climb: Though death were in thy eddies' stern, Death and thy hate. I'll rather spurn, Than back from Morvyth's shore return I" Again, to The Swan :"— "THE SWAN. The bard asks the Swan of Llyn Syvaddon (Anglice, Breck- nock Mare), a lake near Brecon, to be his love envoy, Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like abbot white Bird of the spray, to whom is given The raiment of the men of heaven Bird of broad hand, in youth's proud age, Syvaddon was thy heritage Two gifts in thee, fair bird, unite, To glean the fish in yonder lake, And bending o'er yon hills thy flight, A glance at earth and sea to take. Oh! 'tis a noble task to ride The billows countless as the snow; Thy long fair neck (thou thing of pride), Thy hook to catch the fish below Thou guardian of the fountain head, By which Syvaddon's waves are fed. Above the dingle's rugged streams, Intensely white thy raiment gleams; Thy shirt like chrystal tissue seems Thy doublet and thy waistcoat bright, Like thousand lilies meet the sight; Thy jacket is of the white rose Thy gown the woodbine's flowers compose Thou glorv of the birds of air, Tliou bi-ecf of heaven, Oh, hear my prayer! And visit in her dwelling place, The lady of illustrious race. My kind, white-bosomed messenger, Upon the waves thy course begin, And then at Cemaes take to shore And then through all the land explore For the fair, maid of Talyllyn, "A The lady fair as the moon's xiarne, And call her" Paragon" by name; The chamber of the beauty seek, And mount with footsteps slow and H18ek; Salute her, and to her reveal The cares and agonies 1 feel And in return bring to mine ear Message of hope, my heart to cheer. Oh i may no danger hover near (Bird of majestic head) thy flight! Thy service I will well requite. To the "Holly Grove Let us suppose for a moment that the bard wrote the following Poem somewhere about the HÖlly House, in. Michaels tone-y-fedw, where Mr. WM. TRE-l HARNE lisss now lives "THE HOLLY GROVE. Sweet Holly Grove, that sourest, A woodland fort, an armed bower,. In front of all the forest, Thv coral loaded branches tower, Thou shrine of love, whose depth defies The axe—the tempest of the skies Whose boughs in winter's frost display The brilliant livery of May Grove from the precipice suspended, Like pillars of some holy fane; With notes amid thy branches blended, Like the deep organ's solemn strain. House of the birds of paradise, Round fane, impervious to the skies On whose green'roof two nights of rain May fiercely beat, and beat in vain I know thy leaves are ever scathless; The hardened steel as soon will blight. 1 When every grove and hill are pathless With frosts of winter's lengthened night, No goat from llavren's banks, I ween, From thee a scanty meal can glean. Though spring's bleak-wind with clamour launches His wrath upon thy iron spray Armed Holly Tree, from thy firm branches He will not wrest a tithe away Ciiapel of verdure, neatly wove, Above the summit of the grove." We are glad to introduce this book to our readers—to those even who do not understand Welsh, because it will so brdp them to a true understanding of one at least of the Welsh bards, and not the least of those to whom we are under so many obligations. We close this review with a specimen of Mr. A. J. Johnes's talents as a poet on Welsh subjects: TREASURES OF CAMBRIAN ANTIQUITY. Nations, like winds and waves; Have their ebb and How; An Ion ocean's shores and caves, Winds and waves bestow Traces of the wealth and power, That was theirs for one brief hour Treasures culled from every shore They had kissed or wander'd o'er, Corals dug from deepest brine, England's oak and Norway's pine- Grecian marbles allrenned With the opulence of mind: Wrecks of glories that appear In a youthful hemisphere; Giant trees, and fruit and flower, Rife with Nature's fullest power If c winds and waves, Ere they sever and. depart, Glean from ocean's shores and caves Gems of nature and of art, Shall we more regardless be,. Than the tempest and the sea, Of the treasures we inherit, Of our father's heart and spirit! Of the records that remain Of their genius and their reign. ? MEN Shall we not these relics save From the tempest and the wave ? Snatch then from the swift decay That awaits all things of earth Bind them in a wreath that may Soften sadness—hallow mirth." It were thoroughly superfluous for us, after these extracts, to say that we recommcnd this book. We do it most fer- vently, "Yll enw Duw a plwb daioni."


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