There, where the birchen boughs of Gwyneth wave,
Proud maid! to-morrow shall I find a grave!
There, organ like, the nightingale shall roll
His notes, in solemn masses for my soul;
Orisons and “Pater Nosters” shall be said
The summer through, in honour of the dead;
Until the spirit of the bard shall rise,
Freed from its sins, aloft to Paradise!
MORVYTH’S PILGRIMAGE.
In this poem the bard imagines that Morvyth’s scorn has proved fatal to him, and represents her as making a pilgrimage to St. David’s, to seek forgiveness for the guilt of having caused his death.
The following translation is extracted from the poems of Edward Williams (Iolo Morganwg), a Glamorganshire bard and antiquary, and one of the most illustrious of the preservers of the ancient literature of Wales.
