MORVYTH’S PILGRIMAGE.
39
She comes—O! greet her with a smile!
The charmer of sweet Mona’s isle.
So may thy limpid rills around;
Purl down their dells with soothing sound,
Sport on thy bosom, and display
Their crystal to the glitt’ring day;
Nor shrink from summer’s parching sun,
Nor, chain’d in ice, forget to run.
So may thy verdant marge along
Mervinia’s[1] bards in raptur’d song
Dwell on thy bold majestic scene,
Huge hills, vast woods, and vallies green,
Where revels thy enchanting stream,
The lover’s haunt, and poet’s theme.
Thou, Dyvi[2], dangerous and deep,
On beds of ooze unruffled sleep;
O’er thy green wave my Morvyth sails[3].
Conduct her safe, ye gentle gales;
Charm’d with her beauties, waft her o’er
To fam’d Ceredig’s[4] wond’ring shore.
- ↑ ‘Mervinia,’ Merionethshire.
- ↑ ‘Dyvi,’ a large river dividing Merionethshire from Cardiganshire.
- ↑ ‘My Morvyth sails.’ It was usual for those (even females) who went from North Wales, on pilgrimages to St. David’s, to pass the dangerous strands and sail over the rough bays in slight coracles without any one to guide or assist them, so firmly were they persuaded that their adored saint, as well as Cyric the ruler of the waves, would protect them in all dangers. See note p. 37.
- ↑ ‘Ceredig,’ an ancient prince, from whom Ceredigion (Anglice, ‘Cardigan’) derives its name.
