Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/Dialogue
DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE BARD AND HIS SHADOW AT SUN-SET.
This poem, like the preceding, contains many sarcastic allusions to the religious orders.
As I lingered yesterday
Underneath the forest spray,
Waiting for the second Ellen,
Maid in loveliness excelling,
By the birch’s verdant cowl
Shelter’d from the passing rain,
Lo! a phantom grim and foul
(Bowing o’er and o’er again
Like a vastly courteous man)
Right across my pathway ran—
I with ague tremour faint,
With the name of ev’ry saint,
Crossed myself, and thus began
To accost the polished man:
BARD.
If thou art of mortal mould,
Tell me who thou art?
SHADOW.
Tell me who thou art? Behold
In this spectre form thy shade—
Why then, gentle bard, afraid?
BARD.
By the Virgin, tell me true,
On what errand?
SHADOW.
On what errand? To pursue!
Thus all nakedly to glide,
Lovely poet! by thy side,
Is my task—my heart’s desire—
I have feet that never tire;
And am bound by secret spell,
All thy wanderings to tell;
To espy each wile and art,
Fairest jewel of my heart!
BARD.
Vagrant, without home and shelter,
Man of limbs all helter skelter!
Crooked, lank-shanked, luckless shade—
Shape of rainbow, hue of mire,
Art thou then a bailiff paid,
By the wolf-tongued Eithig’s hire,
Into all my paths to pry?
Skulking mercenary spy!
SHADOW.
That, Sir Minstrel, I deny!
BARD.
Whence then art thou, giant’s child?
Shape of darkness, huge and wild;
Bald of brow as aged bear,
Bloated uncouth form of air;
More like images that scud
Through our dreams, than flesh and blood;
Shaped like stork on frozen pool,
Thin as palmer, (wand’ring fool!)
Long-shanked as a crane that feeds
Greedily among the reeds;
Like a black and shaven monk
Is thy dark and spectral trunk,
Or a corpse in winding-sheet.—
SHADOW.
I have followed sure and fleet
On thy steps—were I to tell
But one half—thou knowest well
BARD.
Thou may’st tell, and thou may’st scan,
Pitcher-necked censorious man!
Nought of me thou can’st disclose
More than ev’ry neighbour knows;
I have never falsely sworn
In the Cwmwd court, or torn
Lambs to death—have never thrown
At the hens with pebble-stone;
Never have the spectre play’d,
To make little babes afraid;
Never yet have terrified
Stranger maid, or stranger’s bride!
Gentle bard, were I to tell
Half thy tricks—thou knowest well,
Soon the dainty bard might be
Swinging from the gallows tree!