Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The last Song the Bard sung
THE LAST SONG THE BARD SUNG.
Youth has fled, and like a dart
Grief is planted in my heart—
All the joy of life is gone,
(Strengthen me, thou Secret One[1]!)
Utterly have passed away
Youthful prowess—spirit gay,
Brain, and soul, and genius—Thou
Hast, O Love, thy vengeance now!
Wrung for ever from my tongue
Is the glorious power of song
That inspired my life so long—
Ivor, my illustrious guide,
Nest my patroness—his bride,
Morvyth, idol of my breast—
All are in the dust at rest!
By a life I loathe, oppress’d,
I am left alone to bear
Time’s dread load of grief and care!
Rhymes no longer I indite,
And to woodland wilds recite—
In the groves no more I doat
On the cuckoo, and the note
Of the nightingale—no more
Pine for maiden I adore—
For the kiss and murm’ring voice
Of the lady of my choice!
Age’s pangs are on my brow,
(Love is not my sickness now!)
Love and all his joys are o’er,
E’en his memory I deplore!
All my strength like chaff is sear—
Death is threateningly near!
Near is the impending doom,
Earth, and darkness, and the tomb—
Christ, my thoughts, my footsteps lead!
Amen!—no other guide I need!
- ↑ ‘The Secret One,’ a Welsh epithet for the Deity.
‘Strengthen me thou Secret One.’—Celi.