Welsh Lyrics of the Nineteenth Century | Page 7

Go and dig a grave for me
All life's pleasures now are past;
Memories of the joys that were
Darker shadows round me cast.
Through death's portals I will fly

Far to peaceful worlds on high.
Go and dig a grave for me,
Though my dwelling will be dark;
Needs not for this mortal frame
Stone or sign its place to mark.
There 'twill rest till stars shall fall

At the last great trumpet call.
Go and dig a grave for me,
Broken is my life's frail thread;
Hasten, dig for me a grave,
Draweth near the stranger dread.
Low, ay low my head be bent,
Till
the heavens in twain are rent.
Go and dig a grave for me,
I can stay no longer here,
Fare you well--my weak heart faints
'Neath the dark king's fatal spear.
I am ready for the grave--
Christ
receive me, help and save!

CEIRIOG.
John Ceiriog Hughes was born September 25, 1832. He was for many
years clerk in the Goods Station, London Road, Manchester, and was
afterwards stationmaster on the Cambrian Line at Llanidloes, Towyn
and Caersws successively. He died at Caersws April 23rd, 1887. He
published during his lifetime 'Oriau'r Hwyr,' 1860; 'Oriau'r Bore,' 1862;
'Cant o Ganeuon,' 1863; 'Y Bardd a'r Cerddor,' 1863; 'Oriau Ereill,'
1868; and 'Oriau'r Haf,' 1870. These are now published by Messrs.
Hughes and Son, Wrexham, and ought to be in the possession of every
Welshman, and of everyone desirous of learning Welsh. A posthumous
volume was published in 1888, 'Oriau Olaf' (Isaac Foulkes, Liverpool).
Songs of Wales.
Songs of Wales live in our ears
Through the swiftly passing years;

Moaning stormwinds as they blow
Murmur songs of long ago;

Voices of our dead ones dear
In our country's airs we hear.
Whispering leaves in every grove
Murmur low the songs we love,

Sings the sea 'neath roaring gales
Snatches of the songs of Wales,

And to Kymric ears they sound
Through creation all around.
Myfanwy.
Myfanwy! thy fair face is seen
In primrose and clover and rose,
In the sunshine, unsullied, serene,
And the starlight's untroubled repose.
When rises fair Venus on high,
And shines 'twixt the heaven and the sea,
She is loved by the earth
and the sky,
But thou art, Myfanwy, far brighter, far fairer to me,
A thousand times fairer to me.
Would I were the breezes that blow

Through the gardens and walks of thy home,
To murmur my love as I
go
And play with thy locks as I roam!
For changeful the breezes and
bleak--
Now balmy, now chilly they blow--
Yet they, love, are kissing thy
cheek,
O heart of my heart, not changeful my love towards thee--
Eternal my love towards thee!
Liberty.
See, see where royal Snowdon rears
Her hoary head above her peers
To cry that Wales is free!
O hills which guard our liberties,
With
outstretched arms to where you rise
In all your pride, I turn my eyes
And echo, "Wales is free!"
O'er Giant Idris' lofty seat,
O'er Berwyn
and Plynlimon great
And hills which round them lower meet,
Blow winds of liberty.
And like the breezes high and strong,
Which
through the cloudwrack sweep along
Each dweller in this land of
song
Is free, is free, is free!
Never, O Freedom, let sweet sleep
Over that wretch's eyelids creep
Who bears with wrong and shame.
Make him to feel thy spirit high,

And like a hero do or die,
And smite the arm of tyranny,
And lay its haunts aflame.
Rather than peace which makes thee slave,

Rise, Europe, rise, and draw thy glaive,
Lay foul oppression in its
grave,
No more the light to see.
Then heavenward turn thy grateful gaze


And like the rolling thunder raise
Thy triumph song of joy and praise
To God--that thou art free!
Climb the hillside.
Climb the hillside in the morning--
When the radiant dawn is seen
Blushing shyly on the mountains
Like a maiden of thirteen.
"Quench the lamps of right,
Fill the earth with light
Wander o'er the lofty hills,
Fringe each brightening fold
Of the
clouds with gold,"
This the hest shy dawn fulfils.
Climb the hillside in the evening
When the sun is sinking low--
You shall see day's radiant monarch
Falling bloodstained 'neath the foe.
Dark and darker yet
Grow day's cerements wet,
Creeps a haze across the main,
Mounts the moon on high,
Eve
climbs up the sky,
Lamps of God to light again.
Change and permanence.
Still the mountains with us stay,
Still the winds across them roar,
Still is heard at dawn of day

Song of shepherd as of yore.
Still the countless daisies grow
On the hills, beneath the rocks,
But new swains, strange shepherds
now
On our mountains feed their flocks.
Cymru's customs day by day
Change with changing fortune's wheel,
Friends of youth have passed
away,
Strangers now their places fill;
After many a stormy day
Alun Mabon's dead and gone,
But the old tongue still holds sway,
And the dear old airs live on.
Homewards
From day to day, the golden sun
His chariot ne'er restraineth,
From night to night the pale white moon
Now waxeth and now