To Heaven’s high peace let him depart,
And with him go the minstrel art.
XXVIII. TO THE YEW TREE on the Grave of Dafydd ab Gwilym at Ystrad Flur. After Gruffydd Grug.
Thou noble tree; who shelt’rest kind
The dead man’s house from winter’s wind:
May lightnings never lay thee low,
Nor archer cut from thee his bow;
Nor Crispin peel thee pegs to frame,
But may thou ever bloom the same,
A noble tree the grave to guard
Of Cambria’s most illustrious bard!
O tree of yew, which here I spy,
By Ystrad Flur’s blest monast’ry,
Beneath thee lies, by cold Death bound,
The tongue for sweetness once renown’d.
* * *
Better for thee thy boughs to wave,
Though scath’d, above Ab Gwilym’s grave,
Than stand in pristine glory drest
Where some ignobler bard doth rest;
I’d rather hear a taunting rhyme
From one who’ll live through endless time,
Than hear my praises chanted loud
By poets of the vulgar crowd.
XXIX. HU GADARN. From Iolo Goch.
The Mighty Hu who lives for ever,
Of mead and wine to men the giver,
The emperor of land and sea,
And of all things that living be,
Did hold a plough with his good hand,
Soon as the Deluge left the land,
To show to men both strong and weak,
The haughty-hearted and the meek,
Of all the arts the heaven below
The noblest is to guide the plough.
XXX. EPITAPH.
Thou earth from earth reflect with anxious mind
That earth to earth must quickly be consigned,
And earth in earth must lie entranced, enthralled,
Till earth from earth to judgment shall be called.