I with my Lord and God
On the highest places trod,
When Lucifer down fell
With his army into hell.
I know each little star
Which twinkles near and far;
And I know the Milky Way
Where I tarried many a day.
My inspiration’s [54a] flame
From Cridwen’s cauldron came;
Nine months was I in gloom
In Sorceress Cridwen’s womb;
Though late a child—I’m now
The Bard of splendid brow; [54b]
When roar’d the deluge dark,
I with Noah trod the Ark.
By the sleeping man I stood
When the rib grew flesh and blood.
To Moses strength I gave
Through Jordan’s holy wave;
The thrilling tongue was I
To Enoch and Elie;
I hung the cross upon,
Where died the . . . (only son)
A chair of little rest
’Bove the Zodiac I prest,
Which doth ever, in a sphere,
Through three elements career;
I’ve sojourn’d in Gwynfryn,
In the halls of Cynfelyn;
To the King the harp I play’d,
Who Lochlyn’s sceptre sway’d.
With the Israelites of yore
I endur’d a hunger sore;
In Africa I stray’d
Ere was Rome’s foundation laid;
Now hither I have hied
With the race of Troy to bide;
In the firmament I’ve been
With Mary Magdalen.
I work’d as mason-lord
When Nimrod’s pile up-soar’d;
I mark’d the dread rebound
When its ruins struck the ground;
When stroke to victory on
The men of Macedon,
The bloody flag before
The heroic King I bore.
I saw the end with horror
Of Sodom and Gomorrah!
And with this very eye
Have seen the . . . (end of Troy;)
I till the judgment day
Upon the earth shall stray:
None knows for certainty
Whether fish or flesh I be.
THE MIST.
A tryste with Morfydd true I made,
’Twas not the first, in greenwood glade,
In hope to make her flee with me;
But useless all, as you will see.
I went betimes, lest she should grieve,
Then came a mist at close of eve;
Wide o’er the path by which I passed,
Its mantle dim and murk it cast.
That mist ascending met the sky,
Forcing the daylight from my eye.
I scarce had strayed a furlong’s space
When of all things I lost the trace.
Where was the grove and waving grain?
Where was the mountain, hill and main?
O ho! thou villain mist, O ho!
What plea hast thou to plague me so!
I scarcely know a scurril name,
But dearly thou deserv’st the same;
Thou exhalation from the deep
Unknown, where ugly spirits keep!
Thou smoke from hellish stews uphurl’d
To mock and mortify the world!
Thou spider-web of giant race,
Spun out and spread through airy space!
Avaunt, thou filthy, clammy thing,
Of sorry rain the source and spring!
Moist blanket dripping misery down,
Loathed alike by land and town!
Thou watery monster, wan to see,
Intruding ’twixt the sun and me,
To rob me of my blessed right,
To turn my day to dismal night.
Parent of thieves and patron best,
They brave pursuit within thy breast!
Mostly from thee its merciless snow
Grim January doth glean, I trow.
Pass off with speed, thou prowler pale,
Holding along o’er hill and dale,
Spilling a noxious spittle round,
Spoiling the fairies’ sporting ground!
Move off to hell, mysterious haze;
Wherein deceitful meteors blaze;
Thou wild of vapour, vast, o’ergrown,
Huge as the ocean of unknown.
Before me all afright and fear,
Above me darkness dense and drear.
My way at weary length I found
Into a swaggy willow ground,
Where staring in each nook there stood
Of wry-mouthed elves a wrathful brood.
Full oft I sunk in that false soil,
My legs were lamed with length of toil.
However hard the case may be,
No meetings more in mist for me.