Murmuron Awen/Cenwch im' yr hen Ganiadau

Murmuron Awen

gan Robert Roberts (Gwaenfab)

Cenwch im' yr hen Ganiadau.
(Y Miwsig gau John Henry, R.A.M.)

CENWCH im' yr hen ganiadau,
Hen ganiadau'r Cymry gynt,
Pan oedd swn trydanol seiniau
Rhyddid Cymru yn y gwynt;
Cenwch hen ganiadau'r dewrion,
Mwyn alawon llon a phrudd,
Cenwch hwynt uwchben adfeilion
Olaf gormes "Cymru Fydd."

Cenwch im' yr hen ganiadau,
Serch ganeuon "Cymru Fu,"
Hen alawon ein telynau,
Pan oedd telyn yn mhob ty;
Fechgyn, cenwch hwy 'n y meusydd,
Cewch lawenydd a mwynhad,
Cenwch hwynt, rianod dedwydd,
Ar aelwydydd hoff fy ngwlad.

Cenwch im' yr hen ganiadau,
Hwian-gerddi goreu 'r byd,
Tyner odlau serch ein mamau
Uwch ein penau yn y cryd;
Cenwch hwynt, chwi famau tirion,
Pan fo prudd-der dan eich bron,
Nes bo eilun tlws eich calon
Yn ei gwsg yn gwenu 'n llon.

Cenwch im' yr hen ganiadau,
Hen emynau hoff fy ngwlad,
A gysegrwyd gyda dagrau
A gweddiau mam a thad;
Cenwch hwynt pan fo cysgodau'r
Hwyr yn disgyn yn y glyn,
Cenwch im' yn afon angau
Rai o'r hen emynau hyn.

Sing to me the Songs of Cambria.
(Cyfieithiad gan R. Drury.)

SING to me the Songs of Cambria,
Noble patriot songs of yore;
When the watchword, "Cambria's freedom,"
Thrilling sped from shore to shore;
Sing the lays declaimed by heroes,
Stirring songs both sad and bright-
Songs which moved brave warriors' bosoms
In the thickest of the fight.

Sing to me the Songs of Cambria,
Cambria 's love-songs, pure and sweet,
Sung by many a gentle lover
Sitting at his fair one's feet;
Sing them swains, along the meadows,
Ye shall joy and pleasure prove,
Sing them, maidens fair and happy,
Filling all your homes with love.

Sing to me the Songs of Cambria,
Tender lays of mother's love,
Cambria 's lullabies, so soothing,
Like the cooing of a love;
Sing them ever, gentle mother,
When oppressed by many a care,
For the idol of your bosom
Smiling sweet in slumber there.

Sing to me the Songs of Cambria,
Sacred songs of all most dear,
Hallowed by the prayers of loved ones,
Mingled oft with many a tear;
Sing them when the shades of evening
Shroud the valley, dark and cold,
Sing to me in death's dread river
Some of these dear hymns of old.

Nodiadau