Memory - pensive lingerer still
To the imagination shows,
Years, when pleasure had its fill
Rapture, it no more knows.
Where are they, whom once I loved,
Of whom still I gladly think ?
In whose company I roved,
And - such thoughts the spirit sink .
Now, they're fled like morning dew,
And I'm left sad pilgrim here ;
But I'll join them yet anew,
Saviour !-- in another sphere.
ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR THE WEST INDIES.
Land of poets and of song,
And of scenery romantic ;
May thy bards still flourish long
And remain this side th' Atlantic .
Shall I-can I e'er forget
How I roved thy hills and dales,
Nor could leave without regret,
Woods and streams and lovely vales.
Scotia may or Erin boast,
Beauteous scenes and rural spots;
Cambria's rocks delight me most,
And her wild fantastic grots.
There's a charm , a charm unseen,
Binds me Cambria to thy land ,
While thy groves and meadows green
Please me more than India's sand.
Say, and dost thou never sigh,
Cast a look across the deep ?
For that distant land where lie
Friends, where dear forefathers sleep .
May'st thou gladly reach that shore
Where slaves toil ’ neath thraldom's yoke !
Liberty, I prize thee more,
And for those thy shrine invoke.
Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/142