Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/142

Oddi ar Wicidestun
Neidio i'r panel llywio Neidio i'r bar chwilio
Ni brawfddarllenwyd y dudalen hon eto



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.

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.