Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/150

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



Words that would only serve to cheat.
Too much your friend to flatter you ,
Or give you even all your due ;
I have no news, what can I say ?

I cannot fill my page to day.
I now conclude, till future times

Shall give my muse more pleasing rhymes ;
' Tis very odd, a poet's brain
Does little or no sense contain .

I'm quite provoked to find it true,
I cannot write but sense to you,
So I must bid you now Adieu .


Hail to the lovely Cambrian hills,
What transports in my bosom glow !

Whene'er my eyes behold the rills
Which through my native country flow .
My heart recurs to distant times,

When I was happier far than now ,
To hear the village bells out chime,

With not a cloud upon my brow.
Ah ! should I leave my native Isle,
Atmyreturn , Ah, where would be
The face which greets me with a smile

The heart where Friendship beats for me.
Or cold in death , or cold in pride ,
In vain my wounded heart shall seek ;

In vain my old companions,
Nor Mary nor Eliza meek.
Forbear my heart, Ah ! ne'er repine,
Far brighter days may be in store ;
Friendship will round my heart entwine,
And happiness upon me pour.

Ah ! dreams of happiness Farewell !
Affliction chance may be my lot ;
But when I'm far enough away,
O may I never be forgot !