Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/153

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All, all was silence as the courts of death ,
It held its awful empire o'er our world ;
No form was seen, nor yet was heard a breath,

To drive aside the thoughts which midnight hurled.
Save when sweet Philomel her vigils kept,
Her warbling echoed to the passing gale,
Or noise of dying waters as they crept
Down the rough stones, and murmured through the vale .
Now overhead as on a throne, the moon
Begins to rule the darkness of the night,
Together with the attendant stars which shone,

And twinkling faintly gave their feeble light.
My friend was then bright as the morning star,
The clouds of grief ne'er circled on his brow ;

The smile of love played on it from afar,
And Ah ! how different to what it is now.

We parted : o'er the world's wide range he strayed,
Far from his home for many circling years ;
But once we met again, ere we were laid
In that abode which ends this vale of tears.

But Oh ! how changed ;-some dreadful poisoned dart
That barbed with sorrow sad had found its way,
Shot with too true an aim , had pierced his heart,
And left of comfort not one cheering ray.

For Ah ! his fond affection he had placed

Upon a young , accomplished, lovely friend ;
But this fair flower, with every beauty graced,
Beneath the tyrant Death was forcedto bend.

To weep above her clay -cold corpse he goes,
Nightly he sadly watches o'er her grave :

Whilst agonizing pangs and bitter throes
His bosom heave, as a tempestuous wave.


How oft he laid his head upon my breast,
And strove to hide in silence all his grief ;
But I could hear that bosom , once so blest,

Heave with a pang that vainly sought relief.