Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/154

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



On such a night as this, frosty and cold,
The shadows of declining day had fled ;
When with a friend endeared to my soul

My long loved Edgar, once I walked and wept.

In childhood's years our friendship had begun,
Nor cooled in youth's succeeding sunny spring,
And years swift circling each its course had run,
Ripening our love beneath their fostering wing.
Now o'er my cheek the tear of sorrow flows,

Whose frequent moisture intercepts my sight,
When memory, sad remembrancer, oft shows
Those happy hours now hid in endless night.
Ah ! I remember when in youth's fair morn,
We sprang like fawns along the grassy plains,

Or gathered lovely flowers from the white thorn,
Which drooped with moisture from the dewy rains.
Sometimes we watched the lark in joyful mood,

High , and yet higher, sing his morning song ;
Waking all nature's tenants to their food ,
And man to labour with the eager throng.
Oh lovely moments of our happy morn !
We never felt the chilling hand of care ;

Our greatest sorrow when the village horn
Sounded, to call us to our horu books fair.

Yes, I have heard him at the break of day,
Conversing with her visionary form ,
With arms extended upwards to the sky,

Nor feared , nor seemed to feel the approaching storm .
He led me to the spot where she was laid,

Now cold as marble, once his bosom's pride;
He gave a piercing sigh - looked overhead,
Where a dark cloud shrouded the moon's pale side.
He could no more : but sank beneath the wave

Of grief, which rent his boson, nor would cease ;
He drooped his head extended on her grave,

His spirit fled to realms of endless peace.