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2.
His slighted harp vanished, yet oft, 'tis averred, On Glyn's mountain height its lone music is heard. The Marsh Goblin flashes his torch on the strings, As their old master strikes them and mournfully sings "To God's famished poor carry comfort and cheer, If the harps of His angels you ever would hear! " |
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Ni welwyd moH delyn fyth fyth wedi hyn ; Ond clywir hVn fynych ar Fynydd y Glyn. Ym mysg y bwganod ran amlafy byddt Mewn brwyn ac mewn corsydd yn cwynfan yn brudd: ' Os cnawd eto wisgwn ym myd dynol rf/w, Rhoddwn damaid i*n gilydd tra byddom ni byw" |
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H. 4868. |
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