PRIME MINISTER OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND


This Psaltery of Celtic Songs
To you by bounden right belongs;
For ere War's thunder round us broke,
To your content its chord I woke,
Where Cymru's Prince in fealty pure
Knelt for his Sire's Investiture.

Nor less these lays are yours but more,
In memory of the Eisteddfod floor
You flooded with a choral throng
That poured God's praise a whole day long.

But most, O Celtic Seer, to you
This Song Wreath of our Race is due,
Since high o'er hatred and division,
You have scaled the Peak and seen the Vision
Of Freedom, breaking into birth
From out an agonising Earth.




PREFACE


I have called this volume of verse a Celtic Psaltery because it mainly
consists of close and free translations from Irish, Scotch Gaelic, and