All unavailing!
Cymru's great heart is now
Bleeding with bitter woe--
Woe for her children dead,
Woe for her glory fled,
And fallen nation;
On great Caradog's hall
Anguish and terror fall,
Loud lamentation;
"Weep for our warrior slain,
Ne'er shall we see again,
Our mighty captain."
Rises the harpist old,
Calls for his harp of gold,
Sweeps through its mournful strings,
And loud the music rings,
The dirge of Rhuddlan.



The Shepherd of Cwmdyli.


Cloke of mist hath passed away,
Sweetheart mine,
Which has veiled the heights all day,
Sweetheart mine,
See, the sun shines clear and bright,
Gilding all the hills with light,
To the arbour let us go,