CANTRE'R GWAELOD NOS Y BODDIAD. Araith Seithenyn Feddw. Y dor-geidwad o'r gadeir A gwyd, a gosteg a geir. Uinyn y delyn a dau, Rhua'r mor ar y muriau Yntau uchod yn codi Ei lef uwch lief groch y Ili :­ Rhued eigion aflonydd ar y lan,- Ac ar y darian cured y Werydd, Ca forfur a'i cyferfydd heb wyro, Na syfl er euro nid sofl yw'r ceyrydd. Y gadwyn dal gydia'n dyn A diarbed i'w erbyn, A'i meini teg yma o'n tu Ba raid awr o bryderu ? Diofn y boed fy hen bau, Diogel huned y glannau Pau o nod, pwy na waedai Dros ei thir a drysau'i thai ? Llanw a gorllewinwynt Nid of naf er gwaethaf gwynt Ond uwch hyrddwynt y chwarddaf, Uwch llanw erch llawenhaf. Tra fo clawdd i'r cantref clyd A ga mor ei gymeryd ? Maged far mewn carchar cau Cwynfaned, canaf finnau. Parod y muriau, poered y moroedd Eu trochion ofer i entrych nefoedd. Digryn a difraw uwch udgorn dyfroedd Eu trawstiau disigl trwy ystod oesoedd, Ac er anterth corwyntoedd hwy fyddan' Arosol darian yr isel-diroedd." R. Williams Parry. A SONG OF GLYNDWR'S RISING. My son, the moon is crimson and a mist is in the sky, Oh, can't you hear the thudding feet, the horsemen speeding by? Oh, can't you hear the muttering that swells upon the breeze And the whispers that are stealing through the chancel of the trees ? To-night we two go riding, for the threads of fate are spun. And we muster far at Corwen at the rising of the sun. My son, the winds are calling, and the mountains and the flood With a wail of foul oppression now makes havoc in my blood And I have waited, waited long throughout the bitter years For this hour of freedom's challenge and the flash- ing of the spears. So we two go riding, riding through the meshes of the night. That we hail Glyndwr at Corwen at the breaking of the light. My son, go kiss your mother, kiss her gently, she'll not wake For a greater mother calls you though you perish for her sake The Dragon flag is floating out across the gleaming Dee And the soul of Wales is crying at the very heart o' me- Crying justice, crying vengeance pray, my son, for strength anew For there's many will be sleeping at the falling of the dew. A. G. Prys- Jones. LA ROSE DE MA VIE. Across the meadows I wander, Over the emerald and gold, And the bloodred rose upon my breast Breathes of the love of old With a wealth of perfume and colour To comfort and heal my woes And the riches of flowers and seas and stars Are as nought to my bloodred rose. I travel through the sunshine To the mystery of the shade, But in the chill of the twilight hour My flower will never fade And when the last of the sunlight Departs adown the deep In the perfume of my bloodred rose I'll lay me down to sleep. R. Silyn Roberts.