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Crv. IX.—Bhiv. 2,—Chwefeoe, 1889. CYVAILL-YK-AELWYD: Y RHOSYN (THE ÄOSJSJ. Y Geiriau gan W. J. Parry, Coetmor Hall. Y Gerddoriaeth ganW. Dayies, Ysw., Bangor T7N nghanol gardd mi welais, \mjL Dan gysgod derwen fawr, •sÎLf Niferi byw o flodau hardd 3$® Persawrus, ar y llawr ; Mor bur yr olwg arnynt, Mor bêr aroglai'r lle ; Mor swynol ac mor hyfryd y'nt, Mor fyw o liwiau'r Ne'! Maent oll yn rhwymo'm teimlad, Trwy emwaith oleu Duw : Ond un sydd yn gwir ddenu'n lan Holl serch fy nghalon fyw ; Nid am nad yw y cyfan Yn llawn o nardus glân, Ond lliwiau hwn a dynodd i Fy enaid Ddwyfol dân. 'Rw'i ar y tonau geirwon, A'r blod'yn ar fy mron ; Rwyf yn y dymestl frochus, wyllt, A hwnw'n ngwneyd yn llon ; Mewn galar ac mewn llonder, Mewn llawnder, ac heb ddim, Mae hwnw'n perarogli byth Y byd a'i groesau im'. $oth September, 1888. On board Sarmalina Before me stands a garden, All full of roses bright, Beneath a wide-spread Chestnut tree That shades them from the blight; Their figure, Oh ! how lovely ! Their fragrance, Oh ! how sweet! In these most lovely roses The gems Divine do meet! They all entwine my feelings, If I so will or not, But one alone hath tied my heart With heaven-born loving knot: Not that all other roses Possessed no heavenly dart, But this one burnt its heavenly hues Into my very heart. When on the swelling billows, This rose is on my breast; When tempest roars and surges rise, It always brings me rest; In sorrow and in pleasurer In plenty, and in need, It makes the world all round to me Clean plucked of all its weed. in the Straits of Belle Isle. THE TWO ROSES (A Sonnet). By the Rev. D. Adams, B.A, Bethesda. Upon a maiden's breast there sat a rose, A fragrant flower of consummate grace, But blushed in presence of th' angelic face That smiled upon it. And ìts sighs arose In perfumed sweetness, as if to disclose The felt afFection, longing, and despair With her superior beauty to compare ; So lets its love-sick head on her breast repose To die; and deemed this joy and blessedness. A token this of many a youthful heart That this fond rose of maiden loveliness Will cause to sorrow, and their bosom smart, And yet would [count it heaven to die, to rest And soothe their fevered hearts on her warm breast. September, 1888.