lo horn.

As the cup of the flower to the bee when he sips,
Is the full cup of mead to the true Briton's lips:
From the flower-cups of summer, on field and on tree,
Our mead cups are filled by the vintager bee.

Seithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous, the bold,
Drinks the wine of the stranger from vessels of gold;
But we from the horn, the blue silver-rimmed horn,
Drink the ale and the mead in our fields that were born.

The ale-froth is white, and the mead sparkles bright;
They both smile apart, and with smiles they unite:
The mead from the flower, and the ale from the corn,
Smile, sparkle, and sing in the buffalo horn.

The horn, the blue horn, cannot stand on its tip;
Its path is right on from the hand to the lip;
Though the bowl and the wine-cup our tables adorn,
More natural the draught from the buffalo horn.

But Seithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous, the bold,
Drinks the bright-flowing wine from the far-gleaming gold,
The wine, in the bowl by his lip that is worn,
Shall be glorious as mead in the buffalo horn.

The horns circle fast, but their fountains will last,
As the stream passes ever, and never is past:
Exhausted so quickly, replenished so soon,
They wax and they wane like the horns of the moon.

Fill high the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn;
Fill high the long silver-rimmed buffalo horn:
While the roof of the hall by our chorus is torn,
Fill, fill to the brim, the deep silver-rimmed horn.

DAFYDD AP GWILYM TO THE WHITE GULL.

Bird that dwellest in the spray,
Far from mountain woods away,
Sporting,--blending with the sea,
Like the moonbeam--gleamily.
Wilt thou leave thy sparkling chamber
Round my lady's tower to clamber?
Thou shalt fairer charms behold
Than Taliesin's tongue has told,
Than Merddin sang, or loved, or knew--
Lily nursed on ocean's dew--
Say (recluse of yon wild sea),
"She is all in all to me."

TO THE LARK.

BY DAFYDD AP GWILYM.

"Sentinel of the morning light!
Reveller of the spring!
How sweetly, nobly wild thy flight,
Thy boundless journeying:
Far from thy brethren of the woods, alone
A hermit chorister before God's throne!

"Oh! wilt thou climb yon heav'ns for me,
Yon rampart's starry height,
Thou interlude of melody
'Twixt darkness and the light,
And seek, with heav'n's first dawn upon thy crest,
My lady love, the moonbeam of the west?

"No woodland caroller art thou;
Far from the archer's eye,
Thy