l--his stricken corse
They bore to her abode;
"My son!" she shrieked, in wild remorse;
"Forgive me, O! my God!"
Then from the wall old voices fall:
"Rejoice for such a son!
His deed and thine shall deathless shine,
Whilst Gwalia's waters run!"

ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

_Ar Hyd y Nos_

(After Ceiriog to this Welsh Air)

Fiery day is ever mocking
Man's feeble sight;
Darkness eve by eve unlocking
Heav'n's casket bright;
Thence the burdened spirit borrows
Strength to meet laborious morrows,
Starry peace to soothe his sorrows,
All through the night.

Planet after planet sparkling,
All through the night,
Down on Earth, their sister darkling,
Shed faithful light.
In our mortal day's declining,
May our souls, as calmly shining,
Cheer the restless and repining,
Till lost in sight.

DAVID OF THE WHITE ROCK

_Dafydd y Garreg Wen_

(After Ceiriog to this Welsh Air)

"All my powers wither,
Death presses me hard;
Bear my harp hither!"
Sighed David the Bard.

"Thus while life lingers,
In one lofty strain
O, let my fond fingers
Awake it again.

"Last night an angel
Cried, 'David, come sound
Christ's dear Evangel
Death's valley around!'"

Wife and child harkened
His harp's solemn swell;
Till his eye darkened,
And lifeless he fell.

THE HIGH TIDE

(After Elvet Lewis, a contemporary Welsh poet)

A balmy air blows; the waterflags shiver,
On, on the Tide flows, on, on, up the river!

To no earth or sky allegiance he oweth;
He comes, who knows why? unless the Moon knoweth.

The Tide flows and flows; by hill and by hollow,
White rose upon rose, the foam flowers follow.

He spreads broad and full from margent to margent,
The wings of the gull are his bannerets argent.

The Tide flows and flows; Atlantic's loud charges
Mix in murmurous close with the wash of the barges.

With wondering ear the children cease playing;
The voice that they hear, what can it be saying?

Too well they shall know, when amid the wild brattle
Of the waters below, they enter life's battle.

The Tide flows apace; the ship that lies idle
Trips out with trim grace, like a bride to her bridal.

What hath she in store? shall Fate her boon give her?
Or must she no more return to the river?

The flood has gone past! Ah me! one was late for it,
A