The literature of the Kymry, a critical essay. With a life of the author by B.T. Williams, Volume 58

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Page 459 - E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The listener held his breath to hear.
Page 484 - Through me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye. Justice the founder of my fabric moved: To rear me was the task of Power divine, Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 19 Before me things create were none, save things Eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
Page 42 - Wherefore not?" "The knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in Arthur's hall, and none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing his craft.
Page 408 - Before him were two brindled white-breasted greyhounds, having strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from the shoulder to the ear.
Page 83 - Wherefore wilt thou not?" "The knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in the hall of Gwrnach the Giant, and except for a craftsman who brings his craft, the gate will not be opened to-night.
Page 175 - I was at the place of the crucifixion of the merciful Son of God ; I have been three periods in the prison of Arianrod ; I have been the chief director of the work of the tower of Nimrod ; I am a wonder whose origin is not known. I have been in Asia with Noah in the ark...
Page 337 - In their musical concerts they do not sing in unison like the inhabitants of other countries, but in many different parts; so that in a company of singers, which one very frequently meets with in Wales, you will hear as many different parts and voices as there are performers, who all at length unite, with organic melody, in one consonance and the soft sweetness of B flat.
Page 311 - Vychan, in the 15th Century. Edited with Translations and Notes, by the Rev. John Williams Ab Ithel, MA A few copies only remain on hand, to be sold at £1 Is.
Page 58 - tween arm and chest, While limping on, he tightly prest. He stares, — he strives the bag to sound ; He swells his maw, and ogles round; He twists and turns himself about, With fetid breath his cheeks swell out. What savage boors ! his hideous claws And glutton's skin win their applause ! With shuffling hand and clumsy mien To doff his cloak...
Page 484 - Per me si va nella citta dolente, Per me si va nell' eterno dolore, Per me si va tra la perduta gente.

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