Classic Poem

I salute God, asylum's gift,
To praise my Lord, bounteous, benign,
Sole Son of Mary, source of morn and eve
And teeming river-mouths,
Who made wood, and mead, and true measure,
And harvests, and God's overflowing gifts,
Who made grass and grove and mountain heather,
Made one man joyful, righteous judgement,
And another in need, ungifted,
Impoverished and bitter-tempered.
I pray God's Son, for He has power,
To forgive our sin, sinning is wrong,
And welcome us in heaven's haven:
May we go to the land we long for.

I salute God, I solicit acclaim
For the piece I perform:
There are thousands praise you, High Prince,
And your hosts to the highest bounds.
I would beseech, my Lord, with your blessing,
In your love I believe,
You, song-renowned, I celebrate,
Grant a gift, let me not be lost.
More than needful, the greatest grace,
Lord, was saving the strong at last.
The thought terrifies me, thinking
Of the sinning that Adam sinned.
Vile exile, I, if I shun your fair land,
And your fair host around me.
The bards of the glorious church,
Their support has been my portion,
Pleasant the path to the place I search for,
Hope in the High Judge, fellowship I seek:
Monarch of all, salvation for me,
After leaving the world, my reward,
By the Father's favour, most royal,
And the Son's, and the Spirit's, pure splendour.
In sanctified glory I shall be,
In angels' charge, innocent, gentle,
In a fair land, Lord, heaven I beg for.

Almighty Ruler, when you were born,
Came mercy for us, came redemption,
Came Adam's sons from faithless faction,
From soiled lawlessness, from slavery,
Came to our anguish and our longing,
There came valour, plentiful power,
Came Christ incarnate, mainstay, master,
Came in Mary's womb the wished-for Son,
Came the world's five ages from torment,
From deceit, from darkness, fraud's abode,
From lasting sorrow, from strong affliction,
From the foe's prison, whence they were freed.
And He is our helm and our haven
Who judges our deeds by our doing,
And He, heaven's Lord, portion of peace,
Brought us forth from perdition when pierced,
And He rose for us, and won His reward,
And the Lord will not deny us His help.
And as a reward He was seated
In full might, the sun's road His domain.
The man whose hand will give his tithe to God,
He is not thwarted of his reward.
I am a bard, flawlessly fashioned:
In my Creator's hold, legion's Lord,
I, Cynddelw the singer, grace I ask;
Michael, who knows me, welcome be mine!

Almighty Ruler, when of you I sang,
Not worthless the piece that I performed,
No lack of fine style in His lyric,
No little largesse have I obtained,
Not fashioned was I by changeless God
For devising folly, fraud, or force.
No unfaithful man may have faith in God,
Not he foulness dwells with, sewer's filth,
Not he whose heart is slow to waken,
Not for him, heaven, who will not seek.
Not easy the form I have fashioned,
No excessive reward have I earned,
No bearing of boldness has my heart dared,
No bearing of penance have I craved.
For the Lord's asylum have I longed,
My soul's freedom, this need have I sought.

Almighty Ruler, deign to receive,
Reverent request, harmonious,
Flawless in formation of language,
My song in your praise, fair land's candle.
Since you are master, since you are monarch,
Since you are prophet, since you are judge,
Since you are kind, since you are benign,
Since you are my teacher, banish me not,
In your wrath, from your fair land.
Refuse me not your grace, exile's Lord,
Scorn me not amidst the wretched crew,
Spill me not from your hand, vile dwelling,
Throw me not to the black loveless throng.