Classic Poem

FROM The B LACK B OOK OF C ARMARTHEN .

In graves where drips the winter rain,
Lie those that loved me most of men:
Cerwyd, Cywrid, Caw, lie slain.

In graves where the grass grows rank and tall,
Lie, well avenged ere they did fall:
Gwrien, Morien, Morial.

In graves where drips the rain, the dead
Lie, that not lightly bowed the head:
Gwrien, Gwen, and Gwried.

In Llan Beuno, where the sullen wave
Sounds night and day, is Dylan's grave,
In Bron Aren, Tydain the brave.

Where Corbre gives Tarw Torment space,
By a grave-yard wall, in a ruined place,
The stones-hide Ceri Gledivor's face.

Where the ninth wave flows in Perython,
Is the grave of Gwalchmai, the peerless one:
In Llanbadarn lies Clydno's son.

Seithenin's lost mind sleeps by the shore,
Twixt Cinran and the grey sea's roar;
Where Caer Cenedir starts up before.

After many a death, in cold Camlan
Sleeps well the son of old Osvran:
Bedwyr the Brave lies in Tryvan.

In Abererch lies Rhyther' Hael,
Beneath the earth of Llan Morvael:
But Owain ab Urien in lonelier soil.

Clad in umber and red, the spear at his side,
With his shining horses he went in pride:
From his grave in Llan Heled he cannot ride.

After wounds, and bloody plains and red;
White horses to bear him, his helm on his head:
This, even this, is Cyndylan's bed.

Whose is the grave of the four square stones?
Who lies there, of the mighty ones?
Madawg the warrior, of Gwyneth's sons!

Mid the dreary moor, by the one oak-tree,
The grave of stately Siawn may be:
Stately, treacherous, and bitter was he!

Mid the salt sea-marsh, where the tides have been,
Lie the sweet maid, Sanaw: the warrior, Rhyn;
And Hennin's daughter, the pale Earwyn.

Where's the grave of Beli, the bed of Braint?
One's in the plain, and one in Llednaint;
By Clewaint water lies Dehewaint.

In Ardudwy, I bid my grief
Find the grave of Llia, the Gwythel chief,
Under the grass and the withered leaf.

And this may the grave of Gwythur be;
But who the world's great mystery, —
The grave of Arthur shall ever see?

Three graves on Celvi's ridge are made;
And there are Cynveli and Cynvael laid;
The third holds rough-browed Cynon's head.

The long graves in Gwanas — none has told
Their history — what men they hold,
What deeds, and death, beneath their mould.

Of Oeth's and Anoeth's fame we know:
Who seeks their kin, left naked now,
To dig in Gwanas' graves may go.