Bright parlour, with her trefoiled floor!
Sweet garden spread on ocean’s shore!
Glamorgan’s bounteous knights award
Bright mead and burnished gold to me;
Glamorgan boasts of many a bard,
Well skilled in harp and vocal glee:
The districts round her border spread
From her have drawn their daily bread—
Her milk, her wheat, her varied stores,
Have been the life of distant shores!
And court and hamlet food have found
From the rich soil of Britain’s southern bound.
And wilt thou then obey my power,
Thou Summer, in thy brightest hour?
To her thy glorious hues unfold
In one rich embassy of gold!
Her morns with bliss and splendour light,
And fondly kiss her mansions white;
Fling wealth and verdure o’er her bow’rs,
And for her gather all thy flow’rs!
Glance o’er her castles white with lime[1]
With genial glimmerings sublime;
Plant on the verdant coast thy feet,
Her lofty hills, her woodlands sweet;
Oh! lavish blossoms with thy hand
O’er all the forests of the land,
And let thy gifts like floods descending
O’er every hill and glen be blending;
- ↑ ‘Her castles white with lime.’“It has from very remote antiquity been the custom,” says Edward Williams (Iolo Morgamog), to “whitewash the houses in Glamorganshire, not only the inside but the outside also.”
