Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Cuckoo's Return
THE CUCKOO’S RETURN
FROM A LOVE EMBASSY.
The bard asks the Cuckoo why he had not brought back a love message from Morvyth; he replies, that he had been stopped by the arrival of winter.
BARD.
Good morrow, bird of kindly tongue,
Whose voice is ever heard among
The forest’s loftiest spray!
Where hast thou been away so long,
In what far land astray?
Thou, who hast plumes for thy array!
CUCKOO.
Four ages[1] I have been away!
My eyes with grief are blind;
With sickness and with sleeplessness,
I left my own sweet voice behind!
Thy name, alas! I cannot guess,
Thou who beneath the hazel tree
Thus with thy questions searchest me!
BARD.
Know then, the poet blythe and boon,
The love-sick bard, at whose command
Thou flew’st an outlaw from the land
To her of beauty like the noon!
CUCKOO.
Name then the lady of thy lay.
BARD.
S. and E. and N. and A.[2]
CUCKOO.
I asked the maid of golden locks,
Amid the birch-robed mountain rocks,
To meet thee!
BARD.
To meet thee! For thy courtesy
I thank thee.—But, ah, tell me why
Thou didst not journey speedily
Back with her answer?—art thou dumb,
Or is the trysting time not come?
CUCKOO.
With many a kind and courteous word,
The gentle lady charged thy bird;
And long ago on woodland boughs
Had I delivered all her vows,
But that (before I could return)
The earth grew naked, wild and stern,
With wintry darkness—tempests white,
And the keen wind’s terrific spite,
That put me with the leaf to flight!
BARD.
This argues well thy wondrous care,
Prude of the leaf!
CUCKOO.
Prude of the leaf! Sage poet, hear!
The woodcock promised me to bear
The lady’s message to thy ear—
The woodcock, guest with ruddy hair—
When he should come with thee to dwell,
And with him bring the icicle!
BARD.
When did he promise to be here?
CUCKOO.
BARD.
Woe to the weak and wicked bird,
The careless envoy!—I have heard,
That in the thicket he lies low,
Pierced by a shaft from vig’rous bow!
Again, my cuckoo, take to flight,
And to the glorious paragon,
Through the green hazels hurry on,
And with expanded wings alight!
And give into bright Essyllt’s hand
My letter, full of praises sweet;
Upon the birch grove take thy stand,
And thence for me the beauty greet!
Bell of the bush—warbler, whose lay
Lasts through the livelong summer’s day!
Cuckoo! attired in robes of grey,
Thou serpent of the thicket—soar
Hence to the plane tree by her door!
With thy sweet “treble” summon her,
My simple woodland messenger!
And I from bush to bush will trace
Thy pinions to the trysting place,
Where thou must bring the maiden meek,
Of golden locks—with me to speak!