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6

THE HALL OF CYNDDYLAN.

The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night;2[1]
I weep, for the grave has extinguish'd its light;
The beam of the lamp from its summit is o'er,
The blaze of its hearth shall give welcome no more!

The Hall of Cynddylan is voiceless and still,
The sound of its harpings hath died on the hill!
Be silent for ever, thou desolate scene,
Nor let e'en an echo recall what hath been!

The Hall of Cynddylan is lonely and bare,
No banquet, no guest, not a footstep is there!
Oh! where are the warriors who circled its board?
—The grass will soon wave where the mead-cup was pour'd!

The Hall of Cynddylan is loveless to-night,
Since he is departed whose smile made it bright!
I mourn; but the sigh of my soul shall be brief,
The pathway is short to the grave of my chief!


  1. 2 "The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night,
    Without fire, without bed—
    I must weep awhile, and then be silent.

    The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night,
    Without fire, without being lighted—
    Be thou encircled with spreading silence!

    The Hall of Cynddylan is without love this night,
    Since he that own'd it is no more—
    Ah Death! it will be but a short time he will leave me.

    The Hall of Cynddylan it is not easy this night,
    On the top of the rock of Hydwyth,
    Without its lord, without company, without the circling feasts!"

    Owen's Heroic Elegies of Llywarch Hen.