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Fri, 11 May 2012
Enjoy this wonderful " Song of the Welsh, by A. G. Prys-Jones.

Cymru am BythWelsh Dragon - Cymru am Byth

DODIES DREAM WORLD

CYMRU - WALES


A SONG OF THE WELSH

        There is a race in an island place that rose in the morning gleam

And made its sword of an olden song, its armour out of a dream;

And its warriors died in a stubborn pride that recked no price of tears,

But followed the call of the singing sword that rang athwart the years.


And the eyes of a nation's hope grew bright, like roses out of the dawn,

But ever the dark of the shadows came and the twilight fell forlorn,

For the feet of the iron legions pressed where Menai sobbed and sighed,

And the Saxons came in a roaring flame; and Arthur swooned and died.


Then rose a host from out the foam, and a tyrant out of the sea,

And  harried the race of the singing sword with the hounds of Normandy,

Till the quarry turned, their arrows burned, their lances thrust and leapt

At Evesham grey in the bitter day when the soul of Montfort slept.


And the men of the sword went far abroad when France was a blaze of spears,

And the longbow's dirge was a crimson surge at Crecy and Poitiers.

But over a sunless road they trod when Glendower brake his shield,

Till the song of the sword rang loud and clear in the crash of Bosworth field.


Then lo! afar from Corsica the ravening eagle sped,

From the Midland sea to Muscovy where the trampled snows were red.

And the song of the sword came calling wild, the Picton's henchmen flew

From Badajos through Quatre Bras to the crown of Waterloo.


And now, through the plains that the nations spoil, the new flung legions came,

Their path was a torrent of broken men, their feet were a scorching flame,

But the men of the sword were linked with Gods and neither spell nor truce

Could stem, the spate from the Marne's locked gate to the red, red wrath of Loos.


They followed the sword that gleamed and sang; they held,, they fought, they stood

Where rivers of gloom poured black with doom through raging Mametz Wood;

The held, they fought, they stood, they won; and the skies were molten fire

As they crossed Death's bridge on Pilkem Ridge lest freedom should expire.


And out of the plains of the burning East in the noon-heat and the night

They made their stand in the desert sand - and they won in hero-fight

The City of God that crowns the world, and they looked on the Dolorous Way

Where the star of Richard the Lion-heart had set and had burned away.

*            *            *            *            * 

Their sword is made of an olden song, their armour out of a dream,

They have seen the rills of a thousand hills the word of the lightening gleam.

Their dream is the soul of a man unbound from birth to eternity,

And the song of the sword is a sounding chant of the psalm of liberty.


And the land they love and the land they made and the place men know them by

Is a land where a tree is a singing thing and the wind is a lullaby,

Where the mists are white in the morning light as a maiden's bridal veil,

In a home that is ever the harp of song and legend and fairy-tale.

Arthur Glyn PRYS-JONES. A Welshman of Denbighshire



   Arthur Glyn Prys-Jones (1888-1987) was an Anglo-Welsh poet, writer and educationalist.

He was born on 7 March 1888 in Denbigh. His mother died in 1895 and his father remarried and moved the family to Pontypridd, Glamorgan, in 1898. At the age of 13 he went to Llandovery College, where he appears to have known the poet Dudley G. Davies (1891-1981). In 1908 he won a scholarship to Jesus College, Oxford, to read history, graduating in 1912; he became friends with T. E. Lawrence there. He went to teach in Macclesfield, Walsall and then Dulwich College, London.

     In 1919 he married Betty Gibbon of Pontypridd, shortly before being appointed Assistant Inspector of Schools for Carmarthenshire, later Staff Inspector for Secondary Education in Wales. He settled in Cardiff where, in 1932, he became one of the founders of the Little Theatre for which he wrote plays. He retired in 1949 and was awarded an OBE. He left Cardiff in 1951, moving to Wimbledon.

     He produced six volumes of his own poetry, Poems of Wales (Oxford, 1923), Green Places (Llandysul, 1948), A Little Nonsense (Cowbridge, 1954), High Heritage (Llandybie, 1969), Valedictory Verses (Llandysul, 1978) and More Nonsense (Cowbridge, 1984).             He also wrote prose, including Gerald of Wales (London, 1955) and The Story of Carmarthenshire (2 vols, Llandybie, 1959, 1972).               He edited Welsh Poets (London, 1917), an anthology of Anglo-Welsh poets, and co-edited National Songs of Wales (London, 1959).             He regularly wrote reviews in the Western Mail and from 1937 to 1960 broadcast frequently on BBC radio. In 1970 he was elected President of the Welsh Academy's English-language section. He and his wife Betty had two children, David and Barbara. She died in 1976 and he spent his last years in Kingston-upon-Thames, dying there on 21 February 1987, aged 98. Collected Poems (Llandysul, 1988), edited by his friend Don Dale-Jones (b. 1935), was published after his death.

Posted 15:50

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