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Celtic Baards speak out.

Celtic Baards Speak Out.

And the Baards of wales would not give praises to the conquering Edward,
instead they spoke words of truth in poem and song
 made insolence by violence of the Crown  and
they were burnt at the stake for the truth they Spake.

What principality this that burns its priests for speaking truth against the tyrant.
The Baards of Cymru Eire Cornwall Brettagn, Syntagma & St Pauls
reach out to us across the energy of re incarnated spirit and language
Past Heroes deeds and words emulated to assuage

As  once the tyrant Tribute sought
These new Caesars take all yet offer nought
once more we offer Insolence in Poetry Song rhyme and reason
to tell the truth thats painted Treason.

Original Poem By Roger Lewis.

After. Arany János' masterpiece.

Arany János was Hungary's greatest epic poet and wrote this poem shortly after the visit of Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph to Hungary following defeat in the 1848-49 revolution war. Originally intended to be a poem to praise the Emperor, Arany, Janos used the story that King Edward I of England had 500 bards executed after his conquest of Wales in 1277. The poem is set in Montgomery mid Wales.

The Welsh Bards

Edward the king, the English king, 
Bestride his tawny steed, 
"For I will see if Wales," said he, 
"Accepts my rule indeed. 

"Are stream and mountain fair to see? 
Are meadow grasses good? 
Do corn-lands bear a crop more rare 
Since wash'd with rebel's blood? 

"And are the wretched people there, 
Whose insolence I broke 
As happy as the oxen are 
Beneath the driver's yoke? 

"In truth this Wales, Sire, is a gem, 
The fairest in your crown: 
The stream and field rich harvest yield, 
And fair and dale and down. 

"And all the wretched people there 
Are calm as man could crave; 
Their hovels stand throughout the land 
As silent as the grave." 

Edward the king, the English King 
Bestrides his tawny steed; 
A silence deep his subjects keep 
And Wales is mute indeed. 

The castle named Montgomery 
Ends that day's journeying; 
The castle's lord, Montgomery, 
Must entertain the king. 

Then game and fish and ev'ry dish 
That lures the taste and sight 
A hundred hurrying servants bear 
To please the appetite. 

With all of worth the isle brings forth 
In dainty drink and food, 
And all the wines of foreign vines 
Beyond the distant flood. 

"You lords, you lords, will none consent 
His glass with mine to ring? 
What? Each one fails, you dogs of Wales, 
To toast the English king? 

"Though game and fish and ev'ry dish 
That lures the taste and sight 
Your hand supplies, your mood defies 
My person with a slight. 

"You rascal lords, you dogs of Wales, 
Will none for Edward cheer? 
To serve my needs and chant my deeds 
Then let a bard appear!" 

The nobles gaze in fierce amaze, 
Their cheeks grow deadly pale; 
Not fear but rage their looks engage, 
They blanch but do not quail. 

All voices cease in soundless peace, 
All breathe in silent pain; 
Then at the door a harper hoar 
Comes in with grave disdain: 

"Lo, here I stand, at your command, 
To chant your deeds, O king!" 
And weapons clash and hauberks crash 
Responsive to his string. 

"Harsh weapons clash and hauberks crash, 
And sunset sees us bleed, 
The crow and wolf our dead engulf - 
This, Edward, is your deed! 

"A thousand lie beneath the sky, 
They rot beneath the sun, 
And we who live shall not forgive 
This deed your hand hath done!" 

"Now let him perish! I must have" 
(The monarch's voice is hard) 
"Your softest songs, and not your wrongs!" 
In steps a boyish bard: 

"The breeze is soft at eve, that oft 
From Milford Havens moans; 
It whispers maidens' stifled cries, 
It breathes of widows' groans. 

"You maidens, bear no captive babes! 
You mothers, rear them not!" 
The fierce king nods. The lad is seiz'd 
And hurried from the spot. 

Unbidden then, among the men, 
There comes a dauntless third 
With speech of fire he tunes his lyre, 
And bitter is his word: 

"Our bravest died to slake your pride - 
Proud Edward, hear my lays! 
No Welsh bards live who e'er will give 
Your name a song a praise. 

"Our harps with dead men's memories weep. 
Welsh bards to you will sing 
One changeless verse - our blackest curse 
To blast your soul, O king!" 

"No more! Enough!" - cries out the king. 
In rage his orders break: 
"Seek through these vales all bards of Wales 
And burn them at the stake!" 

His men ride forth to south and north, 
They ride to west and east. 
Thus ends in grim Montgomery 
The celebrated feast. 

Edward the king, the English king 
Spurs on his tawny steed; 
Across the skies red flames arise 
As if Wales burned indeed. 

In martyrship, with song on lip, 
Five hundred Welsh bards died; 
Not one was mov'd to say he lov'd 
The tyrant in his pride. 

"'Ods blood! What songs this night resound 
Upon our London streets? 
The mayor shall feel my irate heel 
If aught that sound repeats! 

Each voice is hush'd; through silent lanes 
To silent homes they creep. 
"Now dies the hound that makes a sound; 
The sick king cannot sleep." 

"Ha! Bring me fife and drum and horn, 
And let the trumpet blare! 
In ceaseless hum their curses come - 
I see their dead eyes glare..." 

But high above all drum and fife 
and trumpets' shrill debate, 
Five hundred martyr'd voices chant 
Their hymn of deathless hate. 

(Translated by Watson Kirkconnel)

Arany János (1857. június.)

Calon Lân
Calon Lân is a hymn well loved by children and adults alike. The tune is by John Hughes (1872 - 1914). The words are by Daniel James (1847 - 1920), better known by his bardic name of "Gwyrosydd".

Nid wy'n gofyn bywyd moethus,
Aur y byd na'i berlau mân:
Gofyn wyf am galon hapus,
Calon onest, calon lân.

Calon lân yn llawn daioni,
Tecach yw na'r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu-
Canu'r dydd a chanu'r nos.

Pe dymunwn olud bydol,
Hedyn buan ganddo sydd;
Golud calon lân, rinweddol,
Yn dwyn bythol elw fydd.

Hwyr a bore fy nymuniad
Gwyd i'r nef ar edyn cân
Ar i Dduw, er mwyn fy Ngheidwad,
Roddi i mi galon lân.

A Pure Heart
It is difficult to translate the Welsh word "glan" into English. At it's simplest, it means "clean". However, it is used in hymns and prayers with a sense of "holy" (c.f., "Yr Ysbryd Glan" - "The Holy Spirit") or "pure". Either sense fits this lovely hymn.
I don't ask for a luxurious life,
the world's gold or its fine pearls:
I ask for a happy heart,
an honest heart, a pure heart.

A pure heart is full of goodness,
More lovely than the pretty lily:
Only a pure heart can sing -
Sing day and night.

If I wished worldly wealth,
He has a swift seed;
The riches of a virtuous, pure heart,
Will be a perpetual profit.

Late and early, my wish
Rise to heavan on the wing of song,
To God, for the sake of my Saviour,
Give me a pure heart.

Celtic Baards speak out.

And the Baards of wales would not give praises to the conquering Edward,
 instead they spoke words of truth in poem and song
 made insolensce by violence of the Crown
 and they were burnt at the stake for the truth they Spake.

What principality this that burns its priests for speaking truth against the tyrant.
The Baards of Cymru Eire Cornwall Brettagne and Catalonia reach out across the energy of re incarnated spirit and language and once more offer Insolence in Poetry Song ryme and reason to tell the truth thats painted Treason.

Ac y Baards cymru ni fyddai rhoi canmol i'r Edward conquering yn hytrach eu bod yn siarad gair o wirionedd mewn cerdd a chân a wnaed gan drais insolensce y Goron acmaent yn cael eu llosgi wrth y stanc ar gyfer y gwir maent llefarodd. Pa wlad hon sy'n llosgi ei offeiriaid ar gyfer siarad gwir yn erbyn y teyrn.
Mae Baards o Cymru Eire Brettagne Cernyw a Chatalonia ymestyn allan ar draws yynni o ysbryd incarnated ac ail iaith a chynnig haerllugrwydd unwaith yn rhagor ynryme Song Barddoniaeth a rheswm i ddweud y gwir thats Brad peintio.

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