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Rh Of the Cambrian race survives,— Long as seed of flow’ret thrives— Will I scatter in my lays
 * Seeds of glory through the land,

Of thy glory, of thy praise;
 * Chief that wieldest the long brand!

, my boy, thy path pursue The bright birchen thickets thro’, (Bowers of white yet verdant hue!) From Glamorgan bear for me Joy to Gwyneth, land of glee. Lov’d and native Mon salute, Tell her I have paid my suit, With the Psalms of Solomon, (And not vainly) unto one Who above fair Cardiff dwells; That my suit has not been paid Unto frail and feeble maid, But that Ivor’s love compels The obedience of my soul, With a paramount control O’er my bosom—which the coy Saxon girls may ne’er enjoy.