Tosturi

Nid helynt ymladdfa,
    lle'n cwympo bu gwyr
Yn filoedd ar filoedd
    trwy'r cledd a min dur, -
  Nid hanes rhyw fwrdd-dra
      mewn bad ac mewn gwŷn
  Yn unig sy'n gofyn
      Tosturi gan ddyn, -

Nac hefyd llongddrylliad,
    lle'n oer y bu cri
Y fam a'i mwyn
    faban yn soddi' n y lli':
  Y sawl a ystyrio
      a gaiff dan y ne'
  Wrthddrychau Tosturi
      yn llenwi pob lle.

Yr hen-wr methedig,
    yn rhychiog ei rudd,
A ddaw i'm cyfarfod,
    wna'm henaid i'n brudd;
  A phawb a fo'n unig,
      gwywedig, a gwan,
  Sy'n haeddu'n Tosturi
      yn rhwyddgu i'w rhan.

Y teulu newynllyd,
    mewn caban llawn cŵyn,
A dderbyn dosturi
    gan fynwes fo fwyn:
  Lle'n llifo bo deigryn
      yn hanner dan gêl,
  Gwir frawdol Dosturi
      yn gyflym a'i gwêl.

Y lle'n arglwyddiaethu
    bo gormes a thrais,
Gan omedd i'r truan
    ei lafar a'i lais,
  Sy'n gofyn Tosturi
      yn rhwydd ac yn rhad;
  A'i wir, gywir berchen
      ei gymmorth nis gwâd.

Wylofain a galar
    a chur o bob rhyw
Tosturi, bob amwer,
    yn glwyfus a glyw;
  Pob hwyr a phob boreu
      nid hir fydd fy nhaith,
  Heb le i Dosturi'n
      dra gwisgi gael gwaith.

Bydd lle i Dosturi
    a'i deimlad di nam
Lle byddo'r anifail
    gwael, mud yn cael cam;
  A lle bo creulonedd
      yn rhoi brath a briw
  I'r gwaelaf greadur
      ga'dd einioes gan Dduw.

Not the course of a slaughter,
    where men were falling
In thousands upon thousands
    through the sword and steel edge, -
  Not the history of some murder
      in a boat and in pain
  Alone are asking for
      Mercy from man, -

Nor also a ship-wreck,
    where cold was the cry
Of the mother and her tender
    baby sinking in the flood:
  Those who consider
      shall get under heaven
  Objects of Mercy
      filling every place.

The drunken old man,
    with furrowed cheek,
Who comes to meet me,
    hwo makes my soul sad;
  And everyone who would be lonely,
       wizened, and weak,
  Is deserving of mercy
       dearly generously for their part.

The starving family,
    in a cabin full of grief,
Which receives mercy
    from a bosom which would be tender:
  Where tears would be flowing
      half hidden,
  True brotherly Mercy
      swiftly will see it.

Where domineering
    be oppression and violence,
By denial to the wretched
    his speech and his voice,
  Which are asking for Mercy
      readily and freely;
  And its true, correct owner
      his help does not deny.

Lamenting and mourning
    and a stroke of every kind
Mercy, every time,
    wounded shall hear;
  Every evening and every morning
      not long will be my journey,
  Without a place for Mercy
      so quickly to get work.

There will be a place for Mercy
    and its faultess feeling
Where the base, mute
    animal is getting wronged;
  And where there be cruelty
      giving a bite and a bruise
  To the poorest creature
      there every was from God.