Wele goelcerth wen yn fflamio

(Rhyfelgyrch) Gwŷr Harlech
Wele goelcerth wen yn fflamio,
A thafodau tân yn bloeddio,
Ar i'r dewrion ddod i daro,
  "Unwaith eto'n un":

Gan fanllefau tywysogion,
Llais gelynion, trwst arfogion,
A charlamiad y marchogion,
  Craig ar graig a gryn!

  Arfon byth ni orfydd,
  Cenir yn dragywydd;
Cymru fydd fel Cymru fu,
  Yn glodus yn mysg gwledydd.

Yng ngwyn oleuni'r goelcerth acw,
Tros wefusau Cymro'n marw,
Annibyniaeth sydd yn galw,
  Am ei dewraf dyn.

Ni chaiff gelyn ladd ac ymlid
Harlech! Harlech! cwyd i'w herlid;
Y mae Rhoddwr mawr ein Rhyddid,
  Yn rhoi nerth i ni.

Wele Gymru a'i byddinoedd,
Yn ymdywallt o'r mynyddoedd!
Rhuthrant fel rhaiadrau dyfroedd,
  Llamant fel y lli!

  Llwyddiant i'n lluyddion!
  Rwystro bâr yr estron!
Gwybod yn ei galon gaiff,
  Fel bratha cleddyf Brython;

Y clêdd yn erbyn clêdd a chwery,
Dûr yn erbyn dûr a dery,
Wele fâner Gwalia'i fyny,
  "Rhyddid aiff a hi!"
John Jones (Talhaiarn) 1810-69

alaw: 1794 March of the Men of Harlech

(The March of the) Men of Harlech
See the bright beacon flaming,
And tongues of fire shouting,
For the brave to come to combat,
  "Once again as one":

With the acclamation of princes,
The voice of enemies, the clamour of the armed,
And the gallop of the knights,
  Rock on rock which clash!

  Arfon shall never be overcome,
  To be sung eternally;
The Wales to be as the Wales that was,
  Celebrated amongst the nations.

Bright the light of yonder beacon,
Across the lips of the dead Welshman,
Independence is calling,
  For its bravest man.

No enemy shall get to kill and pursue
Harlech! Harlech! Rise to chase them;
The great Donor is our Freedom,
  Giving strength to us.

See Wales and its armies,
Pouring from the mountains!
They rush like cataracts of water,
  They leap like a flood!

  Success to our forces!
  Frustration to the stranger!
He will get to know in his heart,
  How a Briton's sword bites;

Sword against sword will chafe,
Stroke against stroke will strike,
See the flag of Gwalia on high,
  "Freedom she shall have!"
tr. 2009 Richard B Gillion
(March of the) Men of Harlech
Fierce the beacon's light is flaming
With its tongues of fire proclaiming
Chieftains, sundered to your shaming
  Strongly now unite

At her call, all Arfon rallies
War cries rend her hills and vallies
Troop on troop, with headlong sallies
  Hurtle to the fight

  Chiefs lie dead and wounded.
  Yet, where first was grounded,
Freedom's flag still holds the crag;
  Her trumpet still is sounded.

There we'll keep her banner flying,
While the pale lips of the dying
Echo to our shouts defying
  Harlech for the right!

Shall the Saxon army shake you
Smite, pursue and overtake you?
Men of Harlech, God will make you
  Victors, blow for blow.

The swollen rivers of Eryri
Sweep the vale with flooded fury
Gwalia from her mountain eryie
  Thunders on the foe.

Now avenging Briton,
Smite as he has smitten
Let your rage on history's page
  In Saxon blood be written.

His lance is long, but yours is longer.
Strong his sword, but yours is stronger.
One stroke more, and now your wronger
  At your feet, lies low.
Alfred Perceval Graves 1846-1931

see also:
    Dauntless sons of Celtic sires (George Thompson)
    Glyndwr see thy comet flaming (W H Baker)
    Harlech raise thy banners o'er us
    Men of Harlech march to glory (John Oxenford)
    Tongues of fire on Idris flaring (John Guard)

The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.', an English translation by 'tr.'

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