Dewch i'r helfa mae'r udgyrn yn canu

Hela'r 'Sgyfarnog
Dewch i'r helfa,
    mae'r udgyrn yn canu
  Yr haul lygada
      dros ysgwydd y bryn.
Draw i'r daren
    mae pawb yn ymdyrru
  A'r adsain ddeffry
      dawelwch y glyn:
Helwyr a helgwn
    a helfeirch aflonydd,-
  Ha, ha! mae yr awyr
      yn llawn o fwynhad,
Clwch mae'r cŵn
    wedi taro y trwydd,
  Mae'r hen fytheuad
      yn arwain y gâd.

Dacw'r gwta
    o blith y twmpathau,
  Drwy'r grug a'r eithin
      fel awel o wynt;
Ffwrdd â'r helwyr
    fel mellt a tharanau,
  A ffwrdd â'r helgwn
      yn gyflym - yn gynt:
Dros glawdd y mynydd
    fel hediad pioden,
  A throi ar i fyny,
      ar aswy a de,
Dros y Lledwyn
    a thrwy Fwlch-y-fedwen,
  A phawb yn dilyn,
      heb wybod i ble.

O, mor ddifyr
    i'r dyrfa, ar derfyn
  Y dydd, yw cwrddyd
      o amgylch y bwrdd;
Iach awelon
    a gludodd i'w canlyn,
  Mewn hoen, bob gofal
      a gofid i ffwrdd,
Prid yw i'r prydydd
    roi cân i'r Pencynydd,
  A moled pob helydd
      y Llywydd yn llon;
Mawl i'r geinach
    mwy elo ar gynnydd,
  Hen gamp ysblennydd,
      ddihenydd yw hon.
Lewis Davies Jones (Llew Tegid) 1851-1928


Hunting the Hare
Come to the hunt,
    the trumpets are sounding
  The sun eyes
      across the shoulder of the hill.
Over to the darren
    everyone is gathering,
  And the echo awakens
      the quietness of the vale:
Huntsmen and hounds
    and cheerful hunstwomen, -
  Ha, ha! the hour is
      full of enjoyment,
Hear, the dogs have
    struck the trace,
  The old hound is
      leading the troop.

There is the bob-tail
    amongst the mounds,
  Through the heather and the gorse
      like a breeze of wind;
Off go the chasers
    like lightning and thunder,
  And off go the hounds
      fast - promptly:
Across dike and mountain
    like the flight of the magpie,
  And turn upwards,
      to left and right,
Across the Lledwyn
    and through Bwlch-y-fedwen,
  And everyone following,
      without knowing where.

Oh, how exciting
    to the throng, at the end
  Of the day, is a gathering
      around the board;
Healthy breezes
    have carried after them,
  In glee, every care
      and worry away,
Costly it is for the poet
    to give a song to the hunstmaster
  And let every hunter praise
      the Governor cheerfully;
Let praise to the hare
    go henceforth increasingly,
  An old, ancient, splendid
      exploit is this.
tr. 2014 Richard B Gillion
Hunting the Hare
O the yelping
    of hounds, the skelping,
  Along the cover
      and out at the back!
O the galloping,
    O the walloping!
  O the rush of the
      "gone away" Jack!
Off like a feather
    he floats on the heather -
  Blackberry calling
      the tune in his track,
Spot and Spider,
    and Beauty beside her,
  Then Red Rake
      and the rest of the pack.

Now they've lost him
    and now they're finding him,
  Now he's winding 'em
      round by the stack!
Hark! the horn!
    to the height we follow 'em,
  Cheer and holloa 'em
      for'ard or back.
Ne'er such a frisker
    at fate cocked a whisker,
  Or bustled us brisker,
      than yonder old Jack.
One more double
    across the stubble,
  And he's in trouble
      and tossed by the pack.

Bay and grey are
    away to the stable,
  And jovial hunters
      the table attack;
Meat we're munching and
    oats they're crunching,
  And pails they empty
      and bottles they crack.
Here's to the Master!
    no fairer or faster
  To steady the heady
      or screw up the slack!
Here's to the Hunt!
    and our glasses a-jingle
  With joy commingle -
      and here's to the Pack.
tr. Alfred Perceval Graves 1846-1931


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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