Bythod Cymru

O dlysion fythod Cymru

Bythod Cymru
O dlysion fythod Cymru,
  Sy'n mygu yn y glyn,
Ac ar y gwyrddion lethrau,
  A'u muriau oll yn wyn!
Mae'r gwenyn wrth eu talcen,
  Neu gysgod clawdd yr ardd,
A'r rhosyn coch a'r lili
  O'u deutu yno dardd.

O dawel fythod Cymru!
  Mor ddedwydd ydych chwi!
Er bod heb fawredd breiniol,
  Nac un daearol fri;
O'ch mewn y triga'n wastad
  Y cariad cu a'r hedd,
Nad ydynt yn berthynol
  I'r ymerodrol sedd.

O hawddgar fythod Cymru,
  Sy'n gwenu ger y nant,
A'u gerddi'n llawn o flodau,
  A hwythau'n llawn o blant;
Mor glaer a'r dŵr tryloew
  Yw llygaid y rhai bach,
A'u gruddiau, fel y rhosyn,
  Yn brydferth gochwyn iach.

O ddistaw fythod Cymru,
  Sy'n mhell o sŵn y dref!
Ni flinir chwi gan derfysg,
  Nac un anfoesol lef;
Ni thyr ar eich distawrwydd
  Ond chwarddiad llon
      y plant,
A sibrwd dail y goedwig,
  A murmur mwyn y nant.

O lwydion fythod Cymru
  Sy'n llechu is y llwyn!
Er bod heb furiau mynor,
  A'u to yn wellt neu frwyn;
O'u mewn mae llawer angel
  Yn hoffi troi ei ben,
I syllu mewn gorfoledd
  Ar etifeddion nen.

O dirion fythod Cymru!
  O'u mewn ar doriad gwawl,
Ac yn y coed o'u hamgylch
  Y plethir odlau mawl;
Y feinir gn yn gynar,
  A'r adar gyda hi,
Eu diolch-gerdd foreuol
  Am rd eu Nefol Ri.

O annwyl fythod Cymru!
  Ni fedd un wlad eu hail;
Na lygrer eu haelwydydd,
  Na sigler byth eu sail!
Byth, byth, mor ber a'r blodau
  Sy'n gwisgo siriol wn,
Ar fryn a dl o'u deutu,
  Bo Bythod Cymru hen!
Evan Jones (Ieuan Gwynedd) 1820-52

[Mesur: 7676D]

Gwelir: O lwydion fythod Cymru

Cottages of Wales
O pretty cottages of Wales,
  Who smoke in the vale,
And on the green slopes,
  With their walls all white!
The bees are at their gable,
  Or the shadow of the garden bank,
And the red rose and the lily
  About them are springing forth.

O quiet cottages of Wales!
  How happy are you!
Although being without privileged majesty,
  Nor any earthly renown;
Within you dwell constantly
  The dear love and the peace,
They are not related
  To the imperial seat.

O beautiful cottages of Wales,
  who are smiling by the stream,
With their gardens full of flowers,
  And they in turn full of children;
As clear as the pellucid water
  Are the eyes of those little ones,
And their cheeks, like the rose,
  Beautifully ruddy-white healthy.

O silent peaceful of Wales,
  Who are far from the noise of the town!
You are not grieved by tumult,
  Nor any immoral cry;
Nothing breaks upon your quietness
  But the cheerful laughter
      of the children,
And the whisper of the forests leaves,
  And the gentle murmur of the stream.

O grey Cottages of Wales,
  Who lurk under the grove,
Although without walls of marble,
  And their roofs straw or reeds;
From within them is many and angel
  Loving to turn his head,
To stare in jubilation
  On the heirs of heaven.

O tender Cottages of Wales,
  From within at the break of dawn,
And in the wood around them
  Are woven the verses of praise;
The lass who sings early,
  And the birds with her
Their morning thanksgiving poem
  For the grace of their heavenly Lord.

O dear Cottages of Wales,
  No land possesses their equal, -
Their hearths shall not decay,
  Their foundation shall not be shaken!
Never, ever, so sweet as the flowers
  That are wearing a cheerful smile,
On hill and meadow about them,
  Be the Cottages of old Wales!
tr. 2021 Richard B Gillion

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

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