Aeth Bachgen Ifanc

Per Alaw

Aeth bachgen ifanc efo'i dad,
  I frwydyr Castell Gŵyr;
Ond gan hen elyn mawr ei wlad,
  Fe'i daliwyd cyn yn hwyr.
Tarawodd milwr ef i lawr
  Gan ddweud, 'fy machgen ir,
Os Cymro wyt cais farw'n awr
  Ac na weddia'n hir';
Medd yntau gyda dagrau mawr,
  'Nid ofnaf ddweud y gwir.'

Ac Arthur Fawr a aeth i'w sedd,
  Flynyddau wedi hyn,
Ar ol darostwng gyda'i gledd,
  Drwy'r wlad bob bro a bryn.
Ond pwy oedd Arthur Fawr Caerwynt,
  Gogoniant mor a thir;
A fu trwy'i holl Frenhinol hynt,
  I'r byd yn Fendith hir?
Ef oedd y bachgen ddwedodd gynt,
  Nad ofnai ddweud y gwir, y gwir.
John Ceiriog Hughes (Ceiriog) 1832-87
Alaw: Per Alaw / Sweet Richard / Blondel's Song

A young boy went with his father,
  To the battle of Gower Castle;
But by a great old enemy his land,
  Was captured before long.
A soldier struck him down
  As he said, 'My fresh lad,
If you are a Welshman I am dying now
  And will not pray for long';
The other said with great tears,
 'I am not afraid to speak the truth.'

And Great Arthur who went to his throne,
  Years ago,
After subduing with his sword,
  Through the land every vale and hill.
But who was Great Arthur of Winchester,
  Glory of sea and land,
Who was through his whole Royal course,
  To the world blessedly long?
He was the son who earlier said,
  He would not fear to speak the truth.
tr: 2008 Richard B Gillion
At gower Castle a warrior fought
  His young son by his side
The tyrant foe proved much too strong
  'The battle's lost,' he cried.
Struck by a soldier's fatal blow
  He called with dying breath,
'Son if a Welshman true thou'd be
  Pledge to this cause thy youth.'
The son gave word that never would he
  Fear to speak the truth.

Great Arthur to his final throne
  Went many years ago.
His sword brought peace to vale and hill
  The whole of Wessex through.
But who was this of glorious tales 
  Of foes driven from the south
Who brought a blessing on his realm
  To old age from his youth?
He was the son who pledged he'd never
  Fear to speak the truth.
tr: 2008 Richard B Gillion

A mighty warrior from the north
So Moslem records tell,
In all the pride of pow'r went forth,
The infidel to quell.
His lofty crest seem'd to defy,
Aught peril to be night.
As far across the spreading plain,
Loud came his battle cry,
"Strike down the foe, my fellow men,
We fight for God on High!"

Unconquer'd is the valiant sword,
Although aside 'twas laid,
When by the traitors treach'rous word,
The warrior was betray'd.
His noble heart may still defy
Aught peril to be nigh,
For soon there shall resound again,
That sacred battle cry,
"Strike down the foe, my fellow man,
Ye fight for God on High!"
Walter Maynard (Thomas Willert Beale)1828-94

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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