Menyw

Menyw fwyn yw gwaith perffeithiaf,
Dwylaw glân y Duw goruchaf;
  Perl a harddwch creadigaeth,
  Rhosyn byd yn ddiammheuaeth.

Y mae'n harddach, fil o weithiau,
Gwenau hon nâ gwawr y borau;
  Holl brydferthwch hyfryd anian
  Drig ym mron yn hon ei hunan.

Glwys y rhos,
    a glwys y lili,
Glwys y gwanwyn
    glas yn gwenu;
  Rhwng y blodeu glwysach etto,
  Menyw deg mewn gardd yn rhodio.

Fel o ddwr mae'n llawn yr afon,
Llawn o deimlad yw ei dwyfron;
  Cariad hon, yn ol sefydlu,
  Awch y dur
      nid all ei dorri.

Llawn ei mynwes o dynerwch,
Llawn ei chalon o hawddgarwch;
  Menyw fwyn! pwy all ryfeddu
  Enaid dyn, ei bod yn denu?

Mi a welais, yn ddigyffro,
Faes y gwaed a mil yn syrthio;
  Ond ni welais ddagrau'n hogian
  Ar rudd hon heb wylo f'hunan.

Gair o'i genau mewn serchogrwydd,
Ddiarfoga bob digllonrwydd;
  Ar ei thafod y mae eli
  Mawr ei rinwedd, mawr ei allu.

Hoff gan wr, pan fo'n trafaelu,
Gwrdd ar ffordd â chyfail digri':
  Milwaith hoffach,
      rhwydd in' addef,
  Menwy fwyn i'w roeso adref.

Menyw serchog, lon mewn teulu,
Wna bob peth i ymsirioli;
Oll o gylch, ei llais caredig
  Rydd fel Eden ardd fawledig.

Gwael y dyn sy'n rhodio daear,
Heb gael hon yn gymmwys gymmar;
  Och! heb gael, yn wych ymgeledd,
  Hon i'w uno ef â'i annedd.

Menyw fwyn, y byd, er cystal,
Hebot ti nid yw ond anial;
  Heb dy lais i dori loesau,
  Heb dy wyneb heb dy wenau.

Ti wyt leuad mewn tywyllfyd,
Seren hoff mewn nos o dristyd, -
  Angor enaid cystuddiedig,
  Ar y garw fôr berwedig.

Diogelwch yn dy galon
Sydd i dderbyn pob meddylion;
  Cyfaill ydwyt o'r ffyddlonaf
  Uwch pob gwerth, O! Fenyw fwynaf.

Gentle woman is the most perfect work,
Of the holy Hands of the most high God;
  The pearl and beauty of creation,
  The rose of the world undoubtedly.

More beautiful are, a thousand times,
These smiles than the dawn of the morning;
  The whole beauty of a delightful nature
  Dwells in this breast itself.

The prettiness of the rose,
    and the prettiness of the lily,
The prettiness of
    the blue-green spring smiling;
  Between the prettiest flowers yet,
  A fair woman in a garden walking.

As of water the river is full,
Full of feeling are her breasts;
  This love, after establishing,
  The keenness of the steel
      cannot cut it.

Full her bosom of tenderness,
Full her heart of beauty;
  Gentle woman! who can wonder
  The soul of man, she is attracting?

I have seeen, unawakening,
The field of blood and a thousand falling;
  But I have never seen tears hanging
  On this cheed without weeping myself.

A word from her mouth in affection,
Disarms every bitterness;
  And her tongue is balm
  Great her merit, great her power.

Favoured by a man, when he be labouring,
Meeting on a road with a jovial friend:
  A thousand time more lovely,
      free for us to confess,
  A gentle woman to welcome him home.

An affectionate woman, cheerful in a family,
Make everything to become cheerful;
  All around, her loving voice
  Gives like the praised garden of Eden.

Poor the man who is walking the earth,
Without getting it including her like;
  Oh! without getting, as a brilliant help,
  Her to unite with him and his dwelling.

A gentle woman, the world, although as good,
Without thee is nothing but a desert;
  Without thy voice to break pangs,
  Without thy voice, without thy smiles.

Thou art a moon in a dark world,
A lovely star in a night of sorrow, -
  The anchor of an afflicted soul, -
  On the rough, boiling sea.

Safety in thy heart
Is to receive all thoughts;
  A friend art thou of the most faithful
  Above all worth, O most gentle Woman.