Trachwant

Ti Ellyll gorwangcus,
    di ddigon, di ddâ,
Ti haint y bydysawd,
    dechreuad pob plâ,
  A'th wisgoedd yn goegwych,
       a gwên ar dy bryd,
  Tra'th gorph yn llawn
       clwyfau cuddiedig i gyd;

Gynnifer o ddynion
    a ddygaist trwy d'arch
I ben uchel dŷrau,
    gan addo mawr barch,
  Oddiyno i'w taflu'n
      afluniaidd i lawr
  I bydew dychrynllyd,
      a surllyd ei sawr.

B'le dygaist ti Bona,
    yn niwedd y daith,
Yn ol ei glodforedd
    a'i fawredd gwir faith?
  I anial Helena,
      arswydus dy swyn,
  Y'mhell o fro'i geraint,
      yn gaethwas di-g&373;yn.

Nid Ffraingc, un o'r gwledydd
    hyfryttaf dan nen,
I hwn ydoedd ddigon,
    a bod arni'n Ben;
  Ond Trachwant a'i trechai,
      a'i dallai, nes d'od
  Yn isel garcharwr
      y dyn mwya'i nod.

Gwell byw yn ddisylw,
    ac felly'n ddi sen,
I ddyn, nacirc; dyrchafu
    'n rhy uchel ei ben:
  Y gwynt ag sy'n darniaw
      yr onen, chwyrn gri,
  Ni wna fawr ymryson,
      eithinen, â thi.

Pa fwyaf ar glodydd
    y byddo fy mryd,
Mwy'r hoga Cenfigen
    ei dannedd o hyd,
  Ac uwch yn fy nghwympad
      y codir y gân
  O felus orfoledd
      gan fawr a chan fân.

O'm llwybrau distawaidd sa',
    Drachwant, y'mhell;
Ni chei di un noswaith
    lettya'n fy nghell:
  Mae Tlodi a Gofal
      gan' milwaith i mi,
  Er tristed eu hagwedd,
      yn hoffach nâ thi.

Y'mhell o ymyrraeth
    a balchedd y byd,
Yn nyffryn tawelwch,
    â'm hannedd yn glyd,
  Y treuliwyf fy einioes,
      yr hunwyf mewn hedd,
  A doder a ganlyn
      ar garreg fy medd:-

Fan hon y mae'n gorwedd
    dan raian y'nghudd
Un dreuliodd yn ddifraw,
    yn ddistaw ei ddydd:
  Ym maes yr ymryson
      ni chlywyd ei lais; -
  Nid clod oedd ei hoffder,
      nid mawredd ei gais.

Da welodd nad ydyw
    y bywyd ond brau,
A gwenau gogoniant
    nad ydynt ond gau;
  Mae'n dawel ei annedd
      o sŵn byd a'i glyw,
  A'i obaith yn gorphwys
      ar gariad ei Dduw.

Thou voracious Fiend,
    insatiable, good for nothing,
Thou infection of the universe,
    the beginning of every plague,
  With thy gaudy garments,
      and a smile on thy face,
  While thy body
      full of hidden wounds altogether;

So many men thou has led
    through thy command
To the high head of doors,
    by promising great honour,
  From there to throw them
      untidily down
  To a pit horrendous
      and of sourish savour.

Where didst thou lead Boney,
    at the end of his journey,
After his jubilation
 and his truly extensive majesty?
  To the desert of Helena,
      horrible thy charm,
  Far from the vale of his kinfolk,
      in uncomplaining captivity.

Not France, one of the most delightful
    countries under heaven,
To this which was enough,
    and which thou hadst as an End;
  But Greed which would defeat him,
      and blind him, until becoming
  A lowly prisoner,
      the most noted man.

Better to live unnoticed,
    and therefore unreviled,
For a man, than to lift
    his head too high:
  The wind which breaks the ash tree to pieces,
      a whirling cry,
  Will not make a great contention,
      a gorse bush, and thee.

The more on praises
     will be my mind,
The more will envy
     still sharpen his teeth,
  And above in my fall
       the song is to be raised
  Of sweet jubilation
       by great and by small.

From my quietish paths,
    stand, Greed, far away;
Thou shalt not have for one evening
    a lodging in my cell:
  Povery and Care are
      a hundred thousand times to me,
  Despite how sad be their aspect,
      more desirable than thee.

Far from the intrusion
    and pride of the world,
In the valley of quietness,
    with my dwelling cosy,
  I will spend my life,
      I will sleep in peace,
  And the following is to be put
      on the stone of my grave:-

Here lies
    under gravel hidden
One who spent fearlessly,
    quietly his day:
  In the field of contention
      his voice was not heard; -
  Praise was not his favourite,
      greatness not what he sought.

He saw well that life
    is only fragile,
And the smiles of glory
    they are only false;
  His dwelling is quiet from the noise
      of the world which he  hears,
  And his hope rests
      on the love of his God.