Ofer ymboena gwyr y byd

Ofer ymboena gwyr y byd
I gasglu disglair lwch ynghyd;
  Gan edrych ar y tlawd yn wael,
  A bostio'u mwnws mawr
      a'u mael.

Ni's gall eu haur byth laesu poen
Y galon flin
    na'r pen dihoen;
  Na gwobro'r angeu rhag nesau
  I'w stefyll têg a'i plyf welâu.

Yr enaid, gorfod mae ar frys
O'i anfodd ufuddhau i'r wys;
  A rhoi hir ffarwel, tan dristau,
  I'r marwol delpyn glâs o glai.

Ac yna dygir hwy i'r bedd,
Mae'r Brenin yno a'i was
    un wedd;
  A'u hesgyrn dra-phlith heb ddim gwa'n
  Rhwng rhai'r gwyr mawr
      a rhai'r gwyr mân.

In vain the men of the world take pains
To gather shining dust together;
  While looking on the poor badly,
  And boasting their great lucre
      and their profit.

Their gold cannot ever relieve the pain
Of the distressed heart
    nor the lifeless head;
  Nor bribe death from drawing near
  To his fair room and his feather bed.

The soul, compelled is hurriedly
From its unwilling obedience to the summons;
  And to give a long farewell, under sadness,
  To the mortal, pallid lump of clay.

And then they are to be led from the grave,
The King there and his servant are
    of the same condition;
  And their bones mixed up with no separation
  Between those of the great man
      and those of the small man.

In vain the wealthy mortals toil,
And heap their shining dust in vain,
  Look down and scorn the humble poor,
  And boast their lofty
      hills of gain.

Their golden cordials cannot ease
Their pained hearts
    or aching heads,
  Nor fright nor bribe approaching death
  From glitt'ring roofs and downy beds.

The ling'ring, the unwilling soul
The dismal summons must obey,
  And bid a long, a sad farewell
  To the pale lump of lifeless clay.

Thence they are huddled to the grave,
Where kings and slaves
    have equal thrones;
  Their bones without distinction lie
  Amongst the heap
      of meaner bones.