Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Circuit through Powys
By Owain Gwynedd (c. 11001170)
T
Owain’s train we move along;
Every passion now at rest
That clouds the brow or rends the breast;
But oppression’s foes the same,
Quick to kindle into flame,
Setting off from Mostyn, say
Whither shall we bend our way?
That thou slack not of thy speed,
Or with idle gossip greet
The loiterer thou mayst chance to meet,
Onward push, and look not back;
Let naught divert thee from thy track.
To Keri hie thee, lad, and say,
Thither will we bend our way.
Thy time will not admit of waste,
With no vulgar message sent,
On thy duty be intent:
Dread our anger to excite,
Lest our vengeance on thee light.
Then announce that in our rounds
We visit next Arwystli’s bounds.
Herald of a princely throng:
But onward still thy steps pursue,
Ceredig’s confines in thy view,
Thither with speed increasing go,
Swift as arrow from a bow:
And to Penwedig tidings bear,
Of our approach and visit there.
To toil familiar by employ;
Scorn fatigue, and unsubdued
Be thy painful march renewed;
Then with shout as hunter’s loud,
Publish this our message proud:
That Meirion’s mountains shall detain
The course of our convivial train.
That not a moment may be lost;
Fast by the margins of the deep,
Where storms eternal uproar keep.
The road to shorten mend thy pace,
Be thy speed contracting space;
And faithful to thy message, say
We take Ardudwy in our way.
Ardudwy visited, be gone,
Haste the region to survey
Which Mervyn gloried erst to sway,
To Nevyn go, inquire for Nest,
And lodging there become her guest,
By which untold it may be seen,
That we are on our road to Lleyn.
Forerunner of our gallant train,
Hurry at our chief’s command,
Prince of liberal heart and hand:
And as through Arvon winds thy way
Armed knight, we charge thee stay,
That having journeyed many a mile,
We mean to visit Mona’s isle.
Spoils of foes the wealth we boast,
Tyrant Lloegyr overthrown
Gives us title to renown,
Then our toilsome marches o’er
Can we want an opening door?
Shall we not find in Rhos a bed
Whereon to lay the weary head?
(Except the mistress of his heart
Haply thou shouldst chance to meet,)
With strictest orders none to greet;
But quickly mount the fleetest steed,
Not confiding to thy speed;
To Llanerch tidings to convey
That we shall stop there on our way.
Nurse of a renowned race,
Who, for many a gallant deed,
Deserve the horn, the hero’s meed;
Thither haste with our commands,
Quitting Tyno Bedwal’s lands,
And say we purpose to regale,
And taste of social joys at Iâl.
This witching region quick forsake,
Howe’er her sons, to charm thy stay,
May throw temptation in thy way;
We forbid thy lingering there
Beyond the opening of the year,
To Maelor then thy steps direct,
That she our coming may expect.
Be thy very food forgot:
Every hindrance put away,
All that can create delay.
To stop at Maelor ’s not allowed,
For further still extends thy road;
To visit Kynllaith we propose,
Then haste the message to disclose.
And forms that suit our rank pursue,
Worthy of our commission prove,
For not like petty tribes we move;
Prompt to discharge the duty go,
And borrow fleetness from the roe,
That Mechain in her turn may hear
Of our intended visit there.
Has measured Cambria’s lovely bounds,
Though conquered realms enrich our train,
Heaven’s kingdom yet is ours to gain,
Which to possess may we aspire,
Faith lending pinions to desire;
Where we, our earthly journeys past,
May find eternal rest at last.