The bards of Wales' (English) King Edward scales the hills of Wales Upon his stallion. "Hear my decree! I want to see My new dominion. "Show me the yield of every field, The grain, the grass, the wood! Is all the land now moist and rich With red rebellious blood? "And are the Welsh, God's gift, the Welsh, A peaceful, happy folk? I want them pleased, just like the beast They harness in the yoke." "Sire, this jewel in your crown, Your Wales, is fair and good: Rich is the yield of every field The grassland and the wood. "And, Sire, the Welsh, God's gift, the Welsh, So pleased they all behave! Dark every hut, fearfully shut And silent as the grave." King Edward scales the hills of Wales Upon his stallion. And where he rides dead silence hides In his dominion. He calls at high Montgomery To banquet and to rest; It falls on Lord Montgomery To entertain the guest: With fish, the meat, and fruit so sweet, To tease the tongue, the eyes, A splendid spread for a king to be fed A lordly enterprise. The waiters file with the best this Isle Can grow in drink and food, And serve the fine Bordeaux and Rhine In gracious plentitude. "Now drink my health, you gentle sirs, And you, my noble host! You Sirs... Welsh Sirs... you filthy curs, I want the loyal toast! "The fish, the meat you served to eat Was fine and ably done. But deep inside it's hate you hide: You loathe me, every one! "Well, then, you sirs, you filthy curs, Who will now toast your king? I want a bard to praise my deeds, A bard of Wales to sing!" They look askance with a furtive glance, The noblemen of Wales; Their cheeks turn white in deadly fright, As crimson anger pales. Deep silence falls upon the halls, And lo, before their eyes They see an old man, white as snow, An ancient bard to rise: "I shall recite your glorious deeds Just as you bid me, Sire." And death rattles in grim battles As he touches the lyre. "Grim death rattles, the brave battles, And blood bestains the sun, Your deeds reek high, up to the sky: You are the guilty one! "Our dead are plenty as the corn When harvest is begun, And as we reap and glean, we weep: You did this, guilty one!" "Off to the stake!" the king commands, "This was churlishly hard. Sing us, you there, a softer air, You, young and courtly bard!" "A breeze so soft, does sweetly waft Where Milford Haven lies, With wailing woes of doomed widows And mournful maidens' cries. "Maiden, don't bear a slave! Mother, Your babe must not be nursed!" ... A royal nod. He reached the stake Together with the first. But boldly and without a call A third one takes the floor; Without salute he strikes the lute, His song begins to soar: "Our brave were killed, just as you willed, Or languish in our gaols: To hail your name or sing your fame You find no bard in Wales! "He may gone,' but his songs live on - The toast is `King beware!' You bear the curse - and even worse - Of Welsh bards everywhere." "I'll see to that!" thunders the King, "You spiteful Welsh peasants! The stake will toast your every bard Who spurns my ordinance!" His men went forth to search the North, The West, the South, the East, And so befell, the truth to tell, In Wales the famous feast. - King Edward fled, headlong he sped Upon his stallion, And in his wake a blazing stake: The Welsh dominion. Five hundred went singing to die, Five hundred in the blaze, But none would sing to cheer the king The loyal toast to raise. "My chamberlain, what is the din In London's streets so late? The Lord Mayor answers with his head If it does not abate!" Gone is the din; without, within They all silently creep: "Who breaks the spell, goes straight to hell! The King can't fall asleep." "Let drum and fife now come to life And let the trumpets roar, To rise above that fatal curse That haunts me evermore!" But over drums and piercing fifes, Beyond the soldiers' hails, They swell the song, five hundred strong, Those martyred bards of Wales. (*) (*)Although doubted by scholars, it is strongly held in the oral tradition that King Edward I of England had five hundred bards executed after his conquest of Wales in 1277, lest they incite the Welsh youth to rebellion by reminding them in their songs of their nation's glorious past. Janos Arany. Arany wrote this poem when the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph first visited Hungary after he defeated it in its 1848-49 War of Independence. Originally he was asked to write a poem to praise the Emperor.

Excellent translation.

O wlad y Saeson daeth y teyrn Ar gefn ei geffyl gwyn; Ac meddai Edward, "Faint yw gwerth Y tiroedd newydd hyn?" -- from Beirdd Cymru (The Bards of Wales), translated into Welsh by Twm Morys

Brilliant! Thank everybody who contributed to this powerful performance. A great job indeed! Arany János would certainly love it.

Zseniális! :o Gyönyörű munka!

Milyen szép így angol nyelven is Aranynak -e hőskölteménye !

Hatalmas, óriási, stb....!!!!!

Hát ez nagyon klassz volt! Én csak magyarul tudom, de nagyon hatásos volt így is!

Breathtaking! The imaginably best translation I have ever heard. So is the performance. Congratulations!

Gratula! Gratula! Fantasztikus!

Nagyon szép volt!

Gorgeous and melodious!

(*) A történelem kétségbe vonja, de a mondában erősen tartja magát, hogy I. Eduárd angol király, Wales tartomány meghódítása (1277) után, ötszáz walesi bárdot végeztetett ki, hogy nemzetök dicső múltját zöngve, a fiakat föl ne gerjeszthessék az angol járom lerázására. A.J.

Wow, wonderfully made, great job!

Well done! Gave me the chill.

Nagyon menő lett!

I love it. Thank you very very much!

This was so f-ing cool!

csodálatos!!!!!!

Amazing!

Nagyszerű.

Where could we find the translator's name? It should be mentioned by all means

Cymru am byth Paid becso pawb 🕊

Watson Kirkonnel fordítása a legjobb, szerintem!

This translation breaks from the meter in several places. 19.2 has an extra iamb.

500 SOULJAH ROCKERZ UPRiSiNG MARANATHA KYMRY SOULJAH ROCKERZ JAHBLESS....

Attaboy Patrick!!!

Based

Fantastic presentation. But why the heck King Edward & Montgomery ? They were Norman, not Welsh.

JAHBLESS MARANATHA

Name the translator, please.

This show did not really draw too much attention as I see on the video. Despite the primary meaning, this poem is against the tyranny of the Habsburgs after the defeated 1848/49 Revolution and War Independence of the Hungarians. It seems that Welsh people do not really have the appetite for their long lost independence and thus for contemporary, anti-English nationalist tones.

Rise in PARADiSE

unalmas