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A Gentleman who is possessed of Sir Meredyth ab Rhys's, "Cywydd i ddiolch am Rwyd bysgota; i lfan ab Tudor;" "An Ode to thank Evan ab Tudor, for a Fishing Net;" obligingly favored me with the following copy of the above Lines. Mewu Awr dda, Minnau ar Ddwr o fodd hael a fydd Heliwr. Madog wych, mwyedig Wedd Jawn Genau, Owen Gwynedd Ni fynnai Dir', f' enaid oedd, Na Da mawr ond y Moroedd.
The following stanza was on the stone of Jane, the daughter of Elizabeth Williams, who died on the second of May, 1843: "Er myn'd i'r oerllyd annedd Dros dymher hir i orwedd, Cwyd i'r lan o'r gwely bridd Ac hyfryd fydd ei hagwedd." which is "Though thou art gone to dwelling cold To lie in mould for many a year, Thou shalt, at length, from earthy bed, Uplift thy head to blissful sphere."
We must have no more bickerings. We have work to do. The seeds are springing forth, and a goodly harvest is promised: let us sharpen our blades and clear our barn floors. Cymru fydd Wales for the Welsh is here. At home and at Westminster our kith and kin are occupying prominent positions. Disestablishment is at hand.
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