ATHENIAE OXONIENSES

Briefly back at my old Alma Mater, and unendingly surprised at my old College's having gone co-ed . .  .

There was a young lady from Exeter,
Who made all the young men crane their nexeter;
And some who were brave
Would take out and wave
The distinguishing marks of their sexeter.

CYMRU

In celebration of at last, after all those years, setting foot on Welsh soil (only 24 hours, but what a day), I thought I would put up a Welsh poem -- which, being Welsh, is a song. It is known by heart by two sets of people, Welshmen and rugby fans, but unknown to the rest of the world. Being Welsh, it is not just a song but a hymn; but oddly enough it has also become a rugby-fan song, sung by crowds of several thousand, and one website describes it as "Wales' second National Anthem". It was written by Daniel James, a steel puddler who assumed the bardic name of Gwyrosydd, and its music was by John Hughes, a miner who became an organist and composer, and who also wrote the famous "Cwm Rhondda".

Daniel James

John Hughes

         

CALON LÂN

Nid wy’n gofyn bywyd moethus,
Aur y byd na’i berlau mân:
Gofyn wyf am galon hapus,
Calon onest, calon lân.

Calon lân yn llawn daioni,
Tecach yw na’r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu –
Canu’r dydd a chanu’r nos.

Pe dymunwn olud bydol,
Chwim adenydd iddo sydd;
Golud calon lân, rinweddol,
Yn dwyn bythol elw fydd.

Hwyr a bore fy nymuniad
Esgyn ar adenydd cân
Ar i Dduw, er mwyn fy Ngheidwad,
Roddi i mi galon lân.

Translation:

I don’t ask for a luxurious life,
the world’s gold or its fine pearls:
I ask for a happy heart,
an honest heart, a pure heart.

A pure heart is full of goodness,
More lovely than the pretty lily:
Only a pure heart can sing -
Sing day and night.

If I wished worldly wealth,
He has a swift seed;
The riches of a virtuous, pure heart,
Will be a perpetual profit.

Late and early, my wish
Rises on the wing of song,
For God, for the sake of my Saviour,
To give me a pure heart.

And the most purely beautiful rendering of it is here, by the Welsh harpist and singer Siân James.

(If you listen to her while looking at the text, you can see some of the oddities (for us) of Welsh pronunciation: "u" is pronounced as "ee", "y" as short "eh" near the beginning of a word and as "ee" near the end, and the initial "c" can be a hard "c", a Scottish "ch" or a voiced "g" depending on what comes before it.) 

QUESTIONS PRESENT THEMSELVES

POETRY: SOBER AND SOBERING

It is no gift I tender,

  A loan is all I can;

But do not scorn the lender;

  Man gets no more from man.

Oh, mortal man may borrow

  What mortal man can lend;

And 'twill not end to-morrow,

  Though sure enough 'twill end.

If death and time are stronger,

  A love may yet be strong;

The world will last for longer,

  But this will last for long.

A.E. Housman

from 'Additional Poems'

Housman, a fine Oxford classicist, was always surprised when people saw his lyrics as somehow inspired by ancient Rome. He could never persuade them that his real influence was German Romanticism, notably Heinrich Heine.

HISTORICALLY . . . .

Another dire adventure of Seamy Otticks, in which he barely escapes with his life. 

POETRY UNFORGOTTEN, UNFORGETTABLE

One of my favourite modern poets has long been W.S. Merwin; and even the fact that in 2010 he was appointed US Poet Laureate couldn't change that. Here is a poem he published in the New Yorker last summer, which I thought moving, and worth passing on.

LEAR’S WIFE

If he had ever asked me

I could have told him

If he had listened to me

it would have been

another story

I knew them before

they were born

with Goneril at my breast

I looked at the world

and saw blood in darkness

and tried to wake

with Regan at my breast

I looked at the world

and covered my mouth

with Cordelia in my arms

at my breast

I wanted to call out to her

in love and helplessness

and I wept

as for him

he had forgotten me

even before they did

only Cordelia

did not forget

anything

but when asked she said

nothing

W.S. Merwin

New Yorker

June 25, 2012

FORGOTTEN POETRY: MUNICIPAL

There was a young lady of Wantage
Of whom the town clerk took advantage.
Said the borough surveyor,
'Indeed you must pay her:
You've totally altered her frontage.'

(this one works best in a North Midland accent)