Adieu to my juvenile days (Ffarwel jeuengetid)

Sweet land of the mountain, the valley, the wood,

Of chiefs that for ages in honour have stood!

Renown'd, too, for all thy dear minstrels so long:

O Cambria! forget not the bard and his song.

Still live in thy children the virtues of old,

But think of the tale, in thy history told;

The tyrant, who meant thee in chains to expire,

First slaughtered thy minstrels, and silenc'd thy lyre!