Nefoedd

collected Welsh song

Sioned Terry mezzo-soprano

Brian Ellsbury piano

A collection of Welsh song, performed by mezzo-soprano Sioned Terry and pianist Brian Ellsbury.

 

From the elegant simplicity of the traditional Y Gog Lwydlas (in an arrangement by Mervyn Roberts) and WS Gwynn Williams’s My Little Welsh Home, through gems from Joseph Parry, Ivor Novello, Dilys Elwyn-Edwards and T Osborne Roberts, to four exquisite art songs by Meirion Williams, Nefoedd represents a treasury of Welsh art song.

Track list - click for lyrics / Rhestr traciau - cliciwch am y geiriau

1. Y Gog Lwydlas - tr./arr. Mervyn Roberts


Welsh text: Welsh traditional

Fel ‘roeddwn i’n rhodio
A’m calon yn brudd Ar ddydd Llun y bore Ar doriad y dydd; Mi glywn y gog lwydlas Yn tiwnio mor fwyn Ar ochor bryn uchel Ar gangen o lwyn. “Fy amser i ganu Yw Ebrill a Mai, A hanner Mehefin, Chwir wyddoch bob rhai; I ffwrdd af oddi yma, Fy adar sydd fân, A chyn Dygwyl Ifan Fe dderfydd dy nghân.” Fel ‘roeddwn i’n rhodio A’m calon yn brudd Ar ddydd Llun y bore Ar doriad y dydd; Mi glywn y gog lwydlas Yn tiwnio mor fwyn Ar ochor bryn uchel Ar gangen o lwyn. “Ni chân y gog lwydlas Ond Ebrill a Mai, A hanner Mehefin Chwi wyddoch bob rhai; Ac webyn eheda’ Dros donnau y môr I wledydd pellennig I ‘mofyn fy stôr.” English translation: T Gwynn Jones (1871-1949)

As I o’er the mountain was making my way

Alone, heavy hearted, one morning in May,

I heard the grey cuckoo in glorious glee

Confessing it’s story upon a birch tree.

The season for singing Is April and May,

And so to the middle of June, as you say;

Ere daylight be waning and dusk shall come on,

My day will be ended and I shall be gone.

I o’er the mountain was making my way

Alone, heavyhearted, one morning in May,

I heard the grey cuckoo in glorious glee

Confessing it’s story upon a birch tree.

The days of the cuckoo are April and May,

And so to the middle of June, as you say;

Then I shall go seeking the days that are long,

In climes where I revel in sunshine and song




2. My Little Welsh Home - W S Gwynn Williams


Original English text : W S Gwynn Williams I am dreaming of the mountains of my home
Of the mountains where in childhood I would roam
I have dwelt 'neath southern skies,
Where the summer never dies
But my heart is in the mountains of my home.
I can see the little homestead on the hill,
I can hear the magic music of the rill;
There is nothing to compare
With the love that once was there,
In the lonely little homestead on the hill I can see the quiet churchyard down below, Where the mountain breezes wander to and fro; And when God my soul will keep, It is there I want to sleep, With those dear old folks that loved me long ago.




3. I Hear a Shepherd's Pibgorn - W S Gwynn Williams


Original English text : W S Gwynn Williams I hear a shepherd’s Pibgorn A-calling on the hills, And somewhere in the valley A heart with gladness thrills. The lovers soon will wander Where broom and heather grow, The silver moon above them, The valley down below. O tell me why that Pibgorn Should take my sleep away? O tell me why I’m longing For breaking of the day? It is because I’m thinking Of night long, long ago, The silver moon above us, The valley down below.




4. Y Deryn Du - Dilys Elwyn-Edwards


Welsh text: Welsh traditional Aderyn du a'i blufyn sidan,
A'i big aur a'i dafod arian,
A ei di dros ta'i i Gydweli,
I holi hynt yr un'rwy'n garu.

Un, dou, tri pheth sy'n anodd i mi,
Yw cyfri'r ser pan fo hi'n rhewi,
A doti'n llaw i dwtsh a'r lleard,
a deall meddwl f'annwyl gariad.




5. The Sailor's Wife - Joseph Parry


Welsh text: Richard Davies (“Mynddog”) A sailor’s wife one stormy night, In sorrow and in fear, Sat watching lonely with sad eyes, That spoke thro’ many a tear; The wild waves dashed among the rocks, Rebounding in their might, And whistling winds while coursing by, Put out hope’s quiv’ring light. The sailor’s wife with sighing heart, Sent forth a plaintive cry, A prayer of faith, of hope, of love, To Him who reigns on high She watched the heaving billows roll; She heard the murmuring deep; But in her heart she hoped that God, Would watch while she would weep! My Saviour dear! O, heed my prayer! In mercy hear me, A poor sailor’s wife can ne’er, Command the raging sea; The mountain waves are rushing fast, Defying, defying human will O God come forth as once of yore, And bid the winds be still! Here comes the letter carrier! Yes, he comes with woe or weal; The sailor’s wife receives the letter, And at once she breaks the seal! Listen now she reades the message:- “Dear wife, I’ve reached the land, Safely have we come to harbour; Soon I’ll take thee by the hand”, The roar of the Ocean now sweet music gives, The vessel is anchor’d, My husband still lives. Eisteddau gwraig wrth dan o fawn, A’r nôs ystormus ddu, A thros ei grudd o’I llygaid llawn, Ei dagrau redai’n lli; Y mor a daflai’i drochion gwyn, I’r creigiau dro’rol tro, A’r gwynt a gurai’r mur digryn, A’r gwlaw dabyrddai’r to. Yn nghôl ei hocheneidiau prudd, Esgynau gweddi fyw, I fyny’n syth i wlad y dydd, At orsedd un a glyw: Cyfeiriai golwg gwelw prudd, Trwy’r ffenestr tua’r mor, Tra tremiai llygad clir ei ffydd, I’r lan at orsedd Iôr. O! clyw fy ngweddi Iesu gwiw, Rwyt ti i’r gwan yn frawd; Rhuadau yr ystorm ni chlyw, Wraig morwr welw dlawd, Mae’r tonnau’n curo’n gynt yn gynt, A’r corwynt, ar corwynt yn cryfhau, Creawdwr mawr y mor a’r gwynt, Arafa lid y ddau. Dyna gnoc y llythyr gludydd! Wedi iddi fynd yn hwyr, Dyna’r wraig yn derbyn llythyr, Dacw hi yn torri’r cwyr! Dyma hi yn dechreu darllen, “Annwyl Ann, ‘rwyf ar y tir, Mae’r angor wedi’i ollwng, Deuaf adref cyn bo hir”. Peroriaeth yw’r corwynt yn awr yn ei chlyw, Mae’r llong yn y porthladd, A William yn fyw.




6. Lady Maelor's Aria - Joseph Parry


Welsh text: Richard Davies Syr Hywel o’r Wyddfa, y marchog dewr, cadarn, Sy’n dyfod yn gynnar i uno’n y wledd, Yn gwmni i'r marchog, daw Blodwen Dolbadarn, Er chwyddo’r llawenydd y mwyniant a’r hedd. A chyda yr Eryr a’r Glomen o’r Wyddfa, Daw Madog a Morfudd, o fryn Dinas Bran; Yr awen a ddeffry a’r delyn chwareua, “Lwc dda” i’r par dedwydd mewn dawns ac mewn cân, Ond cyn y llawenydd, ‘rwy’n gofyn i’r nefoedd, Am fendith oddiynoi Elen fy merch, Os heddwch ddylyna, neu ynte rhyfeloedd, Boed Arthur ym mhobman yn seren ei serch. Yng nghanol y storm, a than belydr yr heulwen, Mewn hawddfyd a gofid, mewn gauaf a hâf, Dymunaf o’m calon i Arthur ac Elen Gael bywyd diogel yn nwylaw fy Nâf.

The valiant Sir Howell, proud Eagle of Snowdon

Is coming to grace our rejoicings today,

And with him fair Blodwen, meek dove of Dolbadarn

Is coming to make our rejoicings more gay,

And Madoc and Morvudd of Dinas Bran Castle

Are coming to join in the dance and the song;

So frolic and laughter shall mingle together,

And wine shall flow merrily all the night long,

But ere the rejoicings begin, O! great Father,

Pour down on Ellen thy grace from above;

Should peace be our portion, or war our misfortune,

May Arthur be ever the star of her love.

When tempests are raging, when sunshine is smiling,

In gladness and sorrow, in winter and spring,

Be this my sole prayer for Ellen and Arthur,

Great Father, spread oe’r them Thy sheltering wing.




7. My Wife - Joseph Parry


We’ve wandered together so long, sweet-heart, That it’s hard to be parted now. Now your locks that were dark as the raven once, Are white as the drifted snow. You’ve bourne all my burdens with me, sweet-heart, Through all that have come and gone. And it pains me to leave you to bear them now, To bear them the rest of the journey alone! And after so long we must part, sweet-heart, For it draweth to eventide. And we’ve lighten’d the toil of one long day’s task, So cheerily side by side. You’ll think of me often, I know, sweet-heart, And the loving ones too, that have gone. And the tears you will shed will be sadder still, Because you must weep all alone!




8. The Land of Might-Have-Been – Ivor Novello


Somewhere there's another land different from this world below, far more mercifully planned than the cruel place we know. Innocence and peace are there— all is good that is desired. Faces there are always fair; love grows never old nor tired. We shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been. I can never be your king nor you can be my queen. Days may pass and years may pass and seas may lie between— We shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been. Sometimes on the rarest nights comes the vision calm and clear, gleaming with unearthly lights on our path of doubt and fear. Winds from that far land are blown, whispering with secret breath— hope that plays a tune alone, love that conquers pain and death. Shall we ever find that lovely land of might-have-been? Will I ever be your king or you at last my queen? Days may pass and years may pass and seas may lie between— Shall we ever find that lovely land of might-have-been?




9. Y Nefoedd - T Osborne Roberts


Welsh text: Ieuan Gwyllt (1822-1877) Iesu Grist yw 'Ngheidwad mawr, Mae'n fy nghadw ar bob awr; Mae'n fy nghadw nos a dydd, Pan yn llawen, pan yn brudd: Rhyfedd fraint i'm henaid gwan! Doed a ddel, fe'm deil i'r lan. Yn mhob trallod cyfwng, caeth, Rhag pob gelyn, rhag pob saeth, Pan ddel angeu, erchyll wedd Iesu Grist rydd i mi hedd; Yn ei law, cyrhaeddaf draw, Wlad heb ofid, wlad heb fraw. Ar ei air 'rwy'n rhoi fy mhwys, Deued pob gofidiau dwys; Ynddo cred fy enaid trist, Cadarn Graig yw Iesu Grist; Uwch y tonau ceidw 'mhen, Nes caf ddod i'w nefoedd wen. Pwy, trwy'r daear fawr a'r nef, Wela' i'n debyg iddo ef? Neb ond hwn a garaf fi Wela' i'n marw ar Galfari; Neb ond Iesu ar y llawr, Neb ond ef trwy'r nefoedd fawr. Credaf ynddo, deued nos, Deued cystudd, deued croes; Mae ei ras yn ddwyfol stor, Mae ei gariad fel y môr: Yn y nefoedd byth - Amen, Caf roi'r goron ar ei ben.

English translation: Rev T D Parry

When all my wanderings will be oe’r

Life’s tempest and it’s fury:

A healing balm, divinely rare

My languid soul in Thee shall share,

Reposing in thy Glory.

Within the city walls do dwell,

Our friends no longer weary.

They feel not there, the pangs of loss.

No grievous hurt, no pain no cross,

Rejoicing in Thy Glory.

My heart now sadly yearns to see

The portals of the City,

My God, My Saviour, O my friend

When shall my soul to Thee ascend?

To praise Thee in Thy Glory.




10. Min y Môr - T Osborne Roberts


Gwelais long ar y glas li Yn y gwyll yn ymgolli, Draw yr hwyliodd heli A rhywun hoff arni hi. Duwch rhiniol dechreunos Ledai’I law dros yr hwyl dlos, A throai liw y llathr len Ail I arliw elorlen. Troi y maith i wlad dramor Wnaeth er main alaethau’r mor, Ond hi ddychwel drwy’r heli A Rhywun hoff arni hi. Daw er oedi hir adeg, Adre o’r dwr ryw awr deg. Hwylia’r llong yn ol o’r lli, Dawnsia’r donasur dani. Daw yn ol o dan heulwen A’r awel iach a’r hwyl wen; A daw gwynfyd eigionfor I minnau mwy ym min mor.




11. Pan Ddaw'r Nos - Meirion Williams


Pan ddaw’r nos a’i bysedd tawel I ddadwneud cylymau’r dydd, Bydd yrfydoedd nofia’r nefoedd heibioi ni. A darlunir i’n hysbrydoedd Nefoedd arall yn y lli. O mor esmwyth, o mor dawel, Fydd mordwy o gyda’r nos, Mynd o hwyliau yn yr awel A meddyliau’n mynd yn rhydd. Ni gawn ado’r glannau llwydion, A phryderon dynion byw, A bydd gofal ein breuddwydion Ar yr angel wrth y llyw. Yn ddidwrf mewn myrdd O flaen rhyw ddwyfol awel Adref at y wawrddydd dlos.

English translation: Dewi Emrys (1881-1952) “Emrys”

When the night with silent fingers

comes to free the fettered day,

Sails unfolding catch the breezes

And the spirit floats away.

We forsake life’s cloudy margins

It’s death laden dwellings too,

And our pilot on the voyage

Is an angel steering true.

All the heavens drift by and vanish,

Countless planets cease to be

But the heaven of souls immortal

Rises yonder oe’r the sea.

O how smoothly, O how gently

Glides our vessel through the night

Borne along by hallowed breezes

Homeward, to the Land of Light.




12. Y Blodau ger y Drws - Meirion Williams


Welsh text: John Evans Mor swynol ydyw gwenau y blodau ger y drws, Yn gwasgar peraroglau, dan nawdd y rhosyn tlws; Ac er na chaf eu cwmni drwy’r flwyddyn ger y ddôr, Mi glywaf yn eu stori furmuron cariad Iôr! ‘Rwy’n caru blodau gwylltion sydd fel fy nghalon i Yn hoffi yr encilion a’r llwybrau ger y lli; Mae llawer un yn gwenu, nas gwel ond Duw y tlws, Ond nid rhyw flodau felly yw’r blodau ger y drws. Daw weithiau dyner awel i’w mysg mewn hoen di-rôl, A hwythau’n siglo’n dawel gan wenu arni’n ôl; Ac er ystwr y ddrycin i’w curo weithiau ddaw, Mae’r blodau yn gynefin a gwenu yn y glaw! Daw stormydd hydref eto i dorri ar eu hedd, A gaeaf oer i grwydro yn welw ar eu bedd; Ond pan fo’r rhew a’r eira yng nghartre’r rhosyn tlws Bydd gobaith yn gwel’d gwenau y blodau ger y drws.

English translation: J E Caerwyn-Williams (1912-1999 “Caerwyn”)

How sweet the smiling blossoms beside my cottage door,

Their perfumed odours blending with roses I adore;

And though with summer’s passing their beauty must decline,

Their story brings a message of wondrous love divine!

The wild untended blossoms I also love and greet,

For like my heart they linger in nooks where I retreat;

Some blossoms bloom in beauty where only God can see,

But these, my garden blossoms, He gave their care to me.

Sometimes the gentle breezes will kiss my blossoms gay,

And in the golden sunlight I watch their joyful play;

And then when storms are raging and nature seems in pain,

How sweet to watch my blossoms all smiling in the rain!

In autumn’s desolation, when wild the tempests sound,

And all my fairest blossoms are faded on the ground;

When snow os on the branches and roses are no more

I see in hope triumphant the blossoms by my door.




13. Yr Hwyr - Meirion Williams


Wele'r hwyr a'r haul a'i rin
Yn lliwio y gorllewin,
Y nen mewn gwrid ennynawl
A'r môr yn darnguddio'r gwawl;
Y don lariaidd dan loywrid,
Awel leddf heb chwa o lid
Yn hebrwng teyrn yr wybren
I wely'r lli islaw'r llen.

Y lloer a'i mantell eirian,
A'i gemwisg ddisgleirwisg lân,
Di-wres frenhines y nef
Arweiniai gôr y wiwnef;
A'r sêr yn rhesi arian
I gyd yn disgleirio'n gàn:
Holl len y ffurfafen faith
Oedd lawen hardd oleuwaith.




14. Gwynfyd - Meirion Williams


Ei enw yw Paradwys wen, Paradwys wen yw enw’r byd, Ac wylo wyf o’i golli cyd, A’i geisio hwnt i sêr y nen. Nid draw ar bell-bell draeth y mae, Nac obry ‘ngwely’r perlau chwaith, Ond mil-mil nes a ber yw’r daith I ddistaw byrth y byd di-wae. Tawelach yw na’r dyfnaf hun, Agosach yw na throthwy’r drws, Fel pêrwelyau’r rhos o dlws, Ar allwedd yn fy llaw fy hun.#

English translation: Meirion Williams

O blessed realm of Paradise,

O land of beauty and of peace,

My should too oft in secret cries,

And seeks it far beyond the skies.

Not found upon some far off strand,

Nor yet within the pearly deep,

But nearer far, In mine own hand

I hold the key to that fair land.

More peaceful than the deepest sleep,

Within my heart for e’er to keep,

Like roses fair before mine eyes,

O lovely land of Paradise.





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