The Poetic Tradition
Tonight the hall of my lord is dark, With neither fire nor bed. I will weep a while, then still myself to silence. Tonight the hall of my lord is dark, With neither fire nor candle. Who will give me peace? Tonight the hall of my lord is dark, With neither fire nor light. Grief for you overtakes me. Darkness descends on the hall of my lord The blessed assembly has departed, praying That good comes to those of us who remain. This poem (interpreted for my own purposes from the original: http://faculty.arts.ubc.ca/sechard/492llyw.htm) is from the Welsh poem Canu Heledd. The poem tells a story of Cynddylan, or Cynddylan ap Cyndrwyn, a seventh century ruler of a sub-kingdom of Gwynedd. His father allied with Penda of Mercia, but died before 642: “In the aftermath of victory Penda and Cynddylan seem Read more…