The Song of the Thrush - Rhys Goch ap Rhiccert

I gave ear, in the shade
By a mighty oak made,
To the soft warbled words
Of the wild forest birds;
Till all fell a-hush,
When the voice of the thrush
Sent forth a sally
Of song through the valley.
Most exquisite
Was the transport of it!

Speckled his breast
That the green leaves pressed
Of his thousand blossomed
Deeply bosomed
Bower by the stream.

With the dawn's first beam
All heard the glad tune
Of his silver bell,
Performing well
On his green altar's height,
Till the hour of forenoon,
His lone Bardic rite.
From the hazel copse now
Of broad leaved bough
He fashions an ode
To the All-making God
A carol of love
From the heart of the grove
To all of his lovers
The green glen covers,
A balm to each heart
Hurt by love's smart.

I had from his bill
So inspiring a thrill,
And a metre forth running
With such a sweet cunning,
That glad was I made
By his minstrelsy's aid.
Right duteously then
From the stream of the glen
To that heaven-sent bird
My suit I preferred;
A message to bear
Most urgent and fond
To the Fairest of Fair
Who hath me in bond.

The Bard of the bough
Has sought Eluned now,
Who moves among maids
Like the sun through the shades.
To the streams of the plain
St. Mary him sain,
Till he bring back to me,
Beneath the green tree,
My heart's grief and delight,
The maid of the hue of the snow of one night.

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Attributed to Rhys Goch ap Rhiccert (11th century) Wales
Probable real author Iolo Morganwg (Edward Williams) (1747 - 1826) Wales
Translated by Alfred Perceval Graves
Source: Welsh poetry old and new, in English verse by Alfred Perceval Graves, Longmans, Green, and co., 1912
Note: For discussion of authorship see Dictionary of Welsh Biography