The spring returns, the trees are in their bloom, and the forest in its beauty, the birds chaunt, the sea is smooth, the gently-rising tide sounds hollow, the wind is still. The best armour against misfortune is prayer. But I cannot hide nor conceal my grief, nor can I be still and silent. I have heard the waves raging furiously towards the confines of the land of the sons of Beli. {27b} The sea flowed with force, and conveyed a hoarse complaining noise, on account of a gentle maiden. I have passed the deep waters of the Teivi {27c} with slow steps. I sung the praise of Nest ere she died. Thousands have resounded her name, like that of Elivri. {27d} But now I must with a pensive and sorrowful heart compose her elegy, a subject fraught with misery. The bright luminary of Cadvan {27e} was arrayed in silk, how beautiful did she shine on the banks of Dysynni, {27f} how great was her innocence and simplicity, joined with consummate prudence: she was above the base arts of dissimulation. Now the ruddy earth covers her in silence. How great was our grief, when she was laid in her stony habitation. The burying of Nest was an irreparable loss. Her eye was as sharp as the hawk, which argued her descended from noble ancestors. She added to her native beauty by her goodness and virtue. She was the ornament of Venedotia, and her pride. She rewarded the Bard generously. Never was pain equal to what I suffer for her loss. Oh death, I feel thy sting, thou hast undone me. No man upon earth regreteth her loss like me; but hard fate regardeth not the importunity of prayers, whenever mankind are destined to undergo its power. O generous Nest, thou liest in thy safe retreat, I am pensive and melancholy like Pryderi. {28a} I store my sorrow in my breast, and cannot discharge the heavy burden. The dark, lonesome, dreary veil, which covereth thy face, is ever before me, which covereth a face that shone like the pearly dew on Eryri. {28b} I make my humble petition to the great Creator of heaven and earth, and my petition will not be denied, that he grant, that this beautiful maid, who glittered like pearls, may, through the intercession of Holy Dewi, {28c} be received to his mercy, that she may converse with the prophets, that she may come into the inheritance of the All-wise God, with Mary and the Martyrs. And in her behalf I will profer my prayer, which will fly to the throne of Heaven. My love and affection knew no bounds. May she never suffer. Saint Peter be her protector. God himself will not suffer her to be an exile from the mansions of bliss. Heaven be her lot. A POEM _To Llewelyn-ap-Iorwerth_, _or Llewelyn the Great_; _in which many of his victories are celebrated_.