Morganwg

  Er byw mewn ardal ddiddrwg,
  Sy'n weddol hardd ei golwg,
Yn fynych iawn o fewn fy ngho'
  Mae dolydd bro Morganwg.

  Mae yno fil o bethau
  Na fedd un eraill fannau;
Bydd ar fy meddwl tra b'wyf byw'
  Mor hyfryd yw ei llwybrau.

  Pe bawn ar randir India,
  Ym mhell dros for llydana',
Ni chofiwn byth, â llygad sych,
  Morganwg wych anwyla'.

  Màn yw lle ces fy ngfeni,
  Màn yw sy'n tra-rhagori:
I'r lân feillionawg ddeiliawg ddôl
  Bydd myn'd yn ol yn eli.

  Morganwg! mawr y gwyniau
  A'r hiraeth, hwyr a borau,
Sy'n rhoi i'm calon frath a breg,
  O olwg dêg dy gaeau.

  Gardd Cymru yw Morganwg,
  A'i ffrwythau pêr yn amlwg;
Gardd yw o wenau oll yn llawn,
  Yn hyfryd iawn ei golwg.

  Y mae'i chabandai gwynion
  Yn hardd fel perlau glwysion;
Mae holl breswylwyr mwyn y fro
  A'u gilydd o'r un galon.

  Gwlad yw sy'n llawn llawenydd,
  Yn hoffi gwaith y prydydd:
Try'n fud y gôg wrth glywed cân
  Ei Thriban glân trwy'i glennydd.

  Gwlad wiwrydd tywydd tawel,
  Gwlad ddibrin, iesin, isel:
Gwlad dêg iachusaf dàn y rhod,
  Mae imi'n glod ei harddel.

  Although living in an inoffensive area,
  Which is quite beautiful in appearance,
Very often within my memory
  Are the meadows of the vale of Glamorgan.

  There are there a thousand things
  That no other place possesses;
In my thoughts while ever I live shall be
  How lovely are its paths.

  If I were on the continant of India,
  Far across the widest sea,
I would never forget, with a dry eye,
  Brilliant, most beloved Glamorgan.

  The place it is where I was born,
  The place which is far surpassing:
To the pure clovered, leafy meadow
  It will be going back to ointment.

  Glamorgan! great the passions
  And the longing, evening and morning,
Which is giving my heart pang and break,
  From the fair sight of thy fields.

  The garden of Wales is Glamorgan,
  And its sweet fruits evident;
A garden it is of smiles all full,
  Very lovely its view.

  Its white booths are
  Handsome like beautiful pearls;
All the gentle residents of the vale are
  Of one heart with each other.

  A land it is which is full of joy,
  Delighting in the work of the poet:
The cuckoo will turn mute on hearing the song
  Of her pure triplet through its purity.

  A land of generous, quiet weather,
  A land plenteous, fine, lowly:
The fair most healthy land under the sky,
  It is to me to extol its possession.