Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau verse." <poem>The land of my fathers is dear unto me, Land of poets and singers, and people of stature, Its warring defenders, so gallant and brave, For freedom their life's blood they gave O land of the mountains, the bard's paradise, Whose precipice, valleys are fair to my eyes, Green murmuring forest, far echoing flood Fire the fancy and quicken the blood For tho' the fierce foeman has ravaged your realm, The old speech of Wales he cannot o'erwhelm, Our passionate poets to silence command, Nor banish the harp from your strand.</poem> "A more literal translation is:" The old land
Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau The land of my fathers is dear to me,<br> Old land where the minstrels are honoured and free;<br> Its warring defenders so gallant and brave,<br> For freedom their life's blood they gave. Old land of the mountains, the Eden of bards,<br> Each gorge and each valley a loveliness guards;<br> Through love of my country, charmed voices will be <br> Its streams, and its rivers, to me. Though foemen have trampled my land 'neath their feet, <br> The language of Cambria still knows no retreat;<br> The muse is not vanquished by traitor's fell hand,<br> Nor silenced the harp of my land.