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Mae llevain mawr a gwaeddi
Yn Ystrad Fîn eleni
A cherrig nadd yn toddi ’n blwm
Rhag ovn Twm Shôn Catti.
In Ystrad Fîn this year, appalling
The tumult loud, the weeping, wailing,
That thrills with fear and pity;
The lightning scathes the mountain’s head,
The massy stones dissolve like lead,
All nature shudders at the tread
And shout of Twm Shôn Catti.
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ABERYSTWYTH:
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY JOHN COX.
1828
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