The Order congratulates Joanna Penberthy 
on being consecrated as the 129th Bishop of St Davids
on Saturday 21st January 2017

National Anthem of Wales

The author of the words of this Song and Chorus, Evan James -- known also by his bardic name "Ieuan ab Iago" (Evan the son of James) -- was a weaver by trade, who was born in Caerphilly in South Wales in 1809, and died in the neighbouring town of Pontypridd in 1878.

 The music was written by his son, James James, who was then landlord of an inn called the Welsh Harp in Pontypridd, and who could play the harp himself. The piece was first published in the first number of Owen's "Gems of Welsh Melody", 1860, the English words (in addition to another set), "with symphonies, accompaniments, and chorus," being by the editor. It is now, and has been for some time, recognised generally as the Welsh National Anthem.  

Welsh National Anthem

Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau

The Land Of My Fathers

Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi, The land of my fathers, the land of my choice,
Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, enwogion o fri; The land in which poets and minstrels rejoice;
Ei gwrol ryfelwyr, gwladgarwyr tra mâd, The land whose stern warriors were true to the core,
Tros ryddid gollasant eu gwaed. While bleeding for freedom of yore.
Cytgan Chorus
Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad. Wales! Wales! fav'rite land of Wales!
Tra môr yn fur i'r bur hoff bau, While sea her wall, may naught befall
O bydded i'r hen iaith barhau. To mar the old language of Wales.
Hen Gymru fynyddig, paradwys y bardd, Old mountainous Cambria, the Eden of bards,
Pob dyffryn, pob clogwyn i'm golwg sydd hardd; Each hill and each valley, excite my regards;
Trwy deimlad gwladgarol, mor swynol yw si To the ears of her patriots how charming still seems
Ei nentydd, afonydd i mi. The music that flows in her streams.
Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwald tan ei droed, My country tho' crushed by a hostile array,
Mae hen iaith y Cymry mor fyw ac erioed, The language of Cambria lives out to this day;
Ni luddiwyd yr awen gan erchyll law brad, The muse has eluded the traitors' foul knives,
Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad. The harp of my country survives.





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