would have been immortal; If they had not opened the door of the south, they would have feasted for ever, Listening to the song of the fairy Birds of Rhiannon. Let not anyone instruct me concerning the Glassy Isle; In the garments of the saints who returned from it were rich odours of Paradise. All this I knew, and yet my knowledge was ignorance. For one day, as I walked by Caer-rhiu in the principal forest of Gwent, I saw golden Myfanwy as she bathed in the brook Tarogi, Her hair flowed about her; Arthur's crown had dissolved into a shining mist. I gazed into her blue eyes as it were into twin heavens, All the parts of her body were adornments and miracles. O gift of the everlasting: O wonderful and hidden mystery: When I embraced Myfanwy a moment became immortality. ARTHUR MACHEN 

THE REMEMBRANCE OF THE BARD

In the darkness of old age let not my memory

fail:

Let me not forget to celebrate the beloved land

of Gwent.

If they imprison me in a deep place, in a house

of pestilence,

Still shall I be free, remembering the sunshine

upon Mynydd Maen.

There have I listened to the song of the lark,

my soul has ascended with the song of the

little bird:

The great white clouds were the ships of my

spirit, sailing to the haven of the Almighty.

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