Address to the Chairman.

Henffych o ddawnwych ddywenydd, Syr Risiard,
Syw rasol Gadeirydd ;

I Awen fad iawn ef fydd

A chu lais yn achlesydd.

O'i dda rinwedd ddewr hynod, cu lwyddawł
Coledda'r cyfarfod,

Noddwr y gân giàn ei glod,

Was da addfwyn Eisteddfod.

Llawenydd ein Llyw union, eich gweled

A'ch golwg mor foddlon,

Ym mysg Beirdd, a miwsig bôn,
Dewr addas y Derwyddon.

I noddi Awenyddiaeth, wych alwad,
A choledd Dysgeidiaeth,

Yu glau yn ddiau e ddaeth
Athronwyr yn feithriniaeth.

Brythoneg hêr iaith union, law-forwyn
Lefain tra gwendôn,

Tra amser, tra ser, tra sôn,
Tra mwyn naws ter Monwysion.
Mor hyfryd eres, dymor Frodorion,
Clywed y bonedd clau eu dybenion
Deuai'r Seneddwyr dros Awenyddion
A gwar Rianod mor wiw gywreinion
Llên mâd yn lloni Môn-mor weddawl
A dala'n wrawl hên delynorion,

RICHARD PARRY, Llanerchymedd.

Annerchiad i Eisteddfod Beaumaris.

Henffych well, Gastell, ein Gwestawr-mirain

Beaumaris brydferthfawr,

Eisteddfod, yd west hoeddfawr

Daeth o lwydd, diau i'th lawr.

Yn awr Môn wen, crechwena-iawn achos
Yn uchel banllefa;

Caed Eisteddfod, hyuod ha!

Llon wychawl llawenycha.

Syw roesaw i Syr Risiad-ein dewrwych
Gadeiriwr, mwyn penllad,

Baron-hil, o bur iawn hâd,
Mynweswn y Monwysiad.

Ac i'r Awen ein goreuwyr-ddaethant
Yn ddoethaf Achleswyr;

Sai 'n haeddawl ein Seneddwyr
Cadw 'n hiaith, yw gwaith y gwyr.

Heb Iorwerth-er ein cyfnerthu-wele
Anwylion o'n dentu;

Hil Tudor ein Cynor cu,
Hyneif o Fôn yn hanu.

Er alltudio hyd i orwyllt oedwig,
Gronwy o'r Mawrion, i gwr Amerig,
Daw i Fôn raddau, diau'n fawreddig,
Daw i'n Hawen fwyn addien foneddig,
Chwal y braw uchel eu brig a 'i graddau,
Yn bur ei moesau, yu ber ei miwsig.
Daw ail Oronwy, od eiliwr union
Etto rhyw Feilir, welir yn wiwlon
A gwiw Feirdd enwog, fo o radd Einion
Ednyfed a Gwalchmai, garai ragorion
Cyfyd o'u mysg-cofiwyd Môn-a'n mamiaith
Ha ha! i'n eilwaith, a ddaw anwylion.

THOMAS PARRY, Llanerchymed.!.

Breathes the soul of a Goronwy through Mona's fair isle?
Wafted hence may the muse, borne along

On the wings of sweet zephyrs and grac'd with a smile,
Preside at the feast of the song!

Dwells the spirit of Ionawr with mortals below?
Is the genius of Walia his care?

Or in heav'n, to the harp, do his joys ever flow,

While he sings to the Trinity there?

Shall Kerry's blest Shepherd, retir'd to the shade,

Neglected, sweet moralist, lie?

My country forbid it! Or Virtue shall fade,

And Charity weep in the sky.

Strike the lyre! May his praise, as the seasons roll on,

Embellish the soul-thrilling strain!

While the walls of Beaumaris Castle, anon,

Respond the fair theme o'er again.

Unassuming, the muse, from Siluria remote,

Greets the Congress of Cambria so fair;

While the bard and the minstrel its mirth shall promote,
Will the hearts of Siluria be there?

Hail, Cambria, hail gladly this festival day,

H. JONES, Merthyr Tydvil.

Entwin'd be thy muse with the brightest of flowers;

Illum'd be that genius, immortal the day,

That the minstrel-bard chaunts in these grey hoary towers. For the harp's swelling strains with emotion's more sweet

When the bards and their patrons thus happily meet.

The strains of our Cynfeirdd, inspired of yore,

Awake, and repel the proud Borderer's tale;
His disdain shall not sully our minstrelsy more-
Your fire is not quench'd—your accents reveal:
And the grateful thrill'd patriots will never refuse
A just meed of praise to Cambria's sweet muse.
Hail, hail, and thrice welcome, brave patriot band,
And thrice welcome sons of the Awen ;-to ye
The proud rocks of Arvon, to Mona's bright strand,
Exulting, re-echo the songs of the free.

This Congress of Bardism and Royalty-Fame
To long unborn ages shall proudly proclaim.

Within these bold turrets, 'mid our ancestors' wail,
Did the tyrant depose e'en that dear minstrel band.
Forbid the dark record, and deem it a tale

By horror once vision'd of old in our land,

For allay'd were the wrath of that proud ruthless king
Had he heard but the minstrel of Cambria once sing.
The drear clang of war alarms Cymru no more,

The bright sun of Freedom's gold radiance distils
Let's forget now the dark gloomy ages of yore-

The glory fiend's vanish'd that dyed our green hills.
To Freedom unbounded our sweet lays invoke-
The gyve now lies shatter'd, the tyrant-spear broke.
Sweet harp of old Cambria, this hour thou art tuned,
Approving, fair Royalty listens to thee;

In the courts of the kingly thou'st often communed,
Thy magic delighting the noble and free.
Now, benignantly smiling, princesses command
With joy the fond lays of our dear mountain land.
Immortal Goronwy's wreath'd lyre shall string

To the fair race of Tudor, brave sire of Mon;
The hoar cromlewch echoes, the Druid groves ring,
Joy, joy to our nobles !-True Briton's have shown,
And declare that each bosom with loyalty thrills,
And welcomes their visit to Cambria's green hills.
Again, let the Awen's sweet accents prepare

To the much honour'd patriot-record we the fame
Of Baron Hill's nenbren-he graces the chair;

While the minstrel and bard their fond raptures proclaim In greeting the fam'd one, whose munificent hand

Revives the fond strains of his dear native land.

Hil telynorion, doed aduerth i'ch tannau;
Boneddion gwladgarawl a dyrant yn nghyd
I noddi y beirddion, ac ennyn plethiadau
Yr awen, fu bellach heb achles gyhyd.
Mawrion feithrinant wir ddawn awenyddion,
Blodeued yr awen tra saif Cymmru dirion,

Mewn cof tra daiaren, boed iaith yr hen Frython,
Ei beirddion yn enwog hyd ddiwedd y byd.

THOMAS LLOYD JONES, Holywell.

Premiums Awarded.

Mr. Jones, the secretary, stated that the next business would be the adjudication of prizes to the successful authors of literary compositions. They came on in the following order :

PRIZE I. For the best six stanzas (chwe Englynion), on Menai Bridge, a premium of £7, and a medal of the value of £2. For the second best on the same subject, a premium of £3 10s.

The Secretary called upon the judges to come forward and declare the successful candidates.

The Rev. Evan Evans, who was one of them, said that the subject had

excited great interest among the sons of the Awen, for no less than sixty-two Upon a subject so confined, and allowing so compositions had been sent in! little scope for the display of superior genius, the judges had felt great difficulty in coming to a decision. There were eight poems of merit, seven of which were so much upon a par, that they would consider it an act of injustice to award the second prize to any oue in particular, to the exclusion of the other competitors. They considered the paper sigued "DEINIOL," the best, and recommended that the medal and £3 108. should be given to him; and the £7 divided equally among the rest.

"Deiniol" was requested to declare himself, and immediately the Rev. David Williams, of Clynnog, answered as the representative of Ebenezer Thomas, of the same place. The reverend gentleman was invested with the medal by Lady Williams, of Beaumaris.

ENGLYNION AR BONT MENAI.

Pont Menai pa'nd dymunol-ei chadwyn
A'i chydiad gorchestol;

Di lerw Din, o lawer dól,
A phlethiad, asiad oesol.

Oesol adail seiliedig-ar waelod
Yr heli chwyddedig,
Niweidio 'i mur unedig

Nid all y don a'i dull dig.

Er dull dig rhuad hallt eigion-ni syfl
Nes syflo Eryron;

Ac o'i ffurfio caiff Arfon

Bont tra myg i ben tir Món.

Pen tir Môn pa antur mwy-ei gyrhaedd
Tros gerynt Porthaethwy;
Nid hâd, y Bont safadwy,

A ddaw a glan yn ddi glwy.

Di glwy, yw tramwy a gwneud tremiad―ar
Yr oruwch adeilad;

Uwch o ran ei chywreiniad

At iawn les na phont un wlâd.

Nid oes un wlad îs y Ne' lon-fyth deifl

Y fath Did tros afon;

Na chynnygiwch, Enwogion,

Heb wneud taith hyd y Bont hon.

The second prize was divided among the seven competitors, according to the recommendation of the judges.

PRIZE II. The president's premium of £10 to the author of the best elegy on Owain Myfyr.

The Secretary said that he was sorry only two compositions had been received upon this subject; neither of which were considered by the judges of sufficient merit to claim the prize. The subject would therefore be left open to future competition.

PRIZE III. A premium of £15, and a medal of the value of £5, for the best Essay in English, on the History of the Island of Anglesey, with biographical sketches of the eminent men it produced; and a premium of £7 108. for the second best Essay, in English, on the same subject.

The Secretary having called the person using the signature of " Bronwen" to come forward, and no one answering, broke open the seal, aud declared Miss Angharad Liwyd, of Caerwys, to be the author.

Miss Charlotte Williams was invested with the medal as the representative of the author, Miss Llwyd, by the president.

Henry Davies, esq. of Cheltenham, then came forward, and recited the following ode-his vocal intonation was exceedingly clear, accompanied by proper action and pathos.

Isle of the Druid and the Bard! since thou
Wert chronicled in song, the ebb and flow
Of times and tides have ceased not

Centuries have roll'd

With more to thee than centuries of woe;
Yet hath dishonour left no blot

Upon the 'scutcheon of thine ancient fame,—
And oh! how bless'd thy lot!

Had History's muse still left untold
The tale of Mona, when the Roman came,
Buckler'd, and helm'd, and panopled in flame!
Nor trac'd one line of triumph, to record
The course of Loigria's desolating sword;
When crimson conquest's sanguinary flood

Dash'd through the barriers that had long withstood
Its lurid deluge;-and the Awen light

Of Cambria that, undimm'd and bright,

Had blaz'd for centuries, was quenched in blood!
Mother of Wales! Nurse of the free and brave!
Dense was the gloom that gather'd round thee then;
And hoarser than the thunders of the wave,
The cry of anguish and despair arose

From mountain-cave and glen!

Seem'd it not then, dark island, unto those

Who loved thee most, and served thee unto death,

That night eternal was about to close

Around the land, where erst alone

The light of Freedom and of Genius shone;

The dauntless heart that never quail'd

In battle's onset, fainted now!

Patriot alike and poet failed

To mourn their country's overthrow!

Torn were the harp-stings-hush'd the voice of song;
And echoless our father's halls, our father's hills among.

Five hundred years went by, and still

The lyre of Mona slept,

Nor was there one to wake the thrill

Of rapture and of hope, until

Her own Goronwy-bard beloved!

Its chords in triumph swept;

And to the Loigrian scoffer proved
That genius from Cynddelw's land

Should never pass away:

But long as Arvon's mountain stand

Should sound, through Time's remotest gay,

"To high-born Howel's sharp, and soft Llewelyn's lay."

And lo; again, again,

The bardic strain