Letter from Edward Thomas to the poet Gordon Bottomley. Sent from Elses Farm, The Weald, Kent. Archival ref: 424/1/1/1/10/25
Elses Farm
The Weald
Sevenoaks

12.xi.04

My dear Gordon,

I couldn't so soon if I
hadn't just received the Welsh translations,
in spite of your letter & your gum*

*[in margin in pencil] A box of storax, which burns like incense G. B.]

The simplicity of the things
in translation is rather frightening to
me. I wonder what you will think.
The 'Maid of Llandebie"
goes like this: & by the way Llandebie
is 4 syllables, the first & third being
accented: but the 4th is so unlike
anything English that you can't rhyme with it.
I put the accents on the proper names as
they come.
(1) 'I love a maid of Llandebie.
& she loves me also. Of all the young
maids of Caermarthen(shire), there is not one
so fair as she. On her cheeks are roses,
white & red, the tints all blended. She is the
only maid I desire, & she will have none but me.
(2) 'I love one maid of Llandebie, &
she also loves but one. The tender maid

remains faithful, pure of heart, & lovely to see.
Her beauty & comeliness have won my love &
my life; for the sweet & blushing, a kind fair
one has no one comparable to her in all the
world.
(3) 'While there is lime in Craig y Ddinas,
& white there is water in Pant y Llyn; & white
the waves of shining Longhor (lucher)
walk between these hills; & white there is
a belfry in the village, & the sound of its
bells pleases the countryside, the maid of
Llandebie shall have her name held in
sweet remembrance.

There is no internal rhyme, at least not
a regular one which need be followed. You
will see how the lines rhyme from the
stanza given with the air.

[crossed out 2 paragraphs]

I am sorry we have only the
air in sol-fa of 'The Maids of
Caermarthenshire'. The lst syllable in
the first line of each pair of lines rhymes with
the 4th in the second. Here are some
of the verses:
(1) 'The song & the harp desire to
sing the praise of the maids of fair Wales.
And lads have no theme which is so dear
to them. And there are no maids in the
land like the maids of Caermarthenshire.
(2) 'Their pretty cheeks bear the
bloom of the rose Their complexions have
also the white sheen of the lily. And the
fairest roses & likes adorn Caermartheshire
itself.
(3) 'All beautiful & loveable are they, as
fleet as the wind when on its wings: of
modest look, & nimble foot, how swift of
motion are they ever! Ay, the maids of
Caermarthen dance it through the world.
(4) 'There is a pure heart in each
breast, & a happy nature with it.
They are up with the dawn & sing with the
bird; for the maids of Caermaerthen are
full of the songs of the true Muse.
95) 'Sweet is the song that rises
with the day from the happy heart; sweet the
air which blows at night from the hearth;
sweet is it to bear the clear voices of the
maids of Caermarthen.
(6) 'It is the desire of the man who would
love a maid to love one of them, for
one of them, I say it in earnest, is worth two
or three of the usual ones. If I take a wife,
I shall surely take one of the maids of
Caermarthenshire'
----
I can't write any more tonight, &
my hand is tired by copying "Wales".

---------
13.x.04

I came back yesterday from three days
in London where I worked & also saw Balmer.
I like him, but he seems so shy & silent that
I can't say I was happy. But I shall see him again.
He tells me that Robert Fowler (a friend of
Ashcroft Noble's) is illustrating Wales.

It s pleasant to know that you like
some of Rose acre Papers & that we agree
about its faults . But I am surprised that
you liked my cat story. And by the way,
O lover of cats & therefore of mine,
I do not think the [illegible] is quite the soul
of you: - or perhaps my tobacco incapacitates
me.
Then about Grieg & the Didone *

*[in pencil marginalia Clementi's sonata called "Didone Abondonnata"
I didn't like Grieg 4 years ago: but as a
matter of fact I ought to have said Chopin
in that place. 5 years ago I heard a
Didone Abandonnato at Oxford - liked it
& forgot its composer. But I always liked music,
only as a rule I was compelled to hear it in a
crowd & hating the crowd I had not fit ear for
the music. Surely you knew, & know that
I liked to hear you play & often want to
hear you.
I liked the pictures in the 'Venture'
but especially Shannon's. I thought the
Ricketss too small & didn't look at it.
'Tresses of the Surf' pleased me much &
more than anything else of Balmers, except
the Apple Gathering. by the way, I was
very glad to hit upon De Quincey as an
author for him to illustrate when he asked
me to suggest something; - for he had
already thought of De Quincey & of the
same passages as I, and it has never
been done.
Your suggestion for Wales is not
quite definite enough but it may bring
forth. I have now done far more
than a quarter of the whole, but not
anything there I want to do so far. I have
no tune except for outlines & hurried
phrases & cheap epithets.
This morning I wrote a bad review &
did housework. This afternoon I roamed
about the house looking for disorder to
put straight & now I am fit for nothing
yet must do 1000 words of "Wales"
and copy another 1000. How then can
I write to you?
Goodbye with Helen's love & mine
to you all
Ever yours
Edward Thomas

I haven't had time to see The Venture again.
I love a maid of Llandebie
And it is she who loves me too.
Of all the women of Caermarthen
None is so fair as she, I know.
White and red are her cheeks' young roses
The tints all blended mistily;
She is the only maid I long for,
And she will have no lad but me
I love one maid of Llandebie
And she too loves but one, but one.
The tender girl remains my faithful,
Pur of heart, a bird in tone.
Her beauty and her comely bearing
Have won my love and life and care,
For there is none in all the kingdoms
Like her so blushing kind and fair.
While there is lime in Craig y Ddinas;
While there is water in Pant y Llyn;
And while the waves of Shining Longhor
Walk between these hills and siug
While there's a belfry in the village!
Whose bells delight the country much;
The dearest maid of Llandebie
Shall have her name held sweet and high.
{musical score of The Maid of Llandebie & lyrics}

Rwyn car-u merch o Land-dy-bi-e
Ac y mae hith-en fy nghar-u i, O
bob merch i-fanc yn Sir Gaer-fyrdd-in Does neb o
hon-yn mor hardd a hi Ar ei grudd-aiu mae rhos-
yn-au cyn-ysg liw-iau coch a gwyn y hi yw'r
un-ig ferch a fyn-af, A hith-e dim ond y
fi - ne fyn.