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#11
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Wow that's a nice tune Apache! I love the sitar and the beautiful sounds it makes.
We should put some eastern music in here. ![]() Although I have to put this song up here, it's a sad Welsh folk song but it's so very important to remember. It tells the story of a lady called Myfanwy Taken from: BBC - North East Wales Myths and legends - The myth of Myfanwy The ruin of Castell Dinas Brân (Crow City Castle), which stands above the town of Llangollen, is the site of a tragic love story involving Myfanwy, a name that is not as unusual as you might think - sparking plenty of comments. Myfanwy, daughter of the Norman Earl of Arundel, was said to be the most beautiful woman in Powys, but she was vain and liked nothing better than to be told how beautiful she was, writes Nick Bourne from the Web Team. Many men went to Dinas Brân to court her, but she had nothing to do with them, even if they were rich and handsome because they were unable to compose and sing poems that supposedly reflected the depth of her beauty. Only one man, Hywel ap Einion, a penniless young bard who lived in the valley below the castle, was said to have the talent to satisfy Myfanwy. Luckily, Hywel was in love with Myfanwy, and one day he plucked up the courage to climb up the hill to the castle with his harp, to sing and play to her. He was allowed in to play for her, and while playing and complimenting her on her beauty she was said to have been unable to either listen or look at any other man. Because of this Hywel believed that she had fallen in love with him. But his hopes were dashed when a richer, more handsome and more eloquent lover arrived on the scene. Hywel, discarded and quickly forgotten by Myfanwy, composed a poem to his lost love: Far from Myfanwy's marble towers I pass my solitary hours O thou shinest like the sky, Behold thy faithful Hywel die!
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Always listening to The Orb: O.O.B.E... ![]() My fanfic "The man who learns only what others know is as ignorant as if he learns nothing. The treasures of knowledge are the most rare, and guarded most harshly." -Chronicle of the First Age "Try to see the forest through her eyes." Réalisant mon espoir, Je me lance vers la gloire. Je ne regrette rien. (Making my hope come true, I hurl myself toward glory. I regret nothing.) |
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