Gwenllian, O my heart's delight.
You sleep unmov'd by wars command
and hold your small red-yellow apple in your hand.
Your baby cheeks, so rosy red and bright,
your heart so happy day and night.
      Gwenllian, O my heart's delight.
Forget our world of woe, 
O bless'd princess within your cradle,
Where you hold an apple 
that is all your earthly care.
Your brothers battle bravely, 
for your father's sword is at his thigh,
but you are sound asleep 
and dreaming where you lie.
      Gwenllian, O heart's delight.
The land shakes now with noise of Norman war.
O angels guard thy father's door!
To sleep so healthily content; 
The Queens of highest line 
would all forgo their thrones 
for bed of such a babe so small.
      Gwenllian, O my heart's delight.