XXV.

It were wrong not to record his magnificent feat; He would not leave an open gap, through cowardice; {120a} The benefit of Britain's minstrels never quitted his court Upon the calends of January; {120b} according to his design, {120c} His land should not be ploughed, though it might become wild; He was a mighty dragon of indignant disposition; A commander in the b.l.o.o.d.y field, {120d} after the feast of wine, Was Gwenabwy {121a} the son of Gwen, {121b} in the strife of Cattraeth.

XXVI.

True it was, as the songs relate, {121c} No one's steeds {121d} overtook Marchleu; The lances {121e} hurled by the commanding earl, In his prancing career, {121f} strewed a thick path; As he had been reared for slaughter by the aid of my mother, {121g} Furious was the stroke of his sword whilst lending support to others; {121h} Ashen shafts were scattered from the grasp of his hand, {122a} Above the narrow summit {122b} of the solemn pile, {122c} The place where one caused the smoke to ascend; {122d} He would slaughter with the blade, whilst his arms were full of furze; {122e} As when a reaping comes in the interval of fine weather, {122f} Would Marchleu {123a} make the blood to flow.

XXVII.

Lower down {123b} was sent from the southern region, {123c} One whose conduct {123d} resembled the flowing sea; {123e} He was full of modesty and gentleness, When allowed to quaff the mead: But along the rampart to Offer, {123f} even to the point of Maddeu, {123g} Enraged, he was glutted with carnage, and scattering, with desolation; {124a} His sword resounded on the heads of mothers; He was an ardent spirit, {124b} praise be to him, the son of Gwyddneu.

{124c}

XXVIII.

Caredig, {124d} lovely is his fame; He would protect and guard his ensign, Gentle, {125a} lowly, calm, before the day arrived When he the pomp of war should learn; When comes the appointed time of the friend of song, {125b} May he recognise his home in the heavenly region.

XXIX.

Ceredig, {125c} amiable leader, A wrestler {126a} in the impetuous {126b} fight; His golden shield dazzled {126c} the field of battle, His lances, when darted, were shivered into splinters, And the stroke of his sword was fierce and penetrating; Like a hero would he maintain his post.

Before he received the affliction of earth, {126d} before the fatal blow, He had fulfilled his duty in guarding his station.

May he find a complete reception With the Trinity in perfect Unity.

x.x.x.

When Caradawg {126e} rushed into battle, It was like the tearing onset of the woodland boar; {127a} Bull of the army in the mangling fight, He allured the wild dogs by the action of his hand; {127b} My witnesses {127c} are Owain the son of Eulat, And Gwrien, and Gwynn, and Gwriad; {127d} But from Cattraeth, and its work of carnage, {127e} From the hill of Hydwn, ere it was gained, {127f} After the clear mead was put into his hand, He saw no more the hill {128a} of his father.

x.x.xI.

The warriors marched with speed, together they bounded onward; Short lived were they,-they had become drunk over the distilled mead.

The retinue of Mynyddawg, renowned {128b} in the hour of need; Their life was the price of their banquet of mead.

Caradawg, {128c} and Madawg, {128d} Pyll, and Ieuan, Gwgawn, {129a} and Gwiawn, Gwynn {129b} and Cynvan, Peredur {129c} with steel arms, Gwawrddur, {129d} and Aeddan; {129e} A defence were they in the tumult, though with shattered shields; {130a} When they were slain, they also slaughtered; Not one to his native home returned.

x.x.xII.

The heroes marched with speed, together were they regaled That year over mead, and mighty was their design; How sad to mention them, {130b} how doleful their commemoration! {130c} Poison is the home to which they have returned, they are not as sons by mothers nursed; {130d} How long our vexation, how long our regret, For the brave warriors, whose native place was the feast of wine! {130e} Gwlyget {131a} of G.o.dodin, having partaken of the speech inspiring Banquet of Mynyddawg, performed ill.u.s.trious deeds, {131b} And paid a price {131c} for the purchase of the battle of Cattraeth.

x.x.xIII.

The heroes went to Cattraeth in marshalled array, and with shout of war, {131d} With powerful steeds, {131e} and dark brown harness, and with shields, With uplifted {131f} javelins, and piercing lances, With glittering mail, and with swords.

He excelled, and penetrated through the host, Five battalions fell before his blade; Rhuvawn Hir, {132a}-he gave gold {132b} to the altar, And gifts and precious stones {132c} to the minstrel.

x.x.xIV.

No hall {132d} was ever made so eminently perfect, So great, so magnificent for the slaughter; {133a} Morien {133b} procured {133c} and spread the fire, And would not say but that Cynon {133d} should see {133e} the corpse Of one harnessed, armed with a pike, and of a wide spread fame; {133f} His sword resounded on the summit occupied by the camp, {133g} Nor was he moved {134a} aside in his course by a ponderous stone from the wall of the fort, {134b} And never again will the son of Peithan {134c} be moved.

x.x.xV.

No hall was ever made so impregnable; {134d} Had not Morien been like Caradawg, {134e} The forward Mynawg, {134f} with his heavy armour, {134g} would not have escaped; Enraged, he was fiercer than the son of Pherawg, {135a} Stout his hand, and, mounted on his steed, {135b} he dealt out flames upon the retreating foe.

Terrible in the city was the cry of the timid mult.i.tude, The van of the army of G.o.dodin was scattered; His buckler {135c} was winged with fire for the slaughter; In the day of his wrath {135d} he was nimble-a destructive retaliator; The dependants of Mynyddawg deserved their horns of mead.

x.x.xVI.

No hall was ever made so immoveable As that of Cynon with the gentle breast, sovereign of the saints; {135e} He sat no longer on his elevated throne, {136a} Whom he pierced were not pierced again, {136b} Keen was the point of his lance, It perforated the enamelled armour, it penetrated through the troops; Swift in the van were his horses, in front they tore along; In the day of his anger {136c} blasting was his blade, When Cynon rushed into battle with the green dawn.

x.x.xVII.

A grievous descent was made upon his native territory; He {136d} suffered an encroachment-he fixed a limit; His spear forcibly pushed the laughing chiefs of war; Even as far as Ephyd {137a} reached the valour of the forward Elphin: The furze was kindled by the ardent spirit, the bull of conflict.