LXIV.

It is inc.u.mbent to sing of so much renown, The tumult of fire, of thunder, and tempest, The glorious gallantry of the knight of conflict. {167a} The ruddy reapers of war are thy desire, {167b} Thou man of toil, {167c} but the worthless thou beheadest; {167d} The whole length of the land shall hear of thee in battle; With thy shield upon thy shoulder, thou dost incessantly cleave With thy blade, {167e} until blood flows {167f} like bright wine out of gla.s.s vessels; {167g} As the contribution {168a} for mead thou claimest gold; Wine nourished was Gwaednerth, {168b} the son of Llywri.

LXV.

It is inc.u.mbent to sing of the gay and ill.u.s.trious tribes, {168c} That, after the fatal fight, {168d} filled the river Aeron; {168e} Their grasp satisfied the hunger {168f} of the eagles of Clwyd, {168g} And prepared food for the birds of prey.

Of those who went to Cattraeth, wearers of the golden chain, Upon the message of Mynyddawg, sovereign of the people, There came not honourably {169a} in behalf {169b} of the Brython, To G.o.dodin, a hero from afar who was better than Cynon.

LXVI.

It is inc.u.mbent to sing of so many men of skill, {169c} Who in their halls {169d} once led a merry life: {169e} Ambitious {169f} and bold, all round the world would Eidol {169g} seek for melody; But notwithstanding gold, and fine steeds, and intoxicating mead, Only one man of these, who loved the world, returned, Cynddilig of Aeron, one of the Novantian heroes. {169h}

LXVII.

It is inc.u.mbent to sing of the gay and ill.u.s.trious tribes, That went upon the message of Mynyddawg, sovereign of the people, And the daughter {170a} of Eudav the Tall, of a faultless gait, {170b} Apparelled in her purple robes, thoroughly and truly splendid.

LXVIII.

The soldiers {171a} celebrated the praise of the Holy One, And in their {171b} presence was kindled a fire that raged on high.

On Tuesday they put on their dark-brown garments; {171c} On Wednesday they purified their enamelled armour; On Thursday their destruction was certain; On Friday was brought carnage all around; On Sat.u.r.day their joint labour was useless; On Sunday their blades a.s.sumed a ruddy hue; On Monday was seen a pool knee deep of blood. {171d} The G.o.dodin relates that after the toil, Before the tents of Madog, when he returned, Only one man in a hundred with him came. {172a}

LXIX.

At the early dawn of morn, {172b} There was a battle at the fall of the river, {172c} in front of the course; {172d} The pa.s.s and the knoll were pervaded with fire; {172e} Like a boar didst thou {172f} lead to the mount; The wealth {172g} of the hill, and the place, And the dark brown hawks {173a} were stained with gore. {173b}

LXX.

Quickly rising, in a moment of time, {173c} After kindling a fire at the confluence, {173d} in front of the fence, {173e} After leading his men in close array, In front of a hundred he pierces the foremost. {173f} Sad it was that you should have made a pool of blood, As if you but drank mead in the midst of laughter; {174a} But it was brave of you to slay the little man, {174b} With the fierce and impetuous stroke of the sword; For like the unrestrained ocean {174c} had the foe {174d} put to death A man, who would otherwise have been in rank his equal.

LXXI.

He fell headlong down the precipice, {174e} And the bushes {174f} supported not his n.o.ble {174g} head; It was a violation of privilege to kill him on the breach, {175a} It was a primary law that Owain should ascend upon the course, {175b} And extend before the onset the branch of peace, {175c} And that he should pursue the study of meet {175d} and learned strains.

Excellent man, the a.s.suager of tumult and battle, Whose very grasp dreaded a sword, {175e} And who bore in his hand an empty corslet. {175f} O sovereign, dispense rewards Out of his earthly shrine. {176a}

LXXII.

Eidol, with frigid blood and pale complexion, Spreading carnage, when the maid was supreme in judgment; {176b} Owner of horses and strong trappings, And transparent {176c} shields, Instantaneously makes an onset,-ascending and descending.

LXXIII.

The leader of war with eagerness {177a} conducts the battle, Mallet of the land, {177b} he loved the mighty reapers; {177c} Stout youth, the freshness of his form was stained with blood, His accoutrements resounded, his chargers made a clang; {177d} His cheeks {177e} are covered with armour, And thus, image of death, he scatters desolation in the toil; In the first onset his lances penetrate the targets, {177f} And a track of surrounding light is made by the aim of the darting of his spears.

LXXIV.

The saints {178a} exert their courage, {178b} for the destruction of thy retreat, {178c} And the cellar, {178d} which contained, and where was brewed {178e} The mead, that sweet ensnarer.

With the dawn does Gwrys {178f} make the battle clash; Fair gift, {178g}-marshal of the Lloegrian tribes; {178h} Penance he inflicts until repentance ensues; {178i} May the dependants of Gwynedd hear of his renown; With his ashen shaft he pierces to the grave; Pike of the conflict of Gwynedd, Bull of the host, oppressor of the battle of princes; {179a} Though thou hast kindled the land {179b} before thy fall, At the extreme boundary {179c} of G.o.dodin will be thy grave.

LXXV.

Involved in vapours was the man {179d} accustomed to armies, High minded, bitter handed leader of the forces; {179e} He was expert, and ardent, and stately, Though at the social banquet he was not harsh. {180a} They {180b} removed and possessed his valuable treasures, And not the image of a thing for the benefit of the region was left.

LXXVI.

We are called! The sea and the borders are in conflict; {180c} Spears are mutually darting, spears all equally destructive; Impelled are sharp weapons of iron, {180d} gashing is the blade, {180e} And with a clang the sock {180f} descends upon the pate; A successful warrior was Fflamddwr {180g} against the enemy.

LXXVII.

He supported martial steeds and harness of war; Drenched with gore, on the red-stained field of Cattraeth, The foremost shaft in the host is held by the consumer of forts, {181a} The brave {181b} dog of battle, upon the towering hill.

We are called to the gleaming {181c} post of a.s.sault, By the beckoning hand {181d} of Heiddyn, {181e} the ironclad chief.