and the hall that was your home.
The dawn raid on the enemy’s lair
earned the honey-gold mead-snare.
It was a gift to the Saxon host.
They will pay as long as they last.
Man of Gwynedd, glorious, brave,
in Gwanannon lies his grave.
Gwynedd’s warrior, steady, strong,
bull of the host in the war of kings,
until he was laid in the ground.
His grave, Gododdin’s border-land.
74
War-hardened men,
their leader a strong lord,
wise, proud, faultless.
He was no churl at the mead-feast.
White horses whinnied in his care.
He paid no due to the land of Pobdelw.
In war, the wing and the van were ours,
as spear clashed on spear,
whetted steel, an ace in the fray,
a pike in the brawl, in the battle’s woe
a lusty man with a steel of fire
against the foe.
75
Cyfarfu ag agerw
Du leiddiad llu herw,
Ni bu achyhoedd a chyherw,
Ni bu Erf gyfedd chweg chwerw,
Gnisynt gweilwion ar ei helw,
Nid oedd ar lles bro Pobddelw.
Ni chiliws tarw trin led un erw,
Traws ei achaws, llyfrddelw.
Erf
75
He faced the enemy,
crusher of a plundering army.
He was no shy flyer,
Erf was no hard-drinking fellow.
Grey horses whinnied in his care.
He gave not an inch to the land of Pobdelw,
lost not an acre, battle-bull,
his way quick, his death cruel.
76
Mynog Gododdin traethiannor,
Mynog am ran cwyniador,
Rhag Eidyn arial fflam nid atgor,
Ef dodes ei ddilys yng nghynnor,
Ef dodes rhag trin tewddor,
Yn arial ar ddywal disgynnwys,
Can llewes porthes mawrbwys.
O osgordd Fynyddog ni ddiangwys
Namyn un, arf amddiffryd, amddiffwys.
Mynog
76
Mynog of Gododdin, praised in verse,
courteous, generous, I mourn his loss,
fearlessly faced Eidyn’s war,
sent his best soldiers to the fore.
He raised a wall in the enemy’s face,
grappled the foe. After the feast
death waited him. Of Mynyddog’s men
all died but one.
77
O golled Moried ni bu aesawr,
Dyfforthyn, traethiennyn llawr.
Ry-ddug o’i loflen las lafnawr,
Peleidr pwys periglyn pen periglawr,
I ar orwydd erchlas penweddawr.
Trinddygwydd trwch rhag ei lafnawr
Pan orfydd o’i gad, ni bu ffoawr:
A’n dyrllys moled medd melys maglawr.
Moried
77
With Moried’s death we lost our shield.
They carried him, praised, upraised.
In his hand he bore blue blades –
heavy spears to cleave and wreck –
from a dapple-grey with arching neck,
his sword scythed the battle-dead.
Winning, he did not flee the field.
He earned his sweet ensnaring mead.
78
Mad fuddig ysgafnwyn, asgwm adfaon,
A’i lasog tebedog tramordwy alon,
Gwrawl amddyfrwys gorfawr ei law,
Gwryd fron, gwrfan, gwanan arnaw.
Ei gynneddf disgynnu
Rhag naw rhiallu
Yng ngŵydd gwaedd a llu,
A gorddygnaw.
Caraf fuddig, lleithig a fu adanaw,
Cynddilig Aeron, cynnan lew.
Cynddilig Aeron
78
Charmed conqueror, flaxen-haired,
backbone of a timid host,
repelled the foe with his blue blade,
manly, mighty, a giant fist.
Strong-hearted, skilful. They let fly.
It was his habit to weigh in
before nine champions
at his men’s wild battle-cry.
I loved the victor, on his couch lain,
fluent Cynddilig Aeron. Lion.
79
Caraswn ddisgynnu yng Nghatraeth gysefin
Gwerth medd yng nghyntedd a gwirod win.
Caraswn ni chablwys ar lläin,
Cyn bu ei leas, o’i las Uffin.
Caraswn ail clod, dyfforthes gwaedlin:
Ef dodes ei gleddyf yng ngoeithin.
Nis adrawdd gwryd rhag Gododdin
Na bai mab Ceidio clod un gŵr trin.
Ceidio’s Son
79
I would have loved to fight at the front at Catraeth
after the feasting in the hall.
I would have loved him who, in death
far from his green Uffin, did not blame his spear.
I would have loved the man of a famous race
who fought in the war.
Fiercely he struck with his sword.
Men of Gododdin, do not deny,
as a hero none outshone
Ceidio’s famous son.
80
Truan yw gennyf, gwedi lludded,
Goddef gloes angau trwy anghyffred,
Ac ail trwm truan gennyf gweled
Dygwyddo ein gwŷr ben o draed,
Ac uchenaid hir ac eilywed
Yn ôl gwŷr pybyr tymyr tydwed,
Rhufon a Gwgon, Gwion a Gwlged,
Gwŷr gorsaf wriaf, gwrdd yng nghaled.
Ys deupo i’w henaid wedi trined
Cynnwys yng ngwlad nef, addef afneued.
Rhufon, Gwgon, Gwion, Gwlged
80
I am crushed by misery
that they knew death’s agony.
A double sorrow for me
to see them fall headlong to die,
and the moaning and the grief
for good men fallen to the clodded earth.
Rhufon, Gwgon, Gwion, Gwlged, all
strong men brave in strife,
after warfare, may each soul
be welcome in the afterlife.
81
Ef gwrthodes tres tra gwyar llyn,
Ef lladdai fal dewr dull ni dechyn.
Tafloyw ag ysgedd taflai wydrin o fedd,
Rhag tëyrnedd taflai fyddin.
Mynid ei gyngor men na lleferid lliaws,
Ac fai anwaws nid endewid.
Rhag rhuthr bwyellodau a chleddyfawr llifaid
Handid gwelid llafar lleir.
Tafloyw
81
He repelled the raid through rivers of blood,
scythed through ranks which stood their ground.
With style Tafloyw swilled his mead,
then quelled an army before lords.
Where none would speak, they sought his word.
Were he coarse they’d not have heard.
Before the clash of shield and sword,
they’d hailed him at the festive board.
82
Porthloedd byddin,
Porthloedd läin,
A llu rhagwedd
Yn rhagyrwedd
Yn nydd gẃnedd
Yng nghyfrysedd.
Buant wythog
Wedi medd-dod
A medd yfed.
Ni bu wared
Ein gorwylam
Yn nydd ffrwythlam,
Pan adrodded
Torred ergyr
O feirch a gwŷr,
Tyngyr dynged.
Tyngyr
82
Haven of the army,
harbour of the spear
before a blessed host
on the battle day.
His men were on fire,
still
drunk on mead,
so he triumphed alone
on the battle day.
It was said
they laid waste an army,
horses and men,
Tyngyr’s destiny.
83
Pan ym dyfydd
Lliaws pryder,
Pryderaf fraw.
Ffun yn ardeg
Arial rhedeg,
Ar hynt wylaw.
Cu cystuddiwn,
Cu caraswn,
Cellëig ffaw.
Ag Argoedwys
Gwae gorddyfnwys
I ymddulliaw.
Ef da ddodes
Ar lluydd pwys
Ar lles rhiau,
Ar ddilyfn goed,
Ar ddilyw hoed
Er cyfeddau.
Cyfedd wogant
Ef a’n dy-ddug
Ar dân adloyw,
Ac ar groen gwyn
[A llyn] gosgroyw.
Geraint, rhag Dehau gawr a ddoded,
Lluch gwyn, gwyn ddull ar ysgwyd iôr,
Ysbâr llary iôr molud,
Mynud môr, göwn ei eisyllud:
Göwn i Geraint, hael fynog oeddud.
Geraint
83
When there comes over me
a crowd of cares,
I ponder my fears,
breathless as if
I’d been running,
and I weep.
I grieve for the dear one,
the dear one I loved,
the glorious stag.
Alas for him,
who arrayed himself
with the men of Argoed.
For the gain of kings
well he stormed
the hostile hordes,
spears bristling,
a flood of grief
as fee for the feast.
He’d led us to a blazing hearth,
a white-fleeced couch. Geraint,
his war-cry before men of the South.
White limed his shield, spear-lord,
generous as the sea. I know his sort.
I knew you, great-hearted Geraint.
84
Diannod ei glod, ei gludfan,
Diachor angor yng nghyman,
Diechyr eryr gwŷr gofaran,
Trinoddef Eiddef, oedd eirian,
Rhagorai feirch rhagfuan yn nhrin,
Lledfegin gwin o ban.
Cyn glasfedd a glasu ei ran
Bu gŵr gwledd odd uch medd mygr o ban.
Eiddef
84
His fame unrivalled,
battle-anchor, eagle of the army,
hawkish, handsome Eiddef,
enflamed by feasting and revelry.
He drank fine mead in the hall,
led fleet horses into battle
before his cheek grew pale,
before they dug his green grave.
85
Dihenydd i bob llawr, llanwed
Ei hual amhafal afneued,
Twll tâl ei rodawg;
Cas ohir, gwythawg,
Rhufoniawg ddiffred.
Ail waith, gwelideint am Aled
Ei gad feirch a’i seirch greuled.
Bid anysgoged,
Bid gad forion
Gwychyrolion
Pan rygodded.
Trwm yn nhrin â lläin yd laddai,
Chwerw rybudd o gad dyddygai gant:
Cân yng Nghalan darmerthai.
Ef gwenid a dan fab Urfai,
Ef gwenid a dan dwrch trahaog,
Un rhiain a morwyn a mynog.
A chan oedd mab brenin teithïog,
Udd Gwyndyd, gwaed Cilydd Gwaredog,
Cyn golo gweryd ar rudd
Hael edfynt digythrudd
Ei ged a’i glod, echiog
Fod bedd Gorthyn Hir o orthir Rhufoniog.
Gorthyn Hir
85
Flooder of the lowlands, shield shatterer,
Rhufoniog’s defender,
his horses and armour seen again
on the banks of the Aled,
bloody from another battle.
Bravely he raged into war
the gravel red where they’d fought.
A hundred men bore home
his bitter warning. He sang
at the feast of Nos Calan.
Any lord, any woman or girl
could approach the son of Urfal.
True son of a king, proud boar,
lord of the men of Gwynedd,
of the bloodline of gentle Cilydd.
Before earth covered the face
of the noble one, assured
grieve at the grave of Gorthyn Hir
from the hills of Rhufoniog.
86
Neu’m doddyw anghyfwng o anghyfarch,
Ni’m daw, ni’m dyfydd, a fo trymach,
Ni magwyd yn neuadd a fai lewach nog ef,
Nac yng nghad a fai wastadach,
Ac ar Ryd Benclwyd pennawd oedd ei feirch,
Pellennig ei glad, pellws ei galch,
A chyn golo Gwair Hir o dan dywarch
Dyrllyddai feddgyrn un mab Fferfarch.
87
Trychant eurdorchog a grysiasant
Yn am wyn breithell, bu edrywant.
Cyd ryladded wy, wy lladdasant,
A hyd orffen byd edmyg fyddant.
Ac o’r sawl a aetham o gyd-garant,
Tru, namyn un gŵr nid enghysant.
88
Trychant eurdorchog,
Gwneddgar, gwaenog,
Trychan trahaog,
Cyfun, cyfarfog;
Trychan meirch godrudd
A grysiws ganthudd,
Trychwn a thrychant,
Tru, nid atgorsant.
Gwair Hir
86
A great sorrow overcomes me
and nothing weighs more.
None bolder feasted in the hall,
none braver in the war.
At Penclwyd ford, his horses ahead,
his limed shield shattered, his fame widespread,
and before Gwair Hir lay under the mud
the only son of Fferfach earned his mead.
87
Three hundred gold-torqued men made war
to defend their land. Blood was shed.
They killed before they died.
They will be praised till the world ends.
Of all of us, brothers, who were there,
O sorrow, just one man returned.
88
Three hundred gold-torqued men,
brave warriors to the front.
Three hundred proud men
of one mind, armed.
Three hundred restless horses
carried them to war.
Three hounds, three hundred.
They did not return.
89
Dywal yng nghad, cyfwng yng nghyni,
Yng nghyfrang nid oedd dang as gwnëi,
Yn nydd gŵyth nid ef gwaith gocheli,
Baran baedd oedd Bleiddig mab Eli.
Eryfesid gwin gwydrlestri llawn,
Ac yn nydd camawn camp a wnëi
I ar Arfwl Can; cyn no’i drengi
Calanedd cochwedd a edewi.
90
Sgwyd dan woddef, nid estyngai rhag neb,
Wyneb garedd erydfagai.
Diriaid o seirch meirch yng nghynnor gawr
Hëyn gwaywawr celyn creuddai.
Pan waned fy nghyfaill ef gwanai eraill,
Nid oedd amefl yd ddygai.
Diwyd yn cadw rhyd cainasmygai
Pan ddy-ddug cyfran clodfan mordai.
Bleiddig
89
Fierce in combat, strong in war,
in battle he would not appease,
on the day of rage would sign no truce,
Bleiddig son of Eli, roaring boar.
From a brimming cup he downed his mead,
and on the battle day he fought
on Arfwl Can; befo
re he fell
he left the dying and the dead.
90
His shield flashed. He bowed to no man,
driven by desire to win.
Mounted horsemen in the battle’s van
cast spears of holly stained in blood.
My friend fell, though he’d fought with grit,
met blow with blow, was no disgrace.
Defender of the ford, rejoiced
to win the champion’s share at court.
91
Ardwy nef, addef eiddunwlad!
Gwae ni rhag galar ac afar gwastad!
Pan ddoethan deon o Ddin Eidyn barth,
Detholwyr pob doethwlad,
Yng nghywrysedd â Lloegr, lluydd amad,
Naw ugaint am bob un, am beithynad,
Ardeml meirch a seirch a serig ddillad,
Ardwyai Waednerth ei gerth o gad.
Gwaednerth
91
Heaven help us home to the land we yearn
from the pain, the grief, the mourning.