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 Gododin will be thy grave.