XIX.
I drank of the wine and the mead of the Mordei;
Great was the quantity of spears,
In the assembly of the warriors;
He [110d] was solemnising a banquet for the eagle.
When Cydywal [110e] hurried forth to battle, he raised
The shout with the green dawn, and dealt out tribulation, [110f]
And splintered shields about the ground he left,
And darts of awful tearing did he hew down;
In the battle, the foremost in the van he wounded.
The son of Syvno, [111a] the astronomer, knew,
That he who sold his life,
In the face of warning,
With sharpened blades would slaughter,
But would himself be slain by spears and crosses. [111b]
According to the compact, [111c] he meditated a convenient attack,
And would boast [111d] of a pile of carcases
Of gallant men of toil,
Whom in the upper part of Gwynedd [111e] he pierced.