XV.
When the tale shall be told of the battle of Cattraeth,
The people will utter sighs; [102c] long has been their grief on account of the warriors’ absence;
There will be a dominion without a sovereign, [102d] and a smoking land.
The sons of Godebog, an upright clan,
Bore the furrower [102e] on a long bier.
Miserable [103a] was the fate, though just the necessity,
Decreed for Tudvwlch and Cyvwlch the Tall; [103b]
Together they drank the bright mead by the light [103c] of torches, [103d]
Though pleasant to the taste, it proved a lasting foe. [103e]