No hall was ever made so faultless;
Nor was there a lion so generous, a majestic lion on the path, so kind [158a]
As Cynon of the gentle breast, the most comely lord.
The fame [158b] of the city extends to the remotest parts;
It was the staying [158c] shelter of the army, the benefit of flowing melody. [158d]
Of those whom I have seen, or shall hereafter see
On earth, engaged in arms, the battle cry, and war, [159a] the most heroic was he,
Who slew the mounted ravagers with the keenest blade;
Like rushes did they fall before his hand.
O son of Clydno, [159b] of lasting [159c] fame! I will sing to thee
A song of praise, without beginning, [159d] without end.
LVIII.
After the feast of wine and the banquet of mead,
Enriched with the first fruits of slaughter,
The mother of Spoliation, [159e]
Was the energetic Eidol; [159f]
He honoured the mount of the van, [160a]
In the presence of Victory.
The hovering ravens,
Ascend in the sky; [160b]
The foremost spearmen around him thicken, [160c]
Like a crop of green barley, [160d]
Without the semblance of a retreat.
Warriors in wonder shake their javelins,
With pouting and pallid lips,
Caused by the keenness of the destructive sword;
From the front of the banquet, deprived of sleep
They vigorously spring forth, [161a] upon the awaking
Of the mother [161b] of the Lance, the leader of the din.
LIX.
From the feast of wine and the banquet of mead, they marched
To the strife of mail-clad warriors; [161c]
I know no tale of slaughter which records
So complete a destruction.
Before Cattraeth loquacious was the host;
But of the retinue of Mynyddawg, greatly to be deplored, [162a]
Out of three hundred [162b] men, only one returned.
LX.
From the feast of wine and the banquet of mead, with speed they marched,
Men renowned in difficulty, prodigal of their lives;
In fairest order [162c] round the viands they together feasted;
Wine and mead and tribute [162d] they enjoyed.
From the retinue of Mynyddawg ruin has come to me; [163a]
And I have lost my general [163b] and [163c] my true friends.
Of the regal army of three hundred men that hastened to Cattraeth,
Alas! none have returned, save one alone.
LXI.
Impetuous as a ball, [163d] in the combat of spears, was Present,
And on his horse would he be found, when not at home;
Yet illusive [163e] was the aid which he brought against Gododin;
For though apart from the wine and mead he was unrestrained,
He perished [164a] on the course;
And red stained warriors ride [164b]
The steeds of the knight, who had been in the morning bold.