The lord of Demetia [21c] mustered his troops, and out of envy met his prince in the field. The inhabitants of Stone-walled Carmarthen were hewn to pieces in the conflict. Nor fort, nor castle, could withstand him: and before the gates the English were trampled under foot. Its chief was sad, the unsheathed sword shone bright, and hundreds of hands were engaged in the onset at Llan
Huadain. [22a] In Cilgeran [22b] they purchased glory and honour . . . In Aber Teivi the hovering crows were numberless . . . thick were the spears besmeared with gore. The ravens croaked, they were greedy to suck the prostrate carcases. Llewelyn, may such fate attend thy foes. Mayest thou be more prosperous than the noble Llywarch [22c] with his bloody lance. Thy glory shall not be obscured. There is none that exceedeth thee in bestowing gifts on the days of solemnity. In battle thy sword is conspicuous. Wherever thou goest to war, to whatever distant clime, glory follows thee from the rising to the setting sun. I have a generous and noble prince, the lord of a large territory. He is renowned for his coolness and conduct. Whole troops fall before him; he defendeth his men like an eagle. My prince’s brave actions will be celebrated in the country by Tanad. [22d] He is valorous as a lion, who can resist his lance? He is charitable to the needy, and his relief is not sought in vain. My prince is dressed in fine purple robes. He is like generous Nudd [22e] in bestowing presents. Like valiant Huail [22f] in defying his enemy. He is like Rhydderch [22g] in distributing his gold. Let his praise resound in every country. He possesses a large territory and immense
riches wherever you turn your eyes. In wealth he is equal to Mordaf; like him he opens his liberal hand to the Bard. He is like warlike Rhun [23a] in bestowing his favours. He is the subject of my meditation. I am to him as an hand or an eye. [23b] He is not descended from a base degenerate stock; and I myself am descended from his father’s courtiers. His fury in battle is like lightning when he attacks the foe: his heart glows with ardour in the field like magnanimous Gwriad. [23c] His enemies are scattered as leaves on the side of hills drove by tempestuous hurricanes. He is the honourable support and owner of Hunydd. [23d] He is the grace, the ornament of Arvon. [23e] Llewelyn, terror of thy enemy, death issued out of thy hand in the South. Thou art to us like an anchor in the time of storm. Protector of our country, may the shield of God protect thee. Britain, fearless of her enemies, glories in being ruled by him, by a chief who has numerous troops to defend her; by Llewelyn, who defies his enemies from shore to shore. He is the joy of armies, and like a lion in danger. He is the emperor and sovereign of sea and land. He is a warrior that may be compared to a deluge, to the surge on the beach that covereth the wild salmons. His noise is like the roaring wave that rusheth to the shore, that can neither be stopped or appeased. He puts numerous troops of his enemies to flight like a mighty wind. Warriors crowded about him, zealous to defend his just cause; their shields shone bright
on their arms. His Bards make the vales resound with his praises; the justice of his cause, and his bravery in maintaining it, are deservedly celebrated. His valour is the theme of every tongue. The glory of his victories is heard in distant climes. His men exult about their eagle. To yield or die is the fate of his enemies—they have experienced his force by the shivering of his lance. In the day of battle no danger can turn him from his purpose. He is conspicuous above the rest, with a large, strong, crimson lance. He is the honour of his country, great is his generosity, and a suit is not made to him in vain. Llewelyn is a tender-hearted prince. He can nobly spread the feast, yet is he not enervated by luxury. May he that bestowed on us a share of his heavenly revelation, grant him the blessed habitation of the saints above the stars.
A PANEGYRIC
Upon Owain Gwynedd, Prince of North Wales, by Gwalchmai, the son of Meilir, in the year 1157.
I will extol the generous hero descended from the race of Roderic, [25a] the bulwark of his country, a prince eminent for his good qualities, the glory of Britain, Owain the brave and expert in arms, a prince that neither hoardeth nor coveteth riches.—Three fleets arrived, vessels of the main, three powerful fleets of the first rate, furiously to attack him on a sudden. One from Iwerddon, [25b] the other full of well-armed Lochlynians, [25c] making a grand appearance on the floods, the third from the transmarine Normans, [25d] which was attended with an immense, though successless toil.
The Dragon of Mona’s sons [26a] were so brave in action, that there was a great tumult on their furious attack, and before the prince himself, there was vast confusion, havoc, conflict, honourable death, bloody battle, horrible consternation, and upon Tal Moelvre a thousand banners. There was an outrageous carnage, [26b] and the rage of spears, and hasty signs of violent indignation. Blood raised the tide of the Menai, and the crimson of human gore stained the brine. There were glittering cuirasses, and the agony of gashing wounds, and mangled warriors prostrate before the chief, distinguished by his crimson lance. Lloegria was put into confusion, the contest and confusion was great, and the glory of our prince’s wide-wasting sword shall be celebrated in an hundred languages to give him his merited praise.
AN ELEGY
To Nest, [27a] the daughter of Howel, by Einion, the son of Gwalchmai, about the year 1240.