Y Gododin: A Poem of the Battle of Cattraeth Part 9

XII.

The heroes marched to Cattraeth with the day; Was not the most celebrated of battles disgraced? {97e} They put to death {98a} Gelorwydd With blades. The gem of Baptism {98b}was thus widely taunted;- "Better that you should, ere you join your kindred, Have a gory unction {98c} and death far from your native homes, At the hand of the host of G.o.dodin, when the day arrives."

Is not a hero's power best when tempered with discretion?

XIII.

The hero {98d} marched to Cattraeth with the day; Truly {99a} he quaffed the white mead on serene nights; {99b} Miserable, though success had been predicted, {99c} Proved his mission, which he undertook through soaring ambition; {99d} There hastened not to Cattraeth A chief, with such a magnificent design of enterprize Blazoned on his standard; Never was there such a host From the fort of Eiddin, {99e} That would scatter abroad the mounted ravagers.

Tudvwlch Hir, {100a} deprived of {100b} his land and towns, Slaughtered the Saxons for seven days; {100c} His valour should have protected him in freedom; {100d} His memory is cherished by his fair {100e} a.s.sociates; When Tudvwlch arrived, the supporter of the land, {100f} The post of the son of Kilydd {100g} became a plain of blood.

XIV.

The heroes {100h} marched to Cattraeth with the dawn, But none of them received protection from their shields, To blood they resorted, being a.s.sembled in gleaming armour; {101a} In the van was, loud as thunder, the din of targets. {101b} The envious, the fickle, and the base, Would he tear and pierce with halberts; From an elevated position {101c} he slew, with a blade, In iron affliction, {101d} their steel-clad commander; {101e} He subdued the Mordei that owed him homage; {101f} Before Erthai {102a} even an army groaned. {102b}

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 G.o.debog, 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}

XVI.

Before, above the splendid fort of Eching {103f} he shewed a frowning aspect; {103g} Whilst young and forward men composed his retinue; Before, on the Bludwe, {104a} would the horn cheer his heart, {104b} Making all the Mordei full of joy; {104c} Before, his beverage would be braggett; Before, he displayed the grandeur of gold and rich purple; Before, pampered steeds would bear him safe away, Even Gwarthlev, who deserved a comely name; {104d} Before, the victorious chief would turn aside the ebbing tide; His command was ever to go forward, {105a} loth was he to skulk.

XVII.

And now the early leader, The sun, is about to ascend, Sovereign of the revolving {105b} lights, {105c} In the heaven of Britain's isle. {105d} Direful was the flight before the shaking Of the shield of the pursuing victor; {105e} Bright {105f} was the horn In the hall of Eiddin; {105g} With pomp was he bidden {105h} To the feast of intoxicating mead; He drank the beverage of wine, At the meeting of reapers; {106a} He drank transparent wine, With a battle-daring purpose. {106b} The reapers sang of war, War with the shining wing; {106c} The minstrels sang of war, Of harnessed {106d} war, Of winged war.

No shield was unexpanded {107a} In the conflict of spears; Of equal age they fell {107b} In the struggle of battle.

Unshaken in the tumult, Without dishonour {107c} did he retaliate on the foe; Buried {107d} was whoever he willed, Ere the grave of the gigantic {107e} Gwrveling Itself became a green sward.

XVIII.

The complement {107f} of the surrounding country {107g} Were, three forward chiefs of the Novantae; {107h} Five battalions of five hundred men each; {108a} Three levies {108b} of three hundred each; Three hundred knights of battle {108c} From Eiddin, arrayed in golden armour; Three loricated hosts, With three kings wearing the golden torques; {108d} Three bold knights, With three hundred of equal quality; Three of the same order, mutually jealous, Bitterly would they chase the foe, Three dreadful in the toil; They would kill a lion flat as lead. {108e} There was in the war a collection of gold. {108f} Three sovereigns of the people Came from amongst the Brython, {109a} Cynrig and Cynon {109b} And Cynrain {109c} from Aeron, {109d} To greet {110a} the ashen lances {110b} Of the men who dropped from Deivyr. {110c} Came there from the Brython, A better man than Cynon, Who proved a serpent to his sullen foes?

XIX.

I drank of the wine and the mead of the Mordei; Great was the quant.i.ty of spears, In the a.s.sembly 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.

XX.

I drank of the wine and the mead of the Mordei, And because I drank, I fell by the edge of a gleaming sword, {112a} Not without desiring a hero's prowess; {112b} And when all fell, thou didst also fall. {112c} Thus when the issue comes, it were well not to have sinned.

Present, in his thrusting course, showed a bold and mighty arm. {112d}

XXI.

The heroes who marched to Cattraeth were renowned, Wine and mead out of golden goblets was their beverage, That year was to them one of exalted solemnity, Three hundred and sixty-three chieftains, wearing the golden torques; {113a} Of those who hurried forth after the excess of revelling, But three escaped by valour from the funeral fosse, {113b} The two war-dogs {114a} of Aeron, and Cynon the dauntless, {114b} And myself, from the spilling of blood, the reward of my candid song.

{114c}

XXII.

My friend in real distress, we should have been by none disturbed, Had not the white-bannered commander {115a} led forth his army; We should not {115b} have been separated in the hall from the banquet of mead, Had he not laid waste our convenient groves; {115c} He crept into the martial field, he crept into our families. {115d} The G.o.dodin relates how that, after the fight in the fosse, When we had no dwellings, {116a} none were more dest.i.tute. {116b}

XXIII.

Scattered, broken, motionless is the weapon, {116c} That used to penetrate through the great horde, {116d} the numerous {117a} horde of the Lloegrians. {117b} Shields were strewn on the sea coast, {117c} shields in the battle of lances; Men were reduced to ashes, {117d} And women rendered widows, Before his death. {117e} O Graid, son of Hoewgi, {117f} With thy spears Didst thou cause an effusion of blood.

XXIV.

There was the hero, with both his shoulders covered, {118a} By a variegated shield, and possessing the swiftness of a warlike steed; There was a noise in the mount of slaughter, {118b} there was fire, {118c} Impetuous were the lances, there was a sunny gleam, {118d} There was food for ravens, the raven there did triumph, {118e} And before he would let them go free, With the morning dew, like the eagle in his glad course, He scattered them on either side, and like a billow overwhelmed them in front.

The Bards of the world judge those to be men of valour, Whose counsels are not divulged to slaves. {119a} The spears in the hands of the warriors were causing devastation; And ere was interred under {119b} the swan-white steed, {119c} One who had been energetic in his commands, His gore had thoroughly washed his armour: {119d} Such was Buddvan, {119e} the son of Bleiddvan the Bold.