Myrddin:
How sad with me, how said,
Cedfyl and Cadfan are fallen!
The slaughter was terrible,
Shields shattered and bloody.
Taliesin:
I saw Maelgwn battling--
The host acclaimed him.
Myrddin:
Before two men in battles they gather
Before Erith and Gwrith on pale horses.
Slender bay mounts will they bring
Soon will come the host of Elgan.
Alas for his death, after a great joy!
Taliesin:
Gap-toothed Rhys, his shield a span--
To him came battle's blessing.
Cyndur has fallen, deplorable beyond measure
Generous men have been slain--
Three notable men, greatly esteemed by Elgan.
Myrddin:
Again and again, in great throngs they came,
There came Bran and Melgan to meet me.
At the last, they slew Dyel,
The son of Erbin, with all his men.
Taliesin:
Swifly came Maelgwn's men,
Warriors ready for battle, for slaughter armed.
For this battle, Arderydd, they have made
A lifetime of preparation.
Myrddin:
A host of spears fly high, drawing blood.
From a host of vigorous warriors--
A host, fleeing; a host, wounded--
A host, bloody, retreating.
Taliesin:
The seven sons of Eilfer, seven heroes,
Will fail to avoid seven spears in the battle.
Myrddin:
Seven fires, seven armies,
Cynelyn in every seventh place.
Taliesin:
Seven spears, seven rivers of blood
From seven chieftains, fallen.
Myrddin:
Seven score heroes, maddened by battle,
To the forest of Celyddon they fled.
Since I Myrddin, am second only to Taliesin,
Let my words be heard as truth.
A dream I happen to see last night; clever is he that can interpret it.
It shall not be related to the wanton; he that will not conceal it shall know it not.
It is an act of the gentle to govern the multitude. Pleasure is not the wealth of a country.
Have I not been under the same covering with a fair maid of the hue of the billow of the strand?
Labour bestowed on anything good is no pain, and the remembrance of it will last.
Worse is my trouble to answer him who is not acquainted with it.
It is no reparation for an evil deed, a desistence after it is done.
One’s benefit does not appear when it is asked for in a roundabout way: thou hadst better keep to what there is.
And associate with the virtuous, and be resolute as to what may happen.
He that frequently commits crime will at last be caught.
He that will not relate a thing fully, will not find himself contradicted.
Riches will not flourish with the wicked. Mass will not be sung on a retreat.
A sigh is no protection against the vile. He that is not liberal does not deserve the name.
God supreme, be mine the Awen! Amen; fiat!
A successful song of fruitful praise, relating to the bustling course of the host,
According to the sacred ode of Cyridwen, the goddess of various seeds,
The various seeds of poetic harmony, the exalted speech of the graduated minstrel,
Cuhelyn the bard of elegant Cymraec utterly rejects.
A poem for a favour, the gift of friendship, will not be maintained.
But a composition of thorough praise is being brought to thee,
Splendid singer in a choir, and of a song equal in length and motion.
Appropriate and full were the tuneful horns, gloriously ascended the conflagration
Of the nation of the border, whose troops were of the same pace and simultaneous movement.
Praise the hero, whose gift is large, the benefit of humble suitors.
Light is the rebuke of the rallying-point of relatives, the winner of praise,
A skilful fastener, for a hundred calends, the accumulator of heat;
A fierce frowning wolf, whose inflexible disposition is law, accustomed to jurisdiction.
Eidoel was a man extremely brave, very choice and full of wisdom
A leader as regards the Brython, full of knowledge and prudence, fiery in his wrath;
Accustomed to hatred, accustomed to harmony, and to the high seat in the banquet of mead;
Partaker of the intoxicating wine, a knight of the list, a place of limitation;
A lord who is the measurer of the wall, the delight of the four quarters, the great centre power;
A knight of stout conduct, a knight of virtuous conduct, with warriors full of rage;
A guardian celebrated in song, a fine panegyric, the blandishment of language.
Odious was his death by Nognaw. Am I not agitated? The active and eloquent one will I praise;
A contented ruler, a restless guardian, energetic and wise. A company of active reapers, melodious poetry, and the assuaging of wrath;
A talented hero, like a furious wave over the strand,
The marrow of fine songs, a contemplative mind, a sacred mystery;
A servitor with knowledge, the possession of mead, an agreeable eulogy;
Music which has melody like that of a golden organ, a place of retirement;
rhe action of law against violence, the admirable vigour of the brave, the energy of the Supreme Being.
A blessing I will venture to ask, a blessing I will pray for, I will bind myself thereby;
The wonderful rush of the gale, the pervasion of fire, the war of youth;
One deserving of ruddy gold, one liberal of praise furrowed (with age), a free wing;
Ready affluence, a rill in a pleasant shelter, a reward for a panegyric.
The most deserving will yield, he will keep his refuge from the insult of the enemy:
He has completely kept the law, completely shown his disposition before the placid Ogyrven.
For a good turn from me, may the gift of Cuhelyn give satisfaction of mind.
According to the sacred ode of Cyridwen, the Ogyrven of various seeds,—
The various seeds of poetic harmony, the exalted speech of the graduated minstrel,
Cuhelyn the wise, of elegant Cymraec, an exalted possession,
Will skilfully sing; the right of Aedan, the lion, shall be heard.
A song of fulness, worthy of a chair, a powerful composition it is.
From suitors may he receive eulogy, and they presents from him
The bond of sovereigns, the subject of contests in harmonious song.
Splendid are his horses, hundreds respect him, the skilful seek the chieftain,
The circle of deliverance, the nation’s refuge, and a treasure of mutual reproach.
To banter with him, who is of a venerable form, I would devoutly desire;
A broad defence, like a ship to the suppliant, and a port to the minstrel,
Quick as lightning, a powerful native, a chief whose might is sharp;
A luminary of sense, much he knows, completely lie accomplishes.
May the hero of the banquet, through peace, enforce tranquillity from this day.
Soul, since I was made in necessity blameless
True it is, woe is me that thou shouldst have come to my design,
Neither for my own sake, nor for death, nor for end, nor for beginning.
It was with seven faculties that I was thus blessed,
With seven created beings I was placed for purification;
I was gleaming fire when I was caused to exist;
I was dust of the earth, and grief could not reach me;
I was a high wind, being less evil than good;
I was a mist on a mountain seeking supplies of stags;
I was blossoms of trees on the face of the earth.
If the Lord had blessed me, He would have placed me on matter.
Soul, since I was made -
Let us not reproach one another, but rather mutually save ourselves.
Certain is a meeting after separation,
The appointment of a senate, and a certain conference,
And the rising from the grave after a long repose.
The mighty God will keep in his power the man of correct life,
And will let fire upon the unholy people,
And lightning and thunder and wide-spread death.
Neither a solitary nor a sluggard shall pass to a place of safety.
And after peace there shall be the usages of a kingdom;
The three hosts shall be brought to the overpowering presence of Jesus:
A pure and blessed host like the angels;
Another host, mixed, like the people of a country;
The third host, unbaptized, a multitude that directly after death
Will proceed in a thick crowd to the side of devils,
Not one of them shall go, owing to their hideous forms,
To the place where there are flowers and dew on the pleasant land,
Where there are singers tuning their harmonious lays,
Happy will be their cogitations with the ruler of the glorious retinue;
Where the Apostles are in the kingdom of the humble,
Where the bounteous Creator is on his glorious throne.
May a disposition for the grave be given us; exalted is a relationship to Him;
And before we are gathered together to mount Olivet,
May those who have fallen be victorious over death;
And work like theirs may we also do; for at the judgment day
The wonders, greatness, and puissance of the Creator none can relate.
The three depredatory horses of the Isle of Prydain
Carnawlawg, the horse of Owain the son of Urien;
Bucheslwm Seri, the horse of Gwgawn Gleddyvrudd;
And Tavawd Mr Breich-hir, the horse of Cadwallawn the son of Cadvan.
The three draught-horses of the Isle of Prydain
Arvul Melyn, the horse of Pasgen the son of Urien; -
Du Hir Terwenydd, the horse of Selyv the son of Cynan Garwyn;
And Drudlwyd, the horse of Rhydderch Hael.
The three spirited horses of the Isle of Prydain
Gwineu Goddwf Hir, the horse of Cai;
Rhuthr Eon Tuth Blaidd, the horse of Gilbert the son of Cadgyffro;
And Ceincaled, the horse of Gwalchmai.
The three high-mettled horses of the Isle of Prydain
Lluagor, the horse of Carndawg;
And Melynlas, the horse of Caswallawn the son of Bei.
(Possibly forgotten is Melyngar Mangre, the horse of Lleu Llaw Gyffes)
Let God be praised in the beginning and the end.
Who supplicates Him, He will neither despise nor refuse.
The only son of Mary, the great exemplar of kings,
Mary, the mother of Christ, the praise of women.
The sun will come from the East to the North.
Intercede, for thy great mercy’s sake,
With thy Son, the glorious object of our love,
God above us, God before us, God possessing (all things).
May the Father of Heaven grant us a portion of mercy;
Puissant Sovereign, may there be peace between us without refusal;
May we reform and make satisfaction for our transgressions,
Before I go to the earth to my fresh grave,
In the dark without a candle to my tribunal,
To my narrow abode, to the limits assigned to me, to my repose;
After my horse, and indulgence in fresh mead,
And social feasting, and gallantry with women.
I will not sleep; I will meditate on my end.
We are in a state the wantonness of which is sad;
Like leaves from the top of trees it will vanish away.
Woe to the niggard that hoards up precious things;
And unless the Supreme Father will support him,
Though he is allowed to have his course in the present world, his end will be dangerous.
He knows not what it is to be brave, yet will he not tremble in his present state;
He will not rise up in the morning, will utter no greeting, nor will he sit;
He will not sing joyfully nor ask for mercy.
Bitter will, in the end, be the retribution
Of haughtiness, arrogance, and restlessness.
He pampers his body for toads and snakes
And lions, and conceives iniquity.
And death will come upon hoary age;
He is insatiable in the assembly and in the banquet.
Old age will draw nigh, and spreads itself over thee.
Thy ear, thy sight, thy teeth, they will not return;
The skin of thy fingers will wrinkle,
And age and hoariness will affect thee.
May Michael make intercession for us, that the Father of heaven may dispense us His mercy!
The beginning of summer is a most pleasant season, tuneful the birds, green the stalks of plants,
Ploughs are in the furrow, oxen in the yoke,
Green is the sea, variegated the land.
When cuckoos sing on the branches of pleasant trees,
May my joyfulness become greater.
Smoke is painful, sleeplessness is manifest.
Since my friends are returned to their former state
In the hill, in the dale, in the islands of the sea,
In every direction that one goes, in the presence of the blessed Christ there is no terror.
It was our desire, our friend, our trespass
To penetrate into the land of thy banishment.
Seven saints and seven score and seven hundred did he pierce in one convention.
With Christ the blessed they sustain no apprehension of evil.
A gift I will ask, may it not be refused me by the God of peace.
Since there is a way to the gate of the Supreme Father,
Christ, may I not be sad before thy throne!
Hail, glorious Lord!
May church and chancel bless Thee
And chancel and church
And plain and precipice!
And the three fountains there are,
Two above wind, and one above the earth.
May darkness and light bless Thee I
And fine silk and sweet trees!
Abraham the chief of faith did bless Thee.
And life eternal.
And birds and bees.
And old and young.
Aaron and Moses did bless Thee.
And male and female.
And the seven days and the stars.
And the air and the ether.
And books and letters.
And llsh in the flowing water.
And song and deed.
And sand and sward.
And such as were satisfied with good.
I will bless Thee, glorious Lord!
Hail, glorious Lord!
In the name of the Lord, mine to adore, whose praise is great.
I will praise the great Ruler, whose blessing is great on an alms-deed;
The God that defends us, the God that made us, the God that will deliver us,
The God of our hope, blessed, perfect, and pure is his true happiness.
God owns us; God is above, the Triune King,
God has been felt a support to us in affliction;
God has been, by being imprisoned, in humility.
May the blessed Ruler make us free against the day of doom,
And bring us to the feast, for the sake of his meekness and lowliness,
And happily receive us into Paradise from the burden of sin,
And give us salvation, for the sake of his agony and five wounds,
Terrible anguish God delivered us when he assumed flesh.
Man would have been lost, had He not ransomed him, according to his glorious ordinance.
From the bloody Cross came redemption to the whole world.
Christ the mighty Shepherd, his merits will never fail.
There is a graciously disposed King, who is wonderful in the highest degree,
Who is chief above the children of Adam,
Who is a happy and most mighty defence,
Who is generous, glorious, and most pure,
Whose claim is most strong and binding.
What is heard of him, and what is true, that will I celebrate.
I
To the great God, to the condescending and most compassionate God,
To the blessed God a sacred song I will sing.
Until I become a blameless man to God, I will consider the substance,
About the sin which Adam sinned.
About sin before the judgment I am very anxious,
Against the day of appointment, when all men shall come
From their graves in their strength and greatest vigour,
As they were when they were in their very prime,
In one host to the one place most pleasant,
Even to the top of one hill, in order to be judged.
Among this multitude may I attain the merit
Of being protected by a retinue of the nine orders of Heaven.
My God! what a gathering!
My Lord God! may my bardic lore
Affect the bonds of the universe!
My great Superior! my Owner!
The object of my reverence! before going to the sod, before going to the gravel,
Permit thou me to indite a composition
To thy praise, before my tongue becomes mute,
And my memory like Job, who spoke
Unto his wife concerning her dragonic obedience.
When the servant of God on a certain day came
To him to the contest with his wife,
Before the blow he gave a handful
Of what had peeled from the surface of his flesh.
And since the presents which any one gave were now acceptable,
The merciful God made a gift of charity
In pure gold, the treasure of the Trinity.
In a fainting state he sits, and there praises God.
Blessed was he to be plagued! Now said Sin,
‘Thou knowest how to conceal the perfidy of the mysterious Being.”
The love-diffusing Lord of heaven, the Creator, take thou to praise Him,
That thou mayest reach the fair and happy region,
Happy, pleasant, free, and greatly deserving praise.
Loving wine, love thou. the gentle, preserve the truth.
Eva did not preserve the sweet apple-tree which God commanded her.
For her transgression He was not reconciled to her,
But manifest pain he inflicted upon her.
Some wonderful covering of a flinty dress she put on herself;
The Maker of heaven caused her, in the midst of her riches, to make herself bare.
And a second miracle did the bountiful Lord, who hears being praised.
When she wished to avoid being caught,
The way in which she fled was where
There was a ploughman ploughing the ground,
With men in attendance. The mysterious Trinity has spoken it.
Then went the faultless mother of splendid gifts
With her happy husband.
A crowd of men
Afterwards came to ask
In an entertainment,
“Hast thou seen a woman and a son with her?"
And say thou, for the record’s truth,
And he will not refuse our request,
That thou didst see us going without her
To a certain spot,
and the blessing of God be on it I
Upon that came a destitute rabble, a race of the disposition of Cain,
A fierce and iniquitous multitude are they;
A tower was sought, in order to seek the mysterious Being,
Then said one who was deformed and unwitty, to the man whom thou seest,-
“Host thou seen the men of the city of giants
Going by thee without turning?”
I did see them when I harrowed the fair land,
Where you see the reaping.
What the children of Cain now did, was
To turn away from the reapers.
Through the intercession of Mary Maria,
And her knowledge communicated to her by God,
There were defending them, besides herself,
The Holy Spirit and her sanctity.
I make a request to God, Shepherd of the people,
Ruler of heaven and earth, supreme in wisdom.
There is a fair fort upon the sea;
A splendid rise, joyful on holidays.
And when the sea is extremely turbulent,
The clamour of bards over cups of mead is customery.
Comes a swift wave toward it,
They leave the gray-green1 ocean to the Picts.
And may I have, O God, through my prayer,
When I may keep terms, reconciliation with thee.
There is a fair fort upon the wide water,
An impregnable fortress, surrounded by sea.
Ask, Britain, whose home is this?
O leader of the line of Ab Erbin, let it be yours!
There was a company and there was a song
In the fortification and an eagle on high
On the path of the white-faced.
Before a splendid lord, starting up against the foe,
A warrior of widespread fame, they assembled.
There is a fair fort upon the ninth wave;
Fair its folk in resting themselves.
They do not make their pleasant life through shame;
'Tis not their custom to be stingy.
I shall not speak falsely of my welcome;
Better the captive of Dyfed than the yeoman of Deudraeth!
A host of the free in the midst of a feast;
Narrow between two of the best of people.
There is a fair fort, whose company fosters pleasure
And praise and the cry of birds.
Joy and songs on its holidays,
around a ready lord, a radiant distributor.
Before his going into an oaken chest,
he gave me mead and wine from a glass cup.
There is a fair fort on the coast;
pleasantly, each is given his share.
I know in Tenby, pure white the seagull,
the host of Bleiddudd, lord of the fort.
It was my custom on holidays,
appeasement by the bright king of battle
and a heather-coloured mantle and courtly privilege,
until I held tongue over the bards of Britain.
There is a fair fort, which abounds in song;
the freedoms I sought were mine.
I do not speak of rights: the law I kept;
he who does not know this deserves no gifts.
The writings of Britain were its chief concern,
Where the waves toss. Let it last long, the cell I visited!
There is a fair fort standing on high.
Excellent its pleasures, its praise lofty.
Fair all around it, enclosure of champions,
relentless sea-spume comes to me, far-reaching its fingers,
it explodes to the top of the rock; raucous the little sea-bird.
Anger forsworn, let it flee beyond the mountains.
And to Bleiddudd the best prosperity there may be.
I shall be burdened over beer with the task of memories.
The blessing of the lord of harmonious heaven will endure.
He who will not make us fellow-countrymen of the descendant of Owain.
There is a fair fort upon the sea-shore.
Pleasantly, each is given his desire.
Ask Gwynedd, let it be yours.
Rough, stiff spears they earned.
On Wednesday, I saw men in conflict;
on Thursday, it was reproaches they contended with.
And hair was red with blood, and lamenting on harps.
Weary were the men of Gwynedd the day they came,
and atop the stone of Maelwy they shelter shields.
A host of kinsmen fell by the descendant {of Owain?}.
NOTE:
1. "green-gray sea": Interestingly enough, the word for blue, grey, and green in Welsh are the same--glas (Glas is also an Irish word for both grey and green). It has been supposed that the Green Knight of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight may have originally been the Grey Knight, linking him to Arawn Lord of Annwfn (the Otherworld) from the story of "Pwyll Pendeuc Dyfed"; meanwhile, green is equally associated with death in Irish myth. This has no real bearing on the text at hand, except to show the problems of translation--that the words for green and grey are the same in Welsh, causing a little confusion.
Glas also means "pale, young, raw" as well as "blue, green, grey."
Alternate words are gwyrdd for green, llwyd for grey. Llwyd is also one of Manawyddan's enemies in "Manawyddan vab Llyr." Glas is the only word for blue.
Tenby is a sea-town in Dyfed, in Pembrokeshire. From the fifth century until the high middle ages, it was ruled by the Irish, which may account for the mention of "the ninth wave," a symbol from Irish mythology which otherwise doesn't appear in Wales, and for the heavily Irish elements of "Pwyll Pendeuc Dyfed" in The Mabinogion.
Some have speculated that the historical Taliesin may have been from Tenby, or from South Wales at any rate, as this area shows up in his poetry (or the poetry attributed to him).
Blessed is the birch in the valley of Gwy
Whose branches will fall off one by one, two by two
It will remain when there will be a battle in Ardudwy
And the lowing together of the cattle about the ford of Mochnwy
And spears and shouting at Dyganwy
And Edwin bearing sway in Mona
And youths pale and light
In ruddy clothes commanding them.
Blessed is the birch in Pumlumon
Which will see when the front of the stage shall be exalted
and which will see Franks clad in mail
About the hearth food for whelps
And monks frequently riding on steeds.
Blessed is the birch in the heights of Dinwythy
Which will know when there shall be a battle in Ardudwy
And spears uplifted around Edrywy
And a bridge in the Taw, and another on the Tawy
And another, on account of a misfortun, on the banks of the Gwy
And the artificer that will make it, let his name by Garwy;
and the principle of Mona have dominion over it.
Women will be under the Gynt, and men in affliction
Happier than I is he who will welcome
The time of Cadwaladyr: a song he may sing!
The poems is often attributed to Myrddin, as one of his "prophetic" poems made during his madness in Celydon.
Listen, O little pig! happy little pig,
Do not go rooting on top of the mountain.
But stay here, secluded in the wood.
Hidden from the dogs of Rhydderch the Faithful.
I will prophecy--it will be truth!
From Aber Taradyr the Cymry will be, bound
Under one warlike leader
His name is Llywelyn, of the line of Gwynedd.
Usurpers of the Prydein he will overcome.
Listen, O little pig! we should hide
From the huntsmen of Mordei, if one dared,
Lest we be pursued and discovered.
If we escape--I'll not complain of fatigue!
I shall predict, from the back of the ninth wave,
The truth about the White One who rode Dyfed to exhaustion
Who built a church for those who only half believed,
In the upland region, and among wild beasts.
Until Cynan comes, nothing will be restored.
Listen, O little pig! I lack sleep,
Such a tumult of grief is within me.
Fifty years of pain I have endured.
Evil is the joy which I have now.
May life be given me by Jesus, the most trustworthy
Of the kings of heaven, of highest lineage!
It will not be well with the female decendants of Adam,
If they believe not in God, in hte latter day.
Once I saw Gwenddoleu, with the gift of Princes,
Garnering prey on every side;
Beneath my green sod is he not still!
He was the chief of the North, and the gentlest.
Listen, O little pig! it was ncessary to pray,
For fear of the five sovereigns from Normandy;
And the fifth going over the salt sea,
To conquer Iwerdon [Ireland] with its pleasant towns;
He will cause war and confusion,
And ruddy arms and groanings in it.
And they, certainly, will come from it,
And do honor on the grave of Dewi [St. David].
And I will predict that there will be confusion
From the fighting of son and father, the country shall know it;
And that there iwll be to the Lloegrians the falling of cities,
And that deliverance will never be to Normandy.
Listen, O little pig! don't sleep yet!
Rumors reach me of perjured chieftains.
And tightfisted farmers.
Soon, over the sea, shall come men in armour
On armoured horses, with destroying spears
When that happens, war will come,
Fields will be ploughed but never reaped.
Women will be cuckolds to the corpses of their men.
Mourning will come to Caer Sallawg.
Listen, O little pig! O pig of truth!
The Sybil has told me a wondrous tale.
I predict a Summer full of fury,
Between brothers, treachery from Gwynedd.
A pledge of peace will be required from Gwynedd,
Seven hundred ships from Gynt blown in by the North wind.
In Aber Dyn they will confer.
Listen, O little pig! O blessed pig!
The Sybil has told me a frightful thing
When Lloegyr encamps in the lands of Eiddyn [some texts "Ethlin"]
Making Deganwy a strong fort
By the... of Lloegyr and Llywelyn,
There will be a child on the shoulders... baggage.
When Deinoel, son of Dunawd Deinwyn, becomes enraged,
And the Franks will flee
At Aber Dulas they will fall,
Sweating in bloody garments.
Listen, O little pig! listen to the calls for attention!
For the crime of the necessitous God will make remissions.
... what is becoming, be it mine,
And what is... let him seek.
Listen, O little pig! it is broad daylight,
Hark thou to the song of water-birds whose notes are loud!
To us there will be years and long days
And iniquitous rulers, and the blasting of fruit,
And bishops sheltering theives, churches desecrated,
And monks who will compensate for loads of sins.
Listen, O little pig! go to Gwynedd.
Seek a mate when you rest.
While Rhydderch Hael feasts in his hall
He does not know what sleepless I bore
Snow to my knees, owing to the warriness of the chief
Ice in my hair, sad my fate!
Tuesday will come, the day of fierce anger
Between the rulers of Powys and Gwynedd
When the beem of light will rise from its long repose
And defend from its enemy the frontiers of Gwynedd.
Unless my Maker wilI grant me a share of his mercy,
Woe to inc that I have existed, miserable will be my end!
Listen, O little pig! utter not a whisper,
When the host of war marches front Carmarthen,
To support, in the common cause, two welps
Of the line of Rhys, the stay of battle, the warlike commander of armies
When the Saxon shall be slain in the conflict of Cymm erau,
Blessed will be the lot of Cyrnry, the people of Cymrwy.
Listen, O little pig! blessed little pig of the country!
Do not sleep in the morning, burrow not in the fertile region
Lest Rydderch had and his cunning dogs should come,
And before thou couldst reach the wood, thy perspiration trickled down.
Listen, O little pig! thou blessed pig!
Hadst thou seen as much severe oppression as I have,
Thou wouldst not slcep in the morning, nor burrow on the lull.
When the, Saxons repose from their serpent cunning,
And the castle of Collwyn is resorted to front afar,
Clothes wiI1 be smart, and the black pool clear.
Listen, O little pig! hear thou now
When the men of Gwvynedd lay down their great work,
Blades will be in hands, horns will be sounded,
Armour will be broken before sharp lances.
And I will predict that two rightful princes
Will produce peace from heaven to earth--
Cynan, Cadwaladyr, thorough Cymry.
May their councils be admired.
The laws of the country, and the exclusion of troubles,
And the abolition of armies and theft;
And to us then there shall be a relief after our ills,
And from generosity none will be excluded.
Listen, O little pig! is not the mountain green?
My cloak is thin; for me there is no repose;
Pale is my visage; Gwendydd does not come to me.
When the men of Bryneich will bring their army to time shore,
Cymry will conquer, glorious will be their day.
Listen, O little pig! thou brawny pig!
Bury not thy snout, consume not Mynwy;
Love no pledge, love no play.
And an advice I will give to Gwenabwy,
"Be not an amorous youth given to wanton play."
And I will predict the battle of Machawy,
When there will be ruddy spears in the Riw Dydmwy,
From the contention of chieftains; breast will heave on the saddles;
There will be a morning of woe, and a woeful visitation;
A bear from Deheubarth will arise,
his men will spread over the land of Mynwy.
Blessed is the lot that awaits Gwenddydd,
When the Prince of Dyved comes to rule.
Listen, O little pig! are not the buds of thorns
Very green, time mountain beautiful, and beautiful the earth?
When two brothers will be two Idases for land,
From their claim will be cherished a lasting feud.
Listen, O little pig! to me it is of no purpose
To hear the voice of water-birds, whose scream is tumultuous,
Thin is the hair of my head, my covering is not warm;
The dales are my barn, my corn is not plenteous;
My summer collection affords me no relief,
Before parting from God, incessant was my passion.
And I will predict, before the end of the world,
Women without shame, and men without manliness.
Listen, O little pig! a trembling pig!
Thin is my covering, for me there is no repose,
Since the battle of Ardderyd it will not concern me,
Though the sky were to fall, and sea to overflow.
And I will predict that after Henri
Such and such a king in troublesome times.
When there shall be a bridge on the Taw, and another on the Tywi,
There will be an end of war in it.
The graves which the rain bedews?
Men that were not accustomed to afflict me:--
Cerwyd, and Cywryd, and Caw.
The graves which the thicket covers?
They would not succumb without avenging themselves:--
Gwryen, Moriel, and Morial.
The graves which the shower bedews?
Men that would not succumb stealthily
Gwynn, and Gwrien, and Gwriad.
The grave of Tydain, father of the Muse,1 in the region of Bron Aren:
Where the wave makes a sullen sound
The grave of Dylan2 in Llan Beuno.
The grave of Ceri Gledyvhir, in the region of Hen Eglwys,
In a rugged steep place
Tarw Torment in the enclosure of Corbre.
The grave of Seithenhin3 the weak-minded
Between Caer Cenodir and the shore
Of the great sea and Cinran.
In Aber Gwenoli is the grave of Pryderi,4
Where the waves beat against the land
In Carrawg is the grave of Gwallawg Hir.
The grave of Gwalchmai5 is in Peryddon,
Where the ninth wave6 flows:
The grave of Cynon is in Llan Badarn.
The grave of Gwrwawd the honourable is
In a lofty region: in a lowly place of repose,
The grave of Cynon the son of Clydno Eiddyn.7
The grave of Rhun the son of Pyd is by the river Ergryd,
In a cold place in the earth.
The grave of Cynon is in Ryd Reon.
Whose is the grave beneath the hill?
The grave of a man mighty in the conflict--
The gravc of Cynon the son of Clydno Eiddyn.
The grave of the son of Osvran is in Carnlan,
After many a slaughter
The graveof Bedwyr8 is in Gallt Tryvan.
The grave of Owain ab Urien9 in a secluded part of the world,
Under the sod of Llan Morvael;
In Abererch, that of Rhydderch Hael.10
After wearing dark-brown clothes, and red, and splendid,
And riding magnificent steeds with sharp spears,
In Llan Heledd11 is the grave of Owain.
After wounds and bloody plains,
And wearing harness and riding white horses,
This, even this, is the grave of Cynddylan.12
Who owns the grave of good connections?
He who would attack Lloegir13 of the compact host--
The grave of Gwen, the son of Llywarch Hen,14 is this.
Whose is the grave in the circular space,
Which is covered by the sea and the border of the valley?
The grave of Meigen, son of Rhun,15 the ruler of a hundred.
Whose is the grave in the island,
Which is covered by the sea with a border of tumult?
The grave of Meigen, the son of Rhun, the ruler of a court
Narrow is the grave and long,
With respect to many long every way
The grave of Meigen, the son of Rhun, the ruler of right.
The grave of the three serene persons on an elevated hill,
In the valley of Gwynn Gwynionawg--
Mor, and Meilyr, and Madawg.
The grave of Madawg, the splendid bulwark
In the meeting of contention, the grandson of Urien,
The best son to Gwyn of Gwynlliwg.
The grave of Mor, the magnificent, immovable sovereign,
The foremost pillar in the conflict,
The son of Peredur Penwedig.16
The grave of Meilyr Malwynawg of a sullenly-disposed mind.
The hastener of a fortunate career,
Son to Brwyn of Brycheinawg.
Whose is the grave in Ryd Vaen Ced
With its head in a downward direction?
The grave of Rhun, the son of Alun Dywed.
The grave of Alun Dywed in his own region,
Away lie would not retreat from a difficulty--
The son of Meigen, it was well when he was born.
The grave of Llia the Gwyddel is in the retreat of Ardudwy,
Under the grass and withered leaves;
The grave of Epynt is in the vale of Gewel.
The Grave of Dywel, thc son of Erbin,17 is in the plain of Caewaw
He would not be a vassal to a king;
Blameless, he would not shrink from battle.
The Grave of Gwrgi,18 a hero and a Gwyndodian lion;
And the grave of Llawr, the regulator of hosts.
In the upper part of Gwanas the men are!
The long graves in Gwanas--
Their history is not had,
Whose they are and what their deeds.
There has been the family of Oeth and Anoeth19--
Naked are their men and their youth--
Let him who seeks for them dig in Gwanas.
The grave of Llwch Llawengin20 is on the river Cerddenin,
The head of the Saxons of the district of Erbin;
He would not be three months without a battle.
The graves in the Long Mountain--
Multitudes well know it--
Are the graves of Gwryen, Gwryd Engwawd, and Llwyddawg the son of Lliwelydd.
Who owns the grave in the mountain?
One who marshalled armies--
It is the grave of Ffyrnvwel, the son of Hyvlydd.
Whose grave is this? The grave of Eiddiwlch the Tall,
In the upland of Pennant Twrch,
The son of Arthan, accustomed to slaughter.
The grave of Llew Llawgyffes21 under the protection of the sea,
With which he was familiar
He was a man that never gave the truth to any one.
The grave of Beidawg the Ruddy in the vicinity of Riw Llyvnaw;
The grave of Lluosgar in Ceri;
And at Ryd Bridw the grave of Omni.
Far his turmoil and his seclusion
The sod of Machawe conceals him;
Long the lamentations for the prowess of Beidawg the Ruddy.
Far his turmoil and his fame--
The sod of Machawe is upon him--
This is Beidawg the Ruddy, the son of Einyr Llydaw.
The grave of a monarch of Prydain is in Lleudir Gwynasedd,
Where the flood enters the Llychwr;
In Celli Briafael, the grave of Gyrthmwl.
The grave in Ystyvachau,
Which everybody doubts.
The grave of Gwrtheyrn Gwrthenau.22
Clan wails in the waste of Cnud,
Yonder above the grave of the stranger--
The grave of Cynddilig, the son of Corcnud.
Truly did Elffin bring me
To try my primitive bardic lore
Over a chieftain--23
The grave of Rwvawn with the imperious aspect.
Truly did Elffin bring me
To try my bardic lore
Over an early chieftain--
The grave of Rwvawn, too early gone to the grave.
The grave of March, the grave of Gwythur;
The grave of Gwgawn Gleddyvrudd
A mystery to the world, the grave of Arthur.24
The grave of Elchwith is by the rain bedewed,
With the plain of Meweddawg under it
Cynon ought to bewail him there.
Who owns this grave? this grave? and this?
Ask me, I know it--
The grave of Ew, the grave of Eddew was this,
And the grave of Eidal with the lofty mien.
Eiddew and Eidal, the unflinching exiles,
The whelps of Cylchwydrai:
The sons of Meigen bred war-horses.
Whose is this grave? It is the grave of Brwyno the Tall,
Bold were his men in his region.
Where he would be, ther would be no flight.
Who owns this grave-not another?
Gwythiwch, the vehement in the conflict,
While he would kill thee, he would at thee laugh.
The grave of Silid the intrepid is in the locality of Edrywfy;
The grave of Lleminig25 in Llan Elwy,
In the swampy upland is the grave of Kilinwy.
The grave of a stately warrior; many a carcase
Was usual from his laud,
Before he became silent beneath the stones
Llachar, the son of Rhun, is in the valley of the Cain.
The grave of Talan Talyrth
Is at the contention of three battles,
A hewer down of the head of every force,
Liberal was lie, and open his gates.
The grave of Elisner, the son of Ner,
Is in the depth of the earth without fear, without concern
A commander of hosts was he, so long as his time lasted.
The grave of a hero vehement in his rage
Llachar the ruler of hosts, at the confluence of noisy waters,
Where the Tawne forms a wave.
Whose are graves in the fords?
What is the grave of a chieftain, the son of Rygenau,
A man whose arms had abundant success.
Whose is this grave? The grave of Braint
Between Llewin and Llednaint--
The grave of a man, the woe of his foes.
Whose is the grave on the slope of the hill?
Many who know it do not ask;
The grave of Coel, the son of Cynvelyn.26
The grave of Dehewaint is on the river Clewaint,
In the uplands of Mathavarn,
The support of mighty warriors.
The grave of Aron, the son of Dewinvin, is in the land of Gwenle;
He would not shout after thieves,
Nor disclose the truth to enemies.
The grave of Tavlogan, the son of Ludd,
Is far away in Trewrudd; and thus to us there is affliction
He who buried him obtained an advantage.
Who owns the grave on the banks of Ryddnant?
Rhun his name, his bounties were infinite
A chief he was! Rhiogan pierced him.
He was like Cyvnyssen to demand satisfaction for murder,
Ruddy was his lance, serene his aspect:
Who derived the benefit? The grave of Bradwen.
Whose is the quadrangular grave
With its four stones around the front?
The grave of Madawg the intrepid warrior.
In the soil of the region of Eivionydd,
There is a tall man of fine growth,
Who would kill all when he was greatly enraged.
The three graves on the ridge of Celvi,
Thu Awen has declared them to me
The grave of Cynon of the rugged brows,
The grave of Cynvael, and the grave of Cynveli.
The grave of Llwid Llednais in the land of Cemmaes,
Before his ribs had grown long,
The hull of conflict brought oppression thither.
The grave of the stately Siawn in Hirerw,
A mountain between the plain and the oaken forest;
Laughing, treacherous, and of bitter disposition was lie.
Who owns the grave in the sheltered place?
While he was, he was no weakling:--
It is the grave of Ebediw, the son of Maelur.
Whose is the grave in yonder woody cliff?
His hand was an enemy to many:--
The bull of battle-mercy to him!
The graves of the sea-marsh.
Slightly are they ornamented!
There is Sanawg, a stately maid;
There is Rhun, ardent in war;
There is Earwen, the daughter of Hennini;
There are Lledin and Llywy.
The grave of Hennin Henben is in the heart of Dinorben;
The grave of Aergwl in Dyved,
At the ford of Cynan Gyhored.
Every one that is not dilatory inquires--
Whose is the mausoleum that is here?
It is the grave of Einyawn, the son of Cunedda;27
It is a disgrace that in Prydain he should have been slain.
Who owns the grave in the great plain?
Proud his hand upon his lance
The grave of Beli, the son of Benlli Gawr.
NOTES:
1. Muse: lit. "Awen"--the Welsh concept of divine inspiration, similar to the Irish imbas.
2. Dylan: possibly Dylan Eil Ton (Dylan Second Wave), the twin of Lleu Llawgyffes, and son of Gwydion ap Don and Arianrhod uerch Don. His story is found in "Math fab Mathonwy," the fourth branch of the Mabinogi.
3. Seithenhin: according to "The Drowning of the Bottom Hundred" and the poem "Seithenhin", he is the individual responsible for letting the waters of Cardigan bay overtake the Cantref of Gwyddno Garanhir, drowning all the citizens.
4. Pryderi: he of the Mabinogion, which lists his grave as being "at Maen Tyryawg above Y Velen Rhyd."
5. Gwalchmai: who is better known as Sir Gawain. Thomas Malory gives his resting place as Dover Castle.
6. "the ninth wave": in Celtic myth, particularly Irish myth, the ninth wave is a symbolic boundary between this world and the Otherworld.
7. Cynon son of Clydno Eiddyn: according to some genealogies, Cynon married Morfudd uerch Urien, sister of Owain. There is a satire on him in the Lyfr Taliesin.
8. Bedwyr: Sir Bedevere
9. Owain ab Urien: Sir Yvain or Ywain of Arthurian romance. A historical prince of the sixth century who lead the Britons against the Saxons. Often mentioned by the poets of the sixth century (Taliesin particularly).
10. Rhydderch Hael: king of Strathclyde in the sixth century, contemporaneous with Urien and Owein. According to legend, he was the patron of St. Kentigern, and brother-in-law of Myrddin.
11. Llan Heledd: lit. "the Church of Heledd." What connection this has to the figure of Heledd in the Red Book poem "Canu Heledd" is unknown to me.
12. Cynddylan: warlord and brother of Heledd.
13. Lloegir: the Welsh name for England.
14. Gwen, the son of Llwyarch Hen: his name figures prominently in the poems attributed to Llwyarch. Presumably, he may have been the eldest.
15. Meigen, son of Rhun: possibly the bard who is attributed two poems in the Black Book.
16. Mor... Peredur: Mor son of Peredur is an interesting case, when one examines the story of "Sir Morien." Here, Sir Morien is a Moor who is the son of Sir Perceval. The creation of such a character may have ultimately been derived first from the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach, who says that Perceval had a Muslim half-brother, while compounding that with the figure of Mor, whose name sounds like "Moor."
17. Erbin: Father of Gereint, and, I have been told, ruler of Devon.
18. Gwrgi: Usually named as brother of Peredur.
19. Oeth and Anoeth: elsewhere called the prison where Arthur was kept, until freed by his cousin Goreu ap Custennin. Iolo Morgannwg believed that it was a prison constructed of the bones of a defeated Roman legion. In truth, it is not known exactly what "Oeth and Anoeth" means, but seems to be another name for the Otherworld.
20. Llwch Llawengin: Perhaps no relation ot Llwch Lleminawg of "Culhwch and Olwen"
21. Llew Llawgyffes: he of the Mabinogion branch "Math vab Mathonwy."
22. Gwrtheyrn Gwrthenau: King Vortigern.
23. "Truly did Elffin bring me...": Does this and the following stanza represent an attempt to put this poem in the mouth of Taliesin? It does seem to reference--however obliquely--to the tradition of Taliesin besting the bards of Maelgwn.
24. "March... Arthur": March: King Mark of Tristan and Iseult. I'm not sure about the other two. Arthur of course is King Arthur. The exact words of this line: "anoeth bid bet y Arthur" are variously translated:
"A wonder of the world is the grave of Arthur"
"a difficult thing is the grave of Arthur"
"Impossible to find in this world is the grave of Arthur"
It is worth noting that the world anoeth appears, being the world "wonder" "myster" "difficult" etc. It is the name of Arthur's prison in the triads, and is reverenced a little earlier in the stanzas. What it all means, though, I can't tell you.
25. Lleminig: This is probably the Llwch Lleminawg of "Culhwch and Olwen"
26. Coel, the son of Cynvelyn: Old King Cole, and a founder of a dynastic line.
27. Cunedda: another founder of a dynastic line.
BEFORE Geraint, the enemy of oppression,
I saw white horses jaded and gory,
And after the shout, a terrible resistance.
Before Geraint, the unflinching foe,
I saw horses jaded and gory from the battle,
And after the shout, a terrible impulsion.
Before Geraint, the enemy of tyranny,
I saw horses white with foam,
And after the shout, a terrible torrent.
In Llongborth I saw the rage of slaughter,
And biers beyond all number,
And red-stained men from the assault of Geraint.
In Llongborth I saw the edges of blades in contact,
Men in terror and blood on the pate,
Before Geraint, the great son of his father.
In Llongborth I saw the spurs
Of men who would not flinch from the dread of the spears,
And the drinking of wine out of the bright glass.
In Llongborth I saw the weapons
Of men, and blood fast dropping,
And after the shout, a fearful return.
In Llongborth I saw Arthur,
And brave men who hewed down with steel,
Emperor, and conductor of the toil.
In Llongborth Geraint was slain,
A brave man from the region of Dyvnaint,
And before they were overpowered, they committed slaughter.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, with wheat for their corn,
Ruddy ones, with the assault of spotted eagles.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long their legs, grain was given them,
Ruddy ones, with the assault of black eagles.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, restless over their grain,
Ruddy ones, with the assault of red eagles.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, grain-scattering,
Ruddy ones, with the assault of white eagles.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, with the pace of the stag,
With a nose like that of the consuming fire on a wild mountain.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, satiated with grain,
Grey ones, with their manes tipped with silver.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, well deserving of grain,
Ruddy ones, with the assault of grey eagles.
Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, having corn for food,
Ruddy ones, with the assault of brown eagles.
When Geraint was born, open were the gates of heaven,
Christ granted what was asked,
Beautiful the appearance of glorious Prydain.
While this is the historical Gereint, he also went on to be the Welsh stand-in for Erec in the Welsh version of Chretien de Troyes' "Erec and Enid," called "Gereint and Enid."
Black thy horse, black thy cope,
Black thy head, black thyself,
Yes, black! art thou Yscolan?
I am Yscolan the scholar,
Slight is my clouded reason,
There is no drowning the woe of him who offends a sovereign.
For having burnt a church, and destroyed the cattle of a school,
And caused a book to be submerged,
My penance is a heavy affliction.
Creator of the creatures, of supports
The greatest, pardon me my iniquity!
He who betrayed Thee, deceived me.
A full year was given me
At Bangor on the pole of a weir;
Consider thou my suffering from sea-worms.
If I knew what I now know
As plain as the wind in the top branches of waving trees,
What I did I should never have done.
WHAT man is the porter?
Glewlwyd Gavaelvawr.*1
Who is the man that asks it?
Arthur and the fair Cai.
How goes it with thee?
Truly in the best way in the world.
Into my house thou shalt not come,
Unless thou prevailest.
I forbid it.
Thou shalt see it.
If Wythnaint were to go,
The three would be unlucky
Mabon, the son of Modron,*2
The servant of Uthyr Pendragon;
Cysgaint, the son of Banon;
And Gwyn Godybrion.
Terrible were my servants
Defending their rights.
Manawydan, the son of Llyr,
Deep was his counsel.
Did not Manawyd bring
Perforated shields from Trywruid?
And Mabon, the son of Mellt,
Spotted the grass with blood?
And Anwas Adeiniog,
And Llwch Llawynnog--Guardians were they
On Eiddyn Cymminog,
A chieftain that patronised them.
He would have his will and make redress.
Cai entreated him,
While he killed every third person.
When Celli was lost,
Cuelli was found; and rejoiced
Cai, as long as he hewed down.
Arthur distributed gifts,
The blood trickled down.
In the hail of Awarnach,
Fighting with a hag,
He cleft the head of Paiach.
In the fastnesses of Dissethach,
In Mynyd Eiddyn,
He contended with Cynvyn;
By the hundred there they fell,
There they fell by the hundred,
Before the accomplished Bedwyr.
On the strands of Trywruid,
Contending with Garwlwyd,
Brave was his disposition,
With sword and shield;
Vanity were the foremost men
Compared with Cai in the battle.
The sword in the battle
Was unerring in his hand.
They were stanch commanders
Of a legion for the benefit of the country- Bedwyr and Bridlaw;
Nine hundred would to them listen;
Six hundred gasping for breath
Would be the cost of attacking them.
Servants I have had,
Better it was when they were.
Before the chiefs of Emrais
I saw Cai in haste.
Booty for chieftains
Was Gwrhir among foes;
Heavy was his vengeance,
Severe his advance.
When he drank from the horn,
He would drink with four.
To battle when he would come
By the hundred would he slaughter;
There was no day that would satisfy him.
Unmerited was the death of Cai.
Cai the fair, and Llachau,3
Battles did they sustain,
Before the pang of blue shafts.
In the heights of Ystavingon
Cai pierced nine witches.
Cai the fair went to Mona,
To devastate Llewon.
His shield was ready
Against Oath Palug
When the people welcomed him.
Who pierced the Cath Palug?
Nine score before dawn
Would fall for its food.
Nine score chieftains...
[here the manuscript breaks off]
1. Glewlwyd Gavaelvawr: "Glwelwyd Mighty-grasp" goes on to become Arthur's porter, as seen in the three romances, plus "Culhwch" and "Rhonabwy"
2. Mabon: who is the prisoner to be released from Caer Llowy (Gloucester) in "Culhwch"
3. Cai... and Llachau: In Y Seint Greal (the Welsh version of Perlesvaus: The High History of the Holy Grail), Cai kills Llachau out of envy for the younger man's prowess (moreover, Llachau was Arthur's son and presumed heir; killing him paved the way for Mordred).
The poem is a dialogue between Arthur--who seems not a king but the leader of a war band--and Glewlwyd; in fact, it parallels Culhwch's attempt to enter Arthur's court, with the listing of Arthur's warriors.
Taliesin:
A HORSEMAN resorts to the city,
With his white dogs, and large horns;
I, who have not before seen thee, know thee not.
Ugnach:
A horseman resorts to the river’s mouth,
On a stout and warlike steed;
Come with me, let me not be refused.
Taliesin:
I will not go that way at present;
Bear with the conduct of the delayer;
And may the blessing of heaven and earth come (upon thee).
Ugnach:
Thou, who hast not seen me daily,
And who resemblest a prudent man,
How long wilt thou absent thyself and when wilt thou come?
Taliesin:
When I return from Caer Seon [Jerusalem? Seon > Sion > Zion?],
From contending with Jews,
I will come to the city of Lleu and Gwydion.
Ugnach:
Come with me into the city,
Thou shalt have wine which I have set apart,
And pure gold on thy clasp.
Taliesin:
I know not the confident man,
Who owns a lire and a couch;
Fairly and sweetly dost thou speak.
Ugnach:
Come with me to my dwelling,
Thou shalt have high foaming wine.
My name is Ugnach, the son of Mydno.
Taliesin:
Ugnach a blessing on thy throne!
And mnayst thou have grace and honour!
I am Taliessin who will repay thee thy banquet.
This odd little poem presents Taliesin as joining the Crusades.