From the breath of nine maidens it was gently warmed. Is it not the cauldron of the chief of Annwvn? What is its intention?

A ridge about its edge and pearls.

It will not boil the food of a coward, that has not been

sworn,

A sword bright gleaming to him was raised,

And in the hand of Lleminawg it was left.

And before the door of the gate of Uffern the lamp was burning.

And when we went with Arthur, a splendid labour,
Except seven, none returned from Caer Vedwyd.

III. Am I not a candidate for fame with the listened song
In Caer Pedryvan, in the isle of the strong door?
The twilight and pitchy darkness were mixed together.
Bright wine their liquor before their retinue.

Thrice enough to fill Prydwen we went on the sea,
Except seven, none returned from Caer Rigor.

IV. I shall not deserve much from the ruler of literature,
Beyond Caer Wydyr they saw not the prowess of Arthur.
Three score Canhwr stood on the wall,

Difficult was a conversation with its sentinel.

Thrice enough to fill Prydwen there went with Arthur,
Except seven, none returned from Caer Golud.

v. I shall not deserve much from those with long shields. They know not what day, who the causer,

What hour in the serene day Cwy was born.

Who caused that he should not go to the dales of Devwy.
They know not the brindled ox, thick his head-band.
Seven score knobs in his collar.

And when we went with Arthur of anxious memory,

Except seven, none returned from Caer Vandwy.

VI. I shall not deserve much from those of loose bias,
They know not what day the chief was caused.
What hour in the serene day the owner was born.
What animal they keep, silver its head.
When we went with Arthur of anxious contention,
Except seven, none returned from Caer Ochren.

VII. Monks congregate like dogs in a kennel,

From contact with their superiors they acquire knowledge,
Is one the course of the wind, is one the water of the sea?
Is one the spark of the fire, of unrestrainable tumult?
Monks congregate like wolves,

From contact with their superiors they acquire knowledge.
They know not when the deep night and dawn divide.
Nor what is the course of the wind, or who agitates it,
In what place it dies away, on what land it roars.
The grave of the saint is vanishing from the altar-tomb.
I will pray to the Lord, the great supreme,

Text, vol. ii. p. 274. Notes, vol. ii. p. 441.

1. BEFORE Geraint, the enemy of oppression, I saw white horses jaded and gory,

And after the shout, a terrible resistance.

II. Before Geraint, the unflinching foe,

I saw horses jaded and gory from the battle,
And after the shout, a terrible impulsion.

III. Before Geraint, the enemy of tyranny,
I saw horses white with foam,

And after the shout, a terrible torrent.

IV. In Llongbortk I saw the rage of slaughter,

And biers beyond all number,

And red-stained men from the assault of Geraint.

v. 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.

VI. In Llongborth I saw the spurs

Of men who would not flinch from the dread of the
And the drinking of wine out of the bright glass.

VII. In Llongborth I saw the weapons

Of men, and blood fast dropping,
And after the shout, a fearful return.

VIII. In Llongborth I saw Arthur,

And brave men who hewed down with steel,
Emperor, and conductor of the toil.

IX. In Llongborth Geraint was slain,

A brave man from the region of Dyvnaint,

spears,

And before they were overpowered, they committed slaughter.

x. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, with wheat for their corn,

Ruddy ones, with the assault of spotted eagles.

XI. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long their legs, grain was given them,

Ruddy ones, with the assault of black eagles.

XII. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, restless over their grain,

Ruddy ones, with the assault of red eagles.

XIII. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, grain-scattering,

Ruddy ones, with the assault of white eagles.

XIV. 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.

xv. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers, Long-legged, satiated with grain,

Grey ones, with their manes tipped with silver.

XVI. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, well deserving of grain,

Ruddy ones, with the assault of grey eagles.

XVII. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers,
Long-legged, having corn for food,

Ruddy ones, with the assault of brown eagles.

XVIII. When Geraint was born, open were the gates of heaven, Christ granted what was asked,

Beautiful the appearance of glorious Prydain.

C.

POEMS REFERRING TO GWYDYON AP DON AND

HIS GWYDDYL AND THE BRITHWYR.

X.

DARONWY.

BOOK OF TALIESSIN X.

Text, vol. ii. p. 147. Notes, vol. ii. p. 400.

SOD preserve the heavens

From a flood wide spreading.

The first surging billow

Has rolled over the sea-beach.

What tree is greater

Than he, Daronwy?

I know not for a refuge

Around the proud circle of heaven,

That there is a mystery which is greater.

10 The light of the men of Goronwy.

Perhaps it may be known,

The magic wand of Mathonwy,
In the wood when it grows.
Fruits more profitable,
On the bank of Gwyllyonwy.

Cynan shall obtain it,

At the time when he governs.

There will come yet

Over the ebb and over the strand,

20 Four chief sovereignties,

And the fifth not worse.

Men vehement, extensive.