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 Godebog, 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}