It is incumbent to sing of so much renown,
The tumult of fire, of thunder, and tempest,
The glorious gallantry of the knight of conflict. {167a}
The ruddy reapers of war are thy desire, {167b}
Thou man of toil, {167c} but the worthless thou beheadest; {167d}
The whole length of the land shall hear of thee in battle;
With thy shield upon thy shoulder, thou dost incessantly cleave
With thy blade, {167e} until blood flows {167f} like bright wine out of
glass vessels; {167g}
As the contribution {168a} for mead thou claimest gold;
Wine nourished was Gwaednerth, {168b} the son of Llywri.