I could wish to have been the first to shed my blood in Cattraeth,
As the price {186a} of the mead and beverage of wine in the hall;
I could wish to have been hurt by the blade of the sword,
Ere he was slain on the green plain of Uphin. {186b}
I loved the son of renown, who sustained the bloody fight, {186c}
And made his sword descend upon the violent.
Can a tale of valour be related before Gododin,
In which the son of Ceidiaw {186d} has not his fame as a man of war?