_To Llewelyn-ap-Iorwerth_, _or Llewelyn the Great_; _in which many of his
victories are celebrated_.
_Composed by Llywarch Brydydd y Moch_, _a Bard_, _who_, _according to Mr.
Edward Llwyd of the Museum's Catalogue of the British writers_,
_flourished about the year_ 1240; _but this poem is certainly of more
ancient date_, _for prince Llewelyn died in the year_ 1240. _However
that be_, _the original was taken from Llyfr Coch o Hergest_, _or the Red
book of Hergest_, _kept in the Archives of Jesus College_, _Oxon_. _I
have no apology to make for the Bards' method of beginning or concluding
their poems_, _but that it was their general custom ever since the
introduction of Christianity to this island_, _which was very early_.
_We have no poems that I know of before that period_, _but some few
remains of the Druids in that kind of verse called Englyn Milwr_. _It
was the custom of the heathen poets themselves to begin their poems with
an invocation of the Supreme Being_. _As for instance_, _Theocritus in
the beginning of his Idyllium in praise of Ptolemoeus Philadelphus_,
[Greek text].
_But I shall not here enter into a critical dissertation of their merits
or defects_; _my business_, _as a translator_, _being to give as faithful
a version from the original as I possibly could at this distance of
time_; _when many of the matters of fact_, _the manners of the age_, _and
other circumstances_, _alluded to in their poems_, _must remain obscure
to those that are best versed in the records of antiquity_.
May Christ, the Creator and Governor of the hosts of heaven and earth,
defend me from all disasters; may I, through his assistance, be prudent
and discreet ere I come to my narrow habitation in the grave. Christ,
the son of God, will give me the gift of song to extol my prince, who
giveth the warlike shout with joy. Christ who hath formed me of the four
elements, and hath endowed me with the deep and wonderful gift of
poetry--Llewelyn is the ruler of Britain and her armour. He is a
lion-like brave prince, unmoved in action, the son of Iorwerth, {30a} our
strength and true friend, a descendant of Owain {30b} the destroyer,
whose abilities appeared in his youth. He came to be a leader of forces,
dressed in blue, neat and handsome. In the conflicts of battle, in the
clang of arms, he was an heroic youth. When ten years old he
successfully attacked his kinsman. {30c} In Aber Conwy, ere my prince,
the brave Llewelyn, got his right, he contested with David, {30d} who was
a bloody chief, like Julius Caesar. A chief without blemish, not
insulting his foes in distress, but in war impetuous and fierce, like the
points of flaming fire burning in their rage. It is a general loss to
the Bards, that he is covered with earth. We grieve for him.--Llewelyn
was our prince ere the furious contest happened, and the spoils were
amassed with eagerness. {30e} The purple gore ran over the snow-white
breasts of the warriors, and there was an universal havoc and carnage
after the shout. The parti-coloured waves flowed over the broken spear,
and the warriors were silent. The briny wave came with force, and
another met it mixed with blood, when we went to Porth Aethwy on the
steeds of the main over the great roaring of the floods. The spear raged
with relentless fury, and the tide of blood rushed with force. Our
attack was sudden and fierce. Death displayed itself in all its horrors:
so that it was a doubt whether any of us should die of old age. Noble
troops, in the fatal hour, trampled on the dead like prancing steeds.
Before Rhodri was brought to submission, the church-yards were like
fallow grounds. When Llewelyn the successful prince overcame near the
Alun {31a} with his warriors of the bright arms, ten thousand were
killed, and the crows made a noise, and a thousand were taken prisoners.
Llewelyn, though in battle he killed with fury, though he burnt like
outrageous fire, yet he was a mild prince when the mead-horns were
distributed - - - - - - he gave generously under his waving banners to
his numerous Bards gold and silver, which he regardeth not, and Gasgony
prancing steeds, with rich trappings, and great scarlet cloaks, shining
like the ruddy flame: warlike, strong, well-made destroying steeds, with
streams of foam issuing out of their mouths. He generously bestoweth,
like brave Arthur, snow-white steeds by hundreds, whose speed is fleeter
than birds.
Thou that feedest the fowls of the air like Caeawg {31b} the hero, the
valiant ruler of all Britain, the numerous forces of England tumble and
wallow in the field before thee. He bravely achieved above Deudraeth
Dryfan, {31c} the feats of the renowned Ogrfan. {31d} Men fall silently
in the field, and are deprived of the rites of sepulture. Thou hast
defeated two numerous armies, one on the banks of Alun of the rich soil,
where the Normans were destroyed, as the adversaries of Arthur in the
battle of Camlan. {32a} The second in Arfon, near the sea shore - - - -
- - And two ruling chiefs, flushed with success, encouraged us like
lions, and one superior to them both, a stern hero, the ravage of
battles, like a man that conquers in all places. Llewelyn with the
broken blade of the gilt sword, the waster of Lloegr, a wolf covered with
red, with his warriors about Rhuddlan. His forces carry the standard
before him waving in the air. Thou art possessed of the valour of
Cadwallon, {32b} the son of Cadfan. He is for recovering the government
of all Britain. He kindly stretched his hand to us, while his enemies
fled to the sea shore, to embark to avoid the imminent destruction, with
despair in their looks, and no place of refuge remained, and the crimson
lance whizzed dreadfully over their brows. We the Bards of Britain, whom
our prince entertaineth on the first of January, shall every one of us,
in our rank and station, enjoy mirth and jollity, and receive gold and
silver for our reward - - - - - - - Caer Lleon, {32c} the chief of Mon,
has brought thee to a low condition. Llewelyn has wasted thy land, thy
men are killed by the sea - - - - He has entirely subdued Gwyddgrug,
{33a} where the English ran away, with a precipitate flight, full of
horror and consternation. Thy fields are miserably wasted, thy cloister,
and thy neat houses, are ashes. The palace of Elsmere {33b} was with
rage and fury burnt by fire. Ye all now enjoy peace by submitting to our
prince, for wherever he goeth with his forces, whether it be hill or
dale, it is the possession of one sole proprietor. Our lion has brought
to Trallwng three armies that will never turn their backs, the residence
of our enemies ever to be abhorred. The numerous Bards receive divers
favours from him. He took Gwyddgrug. See you who succeeds in Mochnant
{33c} when he victoriously marches through your country. On its borders
the enemy were routed, and the Argoedwys {33d} were furiously attacked,
and covered with blood. We have two palaces now in our possession. Let
Powys {33e} see who is the valiant king of her people, whether it argueth
prudence to act treacherously. Whether a Norman chief be preferable to a
conquering Cymro. We have a prince, consider it, who, though silent
about his own merit, putteth Lloegr to flight, and is fully bent to
conquer the land that was formerly in the possession of Cadwallon, the
son of Cadfan, the son of Iago - - - - - A noble lion, the governor of
Britain, and her defence, Llewelyn, numerous are thy battles, thou brave
prince of the mighty, that puttest the enemy to flight. Mayest thou my
friend and benefactor overcome in every hardship. He is a prince with
terrible looks who will conquer in foreign countries, as well as in Mon
the mother of all Wales. His army has made its way broad thro' the
ocean, and filled the hills, promontories, and dales. The blood flowed
about their feet when the maimed warriors fought. In the battle of Coed
Aneu, {34a} thou supporter of Bards, didst overthrow thy enemies. The
other hard battle was fought at Dygen Ddyfnant, {34b} where thousands
behaved themselves with manly valour. The next contest, where noble
feats were achieved, was on the hill of Bryn yr Erw, {34c} where they saw
thee like a lion foremost in piercing thy enemies, like a strong eagle, a
safeguard to thy people. Upon this account they will no longer dispute
with thee. They vanish before thee like the ghosts of Celyddon. {34d}
Thou hast taken Gwyddgrug and Dyfnant by force, and Rhuddlan with its red
borders, and thousands of thy men overthrew Dinbych, {34e} Foelas, {34f}
and Gronant; {34g} and the men of Carnarvon, thy friends, were busy in
action, and Dinas Emreis {34h} strove bravely in thy cause, and they
vanquished with the renowned Morgant {34i} at their head all that stood
before them. Thy pledges know not where to turn their faces, they cannot
enjoy mirth or rest. Thou wert honourably covered with blood, and thy
wound is a glory to thee. When thou didst resist manfully the attack of
the enemy, thou wert honoured by thy sword, with thy buckler on thy
shoulders. Thou didst bravely lead thy forces, the astonishment of
Lloegr, to the borders of Mechain {35a} and Mochnant. Happy was the
mother who bore thee, who art wise and noble, and freely distributest
rich suits of garments, thy gold and silver. And thy Bards celebrate
thee for presenting them thy bred steeds, when they sit at thy tables.
And I myself am rewarded for my gift of poetry, with gold and
distinguished respect. And should I desire of my prince the moon as a
present, he would certainly bestow it on me. Thy praise reacheth as far
as Lliwelydd, {35b} and Llywarch is the man who celebrates with his songs
- - - - - - My praises are not extravagant to thee the prodigy of our
age, thou art a prince firm in battle like an elephant. When thou
arrivest at the period of thy glory, when thy praises cease to be
celebrated by the Bard and the harp, my brave prince, ere thou comest,
before thy last hour approaches, to confess thy sins, after thou hast
through thy prowess vanquished thy enemies, mayest thou at last become a
glorious saint.