Y Gododdin

Attributed to Aneirin

The following extracts are from the translation by Joseph Clancy

VIII

Men went to Catraeth, keen their war-band.
Pale mead their portion, it was poison.
Three hundred under orders to fight.
And after celebration, silence.
Though they went to churches for shriving,
True is the tale, death confronted them.

Men went to Catraeth, mead-nourished band,
Great the disgrace should I not praise them.
With huge dark-socketed crimson spears,
Stern and steadfast the battle-hounds fought.
Of Brennych's band I'd hardly bear it
Should I leave a single man alive.
A comrade I lost, faithful I was,
Keen in combat, leaving him grieves me.
No desire had he for a dowry,
Y Cian's young son, of Maen Gwyngwn.

Men went to Catraeth at dawn:
All their fears had been put to flight.
Three hundred clashed with ten thousand.
They stained their spears ruddy with blood.
He held firm, bravest in battle,
Before Mynyddawg Mwynfawr's men.

XXXI

Men launched the assault, moving as one.
Short were their lives, made drunk by pure mead,
Mynyddawg's band, renowned in battle.
For a feast of mead they gave their lives,
Caradawg and Madawg, Pyll and Ieuan,
Gwgan and Gwiawn, Gwyn and Cynfan,
Steel-weaponed Peredur, Gwawrddur and Aeddan,
A war-band steadfast in battle, shields shattered.
And though they were being slain, they slew.
Not one to his own region returned.

XLIV

For a feast, most sad, most precious,
For settled, for desolate land,
Shattered the shields in combat.
Savage the stroke of sword on head,
In England men dead from three hundred lords,
His gauntlet performed good work
Against Saxons and Irish and Picts.
Though he seized a wolf 's pelt, without weapon,
Ever brave, in his bare hand,
From the battle of wrath and ruin
He perished, Bradwen did not come back.

LVIII

Warriors rose together, formed ranks.
With a single mind they assaulted.
Short their lives, long their kinsmen long for them.
Seven times their sum of English they slew:
Their fighting turned wives into widows;
Many a mother with tear-filled eyelids.

LXI

Because of wine-feast and mead-feast they charged,
Men famed in fighting, heedless of life.
Bright ranks around cups, they joined to feast.
Wine and mead and bragget, these were theirs.
From Mynyddawg's banquet, grief-stricken my mind,
Many I lost of my true comrades.
Of three hundred champions who charged on Catraeth,
It is tragic, but one man came back.

LXIX

No cowards could bear the hall's uproar.
Before battle a battle broke out
Like a fire that rages when kindled.
On Tuesday they donned their dark armour,
On Wednesday, bitter their meeting,
On Thursday, terms were agreed on,
On Friday, dead men without number,
On Saturday, fearless, they worked as one,
On Sunday, crimson blades were their lot,
On Monday, men were seen waist-deep in blood.
After defeat, the Gododdin say,
Before Madawg's tent on his return
There came but one man in a hundred.

LXXVII

A lord of Gododdin is honoured,
A noble patron is lamented.
To Eidin, flame's force, he will not come.
He placed his picked men in the front line,
Formed a wall before battle.
With savage force he launched the assault.
Since he ate, he drank, heavy burden.
Of Mynyddawg's war-band there returned
But a single blade, bitter, dripping.

XCV

Gododdin's war-band on shaggy mounts,
Steeds the hue of swans, in full harness,
Fighting for Eidin's treasure and mead.
On Mynyddawg's orders
Shields were battered to bits,
Sword-blades descended
On pallid cheeks.
They loved combat, broad line of attack:
They bore no disgrace, men who stood firm.

CII

He thrust beyond three hundred, most bold,
He cut down the centre and far wing.
He proved worthy, leading noble men;
He gave from his herd steeds for winter.
He brought black crows to a fort's
Wall, though he was not Arthur.
He made his strength a refuge,
The front line's bulwark, Gwawrddur.