[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 Môn, 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 Môn 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