LXV.

I am not headstrong and petulant, I will not avenge myself on him who drives me on, {145c} I will not laugh in derision; This particle {145d} shall go under foot. {145e} My limbs {145f} are racked, And I am loaded, {146a} In the subterraneous house; An iron chain Passes over my two knees; Yet of the mead and of the horn, {146b} And of the host of Cattraeth, I Aneurin will sing {146c} What is known to Taliesin, Who communicates to me his thoughts, {146d} Or a strain of Gododin, Before the dawn of the bright day. {146e}