LXXXII.

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?