LXXXVII.

Geraint, {191f} from the South, did raise a shout, And on the white water {192a} was his buckler pierced. {192b} Lord of the spear, a gentle lord! The praise of mountain and sea Will he render our youth, even thou, Geraint, wilt render them, Who hast been a generous commander.

LXXXVIII.

Instantaneously is his fame wafted on high; His anchors {192c} from the scene of action {192d} cannot be restrained. Unflinching eagle {192e} of the forward heroes, He bore the toil, and brilliant was his zeal; The fleetest coursers he outstripped in war, But was quite a lamb {193a} when the wine from the goblet flowed. Ere he reached the grassy tomb, and his cheeks became pale in death, {193b} He presided over the banquet of mead, and honoured it with the generous horn. {193c}