XV.

When the tale shall be told of the battle of Cattraeth, The people will utter sighs; {102c} long has been their grief on account of the warriors' absence; There will be a dominion without a sovereign, {102d} and a smoking land. The sons of Godebog, an upright clan, Bore the furrower {102e} on a long bier. Miserable {103a} was the fate, though just the necessity, Decreed for Tudvwlch and Cyvwlch the Tall; {103b} Together they drank the bright mead by the light {103c} of torches, {103d} Though pleasant to the taste, it proved a lasting foe. {103e}