XVII.

And now the early leader, The sun, is about to ascend, Sovereign of the revolving {105b} lights, {105c} In the heaven of Britain's isle. {105d} Direful was the flight before the shaking Of the shield of the pursuing victor; {105e} Bright {105f} was the horn In the hall of Eiddin; {105g} With pomp was he bidden {105h} To the feast of intoxicating mead; He drank the beverage of wine, At the meeting of reapers; {106a} He drank transparent wine, With a battle-daring purpose. {106b} The reapers sang of war, War with the shining wing; {106c} The minstrels sang of war, Of harnessed {106d} war, Of winged war. No shield was unexpanded {107a} In the conflict of spears; Of equal age they fell {107b} In the struggle of battle. Unshaken in the tumult, Without dishonour {107c} did he retaliate on the foe; Buried {107d} was whoever he willed, Ere the grave of the gigantic {107e} Gwrveling Itself became a green sward.