XIX.

I drank of the wine and the mead of the Mordei; Great was the quantity of spears, In the assembly of the warriors; He {110d} was solemnising a banquet for the eagle. When Cydywal {110e} hurried forth to battle, he raised The shout with the green dawn, and dealt out tribulation, {110f} And splintered shields about the ground he left, And darts of awful tearing did he hew down; In the battle, the foremost in the van he wounded. The son of Syvno, {111a} the astronomer, knew, That he who sold his life, In the face of warning, With sharpened blades would slaughter, But would himself be slain by spears and crosses. {111b} According to the compact, {111c} he meditated a convenient attack, And would boast {111d} of a pile of carcases Of gallant men of toil, Whom in the upper part of Gwynedd {111e} he pierced.