e son of God, will give me the gift of song to extol my prince, who
giveth the warlike shout with joy. Christ who hath formed me of the four
elements, and hath endowed me with the deep and wonderful gift of
poetry--Llewelyn is the ruler of Britain and her armour. He is a
lion-like brave prince, unmoved in action, the son of Iorwerth, {30a} our
strength and true friend, a descendant of Owain {30b} the destroyer,
whose abilities appeared in his youth. He came to be a leader of forces,
dressed in blue, neat and handsome. In the conflicts of battle, in the
clang of arms, he was an heroic youth. When ten years old he
successfully attacked his kinsman. {30c} In Aber Conwy, ere my prince,
the brave Llewelyn, got his right, he contested with David, {30d} who was
a bloody chief, like Julius Caesar. A chief without blemish, not
insulting his foes in distress, but in war impetuous and fierce, like the
points of flaming fire burning in their rage. It is a general loss to
the Bards, that he is covered with earth. We grieve for him.--Llewelyn
was our prince ere the furious contest happened, and the spoils were
amassed with eagerness. {30e} The purple gore ran over the snow-white
breasts of the warriors, and there was an universal havoc and carnage
after the shout. The parti-coloured waves flowed over the broken spear,
and the warriors were silent. The briny wave came with force, and
another met it mixed with blood, when we went to Porth Aethwy on the
steeds of the main over the great roaring of the floods. The spear raged
with relentless fury, and the tide of blood rushed with force. Our
attack was sudden and fierce. Death displayed itself in all its horrors:
so that it was a doubt whether any of us should die of old age. Noble
troops, in the fatal hour, trampled on the dead like prancing steeds.
Before Rhodri was brought to submission, the church-yards were like
fallow grounds. When Llewelyn the successful prince overcame near the
Alun {31a} with his warriors of the bright arms, ten thousand were
killed, and the crows made a noise, and a thousand were taken prisoners.
Llewelyn, though in battle he killed with fury, though he burnt like
outrageous fire, yet he was a mild prince when the mead-horns were
distributed - - - - - - he gave generously under his waving banners to
his numerous Bards gold and silver, which he regardeth not, and Gasgony
prancing steeds, with rich trappings, and great scarlet cloaks, shining
like