the ruddy flame: warlike, strong, well-made destroying steeds, with
streams of foam issuing out of their mouths. He generously bestoweth,
like brave Arthur, snow-white steeds by hundreds, whose speed is fleeter
than birds.

Thou that feedest the fowls of the air like Caeawg {31b} the hero, the
valiant ruler of all Britain, the numerous forces of England tumble and
wallow in the field before thee. He bravely achieved above Deudraeth
Dryfan, {31c} the feats of the renowned Ogrfan. {31d} Men fall silently
in the field, and are deprived of the rites of sepulture. Thou hast
defeated two numerous armies, one on the banks of Alun of the rich soil,
where the Normans were destroyed, as the adversaries of Arthur in the
battle of Camlan. {32a} The second in Arfon, near the sea shore - - - -
- - And two ruling chiefs, flushed with success, encouraged us like
lions, and one superior to them both, a stern hero, the ravage of
battles, like a man that conquers in all places. Llewelyn with the
broken blade of the gilt sword, the waster of Lloegr, a wolf covered with
red, with his warriors about Rhuddlan. His forces carry the standard
before him waving in the air. Thou art possessed of the valour of
Cadwallon, {32b} the son of Cadfan. He is for recovering the government
of all Britain. He kindly stretched his hand to us, while his enemies
fled to the sea shore, to embark to avoid the imminent destruction, with
despair in their looks, and no place of refuge remained, and the crimson
lance whizzed dreadfully over their brows. We the Bards of Britain, whom
our prince entertaineth on the first of January, shall every one of us,
in our rank and station, enjoy mirth and jollity, and receive gold and
silver for our reward - - - - - - - Caer Lleon, {32c} the chief of Mon,
has brought thee to a low condition. Llewelyn has wasted thy land, thy
men are killed by the sea - - - - He has entirely subdued Gwyddgrug,
{33a} where the English ran away, with a precipitate flight, full of
horror and consternation. Thy fields are miserably wasted, thy cloister,
and thy neat houses, are ashes. The palace of Elsmere {33b} was with
rage and fury burnt by fire. Ye all now enjoy peace by submitting to our
prince, for wherever he goeth with his forces, whether it be hill or
dale, it is the possession of one sole proprietor. Our lion has brought
to Trallwng three armies that will never turn their backs, the residence
of our enemies ever to be abhorre