Celtic Historic Literature by Aneirin, translation by Joseph Clancy
A shame the shield was pierced of kind-hearted Cynwal.
A shame he set his thighs on a long-legged steed.
Dark his brown spear-shaft, darker his saddle.
In his den a Saxon munches on a goat's leg: may he seldom have spoils in his purse.
It went well, Addonwy, as you vowed to me; what Bradwen did, you did: you slew, you burned.
You did no worse than Morien, you held neither far wing nor front line: Steady eye, unblinking,
You saw not the great surge of horsemen: they slaughtered, they did not spare Saxons.
Warriors rose together, well-trained, for Catraeth, a swift eager war-band.
A wave is beating, bright wayfarer, where the noblest young stags are gathered:
Not a plank of the pale can you see.
A lord's merit bows to no pressures morial permits no shame to follow,
Savage sword-blade, ready for bloodshed.
Warriors rose together, well-trained.
A strong land will be heard to follow.
He has slaughtered with shaft and with blade and with savage hooves men in battle.
verses 56, 57 & 58