Celtic Historic Literature by Aneirin, translation by Joseph Clancy
I loved his front-line charge against Catraeth in return for mead and wine at court.
I loved his lack of scorn for a blade before he was slain for his green Uffin.
I loved, further praise, his bearing bloodshed.
He lay down his sword at the wood's edge.
Gwrlydr said before the Gododdin that Ceidiaw's son excelled in battle.
Wretched am I, my strength worn away, bearing the pain of death in anguish,
And more, the heavy grief of seeing our warriors falling head over heels.
And long the moaning and the mourning for the countryside's stalwart soldiers,
Rhufawn and Gwgawn, Gwiawn and Gwlyged, at the hardest posts, staunch under stress.
May their souls be, after the battle, welcomed to heaven's land of plenty.
He drove the press back over flowing blood.
He slew like a hero ranks that stood firm.
Quick toss of the hand, he tossed off a glass of mead, before monarchs tossed armies.
He sought battle where many remained silent: though hard-pressed, he did not yield
Before the rush of axes and sharp-edged swords.
verses 81, 82 & 83