Celtic Historic Literature by Aneirin, translation by Joseph Clancy
Unstemmed the tide's flow to each shore: to Hafal, the same profusion.
Rent his buckler's front, impulsive, angry, Rhywoniawg's guardian.
Once more were seen on Aled's banks war-horses with bloody harness.
Let them be steadfast, let their gifts be great,
Savage fighters when they are roused.
Stern in strife, he'd slash with his sword: sharp tokens of war
a hundred would bear.
He'd shape song for New Year's; there go up to the flawless lad,
There go up to the haughty boar, like a girl, maiden and monarch.
And since he was son of a true king, Gwynedd's lord,
Cilydd Gwaredawg's blood, before earth covered his cheek,
Bountiful, prudent, fearless, quick with present and praise.
A grave has Garthwys Hir of Rhywoniawg.
Sorrow comes upon me, unsought-for, never will there come a heavier:
Never was nourished at court a braver than he, nor one firmer in battle.
And at Rhyd Benclwyd his steeds were foremost, far-reaching his fame, riddled his shield.
And before Gwair Hir was beneath the grass, he earned mead-horns, sole son of Fferfarch.
Three hundred golden-torqued men attacked: contending for the land was cruel.
Although they were being slain, they slew; till the world ends, they will be honoured.
Of the comrades who went together, tragic, but a single man returned.
verses 87, 88, 89 & 90