_Composed by Llywarch Brydydd y Moch_, _a Bard_, _who_, _according to Mr. Edward Llwyd of the Museum’s Catalogue of the British writers_, _flourished about the year_ 1240; _but this poem is certainly of more ancient date_, _for prince Llewelyn died in the year_ 1240. _However that be_, _the original was taken from Llyfr Coch o Hergest_, _or the Red book of Hergest_, _kept in the Archives of Jesus College_, _Oxon_. _I have no apology to make for the Bards’ method of beginning or concluding their poems_, _but that it was their general custom ever since the introduction of Christianity to this island_, _which was very early_. _We have no poems that I know of before that period_, _but some few remains of the Druids in that kind of verse called Englyn Milwr_. _It was the custom of the heathen poets themselves to begin their poems with an invocation of the Supreme Being_. _As for instance_, _Theocritus in the beginning of his Idyllium in praise of Ptolemœus Philadelphus_, Έκ Διὸς αρχώμιθα, κι εις Δία λπyετε, Μοισαι. _But I shall not here enter into a critical dissertation of their merits or defects_; _my business_, _as a translator_, _being to give as faithful a version from the original as I possibly could at this distance of time_; _when many of the matters of fact_, _the manners of the age_, _and other circumstances_, _alluded to in their poems_, _must remain obscure to those that are best versed in the records of antiquity_. May Christ, the Creator and Governor of the hosts of heaven and earth, defend me from all disasters; may I, through his assistance, be prudent and discreet ere I come to my narrow habitation in the grave. Christ, the 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 Cæsar. 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.