“I will praise the Sovereign, supreme Lord of the land, Who hath extended his dominion over the shore of the world. Stout was the prison of Gweir[373], in Caer Sidi, Through the spite of Pwyll and Pryderi: No one before him went into it. The heavy blue chain firmly held the youth, And before the spoils of Annwn woefully he sang, And thenceforth till doom he shall remain a bard. Thrice enough to fill Prydwen[374] we went into it; Except seven, none returned from Caer Sidi[375]. “Am I not a candidate for fame, to be heard in song In Caer Pedryvan[376], four times revolving? The first word from the cauldron, when was it spoken? By the breath of nine maidens it was gently warmed. Is it not the cauldron of the chief of Annwn? What is its fashion? A rim of pearls is round its edge. It will not cook the food of a coward or one forsworn. A sword flashing bright will be raised to him, And left in the hand of Lleminawg. And before the door of the gate of Uffern[377] the lamp was burning. When we went with Arthur—a splendid labour!— Except seven, none returned from Caer Vedwyd[378]. “Am I not a candidate for fame, to be heard in song In Caer Pedryvan, in the Isle of the Strong Door, Where twilight and pitchy darkness meet together, And bright wine is the drink of the host? Thrice enough to fill Prydwen we went on the sea. Except seven, none returned from Caer Rigor[379]. “I will not allow much praise to the leaders of literature. Beyond Caer Wydyr[380] they saw not the prowess of Arthur; Three-score hundreds stood on the walls; It was hard to converse with their watchman. Thrice enough to fill Prydwen we went with Arthur; Except seven, none returned from Caer Golud[381]. “I will not allow much praise to the spiritless. They know not on what day, or who caused it, Or in what hour of the serene day Cwy was born, Or who caused that he should not go to the dales of Devwy. They know not the brindled ox with the broad head-band, Whose yoke is seven-score handbreadths. When we went with Arthur, of mournful memory, Except seven, none returned from Caer Vandwy[382]. “I will not allow much praise to those of drooping courage. They know not on what day the chief arose, Nor in what hour of the serene day the owner was born, Nor what animal they keep, with its head of silver. When we went with Arthur, of anxious striving, Except seven, none returned from Caer Ochren[383]”.