Quoth she: "More shame Dost thou disgrace thyself with, and more blame Dost damn thyself with, thus to mix our name With this dishonor, brother, than myself!" Then, waxing wroth, cried Gwydion, "The Elf Is thine then?--Tell me, wanton! is thy son Dylan, the fisher, or this fair-haired one, This youth?--God's curse!"--and daggered her with looks. And she in turn waxed fiery, saying, "Books Of magic I have read as well as Math! And now I tell thee, keep from out my path! Thou and thy bastard, he as well as thou! Thou dog! And on thy folly, listen, now I lay a threefold curse: behold! the first-- Until I name him, nameless be he! Cursed Be they who give him arms!--the second:--nor Shall he bear arms until I arm for war. And, lastly, know, however high his birth, He shall not wed a woman of the Earth!-- Malignity! to shame me with thy sin!" Then passed into her tower and locked her in. But Gwydion, departing with the youth, Sware he would compass her; if not through truth, Through wiles and learnéd magic. And he wrought So that unbending Arianrod was brought To name the lad. Again he managed that, Though strange enchantments as of war, he gat Her to give arms. But then, not for his life, Howbeit, could he get the youth a wife. Persisting, desperate, at last the thing Wrought in him blusterous as a backward spring. Now Llew the youth was named. And Gwydion Made his complaint to Math, the mighty son Of Mathonwy. Said Math: "Despair not. We With charms, illusions, and white sorcery Will seek to make--for mine are wondrous powers-- A woman for him out of forest flowers."