The complement {107f} of the surrounding country {107g} Were, three forward chiefs of the Novantæ; {107h} Five battalions of five hundred men each; {108a} Three levies {108b} of three hundred each; Three hundred knights of battle {108c} From Eiddin, arrayed in golden armour; Three loricated hosts, With three kings wearing the golden torques; {108d} Three bold knights, With three hundred of equal quality; Three of the same order, mutually jealous, Bitterly would they chase the foe, Three dreadful in the toil; They would kill a lion flat as lead. {108e} There was in the war a collection of gold. {108f} Three sovereigns of the people Came from amongst the Brython, {109a} Cynrig and Cynon {109b} And Cynrain {109c} from Aeron, {109d} To greet {110a} the ashen lances {110b} Of the men who dropped from Deivyr. {110c} Came there from the Brython, A better man than Cynon, Who proved a serpent to his sullen foes? XIX. I drank of the wine and the mead of the Mordei; Great was the quantity of spears, In the assembly of the warriors; He {110d} was solemnising a banquet for the eagle. When Cydywal {110e} hurried forth to battle, he raised The shout with the green dawn, and dealt out tribulation, {110f} And splintered shields about the ground he left, And darts of awful tearing did he hew down; In the battle, the foremost in the van he wounded. The son of Syvno, {111a} the astronomer, knew, That he who sold his life, In the face of warning, With sharpened blades would slaughter, But would himself be slain by spears and crosses. {111b} According to the compact, {111c} he meditated a convenient attack, And would boast {111d} of a pile of carcases Of gallant men of toil, Whom in the upper part of Gwynedd {111e} he pierced. XX. I drank of the wine and the mead of the Mordei, And because I drank, I fell by the edge of a gleaming sword, {112a} Not without desiring a hero’s prowess; {112b} And when all fell, thou didst also fall. {112c} Thus when the issue comes, it were well not to have sinned. Present, in his thrusting course, showed a bold and mighty arm. {112d} XXI. The heroes who marched to Cattraeth were renowned, Wine and mead out of golden goblets was their beverage, That year was to them one of exalted solemnity, Three hundred and sixty-three chieftains, wearing the golden torques; {113a} Of those who hurried forth after the excess of revelling, But three escaped by valour from the funeral fosse, {113b} The two war-dogs {114a} of Aeron, and Cynon the dauntless, {114b} And myself, from the spilling of blood, the reward of my candid song. {114c} XXII.