My friend in real distress, we should have been by none disturbed, Had not the white-bannered commander {115a} led forth his army; We should not {115b} have been separated in the hall from the banquet of mead, Had he not laid waste our convenient groves; {115c} He crept into the martial field, he crept into our families. {115d} The Gododin relates how that, after the fight in the fosse, When we had no dwellings, {116a} none were more destitute. {116b} XXIII. Scattered, broken, motionless is the weapon, {116c} That used to penetrate through the great horde, {116d} the numerous {117a} horde of the Lloegrians. {117b} Shields were strewn on the sea coast, {117c} shields in the battle of lances; Men were reduced to ashes, {117d} And women rendered widows, Before his death. {117e} O Graid, son of Hoewgi, {117f} With thy spears Didst thou cause an effusion of blood. XXIV. There was the hero, with both his shoulders covered, {118a} By a variegated shield, and possessing the swiftness of a warlike steed; There was a noise in the mount of slaughter, {118b} there was fire, {118c} Impetuous were the lances, there was a sunny gleam, {118d} There was food for ravens, the raven there did triumph, {118e} And before he would let them go free, With the morning dew, like the eagle in his glad course, He scattered them on either side, and like a billow overwhelmed them in front. The Bards of the world judge those to be men of valour, Whose counsels are not divulged to slaves. {119a} The spears in the hands of the warriors were causing devastation; And ere was interred under {119b} the swan-white steed, {119c} One who had been energetic in his commands, His gore had thoroughly washed his armour: {119d} Such was Buddvan, {119e} the son of Bleiddvan the Bold. XXV. It were wrong not to record his magnificent feat; He would not leave an open gap, through cowardice; {120a} The benefit of Britain’s minstrels never quitted his court Upon the calends of January; {120b} according to his design, {120c} His land should not be ploughed, though it might become wild; He was a mighty dragon of indignant disposition; A commander in the bloody field, {120d} after the feast of wine, Was Gwenabwy {121a} the son of Gwên, {121b} in the strife of Cattraeth. XXVI. True it was, as the songs relate, {121c} No one’s steeds {121d} overtook Marchleu; The lances {121e} hurled by the commanding earl, In his prancing career, {121f} strewed a thick path; As he had been reared for slaughter by the aid of my mother, {121g} Furious was the stroke of his sword whilst lending support to others; {121h} Ashen shafts were scattered from the grasp of his hand, {122a} Above the narrow summit {122b} of the solemn pile, {122c} The place where one caused the smoke to ascend; {122d} He would slaughter with the blade, whilst his arms were full of furze; {122e} As when a reaping comes in the interval of fine weather, {122f} Would Marchleu {123a} make the blood to flow. XXVII.