No hall was ever made so faultless; Nor was there a lion so generous, a majestic lion on the path, so kind {158a} As Cynon of the gentle breast, the most comely lord. The fame {158b} of the city extends to the remotest parts; It was the staying {158c} shelter of the army, the benefit of flowing melody. {158d} Of those whom I have seen, or shall hereafter see On earth, engaged in arms, the battle cry, and war, {159a} the most heroic was he, Who slew the mounted ravagers with the keenest blade; Like rushes did they fall before his hand. O son of Clydno, {159b} of lasting {159c} fame! I will sing to thee A song of praise, without beginning, {159d} without end. LVIII. After the feast of wine and the banquet of mead, Enriched with the first fruits of slaughter, The mother of Spoliation, {159e} Was the energetic Eidol; {159f} He honoured the mount of the van, {160a} In the presence of Victory. The hovering ravens, Ascend in the sky; {160b} The foremost spearmen around him thicken, {160c} Like a crop of green barley, {160d} Without the semblance of a retreat. Warriors in wonder shake their javelins, With pouting and pallid lips, Caused by the keenness of the destructive sword; From the front of the banquet, deprived of sleep They vigorously spring forth, {161a} upon the awaking Of the mother {161b} of the Lance, the leader of the din. LIX. From the feast of wine and the banquet of mead, they marched To the strife of mail-clad warriors; {161c} I know no tale of slaughter which records So complete a destruction. Before Cattraeth loquacious was the host; But of the retinue of Mynyddawg, greatly to be deplored, {162a} Out of three hundred {162b} men, only one returned. LX. From the feast of wine and the banquet of mead, with speed they marched, Men renowned in difficulty, prodigal of their lives; In fairest order {162c} round the viands they together feasted; Wine and mead and tribute {162d} they enjoyed. From the retinue of Mynyddawg ruin has come to me; {163a} And I have lost my general {163b} and {163c} my true friends. Of the regal army of three hundred men that hastened to Cattraeth, Alas! none have returned, save one alone. LXI. Impetuous as a ball, {163d} in the combat of spears, was Present, And on his horse would he be found, when not at home; Yet illusive {163e} was the aid which he brought against Gododin; For though apart from the wine and mead he was unrestrained, He perished {164a} on the course; And red stained warriors ride {164b} The steeds of the knight, who had been in the morning bold. LXII.