when there is not much chattering;
Thou, powerful supporter of the living law, producest the silence of
death. {92d}

VIII.

The heroes marched to Cattraeth, loquacious was the host;
Blue {93a} mead was their liquor, and it proved their poison; {93b}
In marshalled array they cut through the engines of war; {93c}
And after the joyful cry, silence {93d} ensued!
They should have gone to churches to perform penance;
The inevitable strife of death was about to pierce them.

IX.

The heroes marched to Cattraeth, filled with mead and drunk,
Compact and vigorous; {94a} I should wrong them were I to neglect their
fame;
Around the mighty, red, and murky blades,
Obstinately and fiercely the dogs of war {94b} would fight;
If I had judged you to be of the tribe of Bryneich, {94c}
Not the phantom of a man would I have left alive. {94d}
I lost a friend, myself being unhurt,
As he openly withstood the terror of the parental chief;
Magnanimously did he refuse the dowry of his father-in-law; {94e}
Such was the son of Cian {95a} from the stone of Gwyngwn.

X.

The heroes marched to Cattraeth with the dawn;
Their peace was disturbed by those who feared them;
A hundred thousand with three hundred {95b} engaged in mutual overthrow;
Drenched in gore, they marked the fall of the lances; {96a}
The post of war {96b} was most manfully and with gallantry maintained,
Before the retinue of Mynyddawg the Courteous. {96c}

XI.

The heroes marched to Cattraeth with the dawn;
Feelingly did their relatives {96d} regret their absence;
Mead they drank, yellow, sweet, ensnaring;
That year is the point to which many {96e} a minstrel turns;
Redder were their swords than their plumes, {97a}
Their blades were white as lime, {97b} and into four parts were their
helmets cloven, {97c}
Even those of {97d} the retinue of Mynyddawg the Courteous.

XII.

The heroes marched to Cattraeth with the day;
Was not the most celebrated of battles disgraced? {97e}
They put to death {98a} Gelorwydd
With blades. The gem of Baptism {98b}was thus widely taunted;--
"Better that you should, ere you join your kindred,
Have a gory unction {98c} and death far from your native homes,
At the hand of the host of Gododin, when the day arrives."
Is not a hero's power best when tempered with discretion?

XIII.

The hero {98d} marched to Cattraeth with the day;
Truly {99a} he quaffed the white mead on serene nights; {99b}
Miserable,