e}
Like a boar didst thou {172f} lead to the mount;
The wealth {172g} of the hill, and the place,
And the dark brown hawks {173a} were stained with gore. {173b}

LXX.

Quickly rising, in a moment of time, {173c}
After kindling a fire at the confluence, {173d} in front of the fence,
{173e}
After leading his men in close array,
In front of a hundred he pierces the foremost. {173f}
Sad it was that you should have made a pool of blood,
As if you but drank mead in the midst of laughter; {174a}
But it was brave of you to slay the little man, {174b}
With the fierce and impetuous stroke of the sword;
For like the unrestrained ocean {174c} had the foe {174d} put to death
A man, who would otherwise have been in rank his equal.

LXXI.

He fell headlong down the precipice, {174e}
And the bushes {174f} supported not his noble {174g} head;
It was a violation of privilege to kill him on the breach, {175a}
It was a primary law that Owain should ascend upon the course, {175b}
And extend before the onset the branch of peace, {175c}
And that he should pursue the study of meet {175d} and learned strains.
Excellent man, the assuager of tumult and battle,
Whose very grasp dreaded a sword, {175e}
And who bore in his hand an empty corslet. {175f}
O sovereign, dispense rewards
Out of his earthly shrine. {176a}

LXXII.

Eidol, with frigid blood and pale complexion,
Spreading carnage, when the maid was supreme in judgment; {176b}
Owner of horses and strong trappings,
And transparent {176c} shields,
Instantaneously makes an onset,--ascending and descending.

LXXIII.

The leader of war with eagerness {177a} conducts the battle,
Mallet of the land, {177b} he loved the mighty reapers; {177c}
Stout youth, the freshness of his form was stained with blood,
His accoutrements resounded, his chargers made a clang; {177d}
His cheeks {177e} are covered with armour,
And thus, image of death, he scatters desolation in the toil;
In the first onset his lances penetrate the targets, {177f}
And a track of surrounding light is made by the aim of the darting of his
spears.

LXXIV.

The saints {178a} exert their courage, {178b} for the destruction of thy
retreat, {178c}
And the cellar, {178d} which contained, and where was brewed {178e}
The mead, that sweet ensnarer.
With the dawn does Gwrys {178f} make the battle clash;
Fair gift, {178g}--marshal of the Lloegrian tribes; {178h}
Penance he inflicts until repentanc