The Gododdin Page 2
So, as the last poem in my sequence, I offer my version of ‘Dinogad’s Coat’, a song to a child. It sings a fitting song, in my opinion, in the spirit of praise for the brave of the one hundred preceding verses, but composed in the deathly hush that follows a terrible war, like a robin singing in the silence on the Somme. After ‘the pain of grief and endless mourning’, as described in the elegy for Gwaednerth, it leaves a quiet, cathartic moment.
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to those academics who rescued the text of Y Gododdin from fourteen centuries of silence: to Professor Kenneth Jackson, Professor O. A. H. Jarman, Daniel Huws and many others. They gave me the ambition to make a version of Y Gododdin in English, to bring Aneirin’s great poem to wider attention.
My heartfelt thanks go to all those who supported the idea, most especially Carol Ann Duffy. She urged me to get on with it, and was instrumental in leading me to Matthew Hollis, Faber poetry editor, who took the project on. For that, and for all her friendship since, warm gratitude is due. I owe special thanks to Matthew for being a stern and sensitive editor, scrutinising every line. His communications were poetry lessons from a fellow poet. Warm thanks are also due to my friend Menna Elfyn, for reading the final script and for her approval, and to Lavinia Singer at Faber, for taking The Gododdin through to publication. Most of all, loving thanks to David, my husband, for reading so many versions and for putting up with my working fanatically on the texts, especially on our holiday with eight friends at the Villa Sant’Antonio in Tivoli, where I worked in the loggia or the garden while they all went sightseeing. Finally, thanks to Horace, the Roman poet associated with the villa, my Muse as I scribed beneath his olive trees.
THE GODODDIN
1
Gododdin, gofynnaf o’th blegyd
Yng ngŵydd cant yn arial yn emwyd:
A gwarchan mab Dwywai, dda wryd,
Poed gno yn un tyno treisyd.
Nid oedd wan wael rhag tân feithin,
O lychwr i lychwr lluch bîn,
Lluch ddôr i borffor bererin.
Er pan waned maws, mur trin,
Er pan aeth daear ar Aneirin,
Nw neud ysgarad nâd â Gododdin.
Singer’s Prologue
1
Gododdin, I sing your epitaph,
in the hall before the hearth,
here before the gathered throng
where our soldier-poet sang,
firewood burning dusk to dawn,
the portal lit for a passing pilgrim.
Now our gentle bard is lost,
our poet, Dwyfai’s elegist.
When earth covered him, Aneirin,
poetry departed from Gododdin.
2
Greddf gŵr, oed gwas,
Gwryd amddias;
Meirch mwth myngfras
O dan forddwyd mygrwas;
Ysgwyd ysgafn lydan
Ar bedrain main fuan;
Cleddyfawr glas glân,
Eddi aur affan.
Ni bu ef a fi
Cas y rhof a thi:
Gwell gwneif â thi
Ar wawd dy foli.
Cynt i waedlawr
Nogyd i neithiawr,
Cynt i fwyd brain
Nog i argyfrain,
Cu gyfaill Ywain,
Cŵl ei fod o dan fain.
Marth im pa fro
Lladd un mab Marro.
Owain
2
A boy with a man’s heart,
on fire for the front, restless for war,
lush-maned, fleet-hoofed stallion
between young thighs, shield
laid on the horse’s flank,
his sword a blue-bright blade,
his armour burnished gold.
As the singer of this song I lay
no blame but only praise for him
sooner gone to the battlefield
than to his marriage-bed;
sooner carrion for the crow,
sooner flesh to feed the raven.
I mourn him, laid in his grave.
Dear friend, Owain. Marro’s
only son. Slain.
3
Caeog, cynhorog men ydd elai,
Diffun ymlaen bun, medd a dalai;
Twll tâl ei rodawr yn y clywai awr,
Ni roddai nawdd maint dilynai.
Ni chiliai o gamawn oni ferai waed,
Mal brwyn gomynai gwŷr ni dechai.
Neus adrawdd Gododdin ar llawr mordai,
Rhag pebyll Madog pan atgoriai
Namyn un gŵr o gant ni ddelai.
Madog
3
Flaunting a brooch wherever he rode,
tongue-tied with a girl – yet he earned his mead.
His shield clattered at the battle-cry.
He gave no quarter to the enemy,
steadfast until blood flowed,
scythed as rushes in a field
defiant foes who held their ground.
At court, men of Gododdin warned
Madog, returning to his tent,
but one in a hundred would come home.
4
Caeog, cynifiad, cywlad rwyd,
Rhuthr eryr yn ebyr pan llithiwyd.
Ei amod a fu nod a gadwyd,
Gwell gwnaeth ei arfaeth, ni giliwyd.
Rhag byddin Ododdin odechwyd,
Hydr gymell ar freithell Fanawyd,
Ni noddi nac ysgedd nac ysgwyd.
Ni ellid, onid ryfaethpwyd,
Rhag ergyd Cadfannan cadwyd.
Cadfannan
4
Flaunting a brooch, snare of the enemy,
fish-eagle of the estuary,
purposeful, steady,
a promise kept.
The land of Manawyd within sight,
Gododdin put the foe to flight,
Armour and shield could not save them.
None but the nourished fought Cadfannan.
5
Caeog, cynhorog, blaidd ym maran,
Gwefrawr goddiwawdd torchawr am ran.
Bu Gwefrfawr gwerthfawr gwerth gwin o fan,
Ef gwrthodes gwrŷs, gwyar odd is gran,
Cyd dyffai Wynedd a Gogledd ran,
O gusyl mab Ysgyrran
Ysgwydawr anghyfan.
Gwefrfawr
5
Flaunting a brooch, wolf-wild,
in torque and amber beads,
Gwefrfawr, mead-empowered,
repelled the foe, led his men on,
his face bloody and blade-torn,
till, rallied by Ysgyrran’s son,
aid came from Gwynedd and the North,
but shields were broken still.
6
Caeog, cynhorog, arfog yng ngawr,
Cyn no’i ddiwedd gŵr gwrdd yng ngwriawr,
Cynran yn rhagwan rhag byddinawr,
Cwyddai pum pymwnt rhag ei lafnawr.
O wŷr Deifr a Brynaich dychïawr
Ugain cant yn nifant yn un awr.
Cynt i gig blaidd nogyd i neithiawr,
Cynt i fudd brân nogyd i allawr,
Cyn no’i argyfrain ei waed i lawr.
Gwerth medd yng nghyntedd gan lliwedawr
Hyfaidd Hir edmygir tra fo cerddawr.
Hyfaidd Hir
6
Flaunting a brooch, he rode ahead,
warrior, princely leader,
killed five times fifty with his sword.
Two thousand of Deifr and Brynaich’s men
died in an hour in mire and mud and blood.
Sooner meat for the wolf than to his wedding.
Sooner carrion for the crow than priest-blessing.
Before his burial, the field lay bleeding.
In the hall where mead flowed free
the poet will praise Hyfaidd Hir.
7
Gwŷr a aeth Ododdin, chwerthin ognaw,
Chwerw yn nhrin, â lläin yn ymddulliaw,
Byr flynedd yn hedd ydd ŷnt yn daw.
Mab Bodgad,
gwnaeth gwyniaith gwraith ei law.
Cyd elwynt lannau i benydiaw,
A hen a ieuainc a hydr a llaw,
Dadl ddiau angau i eu treiddaw.
Son of Bogdad
7
Men rode to Gododdin, a boisterous band
racing to war, their spears held high.
In peace they’d partied for a year,
till Bodgad’s son wrought vengeance.
Though they knelt in church in penance,
the old, the young, the powerful, the penniless,
in death they died defenceless.
8
Gwŷr a aeth Ododdin, chwerthin wanar,
Disgyniaid ym myddin, trin ddiachar,
Wy lleddynt â llafnawr heb fawr drydar.
Colofn glyw, Rheithfyw rhoddi arwar.
9
Gwŷr a aeth Gatraeth, oedd ffraeth eu llu,
Glasfedd eu hancwyn a gwenwyn fu,
Trychant trwy beiriant yn catáu,
A gwedi elwch tawelwch fu.
Cyd elwynt lannau i benydu,
Dadl ddiau angau i eu treiddu.
Rheithfyw
8
Men rode to Gododdin, a rowdy troop,
band of brothers, a carousing crew,
their prop, the kindly Rheithfyw.
Their blades brought silence.
9
Men rode to Catraeth, debonair,
their snare, the honey-trap, gold mead.
Three hundred men called up to war –
and after joy, the hush of death.
Though they went to church for pardon
just three survived, for their sins.
10
Gwŷr a aeth Gatraeth, feddfaeth feddwn,
Ffyrf, ffrwythlon, oedd cam nas cymhwyllwn.
I am lafnawr coch, gorfawr gwrmwn,
Dwys, dengyn, ydd ymleddyn aergwn.
Ar deulu Brynaich, baich barnaswn,
Eiliw dyn yn fyw nis adawswn.
Cyfaill a gollais, difflais oeddwn,
Rhugl yn ymwrthryn, rhyn ryadwn.
Ni mynnws gwrol gwaddol chwegrwn,
Maban i Gian o Faen Gwyngwn.
11
Gwŷr a aeth Gatraeth gan wawr
Trafodynt eu hedd eu hofnawr,
Milcant a thrychant a ymdaflawdd.
Gwyarllyd gwynoddyd waywawr,
Ef gorsaf wriaf yng ngwriawr,
Rhag gosgordd Mynyddog Mwynfawr.
12
Gwŷr a aeth Gatraeth gan wawr,
Dygymyrrws eu hoed eu hanianawr,
Medd yfynt melyn melys maglawr,
Blwyddyn bu llewyn llawer cerddawr.
Coch eu cleddyfawr, na phurawr
Eu lläin; gwyn calch a phedryollt pennawr
Rhag gosgordd Mynyddog Mwynfawr.
Son of Cian of Maen Gwyngwn
10
Men rode to Catraeth, fearless,
crazed with mead. I sing their praise.
War-dogs battling in grim rows
with bloody blue-blade spears.
Of Brynaich’s tribe – O my heart breaks –
not one man left alive, I grieve
for my lost friend, faithful, beloved,
fired-up for war – now I must live
without him who died too young,
Cian of Maen Gwyngwn’s son.
11
Men rode to Catraeth at first light,
fired up and fearless for the fight,
a hundred thousand, at three hundred
many times outnumbered.
Spears drew blood, and fiercest in the war,
before Mynyddog Mwynfawr.
12
Men rode to Catraeth at sunrise.
Hot hearts cost them their lives,
drunk on mead – the sweet gold snare –
and minstrel music for a year,
limed shields, gored swords and spears
before the men of Mynyddog Mwynfawr.
13
Gŵr a aeth Gatraeth gan ddydd,
Neus goreu o gadau gywilydd.
Wy gwnaethant yn geugant gelorwydd
llafnawr llawn annawdd ym medydd.
Goreu hwn cyn cystlwn cerennydd
Ennaint crau ac angau o’i hennydd.
Rhag byddin Ododdin pan fuddydd
Neus goreu dewr bwylliad Neirthiad gwychydd.
Neirthiad
13
A man rode to Catraeth at break of day.
He put to shame the craven way –
bearing a body-bag, a bier,
the faint heart’s cringe to fear.
No appeaser, steel-willed
before Gododdin’s army,
he gave nothing to the enemy,
stubborn, splendid Neirthiad.
14
Gŵr a aeth Gatraeth gan ddydd,
Neu llewes ef feddgwyn feinoethydd;
Bu truan, gyfatgan gyfluydd,
Ei neges, ordrachwres drenghidydd.
Ni chrysiws Gatraeth
Mawr mor ehelaeth
Ei arfaeth odd uch medd;
Ni bu mor gyfor
O Eidyn ysgor
A ysgarai oswydd.
Tudfwlch Hir ech ei dir a’i drefydd
Ef lladdai Saeson seithfed dydd.
Perheyd ei wryd yn wrfydd
A’i gofain gan ei gain gyweithydd.
Pan ddyfu Dudfwlch, dud nerthydd,
Oedd gwaedlan gwyalfan, fab Cilydd.
Tudfwlch Hir
14
A man rode to Catraeth at first light,
a-buzz from boozing through the night,
but loud and long the lamentation
when the serpent struck.
None marched to Catraeth
so passionate,
so fired by mead,
none raced so fast
from Eidyn’s fortress
to rout the foe.
Tudfwlch Hir left house and land,
for seven long days fought the Saxon
with his own hand.
His courage lives in his people’s mind.
Tudfwlch, son of Cilydd,
the heart of his tribe.
Where he fought fields
flowed with blood and clabber.
15
Gŵr a aeth Gatraeth gan wawr,
Yn ei fuddyn ysgorfa ysgwydawr.
Crai cyrchynt, cynullynt reïawr,
Yn gynnan mal taran twrf aesawr.
Gŵr gorfynt, gŵr edfynt, gŵr llawr,
Ef rhwygai a chethrai â chethrawr,
Odd uch lledd lladdai â llafnawr,
Yng nghystudd heyrn dur, ar bennawr.
Ym mordai ystyngai adleddawr,
Rhag Erthgi erthychi fyddinawr.
Erthgi
15
A man rode to Catraeth with the dawn
buttressed by a wall of men.
Brutal in attack and plunder,
thundering shield on shield.
Proud, wise, a champion,
though all was spear-ripped and torn.
On the field of blood his blade
slashed, sword on sword.
At court the quiet one,
yet before Erthgi armies groan.
16
O freithell Gatraeth pan adroddir,
Maon dychiorant, eu hoed bu hir.
Edyrn diedyrn amygyn dir
meibion Godebog, gwerin enwir.
Dyfforthynt lynwysawr gelorawr hir.
Bu tru o dynghedfen, angen gywir,
A dyngwyd i Dudfwlch a Chyfwlch Hir.
Cyd yfem fedd gloyw wrth leu babir,
Cyd fai da ei flas, ei gas bu hir.
Tudfwlch and Cyfwlch Hir
16
Of Catraeth field it’s said
whole armies fell in deep despair,
against Godebog’s men,
the land laid bare.
The wounded borne away by bier,
hard fate met Tudfwlch and Cyfwlch Hir.
The mead was sweet by candleligh
t,
but bitter its aftertaste.
17
Blaen ech Eidyn gaer glaer ewygai
Gwŷr gweirydd gwanar a’i dilynai.
Blaen ar ei bluddwe dywallofai
Fual yn ei fwynfawr fordai.
Blaen, gwirod fragod a’i dybyddai,
Blaen, aur a phorffor cainasmygai,
Blaen, eddystrawr pasg a’i gwaredai
Wrth lef agerw, bryd a’u derllyddai.
Blaen arwyre gawr, buddfawr drai,