THE
HIRLAS
,
Translated
from
the
ancient
British
of
OWEN
CYFELIOG
,
Prince
of
Powys
.
ERE
the
sun
was
seen
on
the
brow
of
the
mountain
,
the
clanging
shields
were
heard
in
the
valley
:
our
enemies
were
apalled
at
the
sound
.
The
red
armour
of
our
warriors
glittered
till
the
noon
of
day
.
The
foe
fled
from
the
bor
ders
;
they
fell
in
the
chace
like
stones
of
hail
;
they
panted
like
hunted
wolves
.
Let
the
Hirlas
of
Rhys
overflow
like
the
waters
of
the
great
river
.
Where
the
golden
banners
declare
the
valour
of
Rhys
,
had
the
horn
of
hospitality
long
been
used
:
it
relieved
the
warriors
,
who
fainted
in
the
chace
,
and
the
traveller
whose
habitation
is
beyond
the
white
mountains
.
Bring
here
,
O
cupbearer
,
the
carved
Hirlas
of
mirth
,
which
glows
with
livid
gold
:
let
the
spark
ling
mead
slow
around
it
.
Gwgwyn
,
prince
of
my
table
,
son
of
mighty
men
,
thine
are
the
first
honours
of
the
Hirlas
;
small
is
the
gift
of
gratitude
;
great
were
thy
ser
vices
.
When
thy
ancestors
stood
in
the
fight
,
victory
stood
with
them
;
loud
were
their
voices
in
the
battle
,
as
the
hygra
of
their
charge
.
Fill
the
golden
Hirlas
of
mirth
;
attend
to
the
merits
of
the
warriors
,
lest
they
revenge
on
thee
the
disgrace
of
their
honour
.
See
Gryffydh
,
with
his
uplifted
crimson
spear
,
expects
it
;
he
is
the
bulwark
of
the
borders
:
sprung
from
Cynfyll
and
the
dragons
of
the
hill
;
his
name
shall
ever
live
in
the
songs
of
the
bards
.
As
refreshed
with
the
drink
of
mirth
,
his
atten
dants
fought
,
furious
as
the
battle
of
the
champions
of
the
valley
.
Whilst
the
tomb
of
Pendragon
shall
stand
on
the
hill
,
his
same
shall
remain
in
the
song
.
Fill
up
the
Hirlas
to
Eadnyfed
,
who
sits
like
a
god
upon
his
broken
armour
:
like
a
tempest
he
fell
upon
the
shields
of
his
foes
:
near
Gyrthyn
he
slew
an
host
.
The
distant
nations
heard
the
noise
of
the
battle
of
Maelor
;
the
sound
of
the
shields
was
heard
in
the
mountains
.
Dreadful
was
the
conflict
as
that
of
Bangor
,
when
the
warriors
were
trod
to
the
ground
.
The
princes
fled
:
Morach
beat
the
earth
with
his
feet
:
Morvran
fled
over
the
mountain
.
Fill
up
the
golden
Hirlas
.
Let
the
mead
be
borne
to
Sylliw
,
defender
of
our
coast
;
to
the
lion
of
war
,
the
son
of
Madoc
;
fierce
as
a
wolf
in
the
fight
;
soft
as
the
mossy
bed
in
peace
.
To
the
sons
of
Essyner
,
bear
it
next
:
strong
as
two
rocks
they
raged
in
the
fight
;
the
bravest
champion
falls
before
them
;
like
storms
they
pierce
the
targets
of
the
foe
,
sweeping
down
the
multitude
as
the
loud
billows
sweep
the
sand
.
Fill
up
the
badge
of
honour
.
To
Tudor
bear
the
golden
Hirlas
.
Now
to
Moreiddeg
,
who
,
with
his
brother
,
assisted
our
cause
:
valour
set
upon
their
brows
;
like
wolves
they
sought
for
blood
.
These
are
my
chiefs
.
Let
the
golden
Hirlas
go
round
to
the
seat
of
Morgan
,
whose
name
shall
be
heard
in
the
songs
of
our
children
:
the
sight
of
his
useless
sword
blasted
my
soul
.
Fill
up
the
badge
of
honour
,
the
golden
Hirlas
.
To
Gronwys
bear
it
;
astonished
I
saw
him
stand
like
a
rock
on
the
spreading
plain
of
Giveshun
;
he
sustained
the
assault
of
an
army
.
Upon
the
sandy
bank
of
the
sea
his
attendants
did
wonders
.
The
chief
of
the
foe
was
burnt
in
the
fire
of
his
rage
,
and
the
gleanings
of
the
sword
were
lost
in
the
stream
.
In
the
heat
of
the
battle
,
the
son
of
Gryffydh
burst
his
chains
;
Menrig
again
raged
in
the
war
.
When
the
sun
sat
on
the
hill
,
we
sung
the
song
of
victory
.
Fill
the
Hirlas
of
mirth
to
all
the
chiefs
of
Oweyn
,
who
are
the
wolves
of
the
mountain
.
Ma
doc
and
Meyler
are
in
soul
one
;
they
are
our
castles
.
The
warriors
of
the
hill
stood
round
their
chief
,
strong
as
the
spear
of
Uther
,
swift
in
pursuit
as
the
vapours
of
the
night
.
Fill
the
Hirlas
with
mead
.
Let
us
drink
to
the
honour
of
the
warriors
,
who
fell
in
the
war
.
Bear
it
to
Daniel
,
beauteous
as
the
verdure
of
the
forest
,
savage
as
the
prowling
wolf
.
O
cupbearer
!
great
is
thy
service
,
in
displaying
the
merits
of
the
warrior
;
if
thou
hast
not
heard
his
fame
,
his
spear
flies
to
thy
breast
,
and
his
fol
lowers
drink
thy
blood
.
Whilst
the
lamps
of
joy
are
burning
,
let
the
Hirlas
go
round
to
the
warriors
who
fought
at
Llydcomb
;
they
fought
with
the
rage
of
lions
;
the
mead
is
their
due
:
they
defended
Cwrys
.
Let
the
Hirlas
go
round
.
May
the
Ruler
of
all
send
us
liberty
and
life
.
D.
B.
Bristol
,
Jan.
3
,
1770
.