The Celtic Literature Collective

The Dialogue of Gwyddno Garanhir and Gwyn ap Nudd
The Black Book of Carmarthen XXXIII
from The Four Ancient Books of Wales

BULL of conflict was he, active in dispersing an arrayed army,
The ruler of hosts, Indisposed to anger,
Blameless and pure his conduct in protecting life.

Against a hero stout was his advance, 
The ruler of hosts, disposer of wrath.
There will be protection for thee since thou askest it.

For thou hast given me protection;
How warmly wert thou welcomed!
The hero of hosts, from what region thou comest?

I come from battle and conflict
With a shield in my hand;
Broken is the helmet by the pushing of spears.

I will address thee, exalted man, 
With his shield in distress;
Brave man, what is thy descent?

Hound-hoofed is my horse, the torment of battle, 
Whilst I am called Gwyn, the son of Nud, 
The lover of Creudilad, the daughter of Llud.

Since it is thou, Gwyn, an upright mau, 
From thee there is no concealing; 
I also am Gwydneu Garanhir.

He will not leave me in a parley with thee, 
By the bridle, as is becoming;
But will hasten away to his home on the Tawy.

It is not the nearest Tawy I speak of to thee, 
But the furthest Tawy
Eagle! I will cause the furious sea to ebb.

Polished is my ring, golden my saddle and bright
To my sadness
I saw a conflict before Caer Vandwy.

Before Caer Vandwy a host I saw, 
Shields were shattered and ribs broken
Rcnowned and splendid was he who made the assault.

Gwyn ab Nud, the hope of armies, 
Sooner would legions fall before the hoofs
Of thy horses, than broken rushes to the ground.

handsome my dog and round-bodied, 
And truly the best of dogs; 
Dormach was he, which belonged to Maelgwn.

Dormach with the ruddy nose! what a gazer
Thou art upon me! because I notice
Thy wanderings on Gwibir Vynyd.

I have been in the place where was killed Gwendoleu, 
The son of Ceidaw, the pillar of songs, 
When the ravens screamed over blood.

I have been in the place where Bran was killed, 
The son of Gweryd, of far-extending fame, 
When the ravens of the battle-field screamed.

I have been where Llachau was slain,
The son of Arthur, extolled in songs,
When the ravens screamed over blood.

I have been where Meurig was killed, 
The son of Carreian, of hdnourable fame, 
When the ravens screamed over flesh.

1 have not (?) been where Gwallawg was killed,
The son of Goholeth, the accomplished,
The resister of Lloegir, the son of Lleynawg.

I have been where the soldiers of Prydain were slain,
From the East to the North;
I am alive, they in their graves!

I have been where the soldiers of Prydain were slain,
From the East to the South
I am alive, they in death!

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