The Goose–shed

	The other night —

	that girl was splendid, alas for my journey —

	as I'd just reached the shining court

4	where the discreet, wise maiden lived:

	'Have you been yearning long?

	You're a patient, loving man.'

	'My treasure, you know full well that it's been too long,

8	why wouldn't it be so?'

	Then I heard a most valiant man

	leaping stag–like with a lion's eyes,

	pursuing me in fierce assault,

12	cruel and filled with anger,

	impelled by fury for his radiant wife,

	a brave, strong man, by God and the holy relic!

	I managed to flee from his grasp,

16	it was a terrifying dream that befell the pale–faced lad:

	'You'll hardly wear a spur of steel,

	stay and face up to me tonight.

	Poor weapons for valiant combat

20	are the cywyddau that you have.'

	I made for a room, an empty chamber,

	which was a shack for the geese.

	From my room I proclaimed:

24	'Against anxiety there was never a better lair.'

	An old flat–billed mother–goose got up,

	whose feathers sheltered her young;

	that foster–mother's revenge

28	was to unfurl her mantles all around me,

	and the persistent grey goose assaulted me,

	destroying me and hurling me under her;

	she was the kinswoman (I was severely beaten)

32	of a 'dear', wide–taloned grey heron.

	Next day my sister (fair maiden)

	told me with wise, gentle speech

	that seven times worse than our plight,

36	and than her husband's words,

	it was to see me beaten by an evil old mother–goose

	with year–old plumage and a twisted neck.

	If the lordship of the men of Carmarthen

40	and their restrictive casts allowed it,

	I would do dishonour (an act of transgression) —

	beware anyone who dares to challenge her! —

	to that mother–goose's nine–year–old carcass;

44	for her assault that goose will weep.