Elegy for Llywelyn ap Gwilym

	Dyfed has been deprived, its boast taken away,

	of the eagle of the region of magic;

	yesterday, happy time, he spoke,

4	and today, most gifted bulwark, he is mute.

	Before now, Llywelyn, territory's wealth,

	you never closed a house against me;

	you were the mighty lord of song,

8	open for me, mute man.

	Fair countenance of a prudent father of a principal land, great author

	of prophetic words, proudly erect, bold,

	praise of the foremost goodness, try to speak,

12	poet, linguist, do not be mute.

	My lifeless fine leader, Deira's pursuer

	(the cascade of tears is ceaseless),

	my advocate, why did you leave me,

16	my gold-giving friend, my mute stag?

	Lord of heaven and earth, this was an exile's cry,

	it was harsh that you did not heed it;

	woe is me, Lord of all wealth,

20	behold my plight because of a mute man.

	Chieftain, prince of the land of magic beneath the earth,

	faultlessly did you teach me;

	you knew every mastery,

24	I have been pained since you have been mute.

	Your grief is deep, my cry resounds

	for my strong bold lord,

	it's not unpainful that you won't answer,

28	it's not easy to converse with a mute.

	Woe is me that there is, praise's payment, a second Clud who never stinted it,

	unable to speak,

	I know grievous care with sorrow,

32	A shriek of great words for a mute man.

	Woe is me, Christ the Lord, harshly because of my presumption

	And strangely have I been punished,

	(we were all fair before the loss)

36	that the pinnacle of all the feats of Christendom is fallen.

	Woe is me, Christ the Lord, my heart is shattered,

	I am pensive because of grievous loss,

	splendid weapons, all-embracing welcome,

40	that the lord of all feats is fallen.

	Woe is me my Lord, giving into your providence, God,

	the taking of a mighty song-loving hawk,

	no festival gift, grief is bloody,

44	that retribution for a kinsman is not permissible.

	Woe is me, another sorrow, privileged declaration of a host,

	that the people's government has been taken,

	fierce haughty slaughter, succour of crowds,

48	he was joyful [and] the lord of men's inspiration.

	Woe is me that I have seen, bad hospitality,

	a soldier's halls, fair tower,

	calamity of the age, one shattered,

52	and the other, broken roof, an empty house.

	Woe the nephew growing cold who lives to see

	(the depth of memory wakes me)

	the colourful court collapsing yonder,

56	and Llystyn a desolate house.

	A court of wine and horses, righteous wealth,

	Oh that he who made is lost,

	court of a golden lord, welfare of multitudes,

60	governor of prosperity, were he alive it would be a court for all.

	If my uncle is dead, it is a great wonder

	(Wales's Arabian gold [is] down)

	that I have not gone, it weighs on the nephew's mind,

64	that I do not go mad, God my lord!

	Llywelyn was, true song, a wise man

	before earth was laid about him,

	state of war without concealing,

68	he was lord of the law of wide Dyfed.

	It was a man, not a boy, who was killed by the agony of a steel wound,

	and the grievous loss was villainous,

	manly claimant in a shattered helmet,

72	a cold word about the best of all.

	This is a sorry story of a cold blow about a golden man,

	proclaiming of a great homicide,

	fine assertion of complete honour

76	(he hears songs, lament for a lord) before he was killed.

	This is a proverb, it will be proved true in the land,

	'He who kills will be killed'.

	Let it be the outcome, this is believed,

80	woe is ceaseless, by God may it be true.

	Let my tears be free-flowing, comely manner, oh that it was possible

	with a hired knife

	(many painful cries in public,

84	shining fists) to kill a fair lord.

	The enemy who causes grief,

	tall sturdy hero, will not be carefree;

	he who kills a man with his bright steel,

88	to terminate a life, will be killed.

	A faithful flower which payed for fare has died,

	conspicuous cheeks;

	iron completely took away

92	the memory and judgement of the world, disposition devoted to wine.

	He who makes an obstruction, woe and loss to the south,

	will suffer swift retribution;

	he who commits a crime by a foolish movement

96	with the hand, let him await the other.

	The world will be blind, manner of wickedness, afterwards, [because] the eye is taken

	that was in England and Wales.

	God above take to your feast, you will not deny me,

100	men's defender, a good nobleman.

	He was justice, concord of golden songs,

	wisdom of the art of poetry;

	the tuning string of all fidelity,

104	pillar of praise, in knowledge second to none.

	To be rashly proud is of small and fleeting benefit,

	with the whole world in the form of a wheel;

	courteous lion of great knowledge,

108	the pillar of praise has been killed with blue steel.

	Knight with the visage of a lion, Llywelyn, if you have been killed

	in your fair court in Emlyn,

	learning is less, say many men,

112	book and harp are wretched after you.

	Alas that Llywelyn has been taken, I cry a thoughtful alas,

	his land cries alas,

	I will freely say alas tomorrow,

116	alas daily, his day has come.

	Alas, alas, Dôl Goch, that a reverential rite has been held

	for your dear owner;

	alas after the two despondent alases,

120	alas, is it not alas? Who does not weep?

	I wept where I saw my lord's bed place,

	was that not praiseworthy?

	A word of answer, I am your kinsman,

124	good wise man, open your house.

	The light of taverns is a mean burden, verbal insult,

	remembrance is now worse work;

	clasp of the mighty, heart is empty,

128	men are frail after the master of song.

	Hideous and painful after a lavish lord,

	payment to poets of wine from cellar at laden tables,

	splendid instinct like a gift all around,

132	all the feats of the world are forever fallen.

	Refined prince, gilded fleur-de-lis of lineage,

	salvation of Paris's belltower;

	a mighty Welshman has left us,

136	one is taken, the Welsh people are lowered.

	Let the wretched and the fair who love debate

	go to Llandudoch tonight;

	wisdom has gone there,

140	a faithful treasure under gravel sand.