Degradation of his Servant
On St Peter's Day I was in Newborough,
a place full of magnificent men,
looking at people's attire, golden treasure,
4 and the host of Angelesey by the sea.
There was there (she is Anglesey's sun)
as bright as fire, another Enid,
a tender girl, white and discreet, with shapely neck,
8 and she was splendid, comely and refined,
my fine elegant girl, just like
Mary's living image in the fair,
and everyone was after her
12 because of her lovely white face, the colour of snow.
The crowds were amazed
to see such a girl, like a gift from heaven.
And I, because of my pain and sleeplessness,
16 was weeping constantly after the girl.
Was there ever a lad whose honest mind
and little sense was more wanton?
I followed the perfect armful,
20 indeed, from a distance,
until she went, solemn nature,
into a lovely bright upper room.
Twenty of my co-revellers came
24 and gathered in a circle around me.
Expensive for the lord who desires it,
I tried some wine, high-class young man;
I bought two full gallons
28 at one go, unfortunate deed.
'Go, boy, from my splendid side,
take this to the fair girl [we saw] earlier.
Run to her ear and whisper
32 to her aristocratic form, and swear
that she is the maiden that I love most
in Gwynedd, by God.
Come to her chamber,
36 say, "Hail to you, fine girl!"
Quick and fluent, "Here's a present
for you, lovely sweet girl." '
'Isn't the town vulgar?
40 Why don't I know you, boy?
He is a madman from afar, discourteous sense,
anyway, tell me who gave it.'
'Dafydd, poet of fine passion,
44 grey dark man, and I am his love messenger.
[His] praise has reached Gwynedd;
listen to it; it is like the sound of a bell.'
'Rise up for the sake of the five wounds!
48 And beat him! Where are you all?'
She took the bright wine from the town
and poured it in my servant's hair.
That was an insult to me,
52 Mary bring misfortune to the bold fair treasure.
If she seriously meant to disgrace me
there, acknowledgement of anger,
brocaded cloak of azure,
56 may her silly lips feel want of wine!
had I known, straight beam,
Madog Hir could have had her, my darling.
Einion Dot would hardly be willing
60 to be in the same tavern as her, bold ugly guest.
Fair seagull's countenance, she will see
the whole of her ear with her eye
before I ever send from now on
64 to the ill-tempered girl
a spoonful of tepid water
as a present, be she fair, be she foul.