The Woodland Mass
I was in a pleasant place today
under the mantles of fine green hazels,
listening at break of day
4 to the skilful cock-thrush
singing a splendid englyn,
ceremonies and shining recitals.
Traveller from afar, like Pwyll his nature,
8 this grey love messenger journied far.
He came here from the fair county of Caer
because my lovely darling asked him,
loquacious, until a warrant is obtained,
12 he is making for the head of a valley.
He wore a camisia
of the flowers of May's tender branches,
and his chasuble, so it seemed,
16 was of the wind's wings, green mantles.
The altar's covering there, by great God,
was of nothing but gold entirely.
It was Morfudd who had sent
20 the metrical singing of May's foster-son.
I heard in pure language
a lengthy recitation without fault,
a reading to the people of the parish, no pompous stumbling,
24 of the Gospel without mumbling.
Then there was raised on an ash hill
a wafer-bread of a good leaf,
with a fine slender resonant nightingale
28 from the edge of a grove nearby,
poetess of the stream, ringing for all
the sacring-bell, a piercing whistle,
and the Host was raised up
32 towards the sky above the grove,
and the Lord our Father was worshipped
with a chalice of desire and love.
I am content with the music,
36 it was nurtured by a birch-grove in the sweet woods.