Urien Yrechwydd

Apparently a poem by Taliesin, so I assume from Llyfr Taliesin. Not sure who the translator is, and it’s probably online somewhere by now. But here it is anyway.

Urien of Yrechwydd,
Much do you give to the people of your land;
As you gather so also you scatter,
The poets of Christendom rejoice while you stand.

More is the gaiety and more is the glory
That Urien and his heirs are of riches renowned,
And he is the chieftain, the paramount ruler,
The far-flung refuge,
First of fighters found.

The Lloegrians know it when they count their numbers,
Death have they suffered and many a shame,
Their homesteads a-burning, stripped for their bedding,
And many a loss and many a blame,
And never a respite from Urien of Rheged.

Rheged’s defender, famed lord, your lands’ anchor,
All that is told of you has my acclaim.

Intense is your spear-play when you hear ploy of battle,
When to battle you come ’tis a killing you can,
Fire in their houses ere day in the lord of Yrechwydd’s way,
Yrechwydd the beautiful and its generous clan.

The Angles are succourless.
Around the fierce king
Are his fierce offspring. Of those dead, of those living,
Of Those yet to come, you head the column.

To gaze upon him is a widespread fear;
Gaiety clothes him, the ribald ruler,
Gaiety clothes him and riches abounding,
Gold king of the Northland and of kings king.

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