The Long Blue Drinking Horn
Owain was a prince in Powys in the late 12th century. Normally poets praised their hosts, but as he was a prince himself, he praises his fellow warriors.
The scene for the poem is that Owain and his warband have just returned from a campaign. They are feasting together. Owain's cupbearer is serving each warrior in turn from a long blue drinking horn as part of the celebrations.
The words below are from the original Welsh, translated by Tony Conran.
There was a shout as dawn was breaking -
Enemies sending us noisy bad fortune.
Our men red-speared, after the wearisome
March to the township of Maelor.
I sent out warriors for vengeance,
Intrepid in battle, weapons of red.
Let him beware, he that angers a brave one -
To provoke such a man will lead to grief.
Take the horn, cupbearer and please to give it
To the hand of Rhys, at this gift-giver's court!
Owain's court has been fed with a feast,
With open gates a thousand have succour.
What quiets me, cupbearer, let it not leave me!
For carousal's sake, you come with the horn
Full of longing, many-hued, bright as the ninth wave,
With a long blue banner, and cased in gold,
And carry a lavish measure of bragget
Into Gwgawn's hand, mighty in exploits -
These whelps of Goronwy's fierce fury's onset,
Supple whelps of valiant deeds,
Men that merit reward of each hardship,
Men worthy in war, strong to deliver,
Shepherds of the Severn, how proud to hear of them
With clatter of meadhorns, great liberality!
Take you the horn, give it Cynfelyn,
Honourably drunk with the foaming mead -
If you want for another year to live
Don't let his due respect be denied him!
And bring to Gruffudd, red-speared enemy,
Wine with a crystal glass about it -
Warriors of Aewystli, warrant of borders,
Good Owain's warriors, of Cynfyn's race,
Warriors who give battle and are not afraid of it,
Terror of slaughter, rout of war.
To merit fame they went as heroes,
Armed as comrades, their weapons keen.
Like the long-ago warriors of Belyn, they paid for their mead:
While one man is left, fair will they fight.
Take you the horn, for the thought is with me
How they defend their mead and our country,
To Selyf, that fearless rampart of Gwygyr -
Beware his anger, the eagle-hearted!
And to Madog's one son, famous Tudur the generous,
Surely a killer-wolf, lightning on spears:
Two heroes, in their contention two lions,
Two savage energies, two sons of Ynyr,
Two in the freedom of blows in the battle,
Unbroken their onset, indomitable deeds,
Lunging of lions, fierce thrust of warriors,
Battle dogs shapely, red are their spears,
A scourge feared by traitors, and swiftly famed,
Their shields both shattered, two with one purpose -
Loud winds vanquish the shore of blue seas,
Swift fury of waves on famous Talgarth!
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