In Praise of Tenby
I beg God's grace, guardian of the parish,
Lord of heaven and earth, profound in wisdom.
A splendid fort stands on the sea's surface:
Mirthful at New Year is a bright headland.
And whenever the ocean booms its boast,
Bards are wont to carouse over mead-cups.
Swiftly the wave surges towards it:
They leave the grey-green sea to the Picts.
And may I, O God, for my prayer's sake,
When I keep my pledge, be at peace with you.
A splendid fort stands on the wide ocean,
A sturdy stronghold, sea-encircled.
Ask, Britain, for whom this is fitting:
Head of ab Erbin's house, may it be yours!
There were throngs and songs in the stockade,
And a cloud-high eagle tracking pale faces:
Before a high lord, before a foe-router,
Far-famed and fierce, they fell into line.
A splendid fort stands on the ninth wave:
Splendid its people taking their pleasure.
Their lively life is not based on disdain,
It is not their way to be hard of heart.
I will tell no lie of my welcome:
Better Dyfed's serf than Deudraeth's yeomen.
Its generous comrades, keeping a feast,
Comprise, in each couple, the best in the land.
A splendid fort stands where a throng provides
Pleasure and praise, and the birds are loud.
Merry its melodies on New Year's Eve
For a bountiful lord, bold and brave.
Before he entered the church of oak,
He gave me wine and mead from a crystal cup.
A splendid fort stands on the sea-coast,
Splendid in granting to each his share.
I know in Tenby, glowing its gulls,
The comrades of Bleiddudd, lord of the court.
Mine was the custom on New Year's Eve
Of a place by a lord bold in battle
And a purple robe and high privilege,
Till I was the tongue of Britain's bards.
A splendid fort stands that is stirred by songs:
What honours I wished for were mine.
(I do not say ‘rights’; I must keep my place:
Who learns not this earns no New Year's gift!)
British writings the foremost concern
In that place where waves make their uproar:
Long may it last, that cell where I stayed.
A splendid fort stands, rising high,
Superb its pleasures, its praise far-famed.
Splendid its bounds, stronghold of heroes,
Withstanding the spray, long are its wings.
Harsh sea-birds rush to the rocky peak.
May wrath, banned, make off over the mountains,
And Bleiddudd's be the highest bliss,
His memory kept in mind over mead.
The Lord of harmonious heaven bless them:
May Owain's great-grandson be one with his men.
Lord of heaven and earth, profound in wisdom.
A splendid fort stands on the sea's surface:
Mirthful at New Year is a bright headland.
And whenever the ocean booms its boast,
Bards are wont to carouse over mead-cups.
Swiftly the wave surges towards it:
They leave the grey-green sea to the Picts.
And may I, O God, for my prayer's sake,
When I keep my pledge, be at peace with you.
A splendid fort stands on the wide ocean,
A sturdy stronghold, sea-encircled.
Ask, Britain, for whom this is fitting:
Head of ab Erbin's house, may it be yours!
There were throngs and songs in the stockade,
And a cloud-high eagle tracking pale faces:
Before a high lord, before a foe-router,
Far-famed and fierce, they fell into line.
A splendid fort stands on the ninth wave:
Splendid its people taking their pleasure.
Their lively life is not based on disdain,
It is not their way to be hard of heart.
I will tell no lie of my welcome:
Better Dyfed's serf than Deudraeth's yeomen.
Its generous comrades, keeping a feast,
Comprise, in each couple, the best in the land.
A splendid fort stands where a throng provides
Pleasure and praise, and the birds are loud.
Merry its melodies on New Year's Eve
For a bountiful lord, bold and brave.
Before he entered the church of oak,
He gave me wine and mead from a crystal cup.
A splendid fort stands on the sea-coast,
Splendid in granting to each his share.
I know in Tenby, glowing its gulls,
The comrades of Bleiddudd, lord of the court.
Mine was the custom on New Year's Eve
Of a place by a lord bold in battle
And a purple robe and high privilege,
Till I was the tongue of Britain's bards.
A splendid fort stands that is stirred by songs:
What honours I wished for were mine.
(I do not say ‘rights’; I must keep my place:
Who learns not this earns no New Year's gift!)
British writings the foremost concern
In that place where waves make their uproar:
Long may it last, that cell where I stayed.
A splendid fort stands, rising high,
Superb its pleasures, its praise far-famed.
Splendid its bounds, stronghold of heroes,
Withstanding the spray, long are its wings.
Harsh sea-birds rush to the rocky peak.
May wrath, banned, make off over the mountains,
And Bleiddudd's be the highest bliss,
His memory kept in mind over mead.
The Lord of harmonious heaven bless them:
May Owain's great-grandson be one with his men.
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