Classic Poem

A happy band on the hill slope
Were we that day, in high hope,
All at stretch and in good heart,
Resolute to play our part
With doughty deeds in winning fame
In men's mouths for Owain's name.
And there before the fray began,
In keen debate our talk ran
What part of profit each should gain
In booty when the foe was slain;
And ere a foeman hove in sight
Each averred, come what might,
Never yielding, he'd be found
Standing gloriously his ground.

While thus, after mirth and song,
We with our God debated long,
Beside us suddenly we espied
Through the bracken — woe betide! —
Into our midst in full course
Charging, more than a hundred horse.
And with them came — and 'pon my word
More piercing din was never heard —
A whippersnapper, spruce and trim
— French badgerward would blush at him —
Whose monkey mouth from his bugle blew
Sounds ruder than cannon ever knew.

We, alack! the sorry host,
Never thought, for all our boast,
To stand our ground there on the moor
And face the foe, no, not for an hour;
No test of arms or harness made,
In wild defenceless haste we fled,
And the foe in angry mood
Unremitting our flight pursued.
Hard they drove us from place to place,
Across nine dingles went the chase,
As goats are driven they drove us then
With the wild rush of Usk's picked men.
A rude turn to our pride had we,
And bitter was it there to see,
Flung on Waun Gaseg's grassy green,
Our bloodless lances, bright and clean.

For me — ah! poor pre-eminence —
The sole advantage I had thence
Was but that with surpassing haste
I ran, my fellows far out-paced,
Across the gorge in full view
Of foes who knew me — too well they knew!
Dull fool is he who in white coat strays,
Courting ill hap, on the mountain ways.
Then let who will, when the call they hear,
Prompt at the mustering place appear,
But ill befall me if I be seen
In my white coat by the Waun ravine!