Classic Poem

To Rhys ap Gruffudd

I beseech God's favour, faultless your gift,
Your gifted man am I,
For your men, eagle of wars,
For your land, lord of the South.

I beseech, I beg, great suit to the Lord
Who made heaven and earth,
Favour from your rage, song's friend,
For your gates, for your sentry.

I beseech, I beg, suitor they see me,
Favour, true tranquil bond,
For your golden-trimmed portals,
For your porter, fair land's lord.

I beseech your favour, bar not your aid,
Since respite is fitting.
Court-heralds, call for silence:
Be silent, bards — hear a bard!

I beg full favour, kind men of the South,
Sure support of singers,
For your host, your shield-bearers,
For your band, for your king's sons.

I beg full favour, rank's benevolence,
Kings cannot withstand you,
For your host, corps of combat,
For your men, worthy of mead.

Mead-supper their drink, mead-horns strengthen them,
And gold deeds defend them,
And mighty bright drinking-bouts,
And a brave lord and bold king.

Britain's regal hawks, I chant your high song,
Your high honour I bear,
Your bard, your judge I shall be,
Your assistance is due me.

Answer what I sing, what I may sing, lord:
Hear me, since I have come.
Lord of Lleisiawn, bold lion:
Ease your wrath, your bard am I.

I am my lord's singer, green sea-swell's sway,
Roadways' sway, song's welcome.
Peaceful prayer, long hard exile,
I beseech a lord's favour.