Wild Wild West (Wales), part 2

Unbeknownst to him the local taffia had arranged a little excursion for Saturday up into the mountains with a view to his celebrating his welshness with some bardic oratory.

So having slugged half-way up a mountain they reached a not entirely inspiring stone marked on the OS map as being the grave of Taliesin (the greatest of Welsh bards, active in the late 6th century for all our non-Welsh readers) and presented him with a scroll to read. The scroll was, of course, A Lament for Owain,

Enaid Owain ab Urien
Gobwyllid Rheen o'i raid.
Rheged udd ae cudd tromlas,
Nid oedd fas i gywyddaid.
Isgell gwr cerddglyd clodfawr llifaid,
Cany cheffir cystedlydd
I udd Llwyfenydd llathraid.

Medel gallon, gefeilad,
Eisylud ei dad a'i daid.
Pan laddawdd Owain Fflamddwyn
Nid oedd fwy nogyd cysgaid.

Cysgid Lloegr llydan nifer
A lleufer yn eu llygaid;
A Rhai ni ffoynt haeach
A oeddynt hyach no rhaid.

Owain a'u cosbes yn ddrud,
Mal cnud yn dylud defaid.
Gwr gwiw uch ei amliw seirch
A roddai ferch i eirchiaid.
Cyd as cronnai mal called,
Rhy ranned rhag ei enaid.
Enaid Owain ab Urien
Gobwyllid Rheen o'i raid.

Not, we think you will agree, the easiest thing to read without practice (or without spitting over everyone).



With that dealt with the hike continued and, having only got lost once and chased by horses once, they settled down in the White Lion for a well earned beer (and to watch the darts).