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Translated by Thomas Stephens
WAS there such a gift given to any one as at the dawn of day | |
| Was given to Merddin ere age had overtaken him? | |
| Sevenscore and seven sweet apple-trees, | |
| Of equal height, age, and magnitude, | |
| They are a mark of a sovereign’s benevolence, | 5 |
| And are overshadowed by lovely foliage. | |
| A maid with beauteous ringlets watches over them, | |
| Gloywedd by name, with teeth of pearly whiteness. | |
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| Sweet and excellent apple-tree! | |
| Thou wilt be heavy when laden with fruit, | 10 |
| And I am full of care and trouble for thy safety, | |
| Lest the woodmen | |
| Should destroy thy root, and injure thy seed, | |
| And prevent any more apples from growing on thee; | |
| And I tear myself wildly with anxiety; | 15 |
| Anguish pains me, and no clothes protect my body; | |
| These were the gift of Gwenddolau the free giver, | |
| Who is now, as he was not. | |
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| Sweet apple-tree of delicate growth, | |
| Thy shade is celebrated, profitable, and comely; | 20 |
| Princes will combine upon false pretences, | |
| With false, luxurious, and gluttonous monks, | |
| And idle talkative youths, to get thy fruit; | |
| They all prophesy warlike exploits to the Prince. | |
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| Sweet apple-tree of vigorous growth and verdant foliage, | 25 |
| Large are thy branches, and beautiful thy form, | |
| It was beautiful to see thee in a robe of vivid green, | |
| Ere war had caused my heart to grieve; | |
| But my wrongs shall yet be avenged, | |
| And the legions of Pengwern shall revel on mead. | 30 |
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| Sweet apple-tree growing in the lonely glade! | |
| Valor shall still secure thee from the lords of Rhydderch; | |
| Bare is the ground around thee, trodden by mighty warriors, | |
| Their heroic forms strike their foes with terror. | |
| Alas! Gwendydd loves me not, greets me not, | 35 |
| I am hated by the chiefs of Rhydderch, | |
| I hare ruined his son and his daughter, | |
| Death relieves all, why does he not visit me? | |
| For after Gwenddolau no princes honor me. | |
| I am not soothed with diversion, | 40 |
| I am no longer visited by the fair, | |
| Yet in the battle of Arderydd I wore golden torques, | |
| Though I am now despised by her who is fair as snowy swan. | |
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| Sweet apple-tree! covered with delicate bloom, | |
| Growing unseen in the sequestered wood; | 45 |
| At break of day the tale was told me, | |
| That the high commissioned chief of Menwydd is offended with me; | |
| Twice, thrice, yea, four times in one day, | |
| It rung in my ears ere the sun had marked the hour of noon; | |
| O Jesus, why had I not been destroyed, | 50 |
| Before I had the misfortune to slay the son of Gwenddydd? | |
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| Sweet apple-tree, which formest a stately grove, | |
| The wild dogs of the wood seek shelter about thy roots, | |
| Yet shall my prophetic song announce the re-coming | |
| Of Medrawd, and Arthur leader of hosts; | 55 |
| Again shall they rush to the battle of Camlan, | |
| And only seven escape from the two days’ conflict. | |
| Let Gwenhwyvar remember her crimes, | |
| When Cadwaladr resumes possession of his throne, | |
| And the religious hero leads his armies. | 60 |
| Alas my lamentable destiny! hope affords no refuge, | |
| Gwenddydd’s son is slain, and by my accursed hand. | |
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| Sweet apple-tree, of richest fruit, | |
| Growing in the lonely woods of Celyddon; | |
| All seek thee for the sake of thy fruit, | 65 |
| But in vain until Cadwaladr comes to the conference of Rhyd Rheon, | |
| And Kynan advances to oppose the Saxons; | |
| Then shall Britons be again victorious, | |
| Led by their graceful and majestic chief; | |
| Then shall be restored to every one his own, | 70 |
| And the sounder of the horn of gladness proclaim | |
| The song of peace and days of happiness. | |
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| Delicious apple-tree with blossoms purely white, | |
| To those who eat them, sweet are the apples | |
| That have always grown on trees | 75 |
| Which grow apart, with wide-spreading branches. | |
| The nymph who appears and disappears, prophesies explicitly | |
| In signs of troublesome times which will surely come; | |
| A fleet with anchors shall come on the sea, | |
| Seven ships, with seven hundred sailing over the waves; | 80 |
| They will descend on the shore under flights of arrows, | |
| And of those who come, there shall not return | |
| More than seven to their former home. | |
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| Delicious apple-tree of splendid growth! | |
| Its root has fed both it and me, | 85 |
| When with shield on my shoulder and sword on my thigh, | |
| I slept all alone in the woods of Celyddon. * * * * * | |
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