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Yng Ngorffowys

Yng Ngorffowys, literally 'in rest', is a praise poem presumably dedicated to Urien Rheged, though his name does not appear in the main body of the poem. It describes the hero's generosity towards the author, Taliesin, and the bard's devotion to his patron.

Eg gorffowys can ry chedwys
Parch a chynnwys. a med meuedwys.
Meuedwys med y orvoled
A chein tired imi yn ryfed.
A ryfed mawr ac eur ac awr.
Ac awr a chet achyfrivet
Achyfrivyant. A rodi chwant.
Chwant oer rodi yr vy llochi.
Yt lad yt gryc yt vac yt vyc.
Yt vyc yt vac yt lad yn rac.
Racwed rothit y veird y byt.
Byt yn geugant itti yt wedant
Wrth dy ewyllis. Duw ryth peris
Rieu ygnis rac ofyn dy bris.
Annogyat kat diffreidyat gwlat.
Gwlat diffreidyat, kat annogyat.
Gnawt amdanat twrwf pystylat.
Pystylat twrwf ac yfet cwrwf.
Kwrwf oe yfet a chein trefret
A chein tudet imi ry anllofet.
Llwyfenyd van. ac eirch achlan
Yn un trygan mawr a bychan.
Taliessin gan tidi ae didan.
Ys tidi goreu o'r a gigleu
    y wrdlideu.
Molaf inheu dy weithredeu.
In [his] home since he has given [me]
Honour and welcome, with mead he has dowered me;
He has dowered me with the mead of his glory,
And [has given] fine lands to me in abundance,
And great abundance of [gifts] and gold,
And gold and gifts unnumbered,
Innumerable, and has given [my] desire.
'Tis to give my desire in order to gratify me
That he kills, that he hangs, that he rears, that he feeds,
That he feeds, that he rears, that he kills again.
He gives refection to the men of the world.
The world indeed does homage to thee
At thy will. God has made thee
Master in assault for fear of thy onslaught.
Inspirer in battle, defender of country,
Country's defender, battle inspirer,
Usual around thee is a host's tramping,
The tramping of a host and the drinking of beer.
Beer to drink and a fine homestead
And fine raiment have been bestowed on me.
The people of Llwyfenydd greet thee all
In one chorus, great and small.
The song of Taliesin entertains thee.
Thou are the best of all I have heard of
   as to thy merits.
And I will praise thy works.
  Ac yny vallwyf hen
Ym dygyn agheu aghen.
Ny bydif ymdirwen
Na molwyf Uryen
  And until I perish in old age
In my death's sore need,
I shall not be happy
If I praise not Urien

~ J. Morris-Jones (1918) Taliesin