Reciting the poem

In praise of Wiliam ap Gruffudd of Cochwillan

There's an invitation and delay for me
from a generous man yonder to reside for a long time:
Wiliam ap Gruffudd ap Rhobin blue his spear,
root of the kindness.
This man invited me to his houses
and for the rest of my life through a commission.
He bound a great agreement for me,
greater is my bond because of my gift.
Wiliam's wealth is in my hands,
he's my master yonder in my time.
A bright and sturdy arras bed
and a fair chamber are ready for me.
There are for a gentle man who comes there
a table and cupboard and chapel
and Cochwillan's brilliant altar
and a fair hearth for a fire;
there are two types of heat for warming:
his trees from the glen along with the coal.
A sumptuous feast and sustenance above,
plenty of wine and it all gathered for me.
Dafydd, grey-headed leader,
wouldn't get such a meal from Ifor;
Iolo Goch wouldn't see himself receive
such luxury in Ithel's home.
A host of people are feeble in terms of holding court
in comparison with the loved one of the eight islands;
there's no brilliance, there's no spear with a serrated edge,
there's no extremely generous man apart from this man's hands.
My heaven was always the bank
of the sylvan-sourced river Ogwen, his land.

I'll go to his court like a bald bullock goes homeward,
a greater and greater feast;
I'll never come from great Gwynedd
from Wiliam's houses until I'm on my bier.

I'm casting a flowing, ample song of praise
for the fair, grey-headed man, sweet intent.
Samson eagerly did a soldier's work
with his silver hair;
Wiliam with his hair is the second soldier,
sharp-speared man, essence of praise.
His family is abundant throughout Gwynedd
and the three realms, the full of every court:
the whole of Llµn is a wood of pedigrees
full of health, the man's lineage.
Anglesey will come to the place he goes,
Meirionnydd is ready.
His family are numerous flowers here,
flower of two good people,
his father and mother,
hardly ever would generous people provide such stock.
From their tall and strong son there is a luscious tree
that is a treasure for fair Caernarfonshire.
May the sheriff always be my contemporary
and the duties of the land are his.
They'd call him a second progressing
Gwilym son of Gruffudd of yore;
may this man have honour, grace
and strength again by old Gwilym's renown!

Recreating Cochwillan