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He glutted black ravens on the rampart of the stronghold, though he was no Arthur.
Aneirin
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Three hundred men hastened forth, wearing gold torques, defending the land – and there was slaughter. Though they were slain they slew, and they shall be honoured to the end of the world; and of all us kinsmen who went, alas, but for one man none escaped.
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From the retinue of Mynyddog they hastened forth; in a shining array they fed together round the wine-vessel. My heart has become full of grief for the feast of Mynyddog, I have lost too many of my true kinsmen.
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The men went to Catraeth, swift was their host, the pale mead was their feast and it was their poison.
Aneirin
Quote of the day
Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow-ripening fruit.
Aristotle
Aneirin
Born:
525
Died:
600
(aged 75)
Bio:
Aneirin or Neirin was an early Medieval Brythonic poet. He is believed to have been a bard or court poet in one of the Cumbric kingdoms of the Old North or Hen Ogledd, probably that of Gododdin at Edinburgh, in modern Scotland.
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