Classic Poem

1
The graves the rain makes wet and sleek,
Not men who turned the other cheek,
Cerwyd, and Cywryd, and Caw.
2

The graves beneath the thicket's pall,
Not unavenged were seen to fall
Gwrien, Morien, Morial.
3

Long past, long hid, the strife he bred,
Machawy's soil now roofs his head;
Long, white, the fingers of Beidawg the Red.
4

Siawn's grave is on Hirerw Mound,
Between the earth and his oaken shroud,
A treacherous smiler, bitter, proud.
5

After wounds and bloody fields,
And wearing of harness, and white steeds,
This is the grave of Cynddylan.
6

After things blue, and red, and fair,
And taut-necked horses, big and brave,
In Llanheledd Owain's grave.
7

Whose is the grave on yonder scree?
His hand was foe to many.
Battle's bull, may he win mercy!
8

Whose grave is this? Brwyno the Tall,
Whose justice was strong in his land.
No ground was given where he made stand.
9

Whose grave is this? [. . .]
Crazed as a wild boar in mortal strife,
He'd smile on you as he spilled your life.
10

At Camlan the grave of Osfran's son,
After many a bloody fight.
Bedwyr's grave's on Tryfan height.
11

Gwalchmai is in Peryddon ground,
His grave reproaches all mankind;
Cynon in Llanbadarn find.
12

A grave for March, a grave for Gwythur,
A grave for Gwgawn Red-glaive;
The world's enigma, Arthur's grave.