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The Gododdin: Lament for the Fallen
The timeless and compelling 'word-music' of one of Britain's oldest cultural treasures is captured in this new bilingual edition.
The Gododdin charts the rise and fall of 363 warriors in the battle of Catraeth, around the year AD 600. The men of the Brittonic kingdom of Gododdin rose to unite the Welsh and the Picts against the Angles, only to meet a devastating fate. Composed by the poet Aneirin, the poem was originally orally transmitted as a sung elegy, passed down for seven centuries before being written down in early Welsh by two medieval scribes. It is composed of one hundred laments to the named characters who fell, and follows a sophisticated alliterative poetics. Former National Poet of Wales Gillian Clarke animates this historical epic with a modern musicality, making it live in the language of today and underscoring that, in a world still beset by the misery of war, Aneirin's lamentation is not done.
The Gododdin charts the rise and fall of 363 warriors in the battle of Catraeth, around the year AD 600. The men of the Brittonic kingdom of Gododdin rose to unite the Welsh and the Picts against the Angles, only to meet a devastating fate. Composed by the poet Aneirin, the poem was originally orally transmitted as a sung elegy, passed down for seven centuries before being written down in early Welsh by two medieval scribes. It is composed of one hundred laments to the named characters who fell, and follows a sophisticated alliterative poetics. Former National Poet of Wales Gillian Clarke animates this historical epic with a modern musicality, making it live in the language of today and underscoring that, in a world still beset by the misery of war, Aneirin's lamentation is not done.
178 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1969
17 people are currently reading
928 people want to read
About the author
Gillian Clarke
61 books35 followersGillian Clarke is one of the central figures in contemporary Welsh poetry, the third to take up the post of National Poet of Wales. Her own poems have achieved widespread critical and popular acclaim (her Selected Poems has gone through seven printings and her work is studied by GCSE and A Level students throughout Britain) but she has also made her cultural mark through her inspirational role as a teacher, as editor of the Anglo-Welsh Review from 1975 - 1984, and as founder and President of Ty Newydd, the writers' centre in North Wales.
Clarke currently runs an organic small-holding in Ceredigion, the Welsh landscape is a shaping force in her work, together with recurrent themes of war, womanhood and the passage of time. Her last three books have all been Poetry Book Society Recommendations.
Clarke currently runs an organic small-holding in Ceredigion, the Welsh landscape is a shaping force in her work, together with recurrent themes of war, womanhood and the passage of time. Her last three books have all been Poetry Book Society Recommendations.
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January 31, 2025
I decided to try this audiobook version of Y Gododdin, where the verses are presented first in Welsh and then in a poetic translation by Gillian Clarke, who is I believe a poet of some distinction. I should say at the outset that I almost never read poetry of any sort, let alone poetry in translation. I listened to this out of historical interest. The audiobook is about 2.5 hours long, though that includes an Introduction by Gillian Clarke, which lasts for about 30 minutes.
Although the poem was written in medieval Welsh, the geographical setting is present-day southern Scotland and northern England. The ancient Britons, who inhabited the island before the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons, spoke languages of the “p-Celtic” group, from which descended Welsh, Cornish and Breton. The poem relates how a band of warriors, either 300 or 363 - different stanzas vary on the figure - travel from present day Edinburgh to battle with the Saxons at a place called Catraeth. Most historians identify this location as present day Catterick in Yorkshire. The battle is thought to have taken place around 600AD. Whatever the detail of the event, it seems to have ended in a disastrous defeat for the Britons. The poem says that either 3 survived from 363, or 1 from 300. The stanzas (in this version there are 101) praise the fallen warriors in turn, lauding their courage and skill, and expressing sorrow for their deaths. It is, as the subtitle suggests, a “lament for the fallen.”
Incidentally the “dd” in “Gododdin” is pronounced like “th” in the English word “breathe”, (but not like the “th” in “truth”).
There are numerous references in the poem to the warriors spending a year at the king’s fortress in Din Eidyn (Edinburgh), feasting and drinking mead. The 300 or so warriors sound as if they were the personal retinue of the king, professional warriors who formed the core of military forces in Dark Age Britain. One striking thing about this translation was how often there were references to mead being consumed just before the battle. Warriors were described as “fired up with mead”, or “crazed with mead”. In one case there is even a comment that “too much mead was taken”. I got the impression the British warriors went into the battle blind drunk. Actually that wouldn’t surprise me. These guys fought hand to hand with swords and spears. Men were disembowelled, limbs were hacked off, etc, etc. I can see why a few stiff drinks might have been consumed beforehand.
One of the most interesting references in the poem comes at Stanza 99. The bard praises a warrior called Gwawrddur, but then says “though he was no Arthur”. In her Introduction, Gillian Clarke comments that “this makes clear that at the time of the Gododdin’s composition”, which she dates to the late 6th century, “Arthur was already a powerful mythic hero.”
I confess that I hadn’t known that Arthur was mentioned in the Gododdin. I had always thought the earliest reference to him was in the 9th century History of the Britons, by a monk called Nennius. If the reference in the Gododdin was contemporaneous, then it would indeed be as Clarke suggests, but some historians feel that the reference was a later insertion, and some argue that the whole poem dates from several centuries after the battle. Clarke also states that Welsh is the oldest literary language in Europe that is still spoken today, a claim that is disputed by scholars of Greek. I’m obviously not qualified to make any judgment on the competing claims, but things are not as settled as Clarke suggests.
I do agree with her though, when she describes the Gododdin as “archaeology through song” and that through the poem “an event that would have been lost was recorded”. She says that her aim, in providing this translation, was to make the Gododdin available to a wider audience. It’s a laudable aim, and I think she has succeeded.
Although the poem was written in medieval Welsh, the geographical setting is present-day southern Scotland and northern England. The ancient Britons, who inhabited the island before the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons, spoke languages of the “p-Celtic” group, from which descended Welsh, Cornish and Breton. The poem relates how a band of warriors, either 300 or 363 - different stanzas vary on the figure - travel from present day Edinburgh to battle with the Saxons at a place called Catraeth. Most historians identify this location as present day Catterick in Yorkshire. The battle is thought to have taken place around 600AD. Whatever the detail of the event, it seems to have ended in a disastrous defeat for the Britons. The poem says that either 3 survived from 363, or 1 from 300. The stanzas (in this version there are 101) praise the fallen warriors in turn, lauding their courage and skill, and expressing sorrow for their deaths. It is, as the subtitle suggests, a “lament for the fallen.”
Incidentally the “dd” in “Gododdin” is pronounced like “th” in the English word “breathe”, (but not like the “th” in “truth”).
There are numerous references in the poem to the warriors spending a year at the king’s fortress in Din Eidyn (Edinburgh), feasting and drinking mead. The 300 or so warriors sound as if they were the personal retinue of the king, professional warriors who formed the core of military forces in Dark Age Britain. One striking thing about this translation was how often there were references to mead being consumed just before the battle. Warriors were described as “fired up with mead”, or “crazed with mead”. In one case there is even a comment that “too much mead was taken”. I got the impression the British warriors went into the battle blind drunk. Actually that wouldn’t surprise me. These guys fought hand to hand with swords and spears. Men were disembowelled, limbs were hacked off, etc, etc. I can see why a few stiff drinks might have been consumed beforehand.
One of the most interesting references in the poem comes at Stanza 99. The bard praises a warrior called Gwawrddur, but then says “though he was no Arthur”. In her Introduction, Gillian Clarke comments that “this makes clear that at the time of the Gododdin’s composition”, which she dates to the late 6th century, “Arthur was already a powerful mythic hero.”
I confess that I hadn’t known that Arthur was mentioned in the Gododdin. I had always thought the earliest reference to him was in the 9th century History of the Britons, by a monk called Nennius. If the reference in the Gododdin was contemporaneous, then it would indeed be as Clarke suggests, but some historians feel that the reference was a later insertion, and some argue that the whole poem dates from several centuries after the battle. Clarke also states that Welsh is the oldest literary language in Europe that is still spoken today, a claim that is disputed by scholars of Greek. I’m obviously not qualified to make any judgment on the competing claims, but things are not as settled as Clarke suggests.
I do agree with her though, when she describes the Gododdin as “archaeology through song” and that through the poem “an event that would have been lost was recorded”. She says that her aim, in providing this translation, was to make the Gododdin available to a wider audience. It’s a laudable aim, and I think she has succeeded.
October 4, 2023
the book starts with a nice introduction by Gillian Clarke - to the Gododdin, to translations of it, and to how she approached it.
the Gododdin here is presented in dual language, with the Welsh verse first, and then Gillian Clarke's English translation/version, each in turn for the 100 short verses.
it's the first time I've read the Gododdin, but not the first time I've read Gillian Clarke, having enjoyed some of her poetry. here in her version of the Gododdin I think she's done well in retaining the rhythm, and some of the internal rhyme and alliteration, of the original 🙂
listening to this audiobook had me wanting to also see it in print, and to be able to read along with the audiobook. I think I'd like to see the structure as much as anything.
it also left me curious to read a more literal English translation... tho the volume I thought sounded good (again dual language, with facing page translation by A.O.H. Jarman) seems out of print and hard to come by/access 😕
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
accessed as a library audiobook, read by Gillian Clarke and Ceri Wyn Jones.
the audiobook production was good, tho the two readers felt slightly mismatched against each other - in style, clarity and volume - but it was nice to hear the English version read by the author 🙂
the Gododdin here is presented in dual language, with the Welsh verse first, and then Gillian Clarke's English translation/version, each in turn for the 100 short verses.
it's the first time I've read the Gododdin, but not the first time I've read Gillian Clarke, having enjoyed some of her poetry. here in her version of the Gododdin I think she's done well in retaining the rhythm, and some of the internal rhyme and alliteration, of the original 🙂
listening to this audiobook had me wanting to also see it in print, and to be able to read along with the audiobook. I think I'd like to see the structure as much as anything.
it also left me curious to read a more literal English translation... tho the volume I thought sounded good (again dual language, with facing page translation by A.O.H. Jarman) seems out of print and hard to come by/access 😕
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
accessed as a library audiobook, read by Gillian Clarke and Ceri Wyn Jones.
the audiobook production was good, tho the two readers felt slightly mismatched against each other - in style, clarity and volume - but it was nice to hear the English version read by the author 🙂
April 2, 2024
35th book of 2024.
Clarke writes a short, lucid introduction about this ancient poem/song. She explains that the writer attributed to the text, Aneirin, is one of the earliest British poets we can name. (The other being Taliesin.) This piece is a lament for fallen of the Gododdin tribe, at the battle of Catraeth, somewhere in the late sixth century. The original language is early Welsh. It has been remembered, sung, passed down, sung some more. ‘The Welsh word cerdd means both ‘song’ and ‘poem’. For seven centuries, in this way, ‘singer to listener’, Y Gododdin passed, until a medieval scribe put it to paper.
‘The Gododdin were a tribe from what we now think of as southern Scot-land, or Yr Hên Ogledd, ‘The Old North’, as it is known in the Welsh tradition. Aneirin’s poem elegises three hundred men of the war-band Mynyddog Mwynfawr, who feasted on mead for a year before marching from the court of Dyn Eidyn, now Edinburgh, to the battle of Catraeth, probably Catterick in North Yorkshire.’
As Clarke reminds us, Welsh is the oldest literary language in Europe still being written and spoken today, and claims Y Gododdin as being one of the greatest treasures from the islands of Britain. There is one small and very particular reason I read this, but I will come to it later on, because despite reading this for such a small purpose, I found the whole lament to be surprisingly moving. I’ll quote some of my favourite passages below. Clarke has rendered the laments so each falls under the subject’s name. I couldn’t help but imagine a lament, in this way, for each man who died at the Somme, for example. The size of the book, the words for each and every man. For the first elegy, I’ve also penned the Welsh, just so I can later goggle at its beauty.
I even found the smaller elegies moving, for how humanising they were. It reminded me of the sentiments I read earlier this year in Graeber and Wengrow’s The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity, that our great ancestors were not simian-people devoid of brains, but almost exactly as we are today.
And no doubt Clarke has done a wonderful job of translating it, too. From ‘Mynyddog 68’:
And to return to the main reason I wanted to read this ancient text (as well as it being one of the great treasures of my homeland): one single line in the whole one-hundred odd verses, from 99 of 100:
That singular line: ‘though he was no Arthur’ has fascinated people for generations. If original, it is the earliest mention of the mythical King Arthur, as early as the sixth century. Some say it is an interpolation, but the mystery continues.
Clarke writes a short, lucid introduction about this ancient poem/song. She explains that the writer attributed to the text, Aneirin, is one of the earliest British poets we can name. (The other being Taliesin.) This piece is a lament for fallen of the Gododdin tribe, at the battle of Catraeth, somewhere in the late sixth century. The original language is early Welsh. It has been remembered, sung, passed down, sung some more. ‘The Welsh word cerdd means both ‘song’ and ‘poem’. For seven centuries, in this way, ‘singer to listener’, Y Gododdin passed, until a medieval scribe put it to paper.
‘The Gododdin were a tribe from what we now think of as southern Scot-land, or Yr Hên Ogledd, ‘The Old North’, as it is known in the Welsh tradition. Aneirin’s poem elegises three hundred men of the war-band Mynyddog Mwynfawr, who feasted on mead for a year before marching from the court of Dyn Eidyn, now Edinburgh, to the battle of Catraeth, probably Catterick in North Yorkshire.’
As Clarke reminds us, Welsh is the oldest literary language in Europe still being written and spoken today, and claims Y Gododdin as being one of the greatest treasures from the islands of Britain. There is one small and very particular reason I read this, but I will come to it later on, because despite reading this for such a small purpose, I found the whole lament to be surprisingly moving. I’ll quote some of my favourite passages below. Clarke has rendered the laments so each falls under the subject’s name. I couldn’t help but imagine a lament, in this way, for each man who died at the Somme, for example. The size of the book, the words for each and every man. For the first elegy, I’ve also penned the Welsh, just so I can later goggle at its beauty.
2
Greddf gŵr, oed gwas,
Gwryd amddias;
Meirch mwth myngfras
O dan forddwyd mygrwas;
Ysgwyd ysgafn lydan
Ar bedrain main fuan;
Cleddyfawr glas glân,
Eddi aur affan.
Ni bu ef a fi
Cas y rhof a thi:
Gwell gweneif â thi
Ar wawd dy foli.
Cynt i waedlawr
Nogyd i neithiawr,
Cynt i fwyd brain
Nog i argyfrain,
Cu gyfaill Ywain,
Cŵl ei fod o dan fain.
Marth im pa fro
Lladd un mab Marro.
Owain
2
A boy with a man’s heart,
on fire for the front, restless for war,
lush-manned, fleet-hoofed stallion
between young thighs, shield
laid on the horse’s flank,
his sword a blue-bright blade,
his armour burnished gold.
As the singer of this song I lay
no blame but only praise for him
sooner gone to the battlefield
than to his marriage-bed;
sooner carrion for the crow,
sooner flesh to feed the raven.
I mourn him, laid in his grave.
Dear friend, Owain. Marro’s
Only son. Slain.
I even found the smaller elegies moving, for how humanising they were. It reminded me of the sentiments I read earlier this year in Graeber and Wengrow’s The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity, that our great ancestors were not simian-people devoid of brains, but almost exactly as we are today.
Ceredig
30
Ceredig, celebrated, famed,
loved life dearly, as his name tells —
favoured, favourite, till his day came.
Quiet and courteous,
may he who loved song find his place
at home in Paradise.
And no doubt Clarke has done a wonderful job of translating it, too. From ‘Mynyddog 68’:
On Tuesday, they put on dark blue armour.
On Wednesday, white-limed their shields for war.
On Thursday, agreed their battle plan.
On Friday, they counted the dead.
On Saturday they fought as one.
On Sunday they raised red blades.
On Monday they waded in blood.
And to return to the main reason I wanted to read this ancient text (as well as it being one of the great treasures of my homeland): one single line in the whole one-hundred odd verses, from 99 of 100:
Gwawrddur
99
Charging ahead of the three hundred
he cut down the centre and the wing.
Blazing ahead of the finest army,
he gave horses from his winter herd.
He fed ravens on the fortress wall
though he was no Arthur.
Among the strongest in the war,
Gwawrddur, citadel.
That singular line: ‘though he was no Arthur’ has fascinated people for generations. If original, it is the earliest mention of the mythical King Arthur, as early as the sixth century. Some say it is an interpolation, but the mystery continues.
June 29, 2021
Goodreads lumps all reviews of all the different versions of Y Gododdin in the one pile.
So for clarity[s sake what follows is about Gillian Clarke's 2021 'The Gododdin Lament for the Fallen'.
What you get is a brief introduction to the poem and to Clarke's engagement with it, followed by the text of the poem in Welsh facing her translations in English on the opposite page.
Given how hard it is to obtain a modern edition of the poem in Welsh, the fact it's included here is a bonus. My only criticism of the book is that there is no editorial note to explain the nature of the Welsh text. Given the problems of editing the original it would be useful to know which version is here. The possibility of comparing Clarke's version with Jarman's, as she suggests, is made difficult by the unavailability of the latter's text. Good luck finding and buying a copy.
Clarke's introduction acknowledges the history of the text, but doesn't get bogged down in the scholarly details. A small library has been written about 'the earliest known reference to Arthur' but Clark can note it in passing as a point of interest. Her introduction focuses more on the poem as poem, which sets up Clarke's 'version'.
Anyone who has ever tried, know how difficult it is to translate the poems in Y Gododdin. Leaving aside problems of archaic diction, puzzling allusions, incomprehensible phrases and illegible manuscripts, moving highly patterned Welsh verse into English is a daunting challenge.
Clarke, labelling hers 'a version' rather than a translation, acknowledges the problems but moves beyond them. 'I could not sing Aneirin's song or replicate the original but I could aim to follow and honour it'. I think she's succeeded.
Of all the translations of Y Gododdin I've read this one works best in English, as poetry. It's a very impressive performance. And if you can't read the original and want to know what the poem is like, this is probably as good as it's going to get if you don't want to read Jackson's literal prose.
There's no doubt the original is a 'cultural treasure', containing some of the earliest 'british' poetry. It lets the reader into a world of heroes and feasts and drinking and death. It sings in Welsh. and now a version sings in English. But its hundred or so verses record the deaths of enthusiastic killers, who feasted a year and then rode out and died in a battle history can't identify. Reading it from start to finish it is repetitive. X was brave, X was generous, X was terrifying in battle and would rather fight than do anything else. Y was brave, Y terrified his enemies, Y died.
The Goodreads blurb quotes the inside of the jacket cover in claiming:
'Gillian Clarke animates this historical epic with a modern musicality, making it live in the language of today and underscoring that, in a world still beset by the misery of war, Aneirin's lamentation is not done.'
But the grab for contemporary resonance and relevance feels strained, if not desperate. 'The language of today' can only be a synonym for 'English' and therefore seems redundant. There's very little about the 'misery of war' in Y Gododdin. It presents death in battle as glorious and worthy of commemoration. The poet might express sadness that x and y didn't come back, but he also puts his head back and celebrates the fact that they earned their mead and their deaths were worth a song.
I don't understand the need to strain for 'relevance'. It suggests the publisher fears a terrible lack of curiosity or imagination on the part of potential readers who will be turned off unless the poem is 'relevant' to their contemporary experience. A poem like this one is always going to be alien and strange.
Ironically, however, Anierin's lamentation is not done. If his job was to immortalise the dead and if their reward for their courage was to have their names preserved in song, then he earned his mead and they got their reward. 14 centuries later the names of the dead are still being numbered, even if we know nothing about them except what the poems tell us.
And Clarke has helped the process continue with this fine 'version'.
So for clarity[s sake what follows is about Gillian Clarke's 2021 'The Gododdin Lament for the Fallen'.
What you get is a brief introduction to the poem and to Clarke's engagement with it, followed by the text of the poem in Welsh facing her translations in English on the opposite page.
Given how hard it is to obtain a modern edition of the poem in Welsh, the fact it's included here is a bonus. My only criticism of the book is that there is no editorial note to explain the nature of the Welsh text. Given the problems of editing the original it would be useful to know which version is here. The possibility of comparing Clarke's version with Jarman's, as she suggests, is made difficult by the unavailability of the latter's text. Good luck finding and buying a copy.
Clarke's introduction acknowledges the history of the text, but doesn't get bogged down in the scholarly details. A small library has been written about 'the earliest known reference to Arthur' but Clark can note it in passing as a point of interest. Her introduction focuses more on the poem as poem, which sets up Clarke's 'version'.
Anyone who has ever tried, know how difficult it is to translate the poems in Y Gododdin. Leaving aside problems of archaic diction, puzzling allusions, incomprehensible phrases and illegible manuscripts, moving highly patterned Welsh verse into English is a daunting challenge.
Clarke, labelling hers 'a version' rather than a translation, acknowledges the problems but moves beyond them. 'I could not sing Aneirin's song or replicate the original but I could aim to follow and honour it'. I think she's succeeded.
Of all the translations of Y Gododdin I've read this one works best in English, as poetry. It's a very impressive performance. And if you can't read the original and want to know what the poem is like, this is probably as good as it's going to get if you don't want to read Jackson's literal prose.
There's no doubt the original is a 'cultural treasure', containing some of the earliest 'british' poetry. It lets the reader into a world of heroes and feasts and drinking and death. It sings in Welsh. and now a version sings in English. But its hundred or so verses record the deaths of enthusiastic killers, who feasted a year and then rode out and died in a battle history can't identify. Reading it from start to finish it is repetitive. X was brave, X was generous, X was terrifying in battle and would rather fight than do anything else. Y was brave, Y terrified his enemies, Y died.
The Goodreads blurb quotes the inside of the jacket cover in claiming:
'Gillian Clarke animates this historical epic with a modern musicality, making it live in the language of today and underscoring that, in a world still beset by the misery of war, Aneirin's lamentation is not done.'
But the grab for contemporary resonance and relevance feels strained, if not desperate. 'The language of today' can only be a synonym for 'English' and therefore seems redundant. There's very little about the 'misery of war' in Y Gododdin. It presents death in battle as glorious and worthy of commemoration. The poet might express sadness that x and y didn't come back, but he also puts his head back and celebrates the fact that they earned their mead and their deaths were worth a song.
I don't understand the need to strain for 'relevance'. It suggests the publisher fears a terrible lack of curiosity or imagination on the part of potential readers who will be turned off unless the poem is 'relevant' to their contemporary experience. A poem like this one is always going to be alien and strange.
Ironically, however, Anierin's lamentation is not done. If his job was to immortalise the dead and if their reward for their courage was to have their names preserved in song, then he earned his mead and they got their reward. 14 centuries later the names of the dead are still being numbered, even if we know nothing about them except what the poems tell us.
And Clarke has helped the process continue with this fine 'version'.
May 29, 2022
The great poem commemorating the heroes of Gododdin is unmatched, and Clarke’s translation brings it to life by eschewing a direct translation in favour of a poetic one. She also divides the verses by the individual(s) it commemorates, bringing to the forefront the sorrowful lamentation of the poem. This version also includes the original old Welsh verse, which is a treat to read to get a sense of the original rhyming scheme. My only negative is that this version does not include a pronunciation guide, and I found myself turning to the guide in my copy of the Book of Taleisin on occasion to ensure I was getting the name right. All the same, this is a minor criticism to one of the best versions of Y Gododdin out there.
March 3, 2021
My ideal way of consuming this would be if Paul Bettany read it aloud in character as Chaucer from A Knight's Tale. Whilst I know that's muddling time periods somewhat, it's just because this benefits so well from being spoken and I know he'd do a cracking job!
This functions as elegies to the soldiers who fell in this clash, so I can definitely see how some people wouldn't enjoy as it lacks a driving narrative. However, I just adored experiencing it for what it was. The repetition that is innately a part of poetry that is devised to be performed aloud, the way the number three keeps recurring in different forms, the different metaphors used to describe each warrior's attributes. Whilst they come from very different traditions, it reminded me of The Iliad at times, especially Alice Oswald's reworking called Memorial that stripped away the Troy narrative and instead presented the series of metaphors and epithets focusing on memorialising the fallen soldiers. It was just truly fascinating to read and I couldn't resist performing certain passages for my partner (which I'm sure was appreciated and definitely not annoying...)
This functions as elegies to the soldiers who fell in this clash, so I can definitely see how some people wouldn't enjoy as it lacks a driving narrative. However, I just adored experiencing it for what it was. The repetition that is innately a part of poetry that is devised to be performed aloud, the way the number three keeps recurring in different forms, the different metaphors used to describe each warrior's attributes. Whilst they come from very different traditions, it reminded me of The Iliad at times, especially Alice Oswald's reworking called Memorial that stripped away the Troy narrative and instead presented the series of metaphors and epithets focusing on memorialising the fallen soldiers. It was just truly fascinating to read and I couldn't resist performing certain passages for my partner (which I'm sure was appreciated and definitely not annoying...)
May 16, 2024
My brain is ruined and all I can do is read old Brythonic literature when I really have to write an essay lmao.
January 1, 2022
According to tradition there were four great bards of early medieval Welsh poetry: Aneirin, Taliesin, Llywarch Hen, and Myrddin. Each of these men is a blend of legendary figure and historical figure, since little is known for certain about their lives or whether they were in fact the authors of the poems attributed to them. They have been given titles such as “chief of bards” and “prince of bards” for the importance and quality of their work, and the influence they had on later poets. They lived in the 6th and 7th centuries, and as was usual of the time, their works were performed orally and rarely written. All of the surviving manuscripts that include poems attributed to these men are from centuries after their deaths.
Llywarch Hen seems to be the only of these chief bards whose existence is known for sure, with some solid historical evidence of his birth, his death, and a lot of things that came in between. Myrddin lies toward the other end of this legend-history spectrum, as he seems almost entirely a product of legend, as a madman living in the forest, who had the gift of prophecy. This Myrddin is thought to be the origin of Merlin in Arthurian legend.
In the expanse between person of history and person of legend lies both Taliesin and Aneirin. We know some things about each, but our confidence in that information is low, some of it is confusing and foggy, much is based on legend or tradition, and some of it seems contradictory. All of it is pretty remarkable and fascinating, nonetheless.
Aneirin was a war poet, a bard who was present at battles and whose poetry related the events of these battles and their significance. His best known and longest work is his epic-of-elegies, Y Gododdin, telling of the Battle of Cattraeth, and of the fates of many of the chiefs and warriors who died fighting Anglian invaders at their fortress.
The Gododdin were a people situated in the region of south Scotland, north Britain, and it is said that the battle of Cattraeth consisted of warriors from all over Britain, as far away as Wales, uniting to drive off the Anglians who had breached their shores and established a stronghold. This battle is thought to have occurred sometime between the latter quarter of the sixth century and the year 600.
It’s not easy to track down a physical copy of this excellent piece of literary history, as most English translations have long been out of print. Fortunately, MythBank offers pretty affordable and decent copies of the work that is also available on Project Gutenberg. This is a translation from 1852 by Reverend. John Williams (bardic name: ‘Ab Ithel’), M.A. His introduction and copious notes and annotations (and I do mean copious — the notes are longer than the poem, but are incredibly instructive and educational) fill out this work as a grand scholarly accomplishment. The translation is excellent, and almost every line of the poem has explanatory annotations behind it to offer his motivation for translation and interpreting things the way he has.
Y Gododdin is, all things considered, completely incredible. It is 53 stanzas of varying length, most of which serve as an elegy for a warrior or a chieftain who was slain in the Battle of Cattraeth. Taken together, they comprise an epic of valour and war.
Despite what might sound like a repetitive and redundant formula, it is anything but. It is lively, dramatic, intense, filled with powerful imagery and violence and deeds of heroism and courage and death and elements of legend. A warrior’s manner or appearance or regalia or deeds are often detailed, as is their character or their habit or their way of drinking and living, or their skill in battle, or what role they might have played in the broader society, then what particular accomplishment they might have had in this battle, how they fought or what courage they showed, and often ending with an evocative account of their defeat, and who they left behind, who will mourn their passing. This is all done with striking poetic eloquence and economy.
The poem is heavy with tragedy, since this was a battle the people of Gododdin lost after a grueling seven-day slaughter. There are many references to ravens feasting upon the dead, allusions to other beasts delighting in the buffet of gore, as well as a mountain of ambiguity in who or what the poet is referring to in certain stanzas — sometimes it could be a name for a person unknown to history, or it could be a geographic feature, or an action undertaken by men, or an animal, or some act of nature. This greatly affects how the translation goes and how the poem feels, which the annotations offer great insight on. It never occurred to me that some of this ancient complexity could so significantly impact how we interpret whole sections of a work.
For example, there are many stanzas which refer to the merry-making and mead-drinking that these chiefs partake in. Some historians think that this heavy drinking was occurring before each battle, and certain lines make it sound that way, suggesting it is a poison that foreshadows their doom, or as something handicapping them against a strong enemy, or as a sort of liquid courage that cowardly warriors gulped down to face the enemy. So a popular interpretation is that the people of Gododdin may have lost the battle because they were drunk the whole time. But there is enough ambiguity in the poem to make this questionable.
Williams explains that, first of all, there likely would not have been enough alcohol for all the warriors to partake, probably enough only for the chieftains. The chieftains being the only drunk ones wouldn’t have made them lose the battle. Also, it isn’t clear if Aneirin is saying that everyone is drinking and having fun immediately before they run off to drunkenly thrust their spears and lances into their enemies, or if he is simply contrasting their light-hearted drinking in times of peace with their fierceness in battle, and their general manner of being light of worry even in the face of certain death. All of this makes the theory that they were drunk for the whole fight a lot less sturdy.
The author of the poem often refers to himself as Aneirin, which is probably the strongest piece of evidence we will ever get that he was its author. We also know that Aneirin, being a bard who was not allowed to carry weapons, and therefore the laws of battle prohibiting him from being killed, was captured at some point in the battle and was imprisoned underground for a time. He gives some space to this in his poem, and hits on some of the dark and vicious emotions that such a situation would arouse, as well as remarking on the fortitude and resilience he exercised in these circumstances.
Many figures who are known from Welsh and Scottish history are referred to in the poem, and here there is ambiguity too, as the translator attempts to figure out who these people are based on how their names appear, based on their actions or relations, if they are the same persons referred to in other works around the same time, and does a splendid job building a pretty coherent picture of who is who, what is what, and placing everything and everyone in its proper context.
Also here are some people from legend, who are thought to have not really existed, or were thought to be based upon people who had. One of the most noteworthy is a supposed mention of King Arthur. This occurs toward the end of the poem, and the mention is made in passing, comparing another warrior to him (“Though he was no Arthur”). Scholars seem to disagree about whether this was referring to King Arthur of legend or to some other Arthur. There’s really no way to know, given its brevity. If it is a reference to the King Arthur of legend, however, it is one of the very first in recorded literature. It also comes only a few decades after the supposed death of Arthur, in 537 AD, at the Battle of Camlann. It’s noteworthy for appearing centuries before most other mentions of the legendary king.
A few of the other pseudo-historical and legendary figures mentioned or alluded to in the poem are characters who were part of Arthur’s court or relatives of people who compose part of that legendary cycle. Other people are folk heroes who might or might not have existed. I don’t know enough about this era or the history of the people to say much more than I have, but the annotations are so good they are in effect a small but dense, coherent history book on the battle, its key people, and some of the general history of the region. These notes also provide enlightening explanations of the poetic forms the author used, compares and contrasts certain lines or features with works from the other great Welsh bards, and serves as a great supplement to what is a deep, magnificent work of medieval Welsh poetry that fortunately has not been forgotten to history.
Llywarch Hen seems to be the only of these chief bards whose existence is known for sure, with some solid historical evidence of his birth, his death, and a lot of things that came in between. Myrddin lies toward the other end of this legend-history spectrum, as he seems almost entirely a product of legend, as a madman living in the forest, who had the gift of prophecy. This Myrddin is thought to be the origin of Merlin in Arthurian legend.
In the expanse between person of history and person of legend lies both Taliesin and Aneirin. We know some things about each, but our confidence in that information is low, some of it is confusing and foggy, much is based on legend or tradition, and some of it seems contradictory. All of it is pretty remarkable and fascinating, nonetheless.
Aneirin was a war poet, a bard who was present at battles and whose poetry related the events of these battles and their significance. His best known and longest work is his epic-of-elegies, Y Gododdin, telling of the Battle of Cattraeth, and of the fates of many of the chiefs and warriors who died fighting Anglian invaders at their fortress.
The Gododdin were a people situated in the region of south Scotland, north Britain, and it is said that the battle of Cattraeth consisted of warriors from all over Britain, as far away as Wales, uniting to drive off the Anglians who had breached their shores and established a stronghold. This battle is thought to have occurred sometime between the latter quarter of the sixth century and the year 600.
It’s not easy to track down a physical copy of this excellent piece of literary history, as most English translations have long been out of print. Fortunately, MythBank offers pretty affordable and decent copies of the work that is also available on Project Gutenberg. This is a translation from 1852 by Reverend. John Williams (bardic name: ‘Ab Ithel’), M.A. His introduction and copious notes and annotations (and I do mean copious — the notes are longer than the poem, but are incredibly instructive and educational) fill out this work as a grand scholarly accomplishment. The translation is excellent, and almost every line of the poem has explanatory annotations behind it to offer his motivation for translation and interpreting things the way he has.
Y Gododdin is, all things considered, completely incredible. It is 53 stanzas of varying length, most of which serve as an elegy for a warrior or a chieftain who was slain in the Battle of Cattraeth. Taken together, they comprise an epic of valour and war.
Despite what might sound like a repetitive and redundant formula, it is anything but. It is lively, dramatic, intense, filled with powerful imagery and violence and deeds of heroism and courage and death and elements of legend. A warrior’s manner or appearance or regalia or deeds are often detailed, as is their character or their habit or their way of drinking and living, or their skill in battle, or what role they might have played in the broader society, then what particular accomplishment they might have had in this battle, how they fought or what courage they showed, and often ending with an evocative account of their defeat, and who they left behind, who will mourn their passing. This is all done with striking poetic eloquence and economy.
The poem is heavy with tragedy, since this was a battle the people of Gododdin lost after a grueling seven-day slaughter. There are many references to ravens feasting upon the dead, allusions to other beasts delighting in the buffet of gore, as well as a mountain of ambiguity in who or what the poet is referring to in certain stanzas — sometimes it could be a name for a person unknown to history, or it could be a geographic feature, or an action undertaken by men, or an animal, or some act of nature. This greatly affects how the translation goes and how the poem feels, which the annotations offer great insight on. It never occurred to me that some of this ancient complexity could so significantly impact how we interpret whole sections of a work.
For example, there are many stanzas which refer to the merry-making and mead-drinking that these chiefs partake in. Some historians think that this heavy drinking was occurring before each battle, and certain lines make it sound that way, suggesting it is a poison that foreshadows their doom, or as something handicapping them against a strong enemy, or as a sort of liquid courage that cowardly warriors gulped down to face the enemy. So a popular interpretation is that the people of Gododdin may have lost the battle because they were drunk the whole time. But there is enough ambiguity in the poem to make this questionable.
Williams explains that, first of all, there likely would not have been enough alcohol for all the warriors to partake, probably enough only for the chieftains. The chieftains being the only drunk ones wouldn’t have made them lose the battle. Also, it isn’t clear if Aneirin is saying that everyone is drinking and having fun immediately before they run off to drunkenly thrust their spears and lances into their enemies, or if he is simply contrasting their light-hearted drinking in times of peace with their fierceness in battle, and their general manner of being light of worry even in the face of certain death. All of this makes the theory that they were drunk for the whole fight a lot less sturdy.
The author of the poem often refers to himself as Aneirin, which is probably the strongest piece of evidence we will ever get that he was its author. We also know that Aneirin, being a bard who was not allowed to carry weapons, and therefore the laws of battle prohibiting him from being killed, was captured at some point in the battle and was imprisoned underground for a time. He gives some space to this in his poem, and hits on some of the dark and vicious emotions that such a situation would arouse, as well as remarking on the fortitude and resilience he exercised in these circumstances.
Many figures who are known from Welsh and Scottish history are referred to in the poem, and here there is ambiguity too, as the translator attempts to figure out who these people are based on how their names appear, based on their actions or relations, if they are the same persons referred to in other works around the same time, and does a splendid job building a pretty coherent picture of who is who, what is what, and placing everything and everyone in its proper context.
Also here are some people from legend, who are thought to have not really existed, or were thought to be based upon people who had. One of the most noteworthy is a supposed mention of King Arthur. This occurs toward the end of the poem, and the mention is made in passing, comparing another warrior to him (“Though he was no Arthur”). Scholars seem to disagree about whether this was referring to King Arthur of legend or to some other Arthur. There’s really no way to know, given its brevity. If it is a reference to the King Arthur of legend, however, it is one of the very first in recorded literature. It also comes only a few decades after the supposed death of Arthur, in 537 AD, at the Battle of Camlann. It’s noteworthy for appearing centuries before most other mentions of the legendary king.
A few of the other pseudo-historical and legendary figures mentioned or alluded to in the poem are characters who were part of Arthur’s court or relatives of people who compose part of that legendary cycle. Other people are folk heroes who might or might not have existed. I don’t know enough about this era or the history of the people to say much more than I have, but the annotations are so good they are in effect a small but dense, coherent history book on the battle, its key people, and some of the general history of the region. These notes also provide enlightening explanations of the poetic forms the author used, compares and contrasts certain lines or features with works from the other great Welsh bards, and serves as a great supplement to what is a deep, magnificent work of medieval Welsh poetry that fortunately has not been forgotten to history.
Read
July 16, 2022A collection of early medieval Welsh death-poems, written between the 7th and the 11th century (the dating is still being disputed).
Contains some fine examples of the merging of ancient heroic poetry and medieval Christian interpolations.
Contains some fine examples of the merging of ancient heroic poetry and medieval Christian interpolations.
April 4, 2008
This is a difficult book to review. There is much more commentary than there is poem. I kept waiting for the commentary to end so I could just read the poem, but it didn't. I finally realized that I was reading the poem, that's what the bits in quotes were, and understood just how fragmentary is what has come down to us. In addition, some of the poem is beyond the reach of current translators, so they can only make well-educated suppositions about what some words are and what they mean. People stopped speaking the language of The Gotoddin a very long time ago; it's older than Beowulf.
That said, I found it fascinating. I had not known there was so much information about Britain in the so-called Dark Ages. The Gododdin itself is a lament for the British killed in the Battle of Catraeth (c. 600AD)in which they were making a preemptive attack against the Anglo-Saxons who were rapidly taking over their country. In the end the attack failed and only a few men survived, one of them the poet Aneirin who wrote the poem. (Is that a redundant phrase? Because it could have another poet than Aneirin who wrote the poem. Anyway-) The elegies in the poem were composed so that those who died would not be forgotten. And I should not have said "written" earlier. The poem was first written down several hundred years after it was composed.
An interesting difference between British and Anglo-Saxon bards is that while the Anglo-Saxons had the frame of a story but were supposed to fill in the details and embroider it as they performed, British bards had to memorize all the poems, because they were not supposed to deviate a whit from the exact words of the original. Never use the words "oral society" in a negative manner again!
It's an all to brief glimpse into fascinating world, full of fragments of brilliant images.
That said, I found it fascinating. I had not known there was so much information about Britain in the so-called Dark Ages. The Gododdin itself is a lament for the British killed in the Battle of Catraeth (c. 600AD)in which they were making a preemptive attack against the Anglo-Saxons who were rapidly taking over their country. In the end the attack failed and only a few men survived, one of them the poet Aneirin who wrote the poem. (Is that a redundant phrase? Because it could have another poet than Aneirin who wrote the poem. Anyway-) The elegies in the poem were composed so that those who died would not be forgotten. And I should not have said "written" earlier. The poem was first written down several hundred years after it was composed.
An interesting difference between British and Anglo-Saxon bards is that while the Anglo-Saxons had the frame of a story but were supposed to fill in the details and embroider it as they performed, British bards had to memorize all the poems, because they were not supposed to deviate a whit from the exact words of the original. Never use the words "oral society" in a negative manner again!
It's an all to brief glimpse into fascinating world, full of fragments of brilliant images.
December 28, 2013
Y Gododdin constitutes the oldest extant collection of Welsh verse of note. Attributed to Aneirin, it is a collection of elegiac verses memorializing three hundred Celtic heroes who fell in battle against a much larger invading army of Anglo-Saxons sometime around the sixth century CE.
Ironically, the striking and crystalline verse reminds me of nothing so much as the Anglo-Saxon poetry of around that time, such as the anonymous masterpiece "The Seafarer."
The images of heroes dying gloriously in battle is evoked with images of startling clarity and emotional power.
Consider stanza 64:
"A fitting song of a noble host:
The sound of fire and thunder and flood-tide,
Excelling in courage, a horseman in the turmoil,
A blood-shedding reaper, he longed for war.
The warrior tirelessly rushed to battle
In whatever land he heard tidings of it.
With his shield on his shoulder he would take up a spear
As if it were sparking wine from glass vessels.
There was silver around his mead, gold was his due;
Gwaednerth son of Llywri had been reared on wine."
There is nothing by way of an early epic to be found here. The frame of these elegies is simple - warriors were summoned together by the lord Mynyddog, who hosted them in training and in feast for a year's time at Gododdin, before they set out to meet the enemy at Catraeth, where they died. Individual warriors are recalled and their virtues praised with expressive and sometimes-formulaic language.
What is conveyed is themes and motifs of an early medieval warrior heroic ethos reflected with ingenious and deeply-felt images and words. It's a sublime window into times long past.
Ironically, the striking and crystalline verse reminds me of nothing so much as the Anglo-Saxon poetry of around that time, such as the anonymous masterpiece "The Seafarer."
The images of heroes dying gloriously in battle is evoked with images of startling clarity and emotional power.
Consider stanza 64:
"A fitting song of a noble host:
The sound of fire and thunder and flood-tide,
Excelling in courage, a horseman in the turmoil,
A blood-shedding reaper, he longed for war.
The warrior tirelessly rushed to battle
In whatever land he heard tidings of it.
With his shield on his shoulder he would take up a spear
As if it were sparking wine from glass vessels.
There was silver around his mead, gold was his due;
Gwaednerth son of Llywri had been reared on wine."
There is nothing by way of an early epic to be found here. The frame of these elegies is simple - warriors were summoned together by the lord Mynyddog, who hosted them in training and in feast for a year's time at Gododdin, before they set out to meet the enemy at Catraeth, where they died. Individual warriors are recalled and their virtues praised with expressive and sometimes-formulaic language.
What is conveyed is themes and motifs of an early medieval warrior heroic ethos reflected with ingenious and deeply-felt images and words. It's a sublime window into times long past.
April 15, 2022
It’ s been a long time since I read a good epic poem, even longer since I’ve read one that wasn’t downstream from Homer. Gododin feels just as sweeping and glorious, but all it’s reference points are of pre-Christian England or Christian origin. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this makes it feel much closer to home, even through I’m less familiar, personally, with the events of the battle in question.
October 24, 2018
V good. Epic and heroic and all that business.
March 13, 2025
"Ceredig, celebrated, famed,
loved life dearly, as his name tells –
favoured, favourite, till his day came.
Quiet and courteous,
may he who loved song find his place
at home in Paradise.
Ceredig, dear chieftain,
a hero on the field,
his gold-fretted shield
split spears to smithereens.
His sword-stroke strong and sound,
he stood a man’s ground
until grief came, and agony.
Heaven, unite him with the Trinity."
Y Gododdin claims geographically to be the oldest Scottish poem, and linguistically/culturally the oldest Welsh poem. It is a collection of elegies, in the form of song-poems, in remembrance of the 300 Christian "knights," Celtic Britons, who died fighting against a superior force of heathen "Saxons" (Angles) from Bernicia and Deira.
There have been several other English translations, almost all of which have had a scholarly focus on the poem's historic and linguistic importance.
Gillian Clarke is a celebrated Welsh poet, and while she does not neglect accuracy in translation, her primary stated goal was to convey some of the "word music" of the poem ... to provide a translation that is itself an enjoyable poem and work of art. I believe she succeeded.
Also of note, Y Gododdin is likely the first recorded reference to King Arthur, and there are some other references and names that might be familiar, such as Lloegr (Lloegyr/Logres), the "Wordsmith Taliesin," and "Myrddin, muse of Welsh verse."
loved life dearly, as his name tells –
favoured, favourite, till his day came.
Quiet and courteous,
may he who loved song find his place
at home in Paradise.
Ceredig, dear chieftain,
a hero on the field,
his gold-fretted shield
split spears to smithereens.
His sword-stroke strong and sound,
he stood a man’s ground
until grief came, and agony.
Heaven, unite him with the Trinity."
Y Gododdin claims geographically to be the oldest Scottish poem, and linguistically/culturally the oldest Welsh poem. It is a collection of elegies, in the form of song-poems, in remembrance of the 300 Christian "knights," Celtic Britons, who died fighting against a superior force of heathen "Saxons" (Angles) from Bernicia and Deira.
There have been several other English translations, almost all of which have had a scholarly focus on the poem's historic and linguistic importance.
Gillian Clarke is a celebrated Welsh poet, and while she does not neglect accuracy in translation, her primary stated goal was to convey some of the "word music" of the poem ... to provide a translation that is itself an enjoyable poem and work of art. I believe she succeeded.
Also of note, Y Gododdin is likely the first recorded reference to King Arthur, and there are some other references and names that might be familiar, such as Lloegr (Lloegyr/Logres), the "Wordsmith Taliesin," and "Myrddin, muse of Welsh verse."
December 17, 2025
4.5 stars.
As a huge fan of Beowulf, this book was similar enough for me to enjoy it (though in many ways, not the same at all). I know this is not the most literal translation of Y Gododdin, but I still think Aneirin would approve 😅. This was heartbreaking and beautiful.
As a huge fan of Beowulf, this book was similar enough for me to enjoy it (though in many ways, not the same at all). I know this is not the most literal translation of Y Gododdin, but I still think Aneirin would approve 😅. This was heartbreaking and beautiful.
January 28, 2024
Men get drunk, fight, and die.
March 6, 2014
300 ptII?
Although some titles include wordings such as 'Scottish poem', this work is rooted in the Welsh because the lowlands of what is now Scotland were Welsh at the time. Not that I can see the intelligentsia of either country calling for pistols at dawn or rolling up their shirts for a bout of fisticuffs in this day and age.
*cups ear to listen*
What? they do still want a barney! lol. Anyway, this programme is not the actual poem, rather it is the history surrounding the work.
The blurb - Poet Gwyneth Lewis explores the origins and meaning of the Gododdin, a sixth-century Welsh poem elegising the slain British warriors who made a last stand against the Saxons in the famous Battle of Catterick.
Fourteen centuries ago an elite band of three hundred warriors set out from Edinburgh and marched south to Catterick in Yorkshire to meet a force of 10,000 Saxons in a bloody pitched battle. At the end of a week of ferocious combat all but three of the 300 lay dead and, with them, the last hope of the Old North - the original Britons - against the Saxon invaders. But the battle left an enduring literary legacy: one of the three survivors, Aneirin, fled back to Edinburgh and composed the Gododdin, an epic poem to commemorate his fallen comrades.
Gwyneth follows the war band from the Edinburgh stronghold where they spent a year feasting and drinking mead to the landscape of northern England where they met their fate. As she travels she discovers new insights into contemporary Britain from a sixth-century poem written in Welsh about a group of warriors from Scotland who fought a battle in Yorkshire.
Broadcast on:
BBC Radio 3, 10:00pm Sunday 10th January 2010
Really interesting!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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January 31, 2016This was not quite what I was expecting as there is no story or narrative, just a series of elegies for soldiers who were killed at the battle of Catraeth, each verse describing the qualities of each one, (although in fairly formulaic terms according to the editor rather than realistic descriptions), so it does get rather repetitive, with only occasional glimpses into what actually occurred. however I have only read the English translation (which is printed side by side with the Welsh) so obviously most of the poetic quality has been lost. The poem only takes up a small part of the book, the introduction gives the background to the poem and the book is worth buying just for this, giving the historical background and textual history (the poem was originally composed after the battle in 600 then transmitted orally until written down then preserved in Wales in a 13th century manuscript) Although this is in the Welsh Classics series the Gododdin were a people who lived in what is now southern Scotland (who spoke a form of Welsh, as all of Britain did before the arrival of the Anglo saxons in England and Gaelic speakers in Scotland) and the battle described took place at Catraeth - which is the Welsh name for Catterick so the poem ought to be much better known in England. As the blurb on the book says this is the earliest major work of literature in a native language of the British Isles and is of "vast cultural importance"
April 24, 2015
" There was food for the ravens, the raven there did triumph."
I'm sad to admit this is my first gamble into Celtic older reading. I tried to imagine this as a bard song, something sung at a community hall area where everyone is drunk on mead (beer) and telling stories.
And this is quite a story. So many deaths, so many widows. There is so much blood on the ground, you can almost see it all. The poem is well done but I"m sure there are about a 1000 other details I missed since I'm not used to reading like this.
I think the piece that kept me going was just imagining the Raven Boys digging through old poems of war and really digging all the references to wolves and birds of prey - and of course, Ravens.
I'm sad to admit this is my first gamble into Celtic older reading. I tried to imagine this as a bard song, something sung at a community hall area where everyone is drunk on mead (beer) and telling stories.
And this is quite a story. So many deaths, so many widows. There is so much blood on the ground, you can almost see it all. The poem is well done but I"m sure there are about a 1000 other details I missed since I'm not used to reading like this.
I think the piece that kept me going was just imagining the Raven Boys digging through old poems of war and really digging all the references to wolves and birds of prey - and of course, Ravens.
June 8, 2008
Written in Welsh in what became Scotland, it's about a last stand action of a band of (probably) Romano-Brit cavalry against a huge Anglosaxon warband in what is now Yorkshire. The poem is a eulogy for the fallen. It was written as the nations that became Scotland, Wales, and England were still forming and in a state of flux, before the ideas of them even had taken shape. Like a British Illiad. Catraeth saw only one that went South return home, probably the bard Aneirin that composed it.
"Many a mother with tears in her eyes..."
"Many a mother with tears in her eyes..."
March 26, 2024
Déprimant mais magnifique (and despite what the title is saying, it is Welsh, not Scottish)
June 18, 2022
I had been meaning to read this for some time but finally got around to it. It's a new translation of a Medieval Welsh poem written by Aneirin. Aneirin is one of the two early British poets whose name is known to us. If the poem is to be believed Aneirin was also part of the battle that this poem marks.
It is a lament to the 300 warriors killed at the battle of Catraeth - which historians generally consider to be Catterick in Yorkshire. Gillian Clarke's introduction does a great job, in a short space of time, in putting the poem into context and pointing out some of its contradictions. For example some of the poems say there was only one survivor. Others say that there were three survivors. Also, reading between the lines of the poem these were just the named knights at the battle and I think there are clear references to other less 'important' foot soldiers being there. Clarke's introduction also does a great job of outlining the complexities of translating Medieval Welsh into English and the process she went through.
As I was reading this I was reminded of In Parentheses by David Jones. It might be the earliest British examples of the poetry of war and the sorrow of war for whilst the poems praise the dead there is also a thread of grief throughout:
"Of Brynaich's tribe - O my heart breaks -
not one man left alive, I grieve
for my lost friend, faithful, beloved,
fired-up for war - now I must live
without him who died too young
Cian of Maen Gwyngwn's son."
from Son of Cian of Maen Gwyngwn, p 19
But perhaps the short couplet that hit the hardest is from Tears, p97
"Their lives were brief.
Love's grieving long."
How accurate Clarke's translation is I obviously can't say but this has the Welsh opposite the English so if you're fluent in Welsh you can make your own comparisons.
Oh, The Goddodin is also famous for being the first - fleeting - appearance of Arthur in literature. It is just a single line and nothing is said about him except that he seems to be a man to whom a warrior would be happy to be compared to.
I will definitely re-read this and it has made me want to re-read In Parentheses. I recommend it.
It is a lament to the 300 warriors killed at the battle of Catraeth - which historians generally consider to be Catterick in Yorkshire. Gillian Clarke's introduction does a great job, in a short space of time, in putting the poem into context and pointing out some of its contradictions. For example some of the poems say there was only one survivor. Others say that there were three survivors. Also, reading between the lines of the poem these were just the named knights at the battle and I think there are clear references to other less 'important' foot soldiers being there. Clarke's introduction also does a great job of outlining the complexities of translating Medieval Welsh into English and the process she went through.
As I was reading this I was reminded of In Parentheses by David Jones. It might be the earliest British examples of the poetry of war and the sorrow of war for whilst the poems praise the dead there is also a thread of grief throughout:
"Of Brynaich's tribe - O my heart breaks -
not one man left alive, I grieve
for my lost friend, faithful, beloved,
fired-up for war - now I must live
without him who died too young
Cian of Maen Gwyngwn's son."
from Son of Cian of Maen Gwyngwn, p 19
But perhaps the short couplet that hit the hardest is from Tears, p97
"Their lives were brief.
Love's grieving long."
How accurate Clarke's translation is I obviously can't say but this has the Welsh opposite the English so if you're fluent in Welsh you can make your own comparisons.
Oh, The Goddodin is also famous for being the first - fleeting - appearance of Arthur in literature. It is just a single line and nothing is said about him except that he seems to be a man to whom a warrior would be happy to be compared to.
I will definitely re-read this and it has made me want to re-read In Parentheses. I recommend it.
August 6, 2023
This is a historical yet relevant master piece. Clarke has taken a 14th century poem, first recorded in Old Welsh, and presented it in modern English. She tried to capture the poetry as well as the meaning. In doing so she retains the impact of the verses for a modern audience in a way that a word for word translation couldn't.
The Gododdin is a series of eulogies for men who have fallen in battle. It records not just their acts of bravery but also captures personality traits. For instance Madog was "tongue-tied with a girl" whereas Erf "was no hard-drinking fellow" and yet "Any lord, any woman or girl could approach the son of Urfal... Of the bloodline of gentle Cilydd" Gorthyn Hir. These glimpses into the men's attitudes and different personalities made the praise for their battle prowess, especially in loss, hit even harder.
I'm also a fan of the inclusion of the final poem Dinogad's Coat which Clarke states in her intriduction is controversial as it is only found in one of the original manuscripts and is probably not one of the original verses. However, I think it works as an epilogue to the lament.
The Gododdin is a series of eulogies for men who have fallen in battle. It records not just their acts of bravery but also captures personality traits. For instance Madog was "tongue-tied with a girl" whereas Erf "was no hard-drinking fellow" and yet "Any lord, any woman or girl could approach the son of Urfal... Of the bloodline of gentle Cilydd" Gorthyn Hir. These glimpses into the men's attitudes and different personalities made the praise for their battle prowess, especially in loss, hit even harder.
I'm also a fan of the inclusion of the final poem Dinogad's Coat which Clarke states in her intriduction is controversial as it is only found in one of the original manuscripts and is probably not one of the original verses. However, I think it works as an epilogue to the lament.
November 24, 2021
Interesting poetry. Not sure it was the best, not the worst. I enjoyed the Welsh versions side by side, even read some of them. Most of the tributes are brief and rote, following a pattern appearing in most others. Kind of disappointing and also endearing that they lost the battle because of drinking too much the night before. It spells this out at the beginning and I wonder if it's true.
My favorite:
100
Cibno
He hand-fed the crows.
I honour him, great lord,
savage ravager.
He wore gold
in the front row
in the war of heroes.
Freckled fighter,
third avenger,
foe-hunter,
wild bear,
attacker,
fierce saviour,
the army's honour won,
Cibno the handsome,
Guendad's son
My favorite:
100
Cibno
He hand-fed the crows.
I honour him, great lord,
savage ravager.
He wore gold
in the front row
in the war of heroes.
Freckled fighter,
third avenger,
foe-hunter,
wild bear,
attacker,
fierce saviour,
the army's honour won,
Cibno the handsome,
Guendad's son
August 12, 2023
I have read several versions of this poem, and this is my favorite. Every time I read these, I am reminded that these are eulogies for men who lived more than 1400 years ago, who fought for their land, and who all died trying to keep it. It's incredible to read, and when I think about it, incredibly sad. The fact that this set of poems has lasted in the world this long is at once mind-blowing and humbling.
October 30, 2022
This early Welsh poem is about the battle of Catraeth where the Picts and Celts battled the Saxons and lost. Clarke gives a beautiful translation of the tale and I liked how the original Welsh was given side-by-side with the English.
April 4, 2025
Il poema è una serie di elegie che celebrano il valore dei guerrieri di Gododdin, che si sacrificarono in una battaglia contro gli Angli di Deira e Bernicia. Aneirin, con la sua voce poetica, ci descrive la ferocia dei combattimenti, il coraggio dei guerrieri e la tragicità della loro fine. L'opera è un documento storico di inestimabile valore, che ci permette di comprendere le dinamiche politiche e militari dell'epoca, ma è anche un'opera letteraria di grande potenza emotiva, che ci fa rivivere le sensazioni e le emozioni dei protagonisti.
Opera di straordinario valore storico e letterario, letto come biografia da utilizzare in un saggio accademico fatto anni orsono per la mia università, è un poema epico che ci trasporta nel cuore della Britannia post-romana, un'epoca di conflitti e di eroismo. La sua narrazione evoca le gesta di un gruppo di guerrieri del regno di Gododdin, che affrontarono un nemico soverchiante nella battaglia di Catraeth, intorno al 600 d.C.
Ci offre uno spaccato della Britannia post-romana, un'epoca di frammentazione politica e di conflitti tra i regni britannici e gli invasori anglosassoni. La battaglia di Catraeth, descritta nel poema, è un evento storico di grande importanza, che segnò la fine del regno di Gododdin e l'inizio del dominio anglosassone nel nord dell'Inghilterra.
Pur nella sua brevità, ci offre uno sguardo intenso e commovente su un'epoca lontana. La sua lettura è consigliata a chiunque voglia approfondire la conoscenza della storia e della letteratura britannica.
Opera di straordinario valore storico e letterario, letto come biografia da utilizzare in un saggio accademico fatto anni orsono per la mia università, è un poema epico che ci trasporta nel cuore della Britannia post-romana, un'epoca di conflitti e di eroismo. La sua narrazione evoca le gesta di un gruppo di guerrieri del regno di Gododdin, che affrontarono un nemico soverchiante nella battaglia di Catraeth, intorno al 600 d.C.
Ci offre uno spaccato della Britannia post-romana, un'epoca di frammentazione politica e di conflitti tra i regni britannici e gli invasori anglosassoni. La battaglia di Catraeth, descritta nel poema, è un evento storico di grande importanza, che segnò la fine del regno di Gododdin e l'inizio del dominio anglosassone nel nord dell'Inghilterra.
Pur nella sua brevità, ci offre uno sguardo intenso e commovente su un'epoca lontana. La sua lettura è consigliata a chiunque voglia approfondire la conoscenza della storia e della letteratura britannica.
September 17, 2022
Beautiful imagery especially for being a collection of eulogies. I didn't understand good chunks of it and had to look up an awful lot as I went along, but there was still plenty to keep me interested. This pulled me in, at the end of the first stanza:
A dear comrade, Owain;
Vile, his cover of crows.
Ghastly to me that ground,
Slain, Marro's only son.
A dear comrade, Owain;
Vile, his cover of crows.
Ghastly to me that ground,
Slain, Marro's only son.
April 4, 2023
Deep in Brittonic history. Fascinating in its own details of 6-7th century fight for the land and people of Gododdin from waves of invaders. Aneirin is a person that will go down beyond history's reach.
December 11, 2023
This is utterly haunting and beautiful. It's so momentous to me that I can feel grief and horror for the deaths of men who died over a millennia ago. Gillian Clarke has done an incredible job with this translation.
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