Literature

Poetry plays a large part in Medieval Welsh literature. Typically these poems were written as praises to a king or lord. (From Wikipedia)

An example of the Canu Llyrwarch Hen is the poem entitled 'Gwên and Llywarch' by Rowland (From Wikipedia)

Teneu fy ysgwyd ar asswy fy nhu cy bwyf hen as gallaf ar rodwydd forlas gwiliaf Na wisc wedy kwyn. na vit vrwyn dy vryt. llem awel chwerw gwenwyn. amgyhud vy mam mab yt wyf. Neut atwen ar vy awen yn hanuot. o un achen. trigwyd oric elwic a wen. Llym vym par llachar ygryt armaaf y wylyaw. ryt kynnyt anghwyf duw gennyt. O diegyd ath welif oth ryledir ath gwynif. na choll wyneb [gwr] ar gnif. Ny chollaf dy wyneb trin wosep wr pan wisc glew yr ystre. porthaf gnif kynn mudif lle. Redegawc tonn ar hyt traeth. ech adaf torrif aruaeth. kat [agdo] gnawt ffo ar ffraeth. Yssit ym a lauarwyf. briwaw pelydyr parth y bwyf. ny lauaraf na ffowyf. Medal migned kalet riw. rac carn cann tal glann a vriw. edewit ny wnelher ny diw. Gwasgarawt neint am glawd caer. a minneu armaaf. ysgwyt [brwyt] briw. kynn techaf. Y corn ath rodes di vryen. ae arwest eur am y en. chwyth yndaw oth daw aghen. Yr ergryt aghen rac angwyr lloegyr ny lygraf vym mawred. ny duhunaf rianed. Tra vum .i. yn oet y gwas draw. a wisc o eur y ottoew bydei re ruthrwn y waew. Diheu diweir dy waes. ti yn vyw ath dyst ry las. ny bu eidyl hen yn was.

Thin is my shield on my left side. Although I may be old, I can do it: I will keep watch at Rhodwydd Forlas. Do not arm after dinner; let your thoughts not be heavy. Sharp is the wind; bad feeling is hurtful. My mother tells me that I am your son. I know in my heart that we spring from one stock. You are tarrying a precious while, Gwên. Sharp is my spear, bright in battle. I intend to keep watching on the ford. Although I may not escape, God be with you. If you escape, I will see you. If you are killed, I will lament you. Do not lose the honour of a warrior despite battle hardship. I will not lose your honour, battle-ready man, when warriors arm for the border. I will suffer hardship before I will yield ground. Running is a wave along the beach; soon intentions break — ?a scant protection in battle — frequent is fleeing by big talkers. I have that which I speak about. There will be breaking of shields where I am. I will not say that I will not flee. Soft is the swampy ground: firm the slope. The edge of a bank gives way beneath the hoof of a white steed. A promise which is not fulfilled is useless. Waves spread out around the bank of a fortress, and I intend that there will be a broken, shattered shield before I retreat. The horn which Urien gave you with its band of gold around its mouthpiece — blow on it if you come to have need. Despite battle-horrow before the warriors of England I will not mar my greatness. I will not awaken maidens. When I was the age of the youth over there who wears his spurs of gold it would be swiftly that I rushed to the spear. Certainly your assertion is true: you are alive and your witness slain. No old man was a weakling in youth.

 Welsh Mythology