THE WELSH BARDS.

Sweet apple tree, a tall and stately tree! original: "Afallen beren bren, addfeinus!"
A famous shelter, greatly profitable and beautiful;
Mighty lords and princes will make many excuses
To visit your retreat, as will the lying, greedy monks;
And talkative young men are just as determined—
They shall be men of magical and powerful character.

Sweet apple tree of tall and stately growth! How admired are your shade and shelter, your usefulness, and your beauty. Often, mighty lords and princes will make a thousand excuses to visit your secluded spot, and the deceitful and greedy monks are no less eager. The idle, talkative young men are equally intent; they all hanker after your apples. They all pretend to prophesy the warlike deeds of their prince, using this as their apology for robbing you of your fruit.

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Sweet apple tree of vigorous and green growth! original: "Afallen beren bydwf glas!"
Large are your branches and beautiful your form:
And I prophesy a fierce battle
In Pengwern The ancient Welsh name for the area around modern-day Shrewsbury., where they feast on their proper mead.

Sweet apple tree, vigorous in growth and green with leaves! Your branches are large and your form is beautiful. Before the destruction of slaughtering war caused my thoughts to boil with grief, how beautiful was the sight of your bright green cloak! Yet my prophetic song shall announce the day when a mighty legion shall avenge my wrongs—the brave armies of Pengwern, fierce in battle and energized by powerful mead.

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Sweet apple tree that grows in the glade, original: "Afallen beren a dyf yn llannerch"
Kept hidden from the lords of RHYDDERCH Rhydderch Hael (the Generous), a 6th-century King of Alt Clut (Strathclyde) and a contemporary of Merlin. by passionate courage.
The ground is trampled at your base, with people all around you;
Their fearless battle-ranks were a source of grief to them.
I am not loved by GWENDDYDD Merlin's sister. and she does not greet me;
I am hated by the strongest supporter of RHYDDERCH;
I have brought ruin to his son and his daughter.
Death takes everyone, so why does it not visit me?
For after GWENDDOLAU Merlin’s patron king, who died at the Battle of Arfderydd. no prince honors me,
No playfulness delights me, and no lover visits me:
Yet at the Battle of ARDERYDD The Battle of Arfderydd (c. 573 AD), a historical conflict between rival British kingdoms; tradition says Merlin went mad with grief here. I wore a golden torque original: "gorthorch"; a heavy gold neck ring worn by Celtic nobility.,
Though today I am despised by one who is fair as a swan.

Sweet apple tree, growing in the lonely glade! Passionate courage shall still keep you secure from the stern lords of Rhydderch. The ground around you is bare, trodden by mighty warriors; their heroic forms strike their enemies with terror. Alas! Gwenddydd does not love me and she does not greet me; I am hated by the chiefs of Rhydderch, for I have ruined his son and his daughter. Death relieves everyone—why does it not visit me? For since the death of Gwenddolau, no prince honors me; I am not soothed by entertainment, and I am no longer visited by the fair. Yet in the Battle of Arderydd, I wore the golden torque, even though I am now despised by her who is as fair as the snowy swan.

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Sweet apple tree with splendid flowers, original: "Afallen beren blodau esplydd"
That grows hidden in the woodlands!
I heard stories at the break of day
That the chief supporter of MEUWYDD was offended;
Twice, three times, four times in one day;
Oh Jesus, why did my death not come
Before my hand brought about the death of GWENDDYDD’S son?

Sweet apple tree, covered with delicate blossoms, growing unseen in the secluded woods! Early at dawn, I heard that the high-ranking chief of Meuwydd was offended with me; twice, three times, alas, four times in the same day I heard this. It rang in my ears before the sun had marked the hour of noon. Oh Jesus! Why was I not taken away by death before it became the tragic fate of my hand to kill the son of Gwenddydd?

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Sweet apple tree, like a forest lookout, original: "Afallen beren bren eil wyddfa"
The woodland dogs find shelter around your roots.
And I prophesy that there will come again
MEDRAWD Mordred. and ARTHUR, leader of the host,
To the battle-preparation of CAMLAN The legendary final battle of King Arthur. on a Thursday,
Where only seven shall return from the assembly.
Let WENHWYFAR Guinevere. look back at her crimes
When a church-sanctioned prince leads her.
Worse will happen to me, without any protection.
The death of GWENDDYDD’S son—my hand did it.

Sweet apple tree, appearing to the eye as a large and beautiful forest of stately trees! You are the monarch of the surrounding woods; you shade everything while remaining unshaded yourself! Yet my prophetic song shall announce the return of Medrawd and of Arthur, leader of the warlike host. They shall rush once more to the Battle of Camlan; the conflict will last two days, and only seven men will escape the slaughter. Then let Gwenhwyfar remember the crimes she has committed when an ecclesiastical hero leads the warriors to battle. Alas! My destiny is far more tragic, and hope offers no refuge. The son of Gwenddydd is dead, slain by my own accursed hand!