The Boast - Hywel ab Owain

A white-topped wave is washing ever
The Royal grave of Rhufawn Bevr;
    There lies the Land I love and England loathes,
Right rich the growths her sickles sever.

I love her mead-cup's amber treasure,
When wintry seas storm beyond measure;
    I love the Clans that in her cooms increase;
Their Prince hath in her peace his pleasure.

I love her steeps, her shores blue-brimming,
Her wood-side keeps, her glades dew-swimming,
    Her meadows fountain-fed, her valleys bright,
Her sea-gulls white, her lovely women.

I love her warriors' hero-faces,
Their steeds and stately dwelling-places;
    I love her fields, even to their small sweet clover,
And laud her, as a lover his lady's graces.

---

Hywel ab Owain, Prince of Gwynedd (1120 - 1170) Wales
Translated by Alfred Perceval Graves
Source: Welsh poetry old and new, in English verse by Alfred Perceval Graves, Longmans, Green, and co., 1912