The White Goddess by Robert Graves Page A

the fern,
    Through all secrets I spy,
Old Math ap Mathonwy
    Knew no more than I.  
     
    For with nine sorts of faculty
    God has gifted me:
I am fruit of fruits gathered
    From nine sorts of tree –
     
    Plum, quince, whortle, mulberry ,
    Raspberry, pear,
Black cherry and white
    With the sorb in me share.  
     
    From my seat at Fefynedd,
    A city that is strong,
I watched the trees and green things
    Hastening along.
     
    Retreating from happiness
    They would fain be set
Informs of the chief letters
    Of the alphabet.
     
    Wayfarers wondered,
    Warriors were dismayed
At renewal of conflicts
    Such as Gwydion made;
     
    Under the tongue root
    A fight most dread,
And another raging
    Behind, in the head.
     
    The alders in the front line
    Began the affray.
Willow and rowan-tree
    Were tardy in array.  
     
    The holly, dark green ,
    Made a resolute stand;
He is armed with many spear-points
    Wounding the hand.  
     
    With foot-beat of the swift oak
    Heaven and earth rung;
‘ Stout Guardian of the Door ’,
    His name in every tongue.  
     
    Great was the gorse in battle,
    And the ivy at his prime;
The hazel was arbiter
    At this charmed time.
     
    Uncouth and savage was the fir ,
    Cruel the ash tree –
Turns not aside a foot-breadth ,
    Straight at the heart runs he.
     
    The birch, though very noble ,
    Armed himself but late:
A sign not of cowardice
    But of high estate.  
     
    The heath gave consolation
    To the toil-spent folk ,
The long-enduring poplars
    In battle much broke.  
     
    Some of them were cast away
    On the field of fight
Because of holes torn in them
    By the enemy ’s might.
     
    Very wrathful was the vine,
    Whose henchmen are the elms;
I exalt him mightily
    To rulers of realms.
     
    Strong chieftains were the blackthorn
    With his ill fruit,
The unbeloved whitethorn
    Who wears the same suit , 
     
    The swift-pursuing reed ,
    The broom with his brood ,
And the furze but ill-behaved
    Until he is subdued.  
     
    The dower-scattering yew
    Stood glum at the fight’s fringe
With the elder slow to burn
    Amid fires that singe,  
     
    And the blessed wild apple
    Laughing in pride
From the Gorchan of Maelderw ,
    By the rock side.  
     
    In shelter linger
    Privet and woodbine ,
Inexperienced in warfare ,
    And the courtly pine.  
     
    But I, although slighted
    Because I was not big ,
Fought, trees, in your array
    On the field of Goddeu Brig.
     
     
    1 Another form is dychymig dameg (‘a riddle, a riddle’), which seems to explain the mysterious ducdame ducdame in As You Like It ,which Jacques describes as ‘a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle’ – perhaps a favourite joke of Shakespeare’s Welsh schoolmaster, remembered for its oddity.

Chapter Three
     

DOG, ROEBUCK AND LAPWING
     
     
    The fullest account of the original Battle of the Trees, though the Lapwing is not mentioned in it, is published in the Myvyrian Archaiology. This is a perfect example of mythographic shorthand and records what seems to have been the most important religious event in pre-Christian Britain:
    ‘These are the Englyns [epigrammatic verses] that were sung at the Câd Goddeu, or, as others call it, the Battle of Achren, which was on account of a white roebuck, and a whelp; and they came from Annwm [the Underworld], and Amathaon ap Don brought them. And therefore Amathaon ap Don, and Arawn, King of Annwm, fought. And there was a man in that battle, who unless his name were known could not be overcome and there was on the other side a woman called Achren [‘Trees’], and unless her name were known her party could not be overcome. And Gwydion ap Don guessed the name of the man, and sang the two Englyns following:
     
    ‘ Sure-hoofed is my steed impelled by the