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Rh Oh, grief! Maiden, who art called “the Morn;” Who then wrought this fearful change?

Gwdion, son of Don, in scorn, With his wand of magic sway, Changed my beauty’s proud array, For the aspect you behold! In revenge, because of old Gronwy, Pevyr, Garanhir, Of tall form and noble cheer, Penllyn’s lord—to me was dear.

holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed bower! In front of all the forest Thy coral-loaded branches tower.