When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And get knock'd on the head for his labours. To do good to mankind is the chivalrous plan, And is always as nobly requited; Then battle for freedom wherever you can. And, if not shot or hang'd, you'll get knighted.
Yet Dafydd's humour does not obscure, any more than Chaucer 's does, the underlying seriousness of his poetry. Behind his poems of requited and unrequited love, whether idyllic or idealizing, whether streaked by savage jealousy or a profound feeling of betrayal reminiscent of Troilus and Criseyde , there runs a sense of the cruel impermanence of the world.