Welsh bard
Taliesin (or Taliessin; c. 534 – c. 599) is the earliest poet in any Brittonic language whose work has survived. Although he probably composed in Cumbric, since the songs most surely attributed to him are praise poems to Urien Rheged, a warrior monarch of the Old North, these poems survive in Middle Welsh in the so-called Book of Taliesin, written down around the 13th century, along with about forty more of more dubious attribution. His name means "Radiant Brow" (tal iesin in Welsh). The book was translated by Robert Williams and published in The Four Ancient Books of Wales (1858) by W. F. Skene. These translations are notoriously unreliable, but few better have since appeared, due to the obscurity and compression of the verse.
From: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)
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I have been a sow, I have been a buck, I have been a sage, I have been a snout, I have been a horn, I have been a wild sow, I have been a shout in battle. I have been a torrent on the slope, I have been a wave on the extended shore. I have been the light sprinkling of a deluge, I have been a cat with a speckled head on three trees. I have been a circumference, I have been a head. A goat on an elder-tree. I have been a crane well filled, a sight to behold. Very ardent the animals of Morial, They kept a good stock. Of what is below the air, say the hateful men, Too many do not live, of those that know me.
I am a bard; I will not disclose secrets to slaves; I am a guide: I am expert in contests. If he would sow, he would plough; he would plough, he would not reap. If a brother among brothers, Didactic Bards with swelling breasts will arise Who will meet around mead-vessels, And sing wrong poetry And seek rewards that will not be, Without law, without regulation, without gifts. And afterwards will become angry.
The rock wave-surrounded, by great arrangement, Will convey for us a defence, a protection from the enemy. The rock of the chief proprietor, the head of tranquillity. The intoxication of meads will cause us to speak. I am a cell, I am a cleft, I am a restoration, I am the depository of song; I am a literary man; I love the high trees, that afford a protection above, And a bard that composes, without earning anger; I love not him that causes contention; He that speaks ill of the skilful shall not possess mead.
There will be commotions and turbulent times, Seek no peace — it will not accrue to thee. The Ruler of Heaven knows thy prayer. From his ardent wrath thy praise has propitiated him The Sovereign King of Glory addresses me with wisdom Hast thou seen the dominus fortis? Knowest thou the profound prediction domini?