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)
The heath was victorious, keeping off on all sides. The common people were charmed, During time proceeding of the men. The oak, quickly moving, Before him, tremble heaven and earth. A valiant door-keeper against an enemy, his name is considered. The blue-bells combined, And caused a consternation. In rejecting, were rejected, Others, that were perforated
The love-diffusing [Lord] will separate us. The land of worldly weather, A wind will melt the trees: There will pass away every tranquillity When the mountains are burnt. There will be again inhabitants With horns before kings; The mighty One will send them, Sea, and land, and lake. There will be again a trembling terror, And a moving of the earth, And above every field, And ashes the rocks will be; With violent exertion, concealment, And burning of lake.
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?
Eagle of the land, extensive thy glance. I would have requested an active courser Of vigorous trot, the price of the spoil of Taliesin. One is the violent course on the bottom and the summit, One is the gift of a baron to a lord. One is the herd of stags in their fight. One is the wolf not covetous of broom, One is the country where a son is born, And of one form and one sound is the battle-place of warriors.
I have fled in the shape of a raven of prophetic speech, in the shape of a satirizing fox, in the shape of a sure swift, in the shape of a squirrel vainly hiding. I have fled in the shape of a red deer, in the shape of iron in a fierce fire, in the shape of a sword sowing death and disaster, in the shape of a bull, relentlessly struggling.
I am not meet for petty men, slack their habit: They know not, they, on what day who was made, what hour of the fine day was born to whom, who made him who went not to the dale of Tefwy. They know not, they, the great Speckled Ox in headgear with seven-score links in its collar-chain. And when we went with Arthur, a sorry visit, Save for seven none came up from Fort Divine Height.
Dominus virtutum Has gathered together those that were in slavery, And before I existed He had perceived me. May I be ardently devoted to God! And before I desire the end of existence, And before the broken foam shall come upon my lips, And before I become connected with wooden boards, May there be festivals to my soul!
Heroic numberer of languages, A conspicuous sea-shoal of goodly increase. A number that God will watch with extreme love. In heaven, in earth, at the end, In straits, in expanse, in form, In body, in soul, in habit, Prudence far from the presence of kings. I adore thee, Ruler of the land of peace. Let my soul be in a condition of life; For ever in court; A servant of heaven, he will not refuse me.