Taliesin Quotes

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.

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The praising thy mercy. There hath not been here; O supreme Ruler; There hath not been; there will not be, One so good as the Lord. There hath not been born in the day of the people Any one equal to God. And no one will acknowledge Any one equal to him. Above heaven, below heaven, There is no Ruler but he. Above sea, below sea, He created us.

The dawn smiles, repelling gloom, At the dawn with violence, At every meet season, At the meet season of his turnings, At the four stages of his course, I will extol him that judges violence, Of the strong din, deep his wrath. I am not a man, cowardly, gray, A scum near the wattle.

I was patriarch To Elijah and Elijah. I was there at the crucifixion Of the merciful Mabon.

While I am watching over you, no great need will overcome you. be mindful of the name of the Trinity And none shall overcome you.

Songs and minstrels. And the hymns of angels, Will raise from the graves, They will entreat from the beginning. They will entreat together publicly, On so great a destiny. Those whom the sea has destroyed Will make a great shout, At the time when cometh He, that will separate them.

Kings will shudder [that] day, Woe awaits them! When the recompenser shall appear, Let the heaven appear below. A ruddy wind will be brought Out to the cinder, Until the world is as desolate As when created.

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.

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.

Perfect was Gweir's prison in the Faery Fort. Due to the ministry of Pwyll and Pryderi none before him had entered therein. In the heavy blue chain a faithful servant kept him and for the Spoils of Annwfn keenly he chanted and unto Doom shall continue in bard-orison. Three fulnesses of Prydwen we entered in: Save for seven none came up from Fort Faery.

Pleasant, a steed with a thick mane in a tangle; Also pleasant, crackling fuel. Pleasant, desire, and silver fringes; Also pleasant, the conjugal ring.

When God comes A great noise will pierce us, The day of judgment terribly. Messengers from the door, Wind, and sea, and fire. lightning and thunder A number without flattery. The people of the world groaning Will be concealed.

Let them make their war. Whence come night and day? Whence will the eagle become gray? Whence is it that night is dark? Whence is it that the linnet is green? The ebullition of the sea, How is it not seen?

He would not journey without a foot. He would not breed nuts without trees, Like seeking for ants in the heath. Like an instrument of foolish spoil, Like the retinue of an army without a head, Like feeding the unsheltered on lichen.

Although I am small, I am skilful. From the sea and the mountain, From the river's depth God gives His gifts to the blessed.

I have been a course, I have been an eagle. I have been a coracle in the seas: I have been compliant in the banquet. I have been a drop in a shower; I have been a sword in the grasp of the hand I have been a shield in battle. I have been a string in a harp, Disguised for nine years, in water, in foam. I have been sponge in the fire, I have been wood in the covert