Pleasant, berries in the time of harvest; Also pleasant, wheat upon the stalk. Pleasant the sun moving in the firmament; Also pleasant the retaliator… - Taliesin

I am not meet for petty men, slack their spirit: They know not, they, what day the Chief was made, what hour of the fine day was born the owner, what a beast they keep with its silver head. When we went with Arthur, a sorry strife, Save for seven none came up from Fort Hoar-side.

The number of saints, a synod without desire, From God the divine prophesy. In every tongue they compose, About the earth they were, And so many wisely prophesied Christ, and before he was, they were.

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.