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Am I not with hosts making a din? I would not cease, between two hosts, without gore. Am I not he that is called Gorlassar? My belt was a rainbow to … - Taliesin
" "Am I not with hosts making a din? I would not cease, between two hosts, without gore. Am I not he that is called Gorlassar? My belt was a rainbow to my foe.
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About Taliesin
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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Additional quotes by Taliesin
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.
Those that placed me on the cross I knew when young. That drove me on the tree, My head hung down. Stretched were my two feet, So sad their destiny. Stretched with extreme pain The bones of my feet. Stretched were my two arms, Their burden will not be. Stretched were my two shoulders, So diligently it was done. Stretched were the nails, Within my heart. Stretched was the spiking, Between my two eyes. Thick are the holes Of the crown of thorns in my head. The lance was struck And my side was pierced. It will be struck to you also, As your right hand (struck me). To you there will be no forgiveness, For piercing me with spears. And the Ruler we knew not When thou wert hung.
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