Taliesin Quotes
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A pleasant virtue, extreme penance to an extreme course; Also pleasant, when God is delivering me. Pleasant, the carousal that hinders not mental exertion; Also pleasant, to drink together about horns.
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From warriors ravens grew red And with their leader a host attacked.
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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?
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I praise the Lord, the Sovereign of the royal realm, Who has extended his sway over the tract of the world.
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I have been a multitude of shapes, Before I assumed a consistent form.
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There are three fountains In the mountain of roses, There is a Caer of defence Under the ocean’s wave. Illusive greeter, What is the porter’s name?
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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.
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The Cymry will be lamenting While their souls will be tried Before a horde of ravagers. The Cymry, chief wicked ones, On account of the loss of holy wafers.
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I am not meet for petty men, the book a boss: They saw not Arthur's virtue beyond the Fort of Glasses. Three score centuries of men stationed on the wall: to speak with its sentinel was not easy. Three fulnesses of Prydwen we went with Arthur, Save for seven none came up from Fort Hindrance.
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To my deprivation, to my sorrow, sinew was brave. The world would not be if not for my offspring. I am a bard to be praised. The unskilful May he be possessed by the ravens and eagle and bird of wrath.
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Reaper of enemies; strong of grip; One kind with his fathers.
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I have not been without battle. Bitter affliction was frequent Between me and my cousins. Frequent trials fell Between me and my fellow-countrymen. There was frequent contention Between me and the wretched.
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Fair Elphin, cease your lament! Swearing profits no-one. It is not evil to hope Nor does any man see what supports him, Not an empty treasure is the prayer of Cynllo, Nor does God break his promise.
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A hallowed grave in dying, with the grave an altar: I adore the sovereign lord, the great, That I be not sad, Christ grant me.
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Twelve thousand in the convention Believed through the voice of John. They worship, they deserve a portion, In heaven they will not be angry.
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I was in Africa Before the building of Rome. I came here To the remnant of Troy.
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Composed for renown am I, a verse heard on the stone-doored isle in the four-quartered fort. Tranquillity and obscurity mingled shiny wine their drink before their retinue. Three fulnesses of Prydwen we went upon the main, Save for seven none came up from Castle Rigor.
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I shared my shelter, a ninth share in Arthur's valour. I broke a hundred forts. I slew a hundred stewards. I bestowed a hundred mantles. I cut off a hundred heads. I gave to an old chief very great swords of protection.
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Monks throng like a kennel of pups from disputing with the masters who instruct them whether the run of the wind is one, or one the ocean's waters or one the spark of fire - an illimitable clamour.
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Do not the brave know The greatness of their progeny? A country present will meet thee, And while it may possibly be yours, Three hundred thousand years save one, A short hour of the day of everlasting life.
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I was at the Cross With Mary Magdalene. I received the muse From Ceridwen's cauldron.
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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
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I will offer a prayer to the Trinity, May the Eternal grant me to praise thee! In the present course, dangerous Our work; destruction is a slight impulse of wrath. They reckon of the saints a tribe, King of heaven, may I be eloquent about thee! Before the separation of my soul from my flesh.
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Sure-hoofed is my steed impelled by the spur;The high sprigs of alder are on thy shield;Bran art thou called, of the glittering branches.