Taliesin Quotes
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I have come to salvage Elphin's honor and his freedom. Taliesin am I, primary chief bard to Elphin.Primary chief poet Am I to Elphin. And my native country Is the place of the Summer Stars. John the Divine Called me Merlin, But all future kings Shall call me Taliesin.
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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.
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Whence come night and flood? How they disappear? Whither flies night from day; And how is it not seen?
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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.
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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.
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In manliness he will greet my trouble, Should I be bled, I should evidently get better; Truly I saw no one before, who saw not in me Every indisposition, he will cultivate his business.
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O God, the God of formation, Ruler, strengthener of blood. Christ Jesus, that guards. Princes loud-proclaiming go their course For a decaying acquisition.
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Excellent in every way around the glens The two skilful ones make inquiries
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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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Pleasant, a steed in a leather halter; Also pleasant, alliance with a king. Pleasant, the hero that destroys not the yielding; Also pleasant, the splendid Cymraec language.
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While I was held prisoner, sweet inspiration educated me and laws were imparted to me in a speech which had no words...
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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 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.
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I was in the canon When Absalom was slain. I was in Llys Don Before the birth of Gwydion.
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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.
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Elphin of noble generosity, Do not sorrow at your catch. Though I am weak on the floor of my basket, There are wonders on my tongue.
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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.
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I was with my king In the heavens When Lucifer fell Into the deepest hell. I carried the banner Before Alexander. I know the names of the stars From the North to the South.
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Pleasant to bring back the divisions of a parish; Also pleasant to us the time of paradise. Pleasant, the moon, a luminary in the heavens; Also pleasant where there is a good rememberer.
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The number of saints in scores, Valiant men, golden their party. Before kings a career of praise, Warriors, no one was before them in demanding. In straits, in expanse, in every need, May they be a city to our body and our soul!
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Abiding in heaven was he, my desire, Against the eagle, against the fear of the unskilful. I am a bard, and I am a harper, I am a piper, and I am a crowder. Of seven score musicians the very great enchanter.
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Meditating were my thoughts On the vain poetry of the bards of Brython. Making the best of themselves in the chief convention. Enough, the care of the smith’s sledge-hammer. I am in want of a stick, straitened in song, The fold of the bards, who knows it not?
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Monks mass like a pack of wolves from disputing with the masters who instruct them - They know not when deep dark and dawn divorce nor who sends the wind, nor who moves it, where it disappears to, what land it strikes.
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I was with the Lord In the manger of the ass. I upheld Moses Through the water of Jordan.