BARDIC POETRY

http://www.angelfire.com/realm/taliesin_dubh/bardic.html

The men you have found are in possession;Over the nine green-necked waves of the sea must advance ye;Unless by power then be planted,Quickly let the battle be prepared.I assign you this possession of the land you have found;If you love concede this award.If you love not concede it not-It is this I say to you.

Amairgen

AMAIRGEN'S INVOCATION TO IRELANDI invoke the land of Ireland.Much coursed be the fertile sea,Fertile be the fruit-strewn mountain,Fruit-strewn wood,Showery be the river of water-falls,Of water-falls be the lake of deep pools,Deep-pooled be the hilltop well,An assembly of the Kings of Tara,Tara be the hill of the Tribes,The tribes of the Sons of Mil,Of Mil of the ships,The barks,Let the lofty bark be Ireland,Lofty Ireland,Darkly sung,I invoke the land of Ireland.

Amairgen

THE SONG OF AMAIRGIN

I am the wind of the sea,I am the wave of the sea,I am the sound of the sea,I am a stag of seven tines,I am a hawk on a cliff,I am a tear of the sun,I am fair among flowers,I am a boar,I am a salmon in a pool,I am a lake on a plain,I am a hill of poetry,I am a battle-waging spear,I am a god who forms fire for a head.

Who but myself knows the assemblies of the dolmen-house on the mountain of Slieve Mis?Who but myself knows where the sun shall set?Who fortells the ages of the moon?Who brings the cattle from the House of Tethra and segregates them?On whom do the cattle of Tethra smile?Who shapes the weapons from hill to hill?

Invoke,People of the Sea,invoke the poet,that he may compose a spell for you.For I,The Druid,who set out letters in Ogham,I,who part combatants,I will approach the rath of the Sidhe to seek a cunning poet that together we may concoct incantations.I am the wave of the sea.

Amairgen

CAEL PRAISES CREIDE'S HOUSE

There is a vat there of princely enamel into which flows the juice of a pleasant malt,And an apple tree above the vat with an abundance of heavy fruit.

When Criede's goblet is filled with the mead of that vehement vat,Four apples fall simutainously right into the goblet.

Fionn MacCumhaill

(that must have been some brew,huh?)

THE CRANE BAG

The shirt of Manannan and his knife,And Guibnes' girdle altogether.A smiths' hook from the fierce man;Were treasures that the Crane Bag held.

The King of Scotlands' shears full sure,And the King of Lochlainns' helmet,These were in it to be told of,And the bones of Asals' swine.

A girdle of the great whales' back was in the shapely crane bag;I tell thee without harmIt used to be carried in it.

When the sea was full,Its' treasures were visible in its' middle;When the sea was in ebb,The Crane Bag in turn was empty

(From"DUNAIRE FIONN")

(excerpts from)THE BLACK BOOK OF CAR MARTHEN

Along with seven created beingsI was placed in a fire of purificationI was myself gleaming fire,When I was first given life.I was dust on the earth,And grief could not touch me;I was a great wind;less evil than good;I was mist on a mountain,A shelter for game;I was a blossom on every treeOn the face of the earth.

STANZA OF THE GRAVES

Truly did Elfin bring meTo my bardic loreOver an ancient chieftain-The grave of Rwfawn,Too early departed

I have been where Bran was slain,Son of Iwerydd,far famed,Where ravens of battle have screamed.

I have been where Llacheu fell,The son of Arthur,Extolled in song,Where ravens have screamed for blood.

I have been where Meurig was slain,Son of Carrian,An honoured man,Where ravens screamed for flesh.

I have been where the men of Prydien fell,From north to south,I am alive;They in thier graves!(author unknown)

ANGAR CYVYNDAWD

(The Hostile Conspiracy)

I am a wiseman of the primal knowledge.I am an experienced astrologer,I pronounce anger,I pronounce solutions.I speak to habitual sycophants,I continue to behold The Gods.In th language of Talhaiarn,Initiation was the judgement,Whoever expounded to him the nature and the power of poetry,And inspiration without failSeven score Ogrywrens' have shared in thier inspiration,But of those scores,Only one truly

I know the law of fertile inspiration,When it is skilfully tunedto those happy days,To a quite life,To the defence of the times,To kings of whom long is the consolation,To the things which are on the face of the earth.

It is difficult to preform such a task on a new instrument.Why is the harp-string lamenting?Why does the cuckoo lament?Why does it sing?I know it as I know many pleasant things.I know why Geraint and Arman abandonded thier camp,I know when the spark of hardness works from the stones,I know why the honeysuckle smells good,Why crows are the colour of silence.I know the cup from which the wave has overflowed.I know the end of dawn.I know who has preached to Eli and Eneas.I know the cuckoos of summer,I know where they go in winter.The inspiration I sing I have brought from the depths.

Like a river it flows,I know its length,I know when it disappears,I know when it overflows,I know when it disappears,I know which foundation there is under the sea.I know its measure,I know everything that surrounds it.

I know how numerous are the hours in a day,I know how numerous are the days in a year,I know how numerous are the spears in battle,I know how numerous are the drops of a shower gently dispersing...

I know all the craft of Gwidion,Who made great mockery and nearly a disgrace.I know who it is that fills the river...I know who it is that averts the present questions.I know with what enduring patience the sky was raised.When the great knowledge of the stars is imparted,Then will be understood every high thing.

I know when the spirit is working,When the sea is pleasant,When the race is radiant,When the most high is implored.I know the extent over the earth of the sun which shines upon us,I know when the bird of anger goes to its rest-The bird of anger goes to its rest when the earth becomes green.

I know the number of the winds and the streams,I know the number of the streams and the winds,I know how many are its rivers.I know the size of the earth and its' thickness.I know the sound of blades reddened on all sides under the sun,I know the regulator of the Heavens and of the Earth.

I know why a hill resounds,I know why devistators win land,I know why the vault of silver is restored,I know why breath is black,I know why it is better so,I know why the valley is radiant

I know why a cow is horned,Why a wife is loving,Why milk is white,Why holly is green,Why the goat is bearded,Why parsnip is crested,Why the wheel is round,Why the mallet is flatWhy the kid is speckled,Why salt is in brine,Why beer is a lively medium...

I know why the alder is a purple colour,Why the linnet is greenWhy hips are red,Why a woman is never still,Why night comes,I know the nature of the flood,But no one knows why the interior of the sun is red.

Iknow who made the great pole that connects earth and heaven,I know the number of fingers in the cauldron.I know the name of two words will never be taken from the cauldron.I know why the ocean rolls about us,Why fish are silent,Of seafood will thier flesh be,Until it is transformed when the fish will constrain the sea.

I know that the white swans' foot is black,I know the sharp spear is four sided,I know the heavenly race is unfallen,I know there are four elements(but thier end is not known to me)I know the wanderings of the boar and the deer.

I salute you,Bard of the border,How do you stand beside he whose bones are of the fog in a place where two cataracts of a wind come together in combat?

A second time was I created.I have been a blue salmon,I have been a dog,I have been a deer,I have been a roebuck on the mountain,I have been a trunk,I have been a beech,I have been an axe in the hand,I have been a pin in the tongs.

For a year and a half I have been a white speckled cock,Among the hens of Eiddyn.I have been a stallion at stud,I have been a battling bull,I have been a yellow goat.

Fecund and nourishing,I have been a grain descovered growing on a hill.The harvester took me to free my essence in a place full of smoke.

I have known great suffering;A red hen took me,She had red wings and a double comb;I rested nine months as a child in her belly.

I have been matured,I have been offered to a king,I have been dead,I have been alive,I have possessed the ivy branch,I have had an escort;Before god I have been poor.

The protector has instructed me between his red hands.He who has spoken of me will find it hard to be happy-but may find great glory in it.

I am Taliesin and I defend the true lineage until the end of time to the profit of Elffin.

THE HOSTILE CONFEDERACY

Is there a Bard here who has not sung an appropriate song?When the song is finished,If he is a learned person,There will be no denial of liberality.According to the saying of Taliesin,The day was waning,When Kian finished his songs of praise.Let my liquor by that which rightfully belonged to Afaggdu.Did he not skillfully bear away the strains of knowledge?Gwion,on whom it overflowed,And he became profound.He could restore the dead to life.Though he was destitute of wealth,They can make delicious things,And boil without water;They can make metals.

In ages of ages,The day remains concealed,For praising the profoundly eloquent one.Not unlovely is concord,To him who is accustumed to it.Assembly of harmonious minstrels,What has paralized your tongues?Why do you not recite a recitation?Give us over the bright liquor all your penillions?I have sung without delay,Before very importunity.There is a song on thier coming,A song of thier going,A song from a hundred minstrels;And it is me they speak of,The slaughter of the daughter of Lliant,Little was her pleasure in gold and silver.What is the covering of the earth?How many coverings has the earth?How is the breath drawn?Whence is the sword green?What is the origin of the trades?Of trades what is the origin?Do you know what is recorded,Recorded in books?How many winds,How many torrents,how many torrents,How many winds?How many rivers on the journey?How many rivers there are?What is the breadth of the earth,Or what its thickness?I know the names of the planets revolving around the earth;I know the regulator between heaven and earth.

Whence the echo comes again,And why its impulse to die away;Whence the brightness of silver;And why the valleys are dark;What is the seat of the breath,What is the best that has been;Why the cattle have horns,Why a woman is fond,Why milk is white,Why holly is green,Why the kid is bearded,Whence is the growth of cow-parsnips in a multitude of places;Why wine intoxicates,Why the mallet is made sloping,Why the little roebuck is spotted,why the sea is salt,Whence is the briskness of ale,Why the alder is of a purplish colour,Why linnet is green,Why the berrries of the dognose are red,Or what is the age of a woman;Whence is the commencement of the night,What melting pot must be used to liquify gold.

No one knows what makes the sun red-coloured on the first rising;In an hour it goes away.Why a harp string is white;Why the salmon glitters,What preserves it without fire;What Garthan bought,And Geraint and Garman;What brings out the polish on hard worked stone,Whence the sweetness of balm,When the green of the young grass.Talhairn is the greatest of sages.Who is deprived of life with blood upon his breast.

A wonderful reciter,A singer of songs of praise,Am I,Taliesin.I compose songs in true measure,Continuing to the end to uphold Elphin.Is there not a tribute of much gold to be paid?When shall be hated and not loved,Perjury and treachery?

I have no desire for benefits by yielding imperfect praise and salutatons to the brotherhood.Compared with me,No one knows anything.I am learned in the principle sciences,And the reasoning of astrologers concerning viens and solvents and the general nature of man.I know the secret of composing songs of praise.According to the saying of Talhairn,For the gifted there shall be judgement,And a judging of thier qualities.The poetic disposition is that which gives the secret virtue of a muse above mediocrity.Seven score muses there are in the inspiration of song;Eight score in every score,In the great abyss in the sea of tranquility,In the great abyss of the wrath,In the depths below the earth,In the air above the earth,There is a recognition in itWhat sorrow there is,That is better than joy.I know the blessed gift of the flowing muse;To me it brings the rewards of skill,To me in happy days,To me in a peaceful life,And a protection in age.I am equal to kings,Whatever their enjoyment,I am equal to them through them in redemption.( break in manuscrpt)

I know when the contenance will be animated,When the sea will be pleasant,When is the growth of seed,Whence it grows up high,Or whence comes the sun.What is it agitates the wood,Or fashions the froth upon the water?I know good and evil,The rising and the motion of the reaths of smoke,And many more things equally perfect;Who it was emptied the bowl,Where the dawn terminates;What was preached by Eli and Eneas.

I know the cukoos in summer,And where they will be in winter.I will sing a song concerning the deep,I will bring it to the common source of rivers.I know its depth,I know whence it deminishes,I know whence it replenishes,I know whence it overflows,I know whence it shrinks,I know whence came the creatures that are in the sea;I know all that are like them,All in thier assembly,How many hours in a day,How many days in a year,How many spears in a battle,How many drops in a shower,Very delicate its seperation.Excessive praise infers reproach.A mind with the learning of Gwydion I know in nobody.What caused the tide to overflow on the people of the pharaoh.

Who carried the measuring line in the presence of the Creator;What ladder had he when the heavens where lifted up from earth to the sky.How many peas are in my pot with one in my hand.What is the name of the two shanks which cannot be wedged into one pot;What is the cause of sea sickness;Whence is the fat of fishes;Thier flesh will be of seafood until it is transformed,While the fish contains it.Why the white swan has black feet,Why a sharp spear penetrates.The region of heaven has no limits.What are the four elements whose boundaries are unknown?Is the pig or the stag of the most vagabond nature?I ask of you,big bellied bards,Are the bones of man made of vapour?Do the winds fall down in cataracts?I am a reciter of information,In Efrai,In Efroeg,In Efroeg,In Efrai.A second time in transformation,I have been a blue salmon,I have been a dog,I have been a stag,I have been a roebuck in the mountain,I have been the stump of a tree in a shovel,I have been an axe in the hand,I have been a pin of a pair of tongs a year and a half;I have been a spotted cock along with hens;I have been a stallion in stud,I have been a fierce bull,I have been a yellow buck,Soft was my nourishment.I have been a grain springing up;The reaper came to me,Thrusting me into a hole,Rubbing me with a hand in my afflictions.A hen became pregnant of me,With red claws and a cleft crest.I was necessitated to be nine nights in her womb as an infant.I have been a posession of the meritorious,I have been a gift for a king,I have been dead,I have been alive;Concealed in an ivy bush,I have been carried about.Before I recieved a gift I was poor.Another welcome council to me the red fanged one gave,A wonderful reciter,A great composer of of hymns,Am I,Taliesin.I compose songs in true meassre,Continuing to uphold Elphin to the end.

Taliesin the Elder

THE LAND BENEATH THE WAVES

That which is clear sea,For the skiff in which Bran is,That is a happy plain with the profusion of flowers to me,From the chariot of two wheels.

Bran sees the number of waves beating across a clear sea;I myself see in Mag Mon rosy flowers without fault.

Sea horses glisten in summer.As far as Bran has stretched his glance,The sheen of the main,on which thou art,The white hue of the sea,On which thou rowest,Yellow and azure are spread out,It is land,It is not rough.

Speckled salmon leap from the womb of the white sea,On which thou lookest;they are calves,They are coloured lambs with friendliness,Without mutual slaughter.

from"The Voyage Of Bran MacFerbal"

THE SIEGE OF DROM DAMHGAIRE

I mix a roaring powerful fire;It will clear woods;It will blight the grass;An angry flame of powerful speed;It will rush up to the skies above;It will subdue the wrath of all burning wood;It will break a battle of the Clans of Conn.

(author unknown)

I obtained my inspirationFrom the auldron of Cerridwen.

(History of Taliesin)

Conspicuous when came from the CauldronThe Three Inspirations of Ogrywen...Mine is the splendid Chair,The inspiration of my ardent song.

(The Royal Chair)

Cad Goddeu

I have been in many shapes,Before I obtained a congenial form.I have been a narrow blade of a sword,I have been a drop in the air.I have bee a shining star.I have been a word in a book.I have been a book originally.I have been a light in a lantern,A year and a half...I have been a bridge for passing over three score rivers.I have journied as an eagle.I have been a boat on the sae.I have been a director in battle.I have been a string on a childs'swadling clout.I have been a sword in the hand.I have been a shield in the fight.I have been a string on a harp,Enchanted for a year,In the foam of water.I have a poker in the fire.There is nothing which I have not been.I have fought,Though small,In the battle Of Goddeu Brig,Before the ruler of Britain,Abounding in fleets.Indifferent bards pretend,They pretent a monsterous beast,With a hundred heads,And a furious combat at the root of his tongue,And another at the back of his head.A toad having a hundred claws,A spotted crest snake,For pushing in thier flesh.A hundred souls on account of thier skins.It wass Caer Fefynedd,Thither hastening grasses and trees.Wayfarers percieve them,Warriors are astonished of the renewal of the conflict such as Gwidion was made.Through charms and magick skill,Assume the forms of the principle trees,With you in array,Restrain the people inexperienced in battle.When the trees were enchanted there was hope for the trees,That they could frustrate the intentions of the surrounding fires,Better are three in unison,And enjoying themselves in a circle.The Alder trees were in the first line,They made thier commencement.Willow and Quicken were late in thier array.The plum is a tree,Not beloved of men;The Medlar of a like nature,Overcoming severe toil.The Bean bearing its shade an army of phantoms.The Rasberry makes not the best of foods.In shelter live the Privit and Woodbine,And the Ivy in its season.Great is the Gorse in battle.The Cherry tree has been reproached.The Birch though very magnaminous,Was late in arraying himself;It was not through cowardice,But on account of his great size.The appearance of the ...(miisng)Is that of a foriegner and od a lovely savage.The Pine tree in his court,Strong in battle,By me greatly exalted.In the presence of kings,THe Elm trees are his subjects.He turns aside not a measure of a foot,But strikes right in the middle,And at the farthest end.The Hazel is the judge,His berries are thy dowry.The Privet is blessed.Strong chiefs in war,Are the...(missing)and the Mulberry.Prosperous is the Beach tree.The Holly dark and green,He was wize and coragious;Defended with spikes on every side,Wounding his hands.The long eduring Poplars very much broken in the fight.The plundered Fern;The broom and thier off-spring.The Furse was not well behaved untilhe was tamed.The Heath gave consolation,Comforting people.The Black Cherry tree was persuing.The Oak tree swiftly moving,Before him tremble heaven and earth,Stout door-keeper against the foe is his name in all lands.The Corn Cockle bound together,Was to be burnt.Others were rejcted on account of the holes made by great violence.Indeed the field of battlevery rathful were the...(missing)Cruel the gloomy Ash.Bashful the Chestnut tree,Retrating from happiness.There shall be a black darkness,There shall be a shaking of the mountain,`There shall be a purifing furnace,There shall be a great wave,And when the shout shall be heard;Putting forth new leaves are the top of the Beach,Changing and being renewed from a withered state;Entangled are the tops of the Oak.From the Gorchan of Maeldrew,Smiling at the side of a rock was the pear tree,not of an ardent nature.Niether of mother or father was I made,Was my blood or body;Of nine kinds of faculties,Of fruit of fruits,Of the blossom of Mountain Primrose,Of the buds of trees and shrubs,Of an earthly kind.When I was made of the blossom of Nettle,Of the water of the nineth wave,I was spell-bound by Math before I became immortal.I was spell-bound by Gwidion,Great enchanter of the Britons,Of Eurys,Of Eurwn,Of Euron,Of Medron,In myriads of secrets,I am as learned as Math...I know about the emporor,when he was half burnt.I know the star knowledge of stars before the earth was made,Whence I was born,How many worlds thereareIt is the custom of accustomed bards to recite the praise of thier country.I have played in Lluoghor,I have slept in purple.Was I not in the enclosure with Dylan Mor,On a couch in the center between the two knees of the prince upon the blunt spear,When from the heavens came the torrents of the deep,Rushing with violent impulse.I know four score songs,For administering thier pleasure.There is niether old nor young,Except to as to thier poems,Any other singer who knows the whole of the nine hundred which are known to me,Concerning the blood spotted sword.Honour is my guide.I know the slaying of the boar,I know its' appearing,Its disappearing,Its' knowledge of languages.I know the light who's name is splendour,And a number of ruling lights that scatter rays of fire high above the deep.I have been a spotted snake upon a hill;I have been a viper in a lake;I have been an evil star formerly.I have been a wieght in a mill.My cassock is red all over.I prophisy no evil.Four score puffs of smoketo everyone who will carry them away;On the point of my knife,Hansome is the yellow horse,But a hundred times better is my creamed coloured one,Swift as the sea-mew,Which cannot pass me between the sea and the shore.Am I not pre-eminent in the field of blood?I have a hundred shares of the spoil.My wreath is of red jewels,Of gold is the border of my shield.There has not been one as good as I,Or ever known,Except Goronwy,From the dales of Edrywy.Long and white are my fingers,It is long since I was a herdsman.I traveled over the earth before I became a learned person.I have traveled,I have made a circuit,I have slept in a hundred islands;I have dwelt in a hundred cities.Learned druids,Prophesy ye of Arthur?Or is it me they celebrate,With a golden jewel set in gold,I am enriched;And I am enduldging the oppressive toil of the goldsmith.

Taliesin the Elder