It is greater glory,

That Urien and his children should exist.

And he especially

The supreme Guledig.

In a distant city,

A principal pilgrim,

The Lloegrians know him,

When they converse.

Death they had,

20 And frequent vexation,

Burning their homesteads,

And drawing their coverings.
And loss,

And great incomprehension,

Without obtaining deliverance

From Urien Reged.

The protector of Reged,

The praise of Ior, the anchor of the country.

My inclination is on thee,

30 Of every hearing.

Heavy thy spear-throwing,
When the battle is heard,
When they resort to battle,
A smarting is made.

Fire in houses before day,

Before the sovereign of the cultivated plain,

The most fair cultivated plain,

And its most generous men.

The Angles are accustomed to be without homage

40 From most valiant king.

A most valiant progeny,

Thine is the best.

Of those who have been, or will be,

There is not thy match.

When he is looked upon,
Very great is the terror.

It is usual to look for him,

For an active king.

Around him a modest demeanour,

50 And the varied multitude,

The splendid prince of the North,
The choicest of princes.

And when I fail in age,

In the sore necessity of death,
May I not be smiling,

If I praise not Urien.

XL.

BOOK OF TALIESSIN XXXIII.

Text, vol. ii. p. 185. Notes, vol. ii. p. 412.

EN rest,
A song I kept.

Respect and plenty
And mead I possessed.
I possessed mead.

His triumph,

And fair lands,

A great wonder.

And gold and hour,

10 And hour and treasure,

And plenty

And esteem.

And giving a desire,

A desire of giving it,

To encourage me.

He slays, he plagues,

He cherishes, he honours,

He honours, he cherishes,

He slays before him.

20 Presence was given

To the bards of the world.

Ever certainly

To thee they say

According to thy will.

God hath caused to thee
The shoulder of kings
Against despicable fear.
Incitement of battle

The protection of a country. 30 The country protected

Battle of incitement

Usual about thee

The tumult of capering,

The capering of tumult
And drinking of ale.
Ale for the drinking,

And a fair homestead,
And beautiful clothing,
To me has been extended.

40 The lofty Llwyvenydd,

And requests open.
In one dwell

Great and little.

Taliessin's song.

Thou comfortest it.

Thou art the best

Of those that have heard ·

His vehement animosities.

I also will praise

50 Thy deeds.

And until I fail in old age,

In the sore necessity of death,
May I not be smiling,

If I praise not Urien.

XLI.

BOOK OF TALIESSIN XXXIV.

Text, vol. ii. p. 187. Notes, vol. ii. p. 413.

EN one year

One that provides

Wine and bounty and mead,

And manliness without enmity,

And a musician excelling,

With a swarm of spears about him.

With ribbands at their heads,

And their fair appearances.

Every one went from his presence,

10 They came into the conflict,
And his horse under him.

Purposing the affair of Mynaw.
And more harmony,

Advantage flowing about his hand.
Eight score of one colour

Of calves and cows.
Milch cows and oxen.
And every fair need.

I should not be joyful

20 If Urien were slain.

He is dear before he went.

A Saxon shivering, trembling,

With hair white-washed,

And a bier his destiny,

With a bloody face.

For the blood of men a little protected.

And a man of the intrenchment persevering,

Whose wife is a widow.

Mine is the wine of the prince,

30 Mine is the wine of frequent parties,

My chance, my aid, my head.

Since the rising up will not cause

A striking fronting one another.
Porter, listen.

What is the noise: is it the earth that quakes?

Or is it the sea that swells?

Whitened, clinging together, against the infantry.
If there is a cry on the hill,

Is it not Urien that terrifies?
40 If there is a cry in the valley,
Is it not Urien that pierces?
If there is a cry in the mountain,
Is it not Urien that conquers?
If there is a cry on the slope,
Is it not Urien that wounds?
If there is a sigh on the dyke,
Is it not Urien that is active?
A cry of a journey over the plain,
A cry in every meandering vale.

50 Nor will one sneeze or two

Protect from death.

He would not be on famine

With spoils surrounding him.

Over-querulous, trailing, of a blue tint.
Like death was his spear,

Killing his enemy.

And until I fail in old age,
In the sore necessity of death,

May I not be smiling,

60 If I praise not Urien.