I praise the Lord, the Sovereign of the royal realm, Who has extended his sway over the tract of the world.
Taliesin
I have been a multitude of shapes, Before I assumed a consistent form.
form
There was a great battle Saturday morning From when the sun rose until it grew dark.
dark battle morning sun rose great
Before Geraint, the enemy's scourge, I saw white horses, tensed, red, After the war cry, bitter the grave.
war horses cry grave bitter white red
Reaper of enemies; strong of grip; One kind with his fathers.
enemies kind strong fathers
From warriors ravens grew red And with their leader a host attacked.
leader red warriors
world praise realm lord
Dechymic pwy yw. Creadt kyn dilyw. Creadur kadarnHeb gic heb ascwrn. Heb wytheu heb waet. Heb pen aheb traet. Ny bed hyn ny byd ieu. No get y dechreu. Ny daw oe odeuYr ofyn nac agheu. Ny dioes eisseuGan greaduryeu. Guess who it is. Created before the deluge.A creature strong, Without flesh, without bone, Without veins, without blood, Without head, and without feet. It will not be older, it will not be younger, Than it was in the beginning. There will not come from his designFear or death. He has no wantsFrom creatures.
wind old-songs
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.
numbers door people
Ruler of heaven, Ruler of every people! We knew not, O Christ! That it was thou. If we had known thee, Christ, we should have refrained from thee.
people
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.
life greatness countrylife
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?
war
It is a fit time to go to the drinking, With the skilful men, about art, And a hundred knots, the custom of the country, The shepherd of the districts, support of gates, Like going without a foot to battle.
men thetimes time art
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.
art
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.
trouble business
Pleasant, berries in the time of harvest; Also pleasant, wheat upon the stalk. Pleasant the sun moving in the firmament; Also pleasant the retaliators of outcries.
thetimes time
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