WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY
Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell
(@RHCLambengolmo)
Vol. 2, No. 30: May 24, 2023
Taliesin, King Arthur, and Alexander the
Great
Introduction: Taliesin the Time Traveler
By the Editor
Taliesin was a Welsh bard – probably
a Christian Druid – of the sixth century CE, who may have been associated with
Merlin and King Arthur. Various tales of his bardic prowess and Otherworldly
adventures began to circulate after his death or disappearance, and these were
compiled and transmitted by his disciples and successors. His legendary
biography appears as an appendix to the Mabinogion, a collection
of medieval Welsh legends. He also figures prominently in Geoffrey of
Monmouth’s versified Vita Merlini (Life of Merlin) from the 12th
century. In the 20th century, Charles Williams published two
collections of Arthurian poetry that revolve around Taliesin: Taliesin
Through Logres and The Region of the Summer Stars.
Several poems attributed to
Taliesin have come down to us from the Middle Ages, most notably in the Welsh Book
of Taliesin. Three of these poems appear below, all of them excerpted
from The Four Ancient Books of Wales, edited by W. F. Skene
(1858). In addition, we have an excerpt from the Vita Merlini,
describing how Taliesin accompanied King Arthur to the Otherworldly Isle of
Avalon after the collapse of Arthur’s “Kingdom of Summer,” along with an early
Victorian poem depicting the passing of Alexander the Great (on June 10/11, 323
BCE).
Taken as a whole, Taliesin’s
poems are some excellent early specimens of what we might call
“proto-science-fiction,” in which he is portrayed as a traveler through time
and space, who interacted with many famous people throughout the world and
across the centuries (such as being the standard-bearer for Alexander the
Great). Taliesin’s extraterrestrial homeland is said to be somewhere in “the
region of the summer stars.” One has to wonder if the creators of Doctor
Who had Taliesin in mind back in 1963, when they came up with the
character of The Doctor – an immortal extraterrestrial traveler through time
and space.
This imaginative illustration of “An
Archdruid in His Judicial Habit” comes from The Costume of the Original
Inhabitants of the British Islands by S. R. Meyrick and C. H. Smith
(1815).
“Primary Chief Bard”
(Attributed to Taliesin)
Primary
chief bard am I to Elphin,
And my
original country is the region of the Summer Stars.
Idno and
Heinin called me Myrddin;
At length,
every king will call me Taliesin.
I was with
my Lord in the highest sphere
On the fall
of Lucifer into the depth of hell.
I have borne
a banner before Alexander.
I know the
names of the stars from north to south.
I have been
in the Galaxy at the throne of the Distributor.
I was in
Canaan when Absalom was slain.
I conveyed
Awen to the level of the vale of Hebron.
I was in the
court of Don before the birth of Gwydion.
I was
instructor to Elijah and Enoch.
I have been
winged by the genius of the splendid crozier.
I have been
loquacious prior to being gifted with speech.
I was at the
place of the crucifixion of the merciful Son of God.
I have been
three periods in the prison of Arianrhod.
I have been
the chief director of the work of the tower of Nimrod.
I am a
wonder whose origin is not known.
I have been
in Asia with Noah in the Ark.
I have
witnessed the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.
I have been
in India when Rome was built.
I am now
come here to the remnant of Troy.
I have been
with my Lord in the manger of the ass.
I
strengthened Moses through the water of Jordan.
I have been
in the firmament with Mary Magdalene.
I have
obtained the Muse from the Cauldron of Cerridwen.
I have been
bard of the harp to Leon of Lochlin.
I have been
on the White Hill, in the court of Cymbeline,
For a day
and a year in stocks and fetters,
I have
suffered hunger for the Son of the Virgin.
I have been
fostered in the land of the Deity.
I have been
teacher to all intelligences.
I am able to
instruct the whole Universe.
I shall be
until the day of doom on the face of the Earth,
And it is
not known whether my body is flesh or fish.
Then I was
for nine months
In the womb
of the hag Cerridwen.
I was
originally little Gwion,
And at
length I am Taliesin.
At the core of our Milky Way
Galaxy lies the supermassive black hole, Sagittarius A*. This NASA composite
photo shows the galactic core, which is located in the summer constellation of
Sagittarius as seen from Earth. Taliesin sang, “I have been in the Galaxy at
the throne of the Distributor” and “my original country is the region of the Summer
Stars.” 😊
“The Spoils of Annwn”
(Attributed to Taliesin)
Editor’s
Note: Annwn is
the Keltik Otherworld, the homeland of the Fair Folk and of (at least some)
postmortal humans. The language of this poem is very obscure, but it seems to
portray an expedition into the Otherworld, led by King Arthur and Taliesin, to
seek a cauldron that might be a precursor to the Holy Grail. Prydwen
is the name of Arthur’s royal ship, and Lleminawg is quite possibly an early
version of Sir Lancelot.
I will
praise the sovereign, supreme king of the land,
Who hath
extended his dominion over the shore of the world.
Complete was
the prison of Gweir in Caer Sidi,
Through the
spite of Pwyll and Pryderi.
No one
before him went into it.
The heavy
blue chain held the faithful youth,
And before
the spoils of Annwfyn woefully he sings,
And till
doom shall continue a bard of prayer.
Thrice
enough to fill Prydwen, we went into it;
Except
seven, none returned from Caer Sidi
Am I not a
candidate for fame, if a song is heard?
In Caer
Pedryvan, four its revolutions;
In the first
word from the cauldron when spoken,
From the
breath of nine maidens it was gently warmed.
Is it not
the cauldron of the chief of Annwfn? What is its intention?
A ridge
about its edge and pearls.
It will not
boil the food of a coward, that has not been sworn,
A sword
bright gleaming to him was raised,
And in the
hand of Lleminawg it was left.
And before
the door of the gate of Uffern [hell] the lamp was burning.
And when we
went with Arthur; a splendid labor,
Except
seven, none returned from Caer Vedwyd.
Am I not a
candidate for fame with the listened song
In Caer
Pedryvan, in the isle of the strong door?
The twilight
and pitchy darkness were mixed together.
Bright wine
their liquor before their retinue.
Thrice
enough to fill Prydwen we went on the sea,
Except
seven, none returned from Caer Rigor.
I shall not
deserve much from the ruler of literature,
Beyond Caer
Wydyr they saw not the prowess of Arthur.
Three score
Canhwr stood on the wall,
Difficult
was a conversation with its sentinel.
Thrice
enough to fill Prydwen there went with Arthur,
Except
seven, none returned from Caer Golud.
I shall not
deserve much from those with long shields.
They know
not what day, who the causer,
What hour in
the serene day Cwy was born.
Who caused
that he should not go to the dales of Devwy.
They know
not the brindled ox, thick his head-band.
Seven score
knobs in his collar.
And when we
went with Arthur of anxious memory,
Except
seven, none returned from Caer Vandwy.
I shall not
deserve much from those of loose bias,
They know
not what day the chief was caused.
What hour in
the serene day the owner was born.
What animal
they keep, silver its head.
When we went
with Arthur of anxious contention,
Except
seven, none returned from Caer Ochren.
Monks
congregate like dogs in a kennel,
From contact
with their superiors they acquire knowledge,
Is one the
course of the wind, is one the water of the sea?
Is one the
spark of the fire, of unrestrainable tumult?
Monks
congregate like wolves,
From contact
with their superiors they acquire knowledge.
They know
not when the deep night and dawn divide.
Nor what is
the course of the wind, or who agitates it,
In what
place it dies away, on what land it roars.
The grave of
the saint is vanishing from the altar-tomb.
I will pray
to the Lord, the great supreme,
That I be
not wretched. Christ be my portion.
“Taliesin Accompanies King Arthur on His Final Journey”
Excerpted from the Vita Merlini (Life of Merlin) by
Geoffrey of Monmouth (1095-1155)
Translated by John Jay Parry (1925, Public Domain)
The Island of Apples [Avalon]
which men call “The Fortunate Isle” gets its name from the fact that it
produces all things of itself; the fields there have no need of the ploughs of
the farmers and all cultivation is lacking except what nature provides. Of its own accord it produces grain and
grapes, and apple trees grow in its woods from the close-clipped grass. The ground of its own accord produces
everything instead of merely grass, and people live there a hundred years or
more. There nine sisters rule by a
pleasing set of laws those who come to them from our country. 48 She who is first of them is more skilled in
the healing art, and excels her sisters in the beauty of her person. Morgen is her name, and she has learned what
useful properties all the herbs contain, so that she can cure sick bodies. She also knows an art by which to change her
shape, and to cleave the air on new wings like Daedalus; when she wishes she is
at Brest, Chartres, or Pavia, and when she will she slips down from the air
onto your shores. And men say that she
has taught mathematics to her sisters, Moronoe, Mazoe, Gliten, Glitonea,
Gliton, Tyronoe, Thitis; Thitis best known for her cither. Thither after the battle of Camlann we took
the wounded Arthur, guided by Barinthus to whom the waters and the stars of
heaven were well known. With him
steering the ship we arrived there with the prince, and Morgen received is with
fitting honor, and in her chamber she placed the king on a golden bed and with
er own hand she uncovered his honorable wound and gazed at it for a long
time. At length she said that health
could be restored to him if he stayed with her for a long time and made use of
her healing art. Rejoicing, therefore,
we entrusted the king to her and returning spread our sails to the favoring
winds.
“Alexander the Great”
(Attributed to Taliesin)
I wonder
that there is not proclaimed
An
acknowledgment of heaven to the Earth,
Of the
coming of a giant Ruler,
Alexander
the Great.
Alexander,
possessor of multitudes,
Passionate,
iron-gifted,
Eminent for
sword-strokes.
He went
under the sea,
Under the
sea he went,
To seek for
science.
Whoever
seeks science,
Let him be
clamorous in mind.
He went
above the wind,
Between two
griffins on a journey,
To see a
sight.
A sight he
saw,
The present
was not sufficient.
He saw a
wonder,
A
superiority of lineage with fishes.
What he
desired in his mind,
He had from
the world.
And also at
his end
With God,
mercy.
Alexander the Great explores the
Indian Ocean in this illumination from a late medieval British manuscript.
(Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)
“A Reflection on Alexander the Great’s Submarine Adventure”
By St. Juliana of Norwich (1342-1417)
Excerpted from Chapter 10 of Revelations of Divine Love
Once time mine understanding was
led down into the sea-ground, and there I saw hills and dales green, seeming as
it were moss-be-grown, with wrack and gravel. Then I understood thus: that if a
man or woman were under the broad water, if he might have sight of God so as
God is with a man continually, he should be safe in body and soul, and take no
harm: and overpassing, he should have more solace and comfort than all this
world can tell. For He willeth we should believe that we see Him continually,
though that to us it seemeth but little; and in this belief He maketh us
evermore to gain grace. For He will be seen, and He will be sought: He will be
abided, and he will be trusted.
“Death-Bed of Alexander the Great”
By Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802-1838)
On his bed
the king was lying—
On his
purple bed;
“Tell us not
that he is dying;”
So his
soldiers said,
“He is yet
too young to die.
Have ye
drugged the cup ye gave him,
From the
fatal spring?
Is it yet
too late to save him?
We will see
our king!
Let his faithful
ones draw nigh,
The
silver-shielded warriors—
The warriors
of the world!”
Back they
fling the fragrant portals
Of the royal
tent;
Vainly to
the stern immortals
Sacrifice
and vow were sent.
Cold and
pitiless are they!
Silent in
their starry dwelling,
Nothing do
they need
Of the tale
that earth is telling,
In her hour
of need!
They have
turned their face away,
Ye
silver-shielded warriors,
Ye warriors
of the world!
In that
royal tent is weeping;
Women's
tears will flow;
There the
queens their watch are keeping
With a
separate woe.
One still
wears her diadem—
One her long
fair hair is rending,
From its
pearls unbound;
Tears from
those soft eyes descending,
Eyes that
seek the ground.
But Roxana
looks on them,
The
silver-shielded warriors,
The warriors
of the world!
In the east
the day was reddening,
When the
warriors passed;
In the west
the night was deadening,
As they
looked their last;
As they
looked their last on him—
He, their
comrade—their commander—
He, the
earth's adored—
He, the
godlike Alexander!
Who can
wield his sword?
As they went
their eyes were dim,
The
silver-shielded warriors,
The warriors
of the world!
Slowly
passed the sad procession
By the
purple bed;
Every
soldier in succession
Thro' that
tent was led.
All beheld
their monarch's face—
Pale and
beautiful—reclining,
There the
conqueror lay,
From his
radiant eyes the shining
Had not
passed away.
There he
watched them from his place—
His
silver-shielded warriors,
His warriors
of the world!
Still he was
a king in seeming,
For he wore
his crown;
And his
sunny hair was streaming
His white
forehead down.
Glorious was
that failing head!
Still his
golden baldric bound him,
Where his
sword was hung:
Bright his
arms were scattered round him,
And his
glance still clung
To the
warriors by his bed—
The
silver-shielded warriors,
The warriors
of the world!
Pale and
motionless he rested,
Like a
statue white and cold,
With his
royal state invested;
For the
purple and the gold
In his
latest hour he wore.
But the eye
and breath are failing,
And the
mighty Soul has fled!
Lift ye up
the loud bewailing,
For a wide
world mourns the Dead;
And they
have a Chief no more—
The
silver-shielded warriors,
The warriors
of the world!
