From The Ancient British.

Taliesin was a foundling, discovered in his infancy lying in a coracle, on a salmon-weir, in the domain of Elphin, a prince of North Wales, who became his patron. During his life he arrogated to himself a supernatural descent and understanding, and for at least a thousand years after his death he was regarded by the descendants of the ancient Britons in the character of a prophet or something more. The poems which he produced procured for him the title of “Bardic King;” they display much that is vigorous and original, but are disfigured by mysticism and extravagant metaphor; one of the most spirited of them is the following, which the author calls his “Hanes” or history.

The head Bard’s place I hold
To Elphin, chieftain bold;
The country of my birth
Was the Cherubs’ land of mirth;
I from the prophet John
The name of Merddin won;
And now the Monarchs all
Me Taliesin call.

I with my Lord and God
On the highest places trod,
When Lucifer down fell
With his army into hell.
I know each little star
Which twinkles near and far;
And I know the Milky Way
Where I tarried many a day.

My inspiration’s [54a] flame
From Cridwen’s cauldron came;
Nine months was I in gloom
In Sorceress Cridwen’s womb;
Though late a child—I’m now
The Bard of splendid brow; [54b]
When roar’d the deluge dark,
I with Noah trod the Ark.

By the sleeping man I stood
When the rib grew flesh and blood.
To Moses strength I gave
Through Jordan’s holy wave;
The thrilling tongue was I
To Enoch and Elie;
I hung the cross upon,
Where died the . . . (only son)

A chair of little rest
’Bove the Zodiac I prest,
Which doth ever, in a sphere,
Through three elements career;
I’ve sojourn’d in Gwynfryn,
In the halls of Cynfelyn;
To the King the harp I play’d,
Who Lochlyn’s sceptre sway’d.

With the Israelites of yore
I endur’d a hunger sore;
In Africa I stray’d
Ere was Rome’s foundation laid;
Now hither I have hied
With the race of Troy to bide;
In the firmament I’ve been
With Mary Magdalen.

I work’d as mason-lord
When Nimrod’s pile up-soar’d;
I mark’d the dread rebound
When its ruins struck the ground;
When stroke to victory on
The men of Macedon,
The bloody flag before
The heroic King I bore.

I saw the end with horror
Of Sodom and Gomorrah!
And with this very eye
Have seen the . . . (end of Troy;)
I till the judgment day
Upon the earth shall stray:
None knows for certainty
Whether fish or flesh I be.