Truly there will be to me a Roman friend
Book of Taliesin LIII
Truly there will be to me a Roman friend.
Possibly from the son of another man he will cause
Before him that he heard the expanding tumult.
And an army and flow of blood on his enemy.
And let horses sound, and the multitude (be) merciful.
They would cut, they would greatly assemble in the sword of conflict.
Ravens and eagles adore blood.
The ruddy path of the violent bear is fearless.
Let Cadwaladyr rise ardent and gleaming
On the face of the embattled hosts of vigorous countries.
Truly there will be to me a day-share of frailties,
A vow of prophecy in the first beginning.
Years victorious, an excess of extensive rights.
When winter overspreads, sharp the steering of ships.
Confined the flow of harmony, courteous, respiring.
Glorious the appearance of the torrent on the top of the waves.
The swans resort round the morsel on the face of the surges.
Bear and lion empty the bright pools.
The boundary depends upon crimson spears.
Too much is sought chastisement, a caution to the fronts.
Before his ranks and great possessions,
Creeds fall, collars are broken by the crowds in front.
To the combat of Cadwaladyr, of splendidly-read fame,
There arose a dragon from the south,
By a free youth he was slain on a Thursday.
Truly there will be to me bounteous heroism,
A royal eulogy of fame of great abundance.
A path thick, abundant, broad its form.
Until there be seven languages to the king of Gwynedd,
Until exhausting tumult passes away,
A king fond of a sleepless covering,
Violence of Angles, and a journey to banishment,
Through a sea will glide their offspring.
Truly there will be to me one having a right to Mona.
Glorious the protection of the dragon to the people of the Brython.
Chief of armies, a respecter of breastplated men.
Deep, the prophecy divine of the Druids.
They would pitch their tents. on Tren and Taranhon.
They would lie in ambush, to take Mona.
Far to go away be it a length from Iwerdon.
Fair the honour to liberate the Caesarians.
Predict a scene of unlovely discord.
I know when a battle was caused over wine and mead
A bear from Deheubarth barking at Gwynedd.
Defending too long wonderful superfluity.
Its fortified uplands were prepared,
On the calends of winter placing lands.
The mutual reflection on shields in the shout of the sword,
To the combat of Cadwaladyr on the lord of Gwynedd.
Truly it will come, this will come to pass.
All Lloegyr will lose their possessions by us.
Seeing the aspects of the speckled white men,
Between the shafts of arrows and white iron,
A shouting on the sea, a lance-darting trembling of slaughter--
They will languish in the ocean, beyond the broad lake,
Sea and isles will be their gain.
Truly there will come to me from beyond Hafren
Repelled of Prydein, a king of destiny.
A mild ruler of armies, numerous his progeny.
A kingdom suitable, hateful from ice.
The common people of the wodd truly will be joyful.
They possess energies, a tribe of rich men.
The flash flamed over the region of Hafren.
Let the Cymry be collected splendidly
To the combat of Cadwaladyr; be joyful
The chief minstrels with the glory of the battle.
Truly lie will come
With his host and ships,
And scaring shields,
And changing lances,
And after a valiant shout,
His will will be done.
May the circle of Prydein
Be enflarned there.
The dragon will not hide himself,
However many may come.
Not light the praise
Of conquering Dyved.
He will bear likewise
Over the effusions of Beged.
The creator, possessor of treasure,
Generous, daring his flow,
Immense his battle.
By airing the skin
Of Cadwaladyr, an active work.
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