Forgotten Ground Regained
The Sais and Taliesin
Originally published in Withowinde 120, p. 32, Winter, 1999
Leaf fall had passed ‧ long winter nigh.Light lay the shade ‧ of the lone manon hard hoar-frost ‧ of the holt-floor.He whetted his axe ‧ till oak-bane sang.An eerie lay ‧ in wild-land’s peace.His blade bit home ‧ in bark of tree.The hollow sound ‧ was heard againin cold stillness, clash returning,as the old one ‧ the onset bore.crows crowded sky, cackling black witches,stirred by the spell ‧ of sound repeatedbackward and forward ‧ off branches’ walls.Acorn eater ‧ eased from his task.Beasts of the woods ‧ waited and heardthe sound of man ‧ making his home.But deep among trees ‧ another had woken –
the wandering bard ‧ burst forth to see!Taliesin, talk-famed poet,clad in a cloak ‧ of colours many,his Celtic harp ‧ hung from his back.The woodsman waited, on ash-wood leanthis hands resting ‧ on axe-haft’s butt.The bard strode forth, his beard jutting,full of anger ‧ at fateful iron.“Sais”, he cried out ‧ and spoke in WelshOf his disgust ‧ at dire iron’s work.“I know you not,” noted the other,“and nor do I know ‧ your nameless tongue,but I reckon you ‧ a raging scopby harp and dress ‧ and holy ire.I know the name ‧ you kenned me by.It is a slight, shameful to bear.I am English ‧ so English speakIf I would know ‧ the wound you feel.”
Taliesin ‧ talked in Englisc,the hated tongue ‧ of trespassing kind.He wove a spell ‧ of wordy angerAnd when he spoke ‧ the words all rhymed.“You fell a tree ‧ that is full holy to spirits and gods, to them grown onlytime out of mind, tree honoured fully.You care nothing ‧ for nature’s wonders,thread of a kind ‧ that only sundersfor spirit of place, a plague on wonders!This is my land, loathed guest unwelcome.Here I have dwelt, dragon ships gruesome,thing of yesterday ‧ years but irksome.To sea return. You are newcome!The other thought ‧ through his answer,and when he spoke ‧ to sea returned.“Oak made the ships ‧ that sailed us hither,over wind-yard ‧ of wild surgeswyrms and serpents ‧ way not barring,till to this land, won through to safetyfrom enemies ‧ full too many.Here to stay now, you notwithstanding,in years we now, you not preventing,ancestral ones ‧ we Engle will be.You speak falsely, flowing poet!We honour the yew, holy World Tree.Only what we use ‧ we take at need.Not all your kin ‧ ken life as you do,living on berries ‧ and lays of wonder.They take timber ‧ to build their homes.As I do now, dare you hinder?Know you old man ‧ the knowledge true,I am here now ‧ alongside you.”
Copyright © Brian Wright 1999
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