This is a copy of the story board we have pasted to the one end of the mural. We are just waiting for the Welsh translation so that we can put it at the other end.
..and if ever you are on the station admiring our mural, just remember that the WI are known as “Jam and Jerusalem”..see if you can spot what I (with the help of an artist friend) has painted! No more clues….
Taliesin
How the legend of the chief of Celtic bards was born
The inspiration for this mural is the spell-binding story of one of the most enduring
myths in the literature of Wales
This mural is an interpretation of the birth of Taliesin, the famed
chief of Celtic bards.
Taliesin was a complex character – part man, part god –
who came to notice as he slaved as a lowly servant to the
enchantress Ceridwen.
The story of Taliesin is as magical as any spell woven by the sorceress, made
up of several intertwined tales of war, mystery, power, and love.
No one knows if Taliesin ever walked these lands as a mortal man or whether
he danced and sang his verse only in the minds of storytellers.
Whether he did or not really doesn’t matter – his exploits are legend and are
recounted in several ancient books that bring him to life for their readers.
Historians have tried to date his life from verifiable facts in the books as best
they can and come up with him living around 550AD – more than 700 years
before the castle above was built.
Baby Born of Mischief
His fame is as a bard, a poet and musician to the court of Urion
Rheged, whose kingdom stretched from the Scottish borders south
to what is now Cumbria, Lancashire and beyond.
As the baby born from the mischief of Ceridwen, Gwion Bach was reborn
to the world as Taliesin to the south of here on the shores of the county still
known as Ceredigion.
The Book of Taliesin, a leather-bound manuscript, is a collection of poems
celebrating the lives of Urien and his royal allies allegedly penned from the
tales told by Taliesin himself.
The precious manuscript is now housed safely in the National Library of
Wales.
A King In Harlech
Taliesin’s roots are firmly Welsh. Legend has it that as Gwion Bach he
was born near Llanfair in Caereinion, Powys.
The story goes he attended King Bendigeidfran and his sister Branwen, who
held court high on the rock at Harlech, where the castle now stands, according
to the tales of The Mabinogion.
As the baby born from the mischief of Ceridwen, Gwion Bach was reborn
to the world as Taliesin to the south of here on the shores of the county still
known as Ceredigion.
Be warned, if you are standing here one dark night with the whistling wind
ushering a thin mist off the sea, look and listen carefully, because you might
catch a glimpse or a whisper of the bard returning to this timeless place to
sing his verses to the ancients, who some say still walk the mountains around
Harlech.
The Sorceress And Her Son
Ceridwen had a son, Afagddu, who was so ugly no magic could make
him handsome.
To make up for his bad looks, Ceridwen decided to cook up a potion that
would give him the gift of awen, or ‘poetic inspiration’, so others would ad-
mire him for his way with words and his wisdom instead of berating him
over his looks.
Taliesin was her apprentice, but was yet to emerge as the bard and was at
that time called Gwion Bach.
His job was to stir the potion bubbling in Ceridwen’s cauldron for a year and
a day while poor, blind Morda kept the flames burning to cook up the magic.
Gwion Bach had to take care because the spell was ruined if the potion was
spilt.
Three Fateful Drops Of Magic
Only the first three drops of the magic brew would give Afagddu the
wisdom his mother so badly wished him to have – the rest of the
draught was a fatal poison.
As Gwion Bach stirred the cauldron, those three fateful drops splashed on to
his thumb.
Without thinking, he put his thumb to his mouth and licked the potion, in-
stantly feeling the wisdom and knowledge destined for Ceridwen’s son flood-
ing through his viens.
Gwion Bach understood Ceridwen would be angry when she found out what
had happened and would probably kill him, so he ran away.
Running For His Life
Ceridwen quickly realised Gwion Bach had drunk the magic potion in-
tended to help her son win respect as a compensation for his ugliness.
She chased after Gwion Bach, who turned himself in to a hare to escape, but
Ceridwen was clever and knew a hare could not outrun a greyhound, so
changed herself in to a snarling beast.
As he fled, Gwion Bach saw a river, and dived in, transforming himself in to
a fish to evade the dog hot on his trail. Ceridwen countered by shifting her-
self in to an otter.
Still the chase went on, and Gwion Bach jumped from the water as a bird to
get away from the sharp teeth and claws of the otter, only to find Ceridwen
was still pursuing him, this time as a deadly hawk.
Tired and frightened, Gwion Bach tried to hide. He dropped to the ground
as a single grain of corn and hoped Ceridwen would not spot him. It was too
late, she was now a black hen and she swallowed the seed.
Murder In Her Heart
Gwion Bach’s story was not over. The seed grew inside Ceridwen as a
baby boy. The enchantress decided to murder the baby at birth and
held a dagger to commit the evil deed as he emerged from her body.
But the baby was so beautiful that despite the anger and the evil clouding
her vengeful mind, Ceridwen could not bring herself to murder him. Instead
she laid the child in a coracle and set him adrift in the sea. Gwion Bach even-
tually washed ashore and was discovered by Elffin, the son of a lord, who
was out fishing.
Gwion becomes Taliesin
Elffin looked down, dazzled by the whiteness of the baby’s brow, utter-
ing the fateful words: “dyma Dal Iesin” or “this is a radiant brow”.
From that day, Gwion Bach grew to a man as Taliesin – the name taken
from Elffin’s exclamation ‘Dal Iesin’. This may be the end of our story, but
the tale of Taliesin has many more twists and turns as bard, friend and ser-
vant to the kings of the ancients.
The Chair of Ceridwen
From the Book of Taliesin XVI
Sovereign of the power of the air, thou also
The satisfaction of my transgressions
At midnight and at matins
There shone my lights.
Courteous the life of Minawg ap Lleu,
Whom I saw here a short while ago.
The end, in the slope of Lleu.
Ardent was his push in combats;
Avagddu my son also.
Happy the Lord made him,
In the competition of songs,
His wisdom was better than mine,
The most skillful man ever heard of.
Gwydion the son of Don, of toil severe,
Formed a woman out of flowers,
And brought the pigs from the South,
Though he had no pigstyes for them;
The bold traveller out of plated twigs
Formed a cavalcade,
From the springing
Plants, and illustrious saddles.
When are judged the chairs,
Excelling them (will be) mine
My chair, my cauldron and my laws,
And my parading eloquence, meet for the chair.
I am called skilful in the court of Don.
I and Euronwy, and Euron.
I saw a fierce conflict in Nant Frangeon
On a Sunday, at the time of dawn,
Between the bird of wrath and Gwydion
Thursday, certainly they went to Mona
To obtain whirlings and sorcerers.
Arianrhod, of laudable aspect, dawn of serenity
The greatest disgrace evidently on the side of the Brython,
Hastily sends about his court the stream of a rainbow,
A stream that scares away violence from the earth.
The poison of its former state, about the world, it will leave.
They speak not falsely, the books of Bede.
The chair of the Preserver is here.
And till doom, shall continue in Europa
May the Trinity grant us
Mercy in the day of judgment.
A fair alms from good men.
