Taliesin’s Many Meanings

While considering the next few lines of poetry the different meanings of the word dwfn should be borne in mind (see previous series of posts). In short, as an adjective it not only means ‘deep’ but also ‘profound’, and as a noun it can mean ‘world’. I’m also putting forward the argument that dwfn is sometimes used by Welsh medieval bards to mean something similar to Annwfn, the ‘in-world’, usually called the Welsh ‘otherworld’; but here I’m not defining it as a separate realm under the earth or across the sea but as a mythical, ‘deep’ dimension of this mundane, surface reality.

This concept of dwfn seems to be implied several times in the first section of ‘Angar Kyfundawt’ (LPBT 4), the longest poem copied in The Book of Taliesin and one of the poems that could have been composed by Llywarch ap Llywelyn, chief bard to Llywelyn the Great. Three instances of this dwfn are found between lines 16 and 33 which suggests it is a theme the author wished to introduce early on in this 266 line poem, perhaps because evoking this imaginary depth was an intentional effect of its performance.

The first example comes at the end of an initial sequence that lists Cian, Afagddu and Gwion as skilful and successful enchanter-bards. The poem then continues with the following couplets:

Gwiawn a leferyd,
adwfyn dyfyd;
gwnaei o varw vyw
ac anghyfoeth yw.

Marged Haycock gives the following translation:*

[It is] Gwiawn who utters,
a profound one shall come;
he would bring the dead to life
and [yet] he is poor.

Haycock cautiously interprets the second line as a foretelling by Gwion of Christ’s birth or second coming, which chimes with a possible tradition of Taliesin doing the same (although only noted in an external English source; see note to line 249 in ‘Kad Godeu’, LPBT 5). But if we stress the alternative meaning of dwfn in the second line (‘adwfyn dyfyd‘), other interpretations become available to us. For example, is this second line referring to a being that is evoked by Gwion? We could as easily render the text in translation as:

Gwiawn utters
[and] a deep one shall come:
he [Gwion] would bring the dead to life,
and he is poor.

Here I’m taking the prefix a- in adwfyn to mean the conjunction ‘and’, a possible reading mentioned by Haycock in her notes on this line. This gives a statement of fact that Gwion’s utterance will cause a ‘deep one’ to arise, effectively giving him life in the surface world through the magical act of bardic utterance. In some ways this is akin to re-enacting in the microcosm the Word of God in the macrocosm, emulating the original act of creation through divine inspiration. The description of Gwion as being poor could also work, he being portrayed as a humble smith’s son in some versions of the later Hanes Taliesin, but it also implies that he is above caring for the riches of the world, asceticism being a mark of his spiritual integrity.

The obvious question that follows is who is this ‘deep one’ brought into being by Gwion? An explanation may be found in the other examples of dwfn in this section of the poem. After a description of Afagddu and Gwion working at their fireless cauldrons (how they work their magic of creation), we have the following couplet:

Dydwyth dydyccawt
dyfynwedyd gwawt
.

Which Haycock translates as:

Passionately will song be brought forth
by the profound speaker.

Again, we could as easily say:

Passionately will song be brought forth
by the deep, profound speaker.

I would say both meanings, deep and profound, are implied here. Here we have another allusion to the enchanted nature of bardic utterance and the depth from which it arises. Regardless, taken with the first quoted example above, what is suggested is that Gwion is either evoking the presence or prophesying the coming of a ‘deep one’. Whichever meaning we wish to stress, this also chimes with the third instance of dwfn found 9 lines later. Although there is a scribal error here, Haycock’s emendation gives:

dybydaf a gwawt
dwfyn dyfu ygnawt

. . . which she translates as:

I’ll come with a song
[of] a profound one who became flesh.

Following Haycock’s interpretation, here we have the Taliesin persona repeating Gwion’s prophecy. If we can identify the former as the reincarnation of the later, we can assume they are different iterations of the same being, so it would make sense if both are making the same prophecy. But the fact of Gwion’s reincarnation as Taliesin, as attested to in the Hanes and suggested elsewhere in The Book of Taliesin, could give another parallel meaning to this couplet, that is Taliesin is the ‘one who became flesh’, just as he was born anew from Ceridwen’s womb or enchanted from flowers by Math and Gwydion (see below).

This interpretation is supported if we exercise an editor’s prerogative by placing a comma at the end of the first line of the couplet, giving:

I’ll come with a song,
[I’m] a deep one who became flesh.

Either way, this second line could very well be referring to Taliesin himself. If so, the main focus of this opening section is his own enchanted provenance, not so dissimilar to his fabricated condition noted elsewhere in The Book of Taliesin. He states clearly in ‘Kat Godeu’ – ‘the wisdom of sages fashioned me’ (LPBT, p. 183), a condition metaphorically implied when he describes how Math and Gwydion fashion him from flowers, as they did Blodeuwedd (LPBT, p. 181-2). In this particular instance we can infer that his present incarnation is created by his earlier incarnation, not an illogical sequence of events.

Taliesin therefore is the deep one who will become flesh; as an imaginary being he is brought to life – made real – by the act of bardic declamation. Is this a reference to the adoption of a dramatic persona by the performing bard? Does the mythical Taliesin exist as a figment in the imaginary depths until he ‘becomes flesh’ via the creative act of performance? This could imply a belief in either the transmission of ancestral wisdom and authority via the embodiment of an inherited, archetypal bardic persona, or even a degree of what the medieval Church may have considered ‘possession’.

On a more general point, the multiplicity of interpretations discussed here may be an intentional feature of the poem and a result of the skilful playfulness of the poet, as opposed to being a result of our inability to divine the ‘proper’ meaning. The implied references to Christ as noted by Haycock may well run in parallel to my own interpretation. It certainly wouldn’t be out of place in terms of the miraculous nature of the subject. But more importantly the text is symbolic and imaginative, appearing to subtly subvert attempts to pin it down to any overly fixed literal sense. In effect it invites us to play with its meaning.

Here is a revised translation of this section (lines 15-35) based on Marged Haycock’s but with my alternative interpretation:

Gwiawn utters
[and a] profound one will come;
he [Gwiawn] would bring the dead to life,
and he is poor.
They [Afagddu and Gwiawn] would make their cauldrons
that were boiling without fire;
they would work their materials
for ever and ever.
Passionately will song be brought fourth
by the deep, profound speaker.
Hostile is the confederacy [of opposing bards];
what is its custom?
[Since] such a great amount of the nation’s poetry
was on your tongues
why don’t you declaim a declamation,
a flow above the shining drink?
When everyone’s separated out
I’ll come with a song,
[I’m] a deep one who became flesh:
there has come a conqueror,
one of the three judges in readiness.

* Marged Haycock ed., Legendary Poems from The Book of Taliesin (2007)

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