FEBRUARY 2004
TO ASK FOR A STALLION
Tudur Aled - Welsh poet C1500's
On Conwy bank have I been feasted
by one who is keeper of Gwynedd,
an abbot over eight regions.
In Aberconwy's vine enclosure,
a lord who freely gives feasts,
doubly the habit at an abbot's table;
spices in one man's dish,
oranges in another.............
Conwy in a temperate valley,
at the river's verge where I get pure wine;
Grwst's Vale and fair Caer Awstin,
green valley of the wine casks;
three times worth any prince's kitchen,
where the work turns heavily on his cook;
houses for wine, mead temples....
a trestle and a trim buttery?
At once on the head of all his wines
he has been named on every tongue.
Where would I go for a saint's prayers?
On him and his fellow monks,
men numbered in Rome ,
white and crimson their gowns.
If his bosom and cope are white,
thus dressed he'll make a bishop,
and thus he'd go caped fine ermine
on trial, to be Pope of Rome...........
It's irksome work and folly
to strive for patronage....
Some asked a thousand petty rents,
he asked for that of Maenan.
This man's sanction the bloom of foliage
Hung over the cliff of Meironnydd....
Lewis, son of Madoc, boldly
Will now ask for a stallion - He,
a soldier between Maelor and Rhos
and close linked with Tegeingl.
He wishes to have him mounted, ready
In May for the fine girl, to carry her.........
For a poem he seeks one with a stag's look,
a dimple-nosed one, who spins in his tunic,
with a bear's nostril, a moving mouth,
a bridle holding his nose in a loop,
a nose retaining the bridle when we curb him,
the hollow nostril like the muzzle of a gun.
Eyes that are like two pears,
lively and keen they leap in his head;
two slim and restless ears,
velvet sage leaves at his forehead;
the polishing of gems
is the glazier's dressing of his hooves;
skittish on four sets of eight nails,
with a spark from every nail's head.
His coat is like new silk,
his hair might be tree gossamer,
silk of a skylark's jacket
and camlet covering a young stag.
He spins without use of hand-rein
and weaves a cloth of his silk mane.
Strong-waisted foal biting the highway;
at the fair the alarm...get out of his way!
His rapid pace we liken
to a red faun before the hounds.
He is such a lusty creature
that he floats to his purpose;
to make him prance you'll never
need to put steel to his belly;
under a brisk, keen horseman
he always knows his mind;
leaping where thorns are higher,
full of attack in Llan Eurgain.
If ridden into the hayfield
he won't break eight stalks with his hoof.
Stirring to the thunder's course,
and delicate, stepping when he pleases;
he'd throw a leap at the sky,
he'd fly with conviction
if ridden over a wall
then this eminent horse would race on.
A battering ram in curving leaps up the hill,
he throws his nailheads to the sun;
sparks fly from every hoof,
eight points pierced into each,
stars or lighting on the road
at the toss of his fetlocks.
Like a stag with resolute gaze
his hooves weave through fire;
he jumps athwart the river
as a roebuck jumps from the snake.
Is there better payment for such a steed
than praise of the slender beast?
There's a girl, beauty, waiting for me,
if I had a horse to carry her off.................
The best speed ever made was by
a good horse bearing a fine girl.
