"The Cauldron"
A whimsical ballad based on the ancient Welsh “Tale of Taliesin”
THE CAULDRON
by Jane Murphy
Long, long ago in a realm before Time, In a lake densely shrouded in mist, Dwelt Tegid Voel, whose bare truth was sublime, With his wife, a skilled illusionist. Tegid and Cerridwen brought forth a daughter. No maiden was ever so fair. And they had a son with a hideous countenance, Features too ugly to bear. Cerridwen sought to provide compensation For loss his affliction implies By brewing a cauldron of great inspiration To make her unlucky son wise. The cauldron must boil for a year and a day, And three drops of magic there are: One for the Moon, one for the Sun, And one for the radiant Star. A great cast-iron cauldron hung over the fire, A boundary of time to define, A space for the water the spell did require, With magical herbs to combine. A blind man called Morda was tending the fire, To keep it sufficiently hot, And young Gwion Bach who, in Cerridwen’s hire, Stood constantly stirring the pot. Cerridwen gathered fresh magical herbs To enrich her weird mixture each day. Gwion and Morda kept stirring and stoking, Whether she was there or away. The cauldron must boil for a year and a day, And three drops of magic there are: One for the Moon, one for the Sun, And one for the radiant Star. The year nearly ending, the potion still blending, Young Gwion gazed over the brew. He blinked in surprise, not believing his eyes When they chanced to perceive something new. What he saw there was a tiny wild hare Bolting rapidly ‘round the broad rim. The embers glowed red, and the creature soon fled As a fish in the liquid to swim. Above flames of yellow the fish was still swimming Around and around in the brew. But soon, undeterred, it changed into a bird, And out of the cauldron it flew. Out of the cauldron the bird swiftly flew, Jostling the startled boy’s hand. Along with the bird came three drops of the brew, Which on Gwion’s finger did land. Into his mouth went his finger forthwith, Relieving the pain of his burn. The next thing he knew, the blaze was bright blue And he passed a point of no return. He laughed right out loud in delight and surprise, For everything struck him as funny and good. He’d taken the potion that makes a fool wise, And could hardly believe how much he understood. The cauldron must boil for a year and a day, And three drops of magic there are: One for the Moon, one for the Sun, And one for the radiant Star. The cauldron, in shock from a force so extreme, Then trembled and shattered in two. Its poisonous liquor drained into the stream, Where blight and corruption soon grew. Gwion, foreseeing dark Cerridwen’s rage Because he had thwarted her plan, Knew that he quickly must exit the stage, And hastily homeward he ran. When Cerridwen saw how her work was destroyed, At first she thought Morda to blame, But soon learned her loss was the fault of the boy, And cursed Gwion Bach’s very name. The cauldron must boil for a year and a day, And three drops of magic there are: One for the Moon, one for the Sun, And one for the radiant Star. Cerridwen’s wrath put her on the warpath, And she set off in ruthless pursuit. Gwion, appraising her shapeshifting ways, Took a serpentine timberland route. He paused in a clearing, heard Cerridwen nearing, And changed himself into a hare. But she, for her prey bound, turned into a greyhound, And chased at his heels everywhere. Becoming a fish, he dived into the water, A Moonlight escape on a hunch, But doubted his wish when she, as an otter, Looked certain to eat him for lunch. Still undeterred, Gwion became a bird, By the Sun’s inspiration to fly. But Cerridwen stalked in the shape of a hawk, And would give him no rest in the sky. Barely alive, Gwion hoped to survive In a great heap of wheat as a grain. And so Cerridwen, as a hungry black hen, Found him hiding and ended his pain. The cauldron must boil for a year and a day, And three drops of magic there are: One for the Moon, one for the Sun, And one for the radiant Star. Nine months indeed after eating that seed, She brought him forth as a new child, Intending to kill him, but changing her will At the sight of his beautiful smile. He’d wasted her time, but he’d paid for his crime. She decided to let him go free, Laid him on his back in a warm leather sack, And set him adrift on the sea. Elphin the hapless came down to the strand, His fish from the weir to retrieve. He hoped that good fortune would come to his hand So late on that fateful May Eve. But to his dismay, there were no fish that day, Just a commonplace dark leather skin. His draw appeared poor, but he couldn’t be sure Until he saw what was within. He opened the sack and was taken aback By this gift he’d been blessed with somehow. The bright child within he called Taliesin, A name which means “radiant brow”. Taliesin was of erudite mien, With such gifts as his fate did endow. His poetry grew from the mystical brew That had fixed the bright Star on his brow. Sometimes he was asked to remember his past, The source of his light to explain. His mem’ry was long, and he’d sing them a song With this simple recurring refrain: The cauldron must boil for a year and a day, And three drops of magic there are: One for the Moon, one for the Sun, And one for the radiant Star.
Source: Guest, Lady Charlotte E. (translation from the Red Book of Hergest), The Mabinogion, Dover Thrift Edition (1997): 188-190