The golden saddle was drenched in Gore
Loud the talk of men
Splendid and liberal chiefs declare
From the bright lands of the South
You shall not be addressed by vulgar ones
Magic night!
As phylacteric bridge
Did it span me well
Illusion and reality
Woke a dragon blazing
Three drops from the cauldron
The seventh sacrament
A pure Druid on Coca
Beyond worldly experience
A multitude of shapes
Assumed a consistent form
A word among letters
Dream time in Gore
Clock ticks, ticks, ticks
Ring the Bells
Two small leather boxes
Fish-tailed goats
Post delivered to Taliesin
Regeneration and immortality
