Meditating were my thoughts
On the vain poetry of the bards of Brython.
Making the best of themselves in the chief convention.
Enough, the care of the smith's sledge-hammer.
I am in want of a stick, straitened in song,
The fold of the bards, who knows it not?

Book of Taliesin (c. 1275?) - The Fold of the Bards