Pen Blathaon in North Britain).

'Kynyr Keinvarvawc--(when he was told he had a son born, he said to
his wife: Damsel, if thy son be mine, his heart will be always cold,
and there will be no warmth in his hands).'

How evident, again, is the slightness of the narrator's hold upon the
Twrch-Trwyth and his strange story! How manifest the mixture of
known and unknown, shadowy and clear, of different layers and orders
of tradition jumbled together, in the story of Bran the Blessed, a
story whose personages touch a comparatively late and historic time.
Bran invades Ireland, to avenge one of 'the three unhappy blows of
this island,' the daily striking of Branwen by her husband Matholwch,
King of Ireland. Bran is mortally wounded by a poisoned dart, and
only seven men of Britain, 'the Island of the Mighty,' escape, among
them Taliesin:-

'And Bran commanded them that they should cut off his head. And take
you my head, said he, and bear it even unto the White Mount in
London, and bury it there with the face towards France. And a long
time will you be upon the road. In Harlech you will be feasting
seven years, the birds of Rhiannon singing unto you the while. And
all that time the head will be to you as pleasant company as it ever
was when on my body. And at Gwales in Penvro you will be fourscore
years, and you may remain there, and the head with you uncorrupted,
until you open the door that looks towards Aber Henvelen and towards
Cornwall. And after you have opened that door, there you may no
longer tarry; set forth then to London to bury the head, and go
straight forward.