Myths Of The Norsemen From The Eddas And Sagas

Book: Myths Of The Norsemen From The Eddas And Sagas by Helene Adeline Guerber

The religion of a people who could produce such a literature as this must be worthy of study, especially as we can see the results of northern heathenism developing until the end of the tenth century without interference either from Christian thought or from the Latin culture so closely bound up with it. The doors between Scandinavia and the East were still open when this literature came into being, and memories of a pre-Christian Celtic culture yet remained alive. It is a setting of another kind from that to which we have grown accustomed, that of Mediterranean influences impinging early on the Germanic world; and there are great riches awaiting the explorers of the realm of thought in that complex and vigorous age about which all too little is known. Of men’s attitude to life the literature tells us much, and we must recognise the strength amid sanity of it; how much can it tell us of their thoughts Concerning Death and the soul? This work is an attempt to begin the answer to this question, and if it can reveal something of the variety and richness of the lost religion of the North it will have served its purpose. Originally this book formed Part of a thesis accepted in 1940 for the degree of Ph.D. in the University of Cambridge. It was while holding a research studentship from Newnham College that I completed the Greater Part of the work, and my first acknowledgment must be to the College for the generous help it has provided. To Professor and Mrs. Chadwick I owe more than can be easily expressed: the discovery of both the inspiration and discipline of research, and unfailing help, both with practical advice and encouragement, the whole of the way. I would like also to thank Mr. and Mrs. J. M. de Navarro and Mr. G. N. Garmonsway for many suggestions and for their sympathetic interest; and Miss G. D. Willcock, who read the book in manuscript, and Miss Helen Brown, who read the proofs and assisted with the index, for their helpful criticism and support. Finally my thanks are due to the Syndics of the University Press for undertaking the publication of this book, despite the difficulties of war-time, and to its Staff for the courtesy and efficiency they have shown throughout. (H. R. ELLIS)

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Helene Adeline Guerber - Myths Of The Norsemen From The Eddas And Sagas

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Death And The Lady

As I walked out one morning in May
The birds did sing and the lambs did play
The birds did sing and the lambs did play
I met an old man, I met an old man
I met an old man by the way

His head was bald, his beard was grey
His coat was of a myrtle shade
I asked him what strange countryman
Or what strange place, or what strange place
Or what strange place he did belong

"My name is Death, cannot you see?
Lords, dukes, and ladies bow down to me
And you are one of those branches three
And you fair maid, and you fair maid,
And you fair maid must come with me"
"I'll give you gold and jewels rare
I'll give you costly robes to wear
I'll give you all my wealth in store
If you'll let me live, if you'll let me live
If you'll let me live a few years more"

"Fair lady, lay your robes aside
No longer glory in your pride
And now, sweet maid, make no delay
Your time is come, your time is come
Your time is come and you must away"

And not long after this fair maid died
"Write on my tomb," the lady cried,
"Here lies a poor distressed maid
Whom Death now lately, whom Death now lately
Whom Death now lately hath betrayed"

@death Printed in the Penguin book of English folksongs

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Goddess Of The Night

Deep in Shadow, hidden from sight,
Wandering by, like a thief in the night.
Slipping through cracks in Reality's wall,
Flying alone through Chaos' Hall.

Alone in the world, away from the Light,
Except for the company of the Goddess of the Night.
Deep is the Well of Humanity's Soul,
And deeper still the place I must go.

Hawk on the Wing, silent in flight,
Hunter unseen, hidden by night.
Lost in the Shadow, beyond mortal sight,
Ascending beyond the Gods' lofty height.

Wings of Fire carry me free,
Far from this place I will be.
Left behind the ones I knew,
Fellow travelers there are but few.
Chaos spins by unblinking eyes,
Reality splits and reason flys,
None can follow me in this Place,
Lost to the world without a trace.

Realities come and Realities fall,
Yet onward I fly heeding the Unknown call.
Farther and faster the message I heed,
Flying alone, spurred on by need.

None may go where Chaos hold court,
But there my mind seems to cavort.
Alone and silent I scream in the dark,
While visions and sunbursts tear me apart.

Realities flow with plastic speed,
Angels and Demons from me do feed.
The world whirls wildly around the Tree,
But soon, I know, I will be free.

Marcus

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City Of God A Rhapsody

Book: City Of God A Rhapsody by Aleister Crowley

Crowley wrote the poem during his travels in pre-revolutionary Russia, and first published it in The English Review in 1914 and republished it in the 1940s. He recalled in his 'Confessions' that "I expressed the soul of Moscow in a poem "The City of God" .... it is a "hashish dream come true". This is a facsimile of that edition, published anonymously, probably in London in the 1970s.

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The Unicorn Treasury Stories Poems And Unicorn Lore

Book: The Unicorn Treasury Stories Poems And Unicorn Lore by Bruce Coville

Filled with the most popular legends about the mythical unicorn and including original poems and stories, this Collection brings together the singular talents of Bruce Coville, Madeleine L'Engle, Jane Yolen, C. S. Lewis, Myra Cohn Livingston, and many others. A perfect companion to Coville's own bestselling Unicorn Chronicles and an ideal gift for the child who has always wondered about these glorious beasts, The Unicorn Treasury is sure to find a large and enduring audience.

THE UNICORN TREASURY is an absolute gem. Within the pages you will find the following: Bruce Coville (The Lore of the Unicorn, Homeward Bound - both short stories/essays), Megan Lindholm (The Unicorn in the Maze - short story/essay), William Jay Smith (Unicorn - poem), Margaret Greaves (A Net to Catch the Wind - short story/essay), Myra Cohn Livingston (Riddle - poem), Madeleine L'Engle (The Valley of the Unicorns - excerpt from A Swiftly Tilting Planet), Beatrice Farrington (Ragged John - poem), E.V. Rieu (The Paint Box - poem), Jane Yolen (The Transfigured Hart - excerpt from The Transfigured Hart, and The Boy Who Drew Unicorns - short story/essay), Ella Young (The Unicorn - poem), Ardath Mayhar (The Snow White Pony - short story/essay), C.S. Lewis (What News the Eagle Brought - excerpt from The Last Battle), Nicholas Stuart Gray (Unicorn - poem), Patricia C. Wrede (The Princess, the Cat, and the Unicorn - short story/essay), Shirley Rousseau Murphy (Starhorn - poem), Jennifer Roberson (The Court of the Summer King - short story/essay), and Audrey Alexandra Brown (The Strangers - poem).

THE UNICORN TREASURY is a Book That will be cherished by readers of all ages, young or old, for years to come. Each story/poem is filled with enchanting magic, and wonderful characters, who you will be able to relate to in one way or another. The descriptions are lovely, and make for a wonderful read the whole way through. Make sure you're comfortable when you begin reading this wonderful treasury, for you won't want to put it down until you're completely through with it.

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Essay On Enochiana

Book: Essay On Enochiana by Dean Hildebrandt

This essay is intended to provide an overview of my take on Enochian magic. It incorporates my earlier essay on the watchtower hierarchy and part of my essay on the calls. The interested reader is referred to my other essays for fuller information on the various parts of the system. My work builds on that of Benjamin Rowe in a number of repects, as will be noted as we go along. It also incorporates the I Ged material which Runar Karlsen has received, consisting of calls, tablets, and names for the various groups mentioned in the original calls, as well as observations various people on the enochian-l email list have made. I should also mention here that I tend to buy Patricia Shaffer's take on the letters and that I do not buy most of the Golden Dawn's take on the material. The GD seems to have been primarily interested in fitting the material with the rest of their system, rather than with exploring it in itself. As I'm not particularly interested in the GD system per se, I will only mention their system occasionally in passing.

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Asatru Poem Footsteps North

Uller's son, I am called,
By the shave pates, Steven,
Overlong they held me,
They hold my Blood kin still.

One of their scholar-priests
Taught more than Church would want,
Of Life beyond this Life,
From Past, to Now, and On.

He spoke of Heart and Mind,
Of Honor, Word and Deed,
He set my Thoughts awing,
To find what Church had hid.

I stayed inside the fold,
A dog becoming Wolf,
There came the day I left,
Alone and without Troth.

My steps ranged far and wide,
Through Dark and Light I trod,
Crossing In and Uten Gards,
I sought for Faith and Truth.

A wizard, then a witch,
Magician and adept,
Agnostic, deist, Zen,
Pantheist, then, myself.

To hills and woods I came,
A bluff above a lea,
A little hut was raised,
By six in friendship built.

With purpose clearly set,
An inner vision shared,
A time of cleansing thought,
In sweat lodge hot and dim.

I closed my eyes and strode
Beyond Midgard that night,
To skin clad hunting lodge,
A guest by fireside.

A huntsman studied me,
I returned gaze for gaze,
His eyes sought mine and held,
He nodded, smile gave.

Again I sat with friends,
In hut now cold and dark,
We went out under sky,
For torch lit blessing rite.

Those friends have gone their way,
As I have traveled mine,
To find the hunter's name,
And earn the smile's Worth.

My footsteps headed North,
My Kinlore to explore,
To follow bowman's path,
To find from whence he came.

My grasp of Kinlore grew,
I came to know Bow God,
His Holy Kin and Kith,
And words of Wisdom fair.

The Yew Lord spoke no words,
I heard Him anyway,
A Worthy Life to Live,
Upon the Middle Earth.

By Honor, Word and Deed,
By Host Frith and by Strength,
By Holy Uller's Ring,
A Man of Troth at last.

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Blood

Is that you that I hear?
Your footsteps on the ground above my head.
Your hands apon the headstone that bears my name.
You are a dweller in the night! Beware I bite!
On cloak as black as sin, I float, I fly.
In hunger burning bright, seaking prey.
Life is flowing deep within.
I send it bubbling fourth.
and then I drink it in again.
Another night, never day.
Away away, into the dark I flee!
where I might hide.
waiting for another night.
Did you hear?
Did you see?
Do you flee?
Or is that your hand I find near mine?
In the dark! Dwellers in the night!
Beware we bite!

Similodon

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Today The Moon Is There

Hugh Read

In that mighty, non-human Power Place
Of mind that Is Not
Lord of the Galaxy
Can you hear my cry

For fulfilment of my broken being
Faulted, cracked, torn
From that first painfilled day
Of savage, late birth

Send to me streamers of healing power
That will make me new
Of more eternal stuff
Than this failed human

Being is moulded from...fill in the sad cracks
Seal the aweful breaks
Smooth and fill the fissures
With eternity

That I may serve humanity wisely
With pleasure and joy
Being more than human
Helping others grow

Into the same places of dark powerThat are full of light
That I hunger to touch
And to feed upon
Touch me now, this day
Lord of the Galaxy
Put me on thy Way
Lord of the Galaxy
Put me on my Way

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Rainbows

by Jennifer Holding

Where dwelleth my Lady in this land of Night?
She dwelleth in stars and satin moonlight.
She veileth her visage 'neath clouds spun of silk,
And the Night-Sky's a river of my sweet Mother's milk.

Where dwelleth my good Lord on this Summer's day?
He dwelleth in birdsong and fragrance of hay.
He sleeps by the river with pipes in his hand,
And he sends his love smiling through the fruit of the land.

Where dwelleth my Lady at Morning's first light?
And where is my Lord on the eve of the Night?
At Luna's last shining, or Sun's final ray,
Their passion paints Rainbows 'tween the Night and the Day!

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The Lore Of Brosingamene

All day had Freyja, most lovely of the Goddesses,
played and romped in the fields.
Then did She lay down to rest.

And whilst She slept deft Loki, the Prankster,
the Mischief-Maker of the Gods,
did espy the glimmering of Brosingamene,
formed of Galdra, Her constant companion.

Silent as night did Loki move
to the Goddess' side and, with fingers formed
over the ages in lightness, did remove the silver circlet
from about Her snow-white neck.

Straightway did Freyja arouse, on sensing its loss.
Though He moved with the speeds of the winds
yet Loki She glimpsed as He passed swiftly from sight
into the Barrow that leads to Dreun.

Then was Freyja in despair.
Darkness descended all about Her to hide Her tears.
Great was Her anguish. All light, all life,
all creatures joined in Her doom.

To all corners were sent the Searchers,
in quest of Loki; yet knew they,
they would not find him. For who is there may descend
into Dreun and return again from thence?

Excepting the Gods themselves and, alack,
mischievous Loki. So it was that,
still weak from grief, Freyja Herself elected
to descend in search of Brosingamene.

At the portals of the Barrow was She challenged
yet recognized and passed. The multitude of souls within
cried joyfully to see Her yet could She not tarry
as She sought Her stolen light.

The infamous Loki left no trail to follow,
yet was He everywhere past seen. Those to whom She spake
held to Freyja - Loki carried no Jewel as He went by.
Where, then, was it hid?In despair She search for an age.

Hearhden the mighty, smith of the Gods,
did arise from His rest
to sense the bewailment of the souls
to Freya's sorrow.

Striding from His smithy, to find the cause of the sorrow,
did He espy the Silver Circlet
where Loki Mishief-Maker had laid it:
upon the rock before His door.

Then all was clear. As Hearhden took hold
of Brosingamene, did Loki appear before Him,
His face wild with rage. Yet would Loki not attack Hearhden,
this Mighty Smith whose strength was know even beyond Dreun.

By wiles and tricks did He strive to get
His hands upon the silver circlet.
He shape-shifted; He darted here and there;
He was visible then invisible. Yet could He not sway the smith.

Tiring of the fight, Hearhden raised His mighty club.
Then sped Loki away. Great was the Freyja's Joy
when Hearhden placed Brosingamene
once more about Her show-white neck.

Great were the cries of Joy from Dreun and above.
Great were the thanks that Freyja,
and all Men, gave to the Gods
for the return of Brosingamene.

It was that Hulda, Goddess of the Nether-Realms
appeared with Loki and spake to Freyja,
saying that She could not leave Dreun without payment.
Freyja was again in despair, saying that She had nothing.

Loki it was that said
She held Brosingamene about Her neck.
Freyja wailed and cried, saying that She
could not give up Her Jewel.

Hulda then said to Her that were She to give
Brosingamene to Loki to hold for half the year,
then could She but take Her leave of Dreun.
After a time, Freyja agreed, saying that She would let Him hold it.

So it was that Brosingamene passed to Loki
for half the year. Then was Freyja again in despair.
And the Darkness once again descended
all about Her to hide Her tears.

Again, Great was Her anguish. And once again,
All Light, All Life, All Creatures
joined in Her doom.

So it is that during that half of the wheel of the year when Loki doth hold Brosingamene, that Freya despairs; the Darkness decends, and the world doth grow cold.And when Freya receives the Jewel, Her Joy knows no bounds; the Darkness is replaced by the Light, and the world becomes warm.

Copyright 1991 by: Rathulvf Jamesson Odhinsgodhi

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