A Pagan Almanac for August 7 & 8, 2012<\/p>\n
Lunar Cycle<\/strong>: Tenth day of the full Moon Athens<\/strong>: Hekatombaion 20 Martyred on August 7, 1661:<\/strong> They died in our name. Let us remember theirs<\/em><\/p>\n William Blake wrote<\/strong>: I edited the 22-page Scots-English version in David Laing\u2019s 1826 Early Popular Poetry of Scotland and the Northern Border<\/em> (edited in 1895 by W. Carew Hazlitt; London: Reaves and Turner, 2 vols., 1895) down to this size. It seemed to contain material unknown to Walter Scott, whose version has always been one of my favorite poems, and a few elements of which I retained. Let me emphasize that everything here, all the \u201cwitchy\u201d language, is what I found in the Scots-English original. This was published in The Witches Trine<\/em>, vol. 1, no. 6, 1972<\/p>\n As I roamed out this Andrew\u2019s day And there a lady rode with hounds; A skirt she wore of the grass-green silk; She raised a ram\u2019s horn to her lips; In courtesy to her I knelt, \u201cNay, Heaven\u2019s Queen I\u2019m not,\u201d she laughed, \u201cOf love, my lady, thou art full wise; \u201cMan, thou shalt serve me seven years, \u201cBetide me weal, betide me woe, And when we rose, her clothes were rags; She said, \u201cTake leave of sun and moon, She drew me up on her dappled steed, O where we rode both dumb and blind Here fruit hung ripely from the trees; For fault of food I was near faint. \u201cTrue Thomas, as I name thee now, \u201cO see thee not yon narrow road \u201cAnd thee not yon broad, high road \u201cAnd see thee not yon bonny road Again I saw she was fair and good There ladies knelt in courtesy, Knights were dancing three by three; \u201cThomas, buskin up thy feet. \u201cTomorrow the lord of all this land \u201cBody and soul thou hast served me well; In sorrow I gazed upon her face. She pulled an apple down from a branch, \u201cHarp or carp, or go where thou wilt, \u201cThy tongue be weal, thy tongue be woe, \u201cO lady, nay, my tongue is my ain! \u201cHow may I speak to prince or peer, She blew her horn to draw her hounds, A Pagan Almanac for August 7 & 8, 2012 Lunar Cycle: Tenth day of the full Moon Tenth day of the waning Moon (this is how the Athenians did it; since the Moon was waning, they counted down. Perfectly logical.) Athens: Hekatombaion 20 Hekatombaion 21: The Great Festival of Athena begins Martyred on August 7, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1098,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-159","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
\nTenth day of the waning Moon (this is how the Athenians did it; since the Moon was waning, they counted down. Perfectly logical.)<\/p>\n
\nHekatombaion 21: The Great Festival of Athena begins<\/p>\n
\nMargaret Bryson and Elspeth Blackie of Edinburgh.<\/p>\n
\nAs all men are alike in outward form, so (and with the same infinite variety) all are alike in the Poetic Genius.
\n______________________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
\nSo lusty belled the oriole
\nThat as on Huntlie banks I lay
\nIt made the woods around me toll.<\/p>\n
\nHer hair hung down like gold spun fine.
\nThough storm clouds held the sky in siege,
\nThat lady rode in bright sunshine.<\/p>\n
\nAround her tossed a velvet cape.
\nFrom every tuft of her horse\u2019s mane
\nBells rang down like silver grapes.<\/p>\n
\nA tune she blew of memory.
\nA while she blew; a while she sang;
\nShe met me by the Holydun tree.<\/p>\n
\nAnd feared my heart would burst in three.
\nI bold rose up and seized her hand:
\n\u201cO Queen of Heaven, take pity on me!\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cFor I never took so high a degree.
\nIt is of Elfland I am Queen,
\nAnd I ride here after my wild fee.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nWhatsoever thus ask of me,
\nLest all my games from me be gone,
\nLady, let me lie by thee!\u201d<\/p>\n
\nThrough weal or woe, as may chance to be,
\nFor if thou dare to have thy will,
\nSure of thy body I will be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nThat weird shall never dampen me.\u201d
\nThen down she lit, and down we lay,
\nAll underneath the Holydun tree.<\/p>\n
\nHer hair wound grey around her head.
\n\u201cHow art thou faded in the face,
\nAnd all thy body like the lead!\u201d<\/p>\n
\nFor this night thou must go with me.\u201d
\nAnd in the hill a gate appeared
\nAll underneath the Holydun tree.<\/p>\n
\nAnd we rode in beneath the tree,
\nAnd we saw neither sun nor moon,
\nBut we heard the roaring of the sea.<\/p>\n
\nNo man of Middle Earth has seen;
\nThree days I heard the sighing flood
\nUntil we came to a garden green.<\/p>\n
\nNightingales caroled from their nests.
\nFlutterbies gaily flit about,
\nAnd thrushes sang, would have no rest.<\/p>\n
\nI seized an apple with my hand.
\n\u201cNay, do not take of that and eat,
\nElse never again see thy ain land.<\/p>\n
\nLight down and lean against my knee,
\nAnd I\u2019ll show thee three stranger sights
\nThan ever saw man of thy country.<\/p>\n
\nSo thick beset wi\u2019 thorn and briar?
\nThat is the path of righteousness,
\nThough after it but few inquire.<\/p>\n
\nThat lies across the lily leven?
\nThat is the path of wickedness,
\nThough some call it the road to heaven.<\/p>\n
\nThat winds the hills to yon castle bright?
\nThose shining towers are mine to rule,
\nAnd thou and I ride there this night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nAs sunshine on a summer\u2019s day.
\nHer hounds were filled with fresh deer\u2019s blood
\nAs to her castle she led the way.<\/p>\n
\nAnd harp and fiddle there we found,
\nGuitar and pipes and psaltery,
\nAll mingling in amazing sound.<\/p>\n
\nThe hall was filled with games and play;
\nA hart was turning in the fire,
\nAnd ladies sang in rich array.<\/p>\n
\nIt is three days since thy stay begun,
\nYet thou hast paid thy fee in full:
\nIn thy land seven years are done.<\/p>\n
\nAmong this folk will choose his fee.
\nThou art a strong and handsome man:
\nI know full well he would choose thee.<\/p>\n
\nThou shalt not be betrayed by me.\u201d
\nShe drew me up on her dappled steed.
\nShe brought me back to the Holydun tree.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThen shall I never again see thee?
\nO give me some token, my lady love,
\nThat I may know I spoke with thee.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nAnd said, \u201cThis token I give to thee,
\nTo tell the wise wherever thou go
\nThat of our chase this was the fee.<\/p>\n
\nThou shalt never speak evil of me,
\nAnd when thou lie on Huntlie banks,
\nThen, if I may, I\u2019ll come to thee.<\/p>\n
\nThy tongue be chief of minstrelsy:
\nWhether thou spell, or tales wilt tell,
\nNo lie shall ever be spoken by thee.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nA goodly gift thou would give to me!
\nHow may I either buy or sell
\nAt any fair where I might be?<\/p>\n
\nOr hold any tryst with a fair lady?\u201d
\n\u201cNow, hold thy tongue, True Thomas,\u201d she said,
\n\u201cFor as I say, so must it be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nAnd as on Huntlie banks I lay,
\nShe rode from me in bright sunshine.
\nWe parted thus, on Andrew\u2019s day.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"