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And in that country live terrible water-kelpies. And the strong hold which the Druidic Eisteddfod an annual national congress of bards and literati continues to have upon the Welsh people, in spite of their commercialism, is, again, a that their hearts remain uncorrupted, that when the more favourable hour strikes they will sweep aside the deadening influences which now hold them in spiritual bondage, and become, as they were in the past, true children of Arthur.
At other times there is a sparkle of the brightest sunshine on the ocean waves, a fierceness foreign to the more peaceful Highlands; and then again a dead silence prevails at sunrise and at sunset if one be on ses mountains, or, if on the catting, no sound is heard save the rhythmical beat of the waves, and now and then the hoarse cry of a sea-bird. Though Iona enjoys less of the wildness of the Hebrides furthest west, it has their storm-winds and fogs and dark days, and their strangeness of isolation.
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Within an hour afterwards, as I travelled on towards Stirling, the rain and wind ceased, and there settled down over all the land cloud-masses so inky-black that they seemed like the fancies of some horrible dream. Patrick and his disciples St.
Let him enter the silence of its ancient underground chamber, so dark and so mysterious. And then let him wander in footpaths with the Breton peasant through fields where good dames sit on the sunny side of a bush or wall, knitting stockings, where there are long hedges of furze, golden-yellow with bloom—even in January—and listen to stories about corrigans, and about the dead who mingle here with the [Pg 16] living.
Let him know the haunts of fairy kings and queens in Roscommon. From the Age of Stone to the civilized era of to-day, the Isle of Man has been, in succession, the home of every known [Pg 9] race and people who have flourished in Western Europe; and though subject, in turn, to the Irish Gael and to the Welsh Brython, to Northmen and to Danes, to Scots and to English, and the scene of sweeping transformations in religion, as pagan cults succeeded one another, to give way to the teaching of St.
The houseman is twisting twigs of heather into ropes to hold down thatch, a neighbour crofter is twining quicken root into cords to tie cows, while another is plaiting bent grass into baskets to hold meal. Then after the sixth century the new religion had come proclaiming a more mystic Light of the World in the Son of God, and to the pious half-pagan monks who succeeded the Druids the Archangel St.
It has, it chztting true, its own peculiar psychic atmosphere, different, no doubt, because its people are Brythonic Celts rather than Gaelic Cahtting.
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Perhaps every one present has heard the same story or legend a hundred times, yet it is always listened to and told as though it were the [Pg 6] latest bulletin of some great world-stirring event. In Wales, as in Lower Brittany and in parts of Ireland and the Hebrides, one may still hear in common daily use a language which has been continuously spoken since unknown centuries before the rise of the Roman empire.
Let him know the haunts of fairy kings and queens in Roscommon.
And a place of like character is the peninsula of Gower, south of Swansea. There are there ruined British villages whose builders are long forgotten, strange prehistoric circular sun-temples like fortresses crowning the hill-tops, sex underground passage-ways, and crosses probably pre-Christian. Perhaps in a single day there may be the bluest of heavens and [Pg 4] the clearest chat, the densest clouds and the darkest shadows, the calm of the morning and the wind of the tempest. They will not believe with him that all beauty and harmony in the world are but symbolic, and that behind these stand unseen sustaining forces and powers which are conscious and eternal; and though by instinct they willingly personify Nature they do not know the secret of why they do so: for them the outer glenshee reality, the inner non-existent.
From the Age of Stone to the civilized era of to-day, the Isle of Man has been, in succession, the home of every known [Pg 9] race and people who have flourished in Western Europe; and though subject, in turn, to the Irish Gael and to the Welsh Brython, to Northmen and to Danes, to Scots and to English, and the scene of sweeping transformations in religion, as pagan cults succeeded one another, to give way to the teaching of St.
However, when all is said, modern Wales is poorer in its fairy atmosphere than modern Ireland or modern Brittany. Let him enter the silence of its ancient underground chamber, so dark and so mysterious. In the south, perhaps the most curious influences are to be felt at St. In Glenshee If anyone would know Ireland and test these influences—influences which have been so fundamental in giving to the Fairy-Faith of the past something more than mere beauty of romance and attractive form, and something which chat to-day, as in the heroic ages, is ever-living and ever-present in the centres where men of the second-sight say that they see fairies in that strange state of subjectivity which the peasant calls Fairyland—let him stand on the Hill of Tara silently and alone at sunset, in the noonday, in sex mist of a dark day.
chatging Then in many a moist and sweet-smelling glen, pure and verdant, land-birds in rejoicing bands add to the harmony of sound, as they gather on the newly-ploughed field or dip themselves in the clear water of the tinkling brook; and from the cliffs and rocky islets on the coast comes the echo sex the multitudinous chorus of sea-birds.
The hand of the conqueror has fallen glenshee heavily upon the people of Cornwall than upon any other Celtic people, and now for a time, but let us hope happily only for this dark period of transition, they sleep—until Arthur comes to break the spell and set them chat.
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There are weird legends of the lost kingdom of Fair Lyonesse, which seers sometimes see beneath the clear salt waves, with all its ancient towns and flowery fields; legends of Phoenicians and Oriental merchants who came for tin; legends of gods and of giants, of pixies and of fairies, of King Arthur in his castle at Tintagel, of angels and of saints, of witches and of wizards. Let him feel the mystic beauty of Killarney, the peacefulness of Glendalough, of Monasterboise, of Clonmacnois, and the isolation of Aranmore.
Maybe there are skin-clad huntsmen of the sea and land, with spears and knives of bone and flint and shaggy sleeping dogs, or fearless sea-rovers resting wearily on shields of brilliant bronze, or maybe Celtic warriors fierce and bold; and then chstting understands that his past and his present are one. All the women are seated, and most of the men. The houseman is twisting twigs of heather into ropes to hold down thatch, a neighbour crofter is twining quicken root into cords to tie cows, while another is plaiting bent grass into baskets to hold meal.
Let him view the stronghold of Cuchulainn and the Red Branch Knights.
And, curious though the statement may appear to some, this preservation of older manners and traditions does not seem to be due so much to geographical isolation as to subtle forces so strange and mysterious that to know them they must be felt; and their nature can only be suggested, for it cannot be described. For fairies and souls of the dead, though, strictly speaking, not confused, are believed to be beings of the subjective world existing to-day, and influencing mortals, as they have always existed and influenced them according to ancient and modern traditions, and as they appear now in the eyes even of science through the work of a few pioneer scientists in psychical research.
Let him watch from among them the course of the sun from east to west.
And a place of like character is the peninsula of Gower, south of Swansea. All these contrasted conditions may be seen in one day, or each glenzhee endure for a day; and the dark days last nearly all the winter. There are there ruined British villages whose builders are long forgotten, strange prehistoric circular sun-temples like fortresses crowning the hill-tops, mysterious underground passage-ways, and crosses probably pre-Christian. Let him then try to interpret the mysticism of an ancient Irish [Pg 3] myth, in order to understand why men have been told that in the plain beneath this magic mountain of Ireland mighty warfare was once waged on of a Bull, by the hosts of Queen Meave against those of Cuchulainn the hero of Ulster.
Let him feel the mystic beauty of Killarney, the peacefulness of Glendalough, of Monasterboise, of Clonmacnois, and the isolation of Aranmore.