Archive for May, 2005

Dirge of the Four Cities

The Dirge of the Four Cities
Poems and Dramas, Vol VII
by Fiona MacLeod (William Sharp)

“There are four cities that no mortal eye has seen but that the soul knows; these are Gorias, that is in the east; and Finias, that is in the south; and Murias, that is in the west; and Falias that is in the, north. And the symbol of Falias is the stone of death, which is crowned with Pale fire. And the symbol of Gorias is the dividing sword. And the symbol of Finias is a spear. And the symbol of Murias is a hollow that is filled with water and fading light.” – The Little Book of the Great Enchantment

“Wind comes from the spring star in the East; fire from the summer star in the South; water from the autumn star in the West; wisdom, silence and death from the star in the North.” – The Divine Adventure

The Dirge of the Four Cities

“The four cities of the world that was: the sunken city of Murias, and the city of Gorias, and the city of Finias, and the city of Falias.” – Ancient Gaelic Chronicle

Finias and Falias,
Where are they gone?
Does the wave hide Murias–
Does Gorias know the dawn?
Does not the wind wail
In the city of gems?
Do not the prows sail
Over fallen diadems
And spires of dim gold
And the pale palaces
Of Murias, whose tale was told
Ere the world was old?

Do women cry Alas! . . .
Beyond Finias?
Does the eagle pass
Seeing but her shadow on the grass
Where once was Falias:
And do her towers rise
Silent and lifeless to the frozen skies?
And do whispers and sighs
Fill the twilights of Finias
With love that has not grown cold
Since the days of old?

Hark to the tolling of bells
And the crying of wind!
The old spells
Time out of mind,
They are crying before me and behind!
I know now no more of my pain,
But am as the wandering rain
Or as the wind’s shadow on the grass
Beyond Finias of the Dark Rose:
Or, ‘mid the pinnacles and still snows
Of the Silence of Falias,
I go: or am as the wave that idly flows
Where the pale weed in songless thickets grows
Over the towers and fallen palaces
Where the Sea-city was,
The city of Murias.

Cruachan

Cruachan (Rath Cruachan) : The cave at Cruachan is an ‘Entrance to The Otherworld’ and is traditionally regarded as a place from which spirit forces and entities emerge. Caves such as this feature strongly in ancient beliefs. The Cruachan region of County Roscommon, modern day Rathcroghan, is rich in locations associated with ancient magic, ritual and religion. The Rathcroghan mound itself is reputedly the remnants of the palace of Queen Medb of Connacht. It was used by rulers of that era as a place to consult magicians and sorcerers, particularly at the time of Samhain. Cruachan was the seat of the chieftains of the Uí­ Briáin Aí­ and remained for centuries the tribal meeting place and symbolic center until late in medieval history. It has never been thoroughly explored by archaeologists. According to Joyce (Irish Place Names Vol. II), its original name was Druim-na-ndruadh, the ridge of the druids.

Anu, Dana, Danu

Anu : Mother Goddess and Earth Goddess. Her name is sometimes Ana, or Dana, or Danu. The Tuatha dé Danaan are one of the ‘races’ or ‘peoples’ of ancient Ireland. God-like, their leaders are, in effect, the Gods of Ireland. Generally regarded nowadays as benign and the ‘powers of light’, their name Tuatha dé Danann is translated as meaning ‘People of the Goddess Anu’. While one automatically assumes one’s Gods to be benign, evidence for the nature of the dé Danaan is not conclusive. While the Irish-language word tuath does mean ‘people’ or ‘tribe’, it can also mean ‘sinister, perverse, malign, evil’. The word ‘tuathal’ implies spell-making and witchcraft, and the conjuring up of sinister forces.

In one of the most ancient of the Irish manuscripts there is a description of Anu, along with her two ‘sisters’ Badb and Macha, as ‘na ban tuathige’, meaning ‘the sinister women’. In one of his battles the Hero Cuchulainn was supported by entities associated with Anu. ‘Ra gairester imme baccanaig, ocus bananagaig, ocus geniti glinni, ocus Demna aeoir’. ‘The satyrs, and sprites, and maniacs of the valleys, and demons of the air shouted about him. . .’ None of this sounds particularly ‘benign’. Further, we know that in Britain Anu was worshipped as Andate. The ceremonies involved the suspension of sacrificial women in groves of trees and the severance of their breasts which were pinned up about the place in grisly fecundity rituals. Breasts as symbols of nourishment are important to Anu. In Ireland’s County Kerry we have placenames such as The Paps of Anu and The Paps of Morrigan, this latter being a poor translation from Da Cich na Morrigna, actually meaning the Two Breasts of the Great Queen.

Airbe Druad

Airbe Druad : A mystical protective barrier (‘druid’s hedge’) created round an army by a druid. It sometimes seems that a similar barrier protects the ancient wisdoms and understandings from ourselves… :)

Eremon and Eber

Eremon and Eber : Eremon was the seventh son of Milesius. Eber was his eldest brother. Joint rule in 3500. Eremon killed Eber and his wife in 3500 (1700 B.C.?) in a quarrel over territory, and ruled alone into 3516. During Eremon’s reign alone, a “. . . colony called by the Irish Cruithneaigh, in English ‘Cruthneans’ or Picts, arrived in Ireland and requested Eremon to assign them a part of the country to settle in, which he refused; but, giving them as wives the widows of the Tuatha de Danaans, slain in battle, he sent them with a strong party of his own forces to conquer the country then called ‘Alba,’ but now Scotland; conditionally, that they and their posterity should be tributary, to the Monarchs of Ireland.”

Conn Cetchathach

Conn Cétchathach (Conn of the Hundred Battles) : legendary ancestor of the Connachta kings of Ireland. Son of Feidhlimidh Reachtmhar and Una, daughter of the king of Lochloinn. Married to Eithne. Conn and Eoghan Mor, also called Mogha Nuadhad, fought a great battle at Maynooth in 123 AD and split Ireland in half. “Resulting from this battle, Mogha forced Conn to divide Ireland with him into two equal parts by the boundary of Esker Riada, a long ridge of hills from Dublin to Galway, the south part he termed his and called it after his own name, Leath Mogha, or ‘Mogha’s Half of Ireland’. The northern part was called Leath Cuinn, or Conn’s Half.” “Conn also gave his daughter, Sadbh, in marriage to Oiloll Olum, Son of Eoghan Mor.” Descent from the Great Kings of Ireland. “Conn’s life and reign were ended by his assassination at Tara. Fifty robbers hired by the king of Ulster, came to Tara, dressed as women, and treacherously despatched the Monarch.” A History of the Irish Race. Another version of his death is: Slain by Tibraite (Tiobraide) Tireach, son of Mal, son of Rochraidhe [Tipraiti Tírech la mc Máil m. Rochride], King of Ulster, at Tuath Amrois. Father of Art

Answerer, Fragarach

Answerer : Fragarach (Frecraid, Freagarthach) was also called the “Answerer”, a magical sword that had belonged to Manannan MacLir and Lugh Lamfada. Manannan wielded it as his weapon, before passing it on to Lugh (his foster son). It was said to be a weapon that no armour could stop. Possibly one of the Four Treasures of the Tuatha de Danaan (Sword of Findias made at Gorias, which also belonged to Nuada).

Angus, Angus Og, Oengus

Angus, Angus Óg, Oengus : Son of the Dagda, Irish god of love; wooes and wins Caer. His mother was Boann. He was called Mac Óg (or the Young Son) after his mother’s words, ‘Young is the son who was begotten at break of day and born betwixt it and evening’, referring to his magical conception and gestation. He was fostered by Midir. Because of his magical birth, he had power over time. When the mounds of the Sidhe were being distributed between the Tuatha De Danaan, he arrived late and demanded to spend a day and night in the dwelling of the Dagda. This was granted, but on the following day when he was asked to leave, he said, ‘It is clear that night and day are the whole world, and it is that which has been given to me.’

Variants state that Angus was given the sidhe of Bruig na Boinne in place of his mother’s husband, Elcmar. He was the foster-father of Diarmuid.

Amergin, Amirgin, Amairgen

Amergin, Amirgin, Amairgen, (am ORG in, or OY ar gin) : Milesian poet, son of Miled, husband of Skena. His strange lay, sung when his foot first touched Irish soil; his judgment, delivered as between the Danaan’s and Milesians; chants incantation to land of Erin; Amergin the Druid, gives judgment as to claims to sovranty of Eremon and Eber; Ollav Fá´la is compared with Amergin.

The Judgment of Amergin : The Milesian host, after landing, advance to Tara, where they find the three kings of the Danaans awaiting them, and summon them to deliver up the island. The Danaans ask for three days’ time to consider whether they shall quit Ireland, or submit, or give battle; and they propose to leave the decision, upon their request, to Amergin. Amergin pronounces judgment -”the first judgment which was delivered in Ireland.” He agrees that the Milesians must not take their foes by surprise – they are to withdraw the lenght of nine waves from the shore, and then return; if they then conquer the Danaans the land is to be fairly theirs by right of battle. The Milesians submit to this decision and embark on their ships. But no sooner have they drawn off for this mystical distance of the nine waves than a mist and storm are raised by the sorceries of the Danaans – the coast of Ireland is hidden from their sight, and they wander dispersed upon the ocean. To ascertain if it is a natural or a Druidic tempest which afflicts them, a man named Aranan is sent up to the masthead to see if the wind is blowing there also or not. He is flung from the swaying mast, but as he falls to his death he cries his message to his shipmates: ‘There is no storm aloft.’ Amergin, who as poet – that is to say, Druid – takes the lead in all critical situations, thereupon chants his incantation to the land of Erin. The wind falls, and they turn their prows, rejoicing, towards the shore. But one of the Milesian lords, Eber Donn, exults in brutal rage at the prospect of putting all the dwellers in Ireland to the sword; the tempest immediately springs up again, and many of the Milesian ships founder, Eber Donn’s among them. At last a remnant of the Milesians find their way to shore, and land in the estuary of the Boyne.

Encyclopedia of the Celts

Aisling

Aisling : The word means dream or vision and is, in modern Irish, a woman’s name, but in the many Irish tales bearing this title, the dreamer experiences a vision of a Speir-Bhean or vision-woman whose beauty leads him into closer communion with the Otherworld. A great many poets of the eighteenth century wrote Aisling poems, in which a fair woman is found wandering in poverty and distress. She represents the land of Ireland itself, oppressed under the English yoke.

Aes Sidhe, Aes Dana

Aes Sidhe : The Hosts of the Sidhe or Hollow Hills. The inhabitants of the Otherworld. They were thought to ride out on the eves of the four great fire festivals: Samhain (31 October), Oimelc (31 January), Beltaine (30 April), and Lughnasadh (31 July), when they had communion with earthly folk. WB Yeats wrote of them as ‘The Hosts of the Air’. Another name by which they were referred were the ‘Aes Dana’ – but this was used more specifically to refer to a learnéd class within the Aes Sidhe who excelled within their art or craft.

Wowbagger The Infinitely Prolonged

Wowbagger The Infinitely Prolonged : Wowbagger The Infinitely Prolonged was – indeed, is – one of the MultiVerse’s very small number of immortal beings. Most of those who are born immortal instinctively know how to cope with it, but Wowbagger was not one of them. Indeed, he had come to hate them, the load of serene bastards. He had his immortality inadvertently thrust upon him by an unfortunate accident with an irrational particle accelerator, a liquid lunch, and a pair of rubber bands.

The precise details are not important because no one has ever managed to duplicate the exact circumstances under which it happened, and many people have ended up looking very silly, or dead, or both, trying. To begin with it was fun, he had a ball, living dangerously, taking risks, cleaning up on high-yield long-term investments, and just generally out-living the hell out of everybody. In the end, it was Sunday afternoons he couldn’t cope with, and that terrible listlessness that starts to set in at about 2:55 when you know you’ve taken all the baths you can usefully take that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the newspaper you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o’clock, and you will enter the Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul.

So things began to pall for him. The merry smiles he used to wear at other people’s funerals began to fade. He began to despise the Universe in general, and everybody in it in particular. This was the point at which he conceived his purpose, the thing that would drive him on, and which, as far as he could see, would drive him on forever. It was this: He would insult the Universe. That is, he would insult everybody in it. Individually, personally, one by one, and (this was the thing he really decided to grit his teeth over) in Alphabetical Order. When people protested to him, as they sometimes had done, that the plan was not merely misguided but actually impossible because of the number of people being born and dying all the time, he would merely fix them with a steely look and say, “A man can dream, can’t he?” And so he had started out.

He equipped a spaceship that was built to last with a computer capable of handling all the data processing involved in keeping track of the entire population of the known Universe and working out the horrifically complicated routes involved. He is still insulting people. He accidentally insulted Arthur Dent twice, because of Arthur’s odd jumps through time. Wowbagger has a peculiar alien tallness, a peculiar alien flattened head, peculiar slitty little alien eyes, extravagantly draped golden robes with a peculiarly alien collar design, and a pale gray-green alien skin that has that lustrous sheen about it that most gray green races can acquire only with plenty of exercise and very expensive soap.

Witness, Jehovahs

Witness, Jehovah’s : Of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, we only have one first hand account in our database, that of one Juhunn Burkeburk, the last known survivor of the country formerly known as Sweden. When asked what a Jehovah’s Witness was, he replied:

“Vhet is a Jehufeh’s Veetness?? One-a vhu cun geefe-a a fursthund eccuoont ooff sumetheeng seee, heerd, oor ixpereeenced: a veetness tu zee ecceedent. Um de hur de hur de hur. Oone-a vhu foorneeshes ifeedence-a. Oone-a vhu poobleecly effffurms releegiuoos feeet. Veetness… veetness… A member ooff zee Jehufeh’s Veetnesses! Um gesh dee bork, bork!”

We’re still running that through our translators.

Watson, John

Watson, John : Wonko The Sane. If you took a couple of David Bowie’s and stuck one of the David Bowie’s on top of the other David Bowie, then attached another David Bowie to the end of each of the arms of the upper of the first two David Bowie’s and wrapped the whole business up in a dirty beach robe you would then have something which didn’t exactly look like John Watson, but which those who knew him would find hauntingly familiar. John “Wonko The Sane” Watson is tall and gangly. He lives in an inside-out house overlooking the Pacific Ocean. That is, to visit you park on the carpet. There’s a sign on the wall that reads, “Come Outside.” He considers the rest of the world to be “The Asylum,” because it seemed to him that any civilization that had so far lost its head as to need to include a set of detailed instructions for use in a package of toothpicks was no longer a civilization in which he could live and stay sane. Wonko knows more about the dolphins than any other human being alive.

Vogsphere

Vogsphere : The home planet of the Vogons.

Vogsol

Vogsol : The sun that the home planet of the Vogons, Vogsphere, orbits.

Vogons

Vogons : Though not actually evil, the Vogons are thoroughly vile. Officious, bad-tempered, callous, rude, unpleasant. Vogons are extremely ugly, extremely officious, and generally not much fun to be around. They wouldn’t even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as fire lighters. It is hard to hitch lifts on Vogon ships – it is only made possible by the Dentrassi cooks employed by Vogon fleets. Vogons emerged from the seas of the planet Vogsphere, and gave up on evolving there and then. Only their stubbornness allowed them to survive.

They generally become bureaucrats in the galactic government. Their unpleasant demeanour makes them ideally suited to such employment. Vogons have dark green rubbery skin, waterproof enough to survive indefinitely at sea depths of down to a thousand feet with no ill effects. They have highly domed noses above small piggy foreheads. One such Vogon is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz, of the Vogon Constructor fleet. Having destroyed the Earth in order to make way for a hyperspace bypass, he then proceded to read some of his poetry to two helpless victims. They write some of the worst poetry in the known universe.

An example:

O freddled gruntbuggly…
…thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee,
my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwards with my blurglecruncheon,
see if I don’t!

Vogon Constructor Fleet

Vogon Constructor Fleet : Vogon ships are yellow chunky slab-like somethings, huge as office buildings, silent as birds. They hang in the air in much the same way that bricks don’t. The crews of these spaceships employ Dentrassi Cooks.

Viltvodel Six

Viltvodel Six : Home of the Jatravartid People, who firmly believe that the entire universe was sneezed out of the nose of a being called The Great Green Arkleseizure. They live in perpetual fear of the time they call The Coming Of The Great White Handkerchief.

Universe, The

Universe, The : Space (or to give it a more technical name, ‘The Universe’) is big. Really Big. It’s also full of really surprising things like Babel fish and tea. The history of the universe is terribly long and awfully difficult to understand, even in it’s simpler moments which are, roughly speaking, the beginning and the end. Some believe the universe was sneezed out of the nose of the Great Green Arkleseizure. Others that it was created by some God. A race of supreme beings (known on Earth as The Mice) eventually decided to find out the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything. The results of their research were far from conclusive.

Some information to help you live in it.
1. Area: infinite. Early speculations theorized an infinite number of Universes, and we now know that this is true, regardless of the apparent contradiction in terms.

2. Population: none. – It is well known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them to be in. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of every planet in the Universe (and by extension, in the MultiVerse) can be said to be zero. From this it follows that the population of the whole MultiVerse is zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.

3. Monetary Units: none. – In fact there are three freely convertible currencies in the MultiVerse, but none of them count. The Altairian Dollar has recently collapsed, the Flainian Pobble Bead is only exchangeable for other Flainian Pobble Beads, and the Triganic Pu doesn’t really count as money. Its exchange rate of eight Ningis to one Pu is simple enough, but since a Ningi is a triangular rubber coin six thousand eight hundred miles along each side, no one has ever collected enough to own one Pu. Ningis are not negotiable currency, because the Galactibanks refuse to deal in fiddling small change. From this basic premise it is very simple to prove that the Galactibanks are also the product of a deranged imagination.

4. Sex: none. – Well, in fact there is an awful lot of this, largely because of the total lack of money, trade, banks, or anything else that might keep all the non-existent people of the Universe occupied. However, the apparent non-existence of sex is not actually worth arguing about since most sentient beings would prefer to just get to it rather than stand around arguing about it.

5. Imports: none. – It is impossible to import things into an infinite area, there being no outside to import things from.

6. Exports: none. – See Imports.

7. Art: none. – The function of art is to hold the mirror up to nature, and there simply isn’t a mirror big enough. See point #1 above.