Tag Archives: Merlin

The Last Enchantment

Cordials and medicines,

perfumes concocted for the Queen’s pleasure,

herbs for the King’s kitchen

redolent of peace and the age of gold.

But with the sense of some change to come

as the fall of leaves and coming of winter.

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He came on a golden evening

There was a full moon

like a ghost in the sky before sunset.

It hung behind the apple boughs

like a great misty lantern.

The room smelled of hyssop, apples and plums

laid on the shelves to ripen.

I heard a light step behind me and turned.

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Magician they call me

but I niether expected his coming nor heard him

until I saw him lit by the deepening gold of the moon.

The meeting in the mist on the Island’s shore

had come back to me frequently, a dream, something imagined.

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The real boy was here, flushed and smiling

as if unsure of his welcome.

Dressed in grey with a cloak the colour of beech-buds.

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He began ‘I don’t suppose you remember me…’

‘Why should I not?  You are the boy who is Ninian’.

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From a novel by Mary Stewart

‘A tale of Merlin’s own enchanting.  In the dark ebbtide of his powers he finds he is not totally deserted by his god.  Struggling for resignation, he finds a fulfilment that even he had never dreamed of.  His power and bright vision will be at the King’s service as long as Arthur lives, and, as he believes, long after.’

A ‘Black it Out’ for Björn’s prompt at dVerse

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The Holy Thorn

Castle of Fisher King 2.

Within a field of fragrant wild flowers

Merlin’s eyes and Nemué’s fair hand

beckon the willing to follow a fairy path

to the world of Myth and Magic.

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We cross the field to discover a spring,

In clear water we wander downhill.

Paddling on pebbles in the sparkling stream,

following meanderings as it deepens

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and gathers speed on the slope, gushing on

to a weir where it pours into a large lake.

We linger on the bank before setting foot

in its freshness, losing ourselves underwater.

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Deeper and deeper through fish and weed

we go to a wall of dark green parted by Merlin

to reveal a nature hall with a bubbling cauldron

attended by nine beautiful maidens.

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We drink of the brew from small shell cups

and feel a shift of being as we gently float

to the surface, captured in a golden net

cast from the craft of the Fisher King.

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He sits amidships with crown and purple robe,

bidding us to climb aboard.  We set off for

a beautiful castle on an horizon island

ploughing a gentle wake on the water.

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The magical castle throws wide its gates

showing a magnificent chamber within.

Beyond a small door an old bearded King

receives holy communion from a maiden.

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This fair princess greets us and bids us

follow through a curtained doorway.

We ascend a winding stair to a Chapel

bedecked with purple velvet and silver altar.

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A Bleeding Lance drips drops of blood

in a shining silver cup next to a plate

on which rests the delicate white host.

We kneel to partake of the offerings.

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The roof opens wide and we ascend

into blue sky whereon a crystalline cloud

floats a bark with masts of red, green and white.

At the prow stands a knight in golden armour.

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Sir Galahad with white red cross shield,

on a bier the body of a beautiful maiden,

an empty chalice resting on her breast.

We step aboard this heavenly vessel.

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Floating in a reflection of the ship,

it soars to the shining sphere of the Sun.

Our Lady ascends from her bier,

Our Knight transformed in our Lord.

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A great silver dove becomes their ship

and from the golden sphere steps

Joseph of Arimathea clothed with the Sun

he strides aboard to strike his staff upon our deck

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to bring us joy of the Holy Tree.

Branches, leaves and blossoms bloom,

Delicate pink and wonderful white flowers

springing from the masts and deck.

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In wonder we tumble through the sky

with thousands of flowers like blessings

of kisses for the earth to cherish.

The Legend of the Glastonbury Thorn.

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“With us is the Grace of the Shining Ones in the Mystery of Earth Light.  Peace to all Signs and Shadows, Radiant Light to all Ways of Darkness, and the Living One of Light, Secret Unknown, Forever.”

Inspired by ‘Merlin and the Grail Tradition’ by Gareth Knight

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Illustration ‘At Length He Mounted, and Crossed O’er the Lowered Drawbridge’
Parsifal, or the Legend of the Holy Grail retold from Ancient Sources.

Willy Pogàny, New York 1912.

The Druid Way

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Merlin’s magic the Druid Art

essence of the mysteries

no written word was ever part.

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By spoken word the secrets passed

meta physics of the ancients

Merlin’s magic the Druid Art.

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Among the brotherhood of priests

In Celtic Country fair and green

no written word was ever seen

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Pagan Religion of the earth

of healing and the Druid oak

Merlin’s magic the Druid Art.

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At Christianity’s Roman start

Old ways of nature faded

no written word was ever part.

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The Druid horned one prevails

Hidden through mists of veils

Merlin’s magic the Druid Art

no written word was ever part.

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Written for dVerse Physics and the art of Villanelle.  My first attempt at this form.

Thanks to Samuel Peralta for the prompt.

http://dversepoets.com/

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Merlin’s Well

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Beyond the mists of time lies the island of Avalon,

severed from the mainland by a shallow lake.

Magical mystery was held in the Chalice

and written in the Druid runes on the sacred sword Excalibur.

Arthur drew this sword from solid stone in his youth.

The Lady of the Lake claimed it from his death barge.

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At the foot of the Tor flows the blood spring.

Iron ore water flowing on forever in flood or drought.

Stone such as Stonehenge was brought here and wrought

into a narrow chamber that fills with first light

on the sunrise of midsummer morning.

A place holy to the Gods of long ago.

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Within the well chamber lies a man sized niche

where coloured water gushes onwards

dispersing a watery mist in the air like stale blood.

This is the mythical hiding place of the chalice

and the magic mirror of Morgan le Fay.

Could this well hallowed by miracle and vision

have a more sinister history of Druid sacrifice?

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The Tor is a strange hill to be the work of nature.

Perhaps we see the site of an ancient Sun Temple

and sense the power of the Beltane fires.

The energy of pagan rites long ago linger in this place.

Yet the site of the Abbey is holy.

Where the first wooden church was planted

by Jesuah and Joseph of Arimathea in The Way of Love.

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And did those feet in ancient time.

Walk upon England’s mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;

Bring me my Arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green and pleasant Land

William Blake

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Atlantis to Avalon

 

Has lost Atlantis any bearing on our own island tradition of Merlin and Arthur and the drowned land of Lyonesse?

From the centre of the Atlantic, reaching out towards what is now Central America there was a great continent where the Root Race lived that succeeded the Lemurians and preceded our own.  There was a great civilization, built up with the help of the gods who then dwelt among men.   There was the City of the Golden Gates, of which the folk-lore of all races has a tradition.  This city, so we are told, was built upon the flanks of an extinct volcano on the sea-coast of the ancient land.  Behind it was a plain stretching back to the inland mountain ranges and an isolated pyramidal hill, shaped like a truncated cone, with one side sheared off into a precipice.  At its base that was a vast concourse of wattle huts that housed the bearers of burdens.  On the shoulder of the mountain lived the merchant and craftsman castes, and upon its flat top were the palaces and colleges of the sacred clan, which was divided into the military and the priesthood.

This sacred clan was most carefully segregated from the rest of the population, and its breeding was carried out under the supervision of the priests.  As soon as the boys were of an age to show their disposition, those who were deem fit were taken into the sacred colleges to be prepared for the priesthood, and those who were not predisposed for this discipline were sent to the military colleges.  The girls of the sacred stock were guarded with the greatest care and given in marriage to priests or soldiers according to their lineage and temperament. 

Thus the heritage of the sacred clan was kept pure, a carefully selected stock bred for the development of those rarer powers of the mind so highly esteemed among the ancients and so little understood nowadays – the powers which enabled the Greeks and Egyptians to discover the basis of modern astronomy and atomic theory of chemistry and the cellular structure of organic matter, without the aid of any of the instruments of modern science.

The Atlanteans were great navigators and traded from the Black Sea to the Pacific, they were also great colonizers, and wherever they planted their colonies they brought their priests and their altars.  They were Sun-worshippers of giant stature and adored the Lord and Giver of life in open circular temples, paved with great flagstone of marble and basalt.   Their architecture was of the cyclopean type – great blocks of dressed stone that no primitive man could have handled.

 Now what of Avalon in connection with this story?  Is there a possibility that in the legends of Merlin and the drowned lands of Lyonesse we are touching the history of lost Atlantis?  Is it possible that Merlin was an Atlantean priest-initiate and in presiding at the birth of Arthur was carrying out the Atlantean custom of the kings bred for wisdom?  In order to bring the higher consciousness of the evolved Atlantean race into the Celtic tribes of the colonized island did Merlin, in defiance of the strict laws of the sacred clan, cross the Atlantean stock on the Celt and so breed Arthur.  And was Morgan le Fay, the half-sister of Arthur and witch-woman learned in all sciences, a pure bred Atlantean?  Is the streak of psychism that runs through the Celtic race due to the Atlantean blood introduced by the daring experiments of Merlin after his own race was sunk in the sea?