Fellowship & Fairydust

I heard a chant from Myrddin of the Green

Hear It high and hear It low.

A tapestry which, for countless score, the tarnished earth has not seen

In the deep, now hear it grow

The words envelop, when I hear

Hear It fast and hear It slow.

The music men cherish and which they fear

Through the Green, now let It flow.

For it pulses with a raw alchemic Life,

Hear It upon the wing of Crow,

Which has been our joy and our strife.

Where Winds may spread It, when They blow.

The acolytes of Cernunnos heard it first

Hear it in the fire and in snow

As it was throughout the wood dispersed

Hear It down in the realms far below

As the tune without music rose ever higher

Hear it in the furrows with the striking of the hoe

Minds were lit with fantastic fire

Hear It in the silence of the doe

As the spirits of animal and man

Dying from the arrow flung from a bow

Entwined together, in the wild saraband.

I heard a chant from Myrrdin of the Red,

Feel it harsh and sweet,

He heard it first in his embryonic bed

Within the fields of corn and wheat,

The tune was drowned when he awoke,

Which rise to feel the Summer’s heat

The melody was broken when he spoke.

Feel it in the tread of the Antlered Man’s feet,

Blood spilled upon a thousand blades,

Below the swaying of the celestial fleet

At which, he sought shelter in the glades,

In the dancing of the snow and sleet

There he found the tune anew

Which swirls to the throb of Winter’s beat

In the onslaught of the Green Man’s slew

Feel Its pulse before Danu’s seat

Of voices, which surrounded him in the silence

And there the dying refrain repeats

A staff of oak for a sword he took and left from hence

With scream of wolf and lamb’s bleat  

And entered the discordant realm again

Until it is no longer obsolete

To sing in truer tongues to men.

But our blood and our retreat.

I learned a chant from Myrrdin of the White,

See it in Arianrhod’s freezing light

As I reposed within the forest’s silvered night.

See It in Lugh’s meridian might

The wordless incantation danced within my ear,

In which all his children take delight

And rooted deep, so that my shallow thoughts did disappear

See it in the stars subtle flight

Replaced by a flame of brilliant illumination

By which men guided their dimming sight

Which will burn past all duration.

Feel it in the strength of the height

My blood quickened with the ancient sound

Or in the cry of hawk or kite

As the enchantment wove itself around

Which echoes cold and bright

My senses, and brought to life my ears and eyes

Within the air and earth, without respite

And moved my voice to its own cries

Over land of good and land of blight.

I sing the chant of Myrrdin of the Green

Sing It High and sing It low

As the hawk, sharp and keen.

Now plant It in the deep and let It grow

From place to place, I travel more,

Place It on the Wing of Crow

Along city, pasture, and shore,

So that Winds may spread It when they blow

The chant, always flowing from my tongue

And Waters in their gentle flow

Born from the breath within my lungs

And Flame, illuminate It in its glow

I know I will travel both near and far

And Earth in its pulse, strong and slow

A bizarrely moss-enshrouded czar

Sing It to the caverns down deep below

With a shield of holly and a sword of oak

From hence, It will sprout high and dance with cold and snow

And an entourage of nature’s folk

And fall, to dance upon the arrow and the bow

I will sing the chant, man to man

Which slay the wild doe

And pray that they will understand.