Posts Tagged ‘Wales’

Broken Vow

In Dream on June 17, 2012 at 5:42 pm


Tell me her name I want to know The way she looks And where you go I need to see her face I need to understand Why you and I came to an end Tell me again I want to hear Who broke my faith in all these years Who lays with you at night While I’m here all alone Remembering when I was your own I let you go I let you fly Why do I keep on asking why I let you go Now that I found A way to keep somehow More than a broken vow Tell me the words I never said Show me the tears you never shed Give me the touch That one you promised to be mine Or has it vanished for all time Chorus I close my eyes And dream of you and I And then I realize There’s more to love than only bitterness and lies I close my eyes I’d give away my soul To hold you once again And never let this promise end

Broken Vow – Lara Fabian (lyrics) – YouTube

The great red dragon of Wales

In Love on May 29, 2012 at 1:09 pm

Fairy Tales, and Folklore

Every old country that has won fame in history and built up a civilization of its own, has a national flower. Besides this, some living creature, bird, or beast, or, it may be, a fish is on its flag. In places of honor, it stands as the emblem of the nation; that is, of the people, apart from the land they live on. Besides flag and symbol, it has a motto. That of Wales is: “Awake: It is light.” Now because the glorious stories of Wales, Scotland and Ireland have been nearly lost in that of mighty England, men have at times, almost forgotten about the leek, the thistle, and the shamrock, which stand for the other three divisions of the British Isles. Yet each of these peoples has a history as noble as that of which the rose and the lion are the emblems. Each has also its patron saint and civilizer. So we have Saint George, Saint David, Saint Andrew, and Saint Patrick, all of them white-souled heroes. On the union flag, or standard of the United Kingdom, we see their three crosses. The lion of England, the harp of Ireland, the thistle of Scotland, and the Red Dragon of Wales represent the four peoples in the British Isles, each with its own speech, traditions, and emblems; yet all in unity and in loyalty, none excelling the Welsh, whose symbol is the Red Dragon. In classic phrase, we talk of Albion, Scotia, Cymry, and Hibernia. But why red? Almost all the other dragons in the world are white, or yellow, green or purple, blue, or pink. Why a fiery red color like that of Mars? Borne on the banners of the Welsh archers, who in old days won the battles of Crecy and Agincourt, and now seen on the crests on the town halls and city flags, in heraldry, and in art, the red dragon is as rampant, as when King Arthur sat with His Knights at the Round Table. The Red Dragon has four three-toed claws, a long, barbed tongue, and tail ending like an arrow head. With its wide wings unfolded, it guards those ancient liberties, which neither Saxon, nor Norman, nor German, nor kings on the throne, whether foolish or wise, have ever been able to take away. No people on earth combine so handsomely loyal freedom and the larger patriotism, or hold in purer loyalty to the union of hearts and hands in the British Empire, which the sovereign represents, as do the Welsh. The Welsh are the oldest of the British peoples. They preserve the language of the Druids, bards, and chiefs, of primeval ages which go back and far beyond any royal line in Europe, while most of their fairy tales are pre-ancient and beyond the dating. Why the Cymric dragon is red, is thus told, from times beyond human record. It was in those early days, after the Romans in the south had left the island, and the Cymric king, Vortigern, was hard pressed by the Picts and Scots of the north. To his aid, he invited over from beyond the North Sea, or German Ocean, the tribes called the Long Knives, or Saxons, to help him. But once on the big island, these friends became enemies and would not go back. They wanted to possess all Britain. Vortigern thought this was treachery. Knowing that the Long Knives would soon attack him, he called his twelve wise men together for their advice. With one voice, they advised him to retreat westward behind the mountains into Cymry. There he must build a strong fortress and there defy his enemies. So the Saxons, who were Germans, thought they had driven the Cymry beyond the western borders of the country which was later called England, and into what they named the foreign or Welsh parts. Centuries afterwards, this land received the name of Wales. People in Europe spoke of Galatians, Wallachians, Belgians, Walloons, Alsatians, and others as “Welsh.” They called the new fruit imported from Asia walnuts, but the names “Wales” and “Welsh” were unheard of until after the fifth century. The place chosen for the fortified city of the Cymry was among the mountains. From all over his realm, the King sent for masons and carpenters and collected the materials for building. Then, a solemn invocation was made to the gods by the Druid priests. These grand looking old men were robed in white, with long, snowy beards falling over their breasts, and they had milk-white oxen drawing their chariot. With a silver knife they cut the mistletoe from the tree-branch, hailing it as a sign of favor from God. Then with harp, music and song they dedicated the spot as a stronghold of the Cymric nation. Then the King set the diggers to work. He promised a rich reward to those men of the pick and shovel who should dig the fastest and throw up the most dirt, so that the masons could, at the earliest moment, begin their part of the work. But it all turned out differently from what the king expected. Some dragon, or powerful being underground, must have been offended by this invasion of his domain; for, the next morning, they saw that everything in the form of stone, timber, iron or tools, had disappeared during the night. It looked as if an earthquake had swallowed them all up. Both king and seers, priests and bards, were greatly puzzled at this. However, not being able to account for it, and the Saxons likely to march on them at any time, the sovereign set the diggers at work and again collected more wood and stone. This time, even the women helped, not only to cook the food, but to drag the logs and stones. They were even ready to cut off their beautiful long hair to make ropes, if necessary. But in the morning, all had again disappeared, as if swept by a tempest. The ground was bare. Nevertheless, all hands began again, for all hearts were united. For the third time, the work proceeded. Yet when the sun rose next morning, there was not even a trace of either material or labor. What was the matter? Had some dragon swallowed everything up? Vortigern again summoned his twelve wise men, to meet in council, and to inquire concerning the cause of the marvel and to decide what was to be done. After long deliberation, while all the workmen and people outside waited for their verdict, the wise men agreed upon a remedy. Now in ancient times, it was a custom, all over the world, notably in China and Japan and among our ancestors, that when a new castle or bridge was to be built, they sacrificed a human being. This was done either by walling up the victim while alive, or by mixing his or her blood with the cement used in the walls. Often it was a virgin or a little child thus chosen by lot and made to die, the one for the many. The idea was not only to ward off the anger of the spirits of the air, or to appease the dragons under ground, but also to make the workmen do their best work faithfully, so that the foundation should be sure and the edifice withstand the storm, the wind, and the earthquake shocks. So, nobody was surprised, or raised his eyebrows, or shook his head, or pursed up his lips, when the king announced that what the wise men declared, must be done and that quickly. Nevertheless, many a mother hugged her darling more closely to her bosom, and fathers feared for their sons or daughters, lest one of these, their own, should be chosen as the victim to be slain. King Vortigern had the long horn blown for perfect silence, and then he spoke: “A child must be found who was born without a father. He must be brought here and be solemnly put to death. Then his blood will be sprinkled on the ground and the citadel will be built securely.” Within an hour, swift runners were seen bounding over the Cymric hills. They were dispatched in search of a boy without a father, and a large reward was promised to the young man who found what was wanted. So into every part of the Cymric land, the searchers went. One messenger noticed some boys playing ball. Two of them were quarreling. Coming near, he heard one say to the other: “Oh, you boy without a father, nothing good will ever happen to you.” “This must be the one looked for,” said the royal messenger to himself. So he went up to the boy, who had been thus twitted and spoke to him thus: “Don’t mind what he says.” Then he prophesied great things, if he would go along with him. The boy was only too glad to go, and the next day the lad was brought before King Vortigern. The workmen and their wives and children, numbering thousands, had assembled for the solemn ceremony of dedicating the ground by shedding the boy’s blood. In strained attention the people held their breath. The boy asked the king: “Why have your servants brought me to this place?” Then the sovereign told him the reason, and the boy asked: “Who instructed you to do this?” “My wise men told me so to do, and even the sovereign of the land obeys his wise councilors.” “Order them to come to me, Your Majesty,” pleaded the boy. When the wise men appeared, the boy, in respectful manner, inquired of them thus: “How was the secret of my life revealed to you? Please speak freely and declare who it was that discovered me to you.” Turning to the king, the boy added: “Pardon my boldness, Your Majesty. I shall soon reveal the whole matter to you, but I wish first to question your advisers. I want them to tell you what is the real cause, and reveal, if they can, what is hidden here underneath the ground.” But the wise men were confounded. They could not tell and they fully confessed their ignorance. The boy then said: “There is a pool of water down below. Please order your men to dig for it.” At once the spades were plied by strong hands, and in a few minutes the workmen saw their faces reflected, as in a looking glass. There was a pool of clear water there. Turning to the wise men, the boy asked before all: “Now tell me, what is in the pool?” As ignorant as before, and now thoroughly ashamed, the wise men were silent.

You are always in my Heart

In Dream on May 28, 2012 at 5:10 pm

Milena Nikolić – When the solution is simple, God is answering.

“There are moments when troubles enter our lives and we can do nothing to avoid them. But they are there for a reason. Only when we have overcome them will we understand why they were there.”

Can you feel the love tonight -Richard Clayderman – YouTube

Milena Nikolić – When you do something noble and beautiful and nobody noticed, do not be sad. For the sun every morning is a beautiful spectacle and yet most of the

“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”

Romantic Melodies For Piano – YouTube



Maksim Mrvica ~ Still Water (HD) – YouTube

Milena Nikolić – Sometimes two people have to fall apart to realise how much they need to fall back together.

I smile to make people happy, but in my head it’s just to hide the pain so that people don’t ask me what’s wrong.”

Maksim Mrvica – Hana’s Eyes(HQ) – YouTube

Milena Nikolić – I don’t run from you, I walk away slowly, and it kills me because you don’t care enough to stop me…

“I don’t run from you, I walk away slowly, and it kills me because you don’t care enough to stop me… ”

Música clássica de piano ~Claudine ~ Maksim Mrvica – YouTube

Walsh fairy for good night

In Love on May 15, 2012 at 8:18 pm

The Fairy Wife – The Welsh Fairy Book – W. Jenkyn Thomas

The Fairy Wife VERY many years ago there lived in the farmhouse of Ystrad, in Nant y Bettws, the Vale of the Beadhouse, a youth who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. On moonlight nights he used to amuse himself with watching the Fairy Family dancing, and with listening to their music. One night they came very near the house, to a field near the lake, which was afterwards called Llyn y Dywarchen, the Lake of the Sod, there to beguile the night in merrymaking. The young fellow, as was his wont, went out to watch them. Immediately his eye fell on one of the fairy damsels, whose beauty was beyond anything he had ever seen in a human being. Her complexion was like blood upon snow: her voice was like the voice of a nightingale and as gentle as the breeze of a summer evening in a flower garden: her bearing was graceful and noble, and she tripped on the greensward as lightly as the rays of the sun had danced a few hours before on the ripples of the lake hard by. He fell in love with her over head and ears, and under the impulse of that sudden passion, when the merriment was at its height, he rushed into the middle of the fair crowd, snatched the lovely maiden in his arms, and ran off instantly with her into the house. As soon as the other fairies saw the violence that had been done by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran off after her towards the house. But they were too late: the door was locked and bolted, and the stolen maiden was safely lodged in a chamber. The iron bolt and lock made it impossible for them to reclaim her, for the Fair Family abhor iron. When the young man had got her under his roof, he applied every means in his power to win her affection and asked her to marry him. She refused him, though he begged her time after time to be his wife. When, however, she saw that he would not allow her to return to her own people, she said to him, “I will not be your wife, but if you can find out my name I will be your servant.” He, thinking that the task was by no means impossible, reluctantly agreed to the condition. But the task was harder than he had imagined. He tried every name that he had ever heard of, even such curious Bible names as Zeruiah, La-ruhamel and Hazelelponi, but found himself no nearer his point. Nevertheless, he was not willing to give up, and at last fortune came to his rescue. One night, as he was returning from Carnarvon market, he espied a number of the Fair Family in a turbary not far from his path. They seemed as if they were seriously deliberating together in council, and he at once thought to himself, “I am sure they are planning how to recover their stolen sister. Perhaps if I can get within hearing distance of them without being observed I shall be able to find out my darling’s name.” On looking carefully around, he saw that a deep ditch ran through the turbary, and passed near the spot where the Fair Family sat in council. So he made his way round to the ditch and crept, on all fours, along it as quietly as a snail and almost as slowly, until he was within hearing of the group. After listening a while he found that he had been correct in his surmise: they were discussing the fate of the maiden whom he had carried away from them, and he heard one of them wailing aloud, “Oh, Penelope, Penelope, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal?” “Penelope,” said the young man to himself; “that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough.” At once he began to creep back as quietly as he had crept there, and he managed to reach home without being seen by the fairies. When he got into the house he called out to the damsel, “Penelope, my heart of gold, come hither.” She came forward and asked in astonishment, “Oh, mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?” Then folding her tiny hands, she exclaimed, “Alas, my fate, my fate! ” But she resigned herself to her lot and took to her work as servant in earnest. Everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. There was no better or cleanlier housewife in all the country around, or one that was more provident and thrifty than she was. She milked the cows three times a day, and they gave the usual quantity of milk each time. The butter she made was so good that it fetched a penny a pound more than any other butter sold at Carnarvon market. The young man, however, was by no means willing that she should be a servant to him, and he persistently begged her to marry him. Many a blow will break the stone, says the Welsh proverb, and she at last consented to be married. But, said she, “There is one condition you must observe: you must never strike me with iron: if you do, I must be free to leave you and return to my family.” The young man would have agreed to any conditions, and this one he considered very easy to observe. So they were wedded, and lived happily together for years, and were blessed with two children, a boy and a girl, the images of their mother and the idols of their father. So wise and active was the fairy wife that he became one of the richest men of that country, and besides the farm of Ystrad he farmed all the lands on the north of Nant y Bettws to the top of Snowdon and all Cwm Brwynog, in Llanberis, or about five thousand acres. One day the husband wanted to go to a fair at Carnarvon, and went out to catch a filly that was grazing in a field near the house, in order to sell her at the fair. But for the life of him he could not secure her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. She came with-out delay, and they managed to drive the frisky young creature to a secure corner, as they thought: but, as he approached her to put on the bridle, the frolicsome animal rushed past him. In his anger he threw the bridle after her; but who should be running after her but his wife! The iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight in a moment. But, though the broken compact had compelled her disappearance, the fairy wife could not forget her love for her children and husband. One cold night, a long time after this event, when the Dead Men’s Feet Wind was blowing, the husband was awakened from his sleep by a gentle tapping on the glass of his bedroom window. After he had given a response he recognised the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him: “Should the cold oppress my son, See his father’s coat’s put on If my daughter feels the cold, Wrap her in my skirt’s thick fold.” She even contrived a way to see and speak to her loved ones regularly. The law of her country would not allow her to walk the earth after her return to Fairyland, so she made a large sod to float on the surface of the lake: on this she would spend hours and hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her husband and children on the shore. By means of this contrivance they managed to live together, until husband and children breathed their last. The floating island she made may still be seen, and it is from this that the lake

The red dragon_ the amblem of Wales

In Love on May 15, 2012 at 5:29 pm

Why the Red Dragon is the Emblem of Wales – The Welsh Fairy Book – W. Jenkyn Thomas

The Welsh Fairy Book 1907 by W. Jenkyn Thomas Why the Red Dragon is the Emblem of Wales AFTER the Treachery of the Long Knives, King Vortigern called together his twelve wise men and asked them what he should do. They said to him: “Retire to the remote boundaries of your kingdom, and there build and fortify a city to defend yourself. The Saxon people you have received are treacherous, and they are seeking to subdue you by guile. Even during your life they will, if they can, seize upon all the countries which are subject to your power. How much more will they attempt it after your death?” The King was pleased with this advice, and departing with his wise men travelled through many parts of his territories in search of a convenient place for building a citadel. Far and wide they travelled, but nowhere could they find a suitable place until they came to the mountains of Eryri, in Gwynedd. On the summit of one of these, which was then called Dinas Ffaraon, they discovered a fine place to build a fortress. The wise men said to the King: “Build here a city, for in this place you will be secure against the barbarians.” Then the King sent for artificers, carpenters and stonemasons, and collected all the materials for building; in the night, however, the whole of these disappeared, and by morning nothing remained of all that had been provided. Materials were procured from all parts a second time, but a second time they disappeared in the night. A third time everything was brought together for building, but by morning again not a trace of them remained. Vortigern called his wise men together and asked them the cause of this marvel. They replied: “You must find a child born without a father, put him to death, and sprinkle with his blood the ground on which the citadel is to be built, or you will never accomplish your purpose.” This did not appear such strange advice to King Vortigern as it does to us. In olden times there were very cruel practices in connection with building. Sometimes a human victim was sacrificed in order that his blood might be used as cement; at other times a living person was walled in a new building — often an innocent little child. The King thought the advice of his wise men was good and sent messengers throughout Britain in search of a child born without a father. After having inquired in vain in all the provinces, they came to a field in Bassaleg, where a party of boys were playing at ball. Two of them were quarrelling, and one of them said to the other, “O boy without a father, no good will ever happen to you.” The messengers concluded that this was the boy they were searching for; they had him led away and conducted him before Vortigern the King. The next day the King, his wise men, his soldiers and retinue, his artificers, carpenters and stonemasons, assembled for the ceremony of putting the boy to death. Then the boy said to the King, “Why have your servants brought me hither ?” “That you may be put to death,” replied the King, “and that the ground on which my citadel is to stand may be sprinkled with your blood, without which I shall be unable to build it.” “Who,” said the boy, “instructed you to do this?” “My wise men,” replied the King. “Order them hither,” returned the boy. This being done, he thus questioned the wise men : “By what means was it revealed to you that this citadel could not be built unless the spot were sprinkled with my blood? Speak without disguise, and declare who discovered me to you.” Then turning to the King, “I will soon,” said he, “unfold to you everything; but I desire to question your wise men and wish them to disclose to you what is hidden underneath this pavement.” They could not do so and acknowledged their ignorance. Thereupon the boy said, “There is a pool; come and dig.” They did so, and found a pool even as the boy had said. “Now,” he continued, turning to the wise men again, “tell me what is in the pool.” But they were ashamed and made no reply. “I,” said the boy, “can discover it to you if the wise men cannot. There are two vases in the pool.” They examined and found that it was so. Continuing his questions, “What is in the vases?” he asked. They were again silent. “There is a tent in them,” said the boy; “separate them and you shall find it so.” This being done by the King’s command, there was found in them a folded tent. The boy, going on with his questions, asked the wise men what was in it. But they knew not what to reply. “There are,” said he, “two serpents, one white and one red; unfold the tent.” They obeyed, and two sleeping serpents were discovered. “Consider attentively,” said the boy, “what the serpents do.” They began to struggle with each other, and the white one, raising himself up, threw down the other into the middle of the tent and sometimes drove him to the edge of it, and this was repeated thrice. At length the red one, apparently the weaker of the two, recovering his strength, expelled the white one from the tent, and the latter, being pursued through the pool by the red one, disappeared. Then the boy asked the wise men what was signified by this wonderful omen, but they had again to confess their ignorance. “I will now,” said he to the King, “unfold to you the meaning of this mystery. The pool is the emblem of this world, and the tent that of your kingdom; the two serpents are two dragons; the red serpent is your dragon, but the white serpent is the dragon of the Saxons, who occupy several provinces and districts of Britain, even almost from sea to sea. At length, however, our people shall rise and drive the Saxon race beyond the sea whence they have come; but do you depart from this place where you are not permitted to erect a citadel, you must seek another spot for laying your foundations.” Vortigern, perceiving the ignorance and deceit of the magicians, ordered them to be put to death, and their graves were dug in a neighbouring field. The boy’s life was spared; he became known to fame afterwards as the great magician Myrddin Emrys (or Merlin, as he is called in English), and the mountain on which he proved his mighty power was called in after time Dinas Emrys instead of Dinas Ffaraon. He remained in the Dinas for a long time, until he was joined by Aurelius Ambrosius, who persuaded him to go away with him. When they were about to set out, Myrddin placed all his treasure in a golden cauldron and hid it in a cave. On the mouth of the cave he rolled a huge stone, which he covered up with earth and green turf, so that it was impossible for anyone to find it. This wealth he intended to be the property of some special person in a future generation. This heir is to be a youth with yellow hair and blue eyes, and when he comes to the Dinas a bell will ring to invite him into the cave, which will open out of its own accord as soon as his foot touches it.

Popularity « ClownRhymes

In Poetry, Uncategorized on February 9, 2012 at 4:57 pm

Popularity « ClownRhymes: “Why is there a need to be popular in society?
What happened to people just being themselves?”

‘via Blog this’

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