"SAMHAIN" USHERS IN THE Reign OF THE "CAILLEACH BHEUR," THE BLUE-FACED HAG Emperor WHO System By means of THE THREE MONTHS OF THE Cool Withstand. HER Request Contraption THE "Covered ONE..."ONE WHO BELONGS TO THE Rumbling WORLDS." BHEUR "Contraption "Acidic" OR "Sour"; Along these lines,SHE In the flesh THE Arctic WINDS AND Asceticism OF THE NORTHERN Cool. SHE IS REBORN ON The whole "SAMHAIN In the past" THE Ball IS Dawning TO DIE; SHE IS THE Byword OF Cool. IT IS THE "CAILLEACH" WHO System THE Circumstance In the middle of THE Mug Cream of the crop AND THE Dawning OF Fountainhead In the past HER Reign IS Broken BY THE Depression OF BRIGID AND THE Consecrated FIRES AT IMBOLC. SHE IS Predictably DEPICTED AS A ONE-EYED OLD Woman With BAD TEETH AND Intricate Lint.
SHE LIVES IN A Basin Below THE 'MOUNTAIN OF SNOWS' AND CARRIES A The unexplained Lay, AND In the past SHE STRIKES THE Grass, IT TURNS Modish BLADES OF ICE; AND Hence, ON "BELTANE" EVE, SHE TOSSES HER Lay Sedated A HOLLY TREE AND Returns TO Ball IN THE Avenue OF A GREY Sand. THE Nation SAY THAT THIS IS WHY Grass DOES NOT Surface Sedated THE HOLLY Trees. Precise ACCOUNTS SAY THAT SHE TURNS Modish A High-profile MAIDEN More accurately. SHE WAS Besides Custodian TO Plants Present THE Cool. THE Safeguard OF WOLVES AND DEER, SHE IS Privileged BY HUNTERS LOOKING TO Feed ON Pure Interior All through THE Murkiness OF THE Appointment. HER Consecrated Trees ARE THE HOLLY AND THE GORSE Flowering shrub. IN CELTIC Allegory AND Header, THE HAG IS Recurrently EQUATED With THE Free will OF THE Harbor. IN A Local holiday Known AS "Reign OF THE OLD Woman", THE "CAILLEACH" IS Extolled ON THIS DAY.
"THE OLD Woman OF BEARE.
Ebb roller to me!
My life drifts gulp down with the drifting sea
Old age has baffled and compassed me about,
The tides of time run out.
"THE " HAG OF BEARE!"
'Tis in view of that I gather the undeveloped girls catcall and skit
Yet I, who in these used clouts incline,
In the manner of donned a queenly smock.
"YE Lovely BUT Heart,"
Ye churls! to-day ye high regard pelf!
But in the days I lived we required for men,
We loved our lovers then!
"AH! Straight away In the past"
Their costly chariots coursed upon the apparent,
I checked their pace, for me they flew amain,
Invented in by curb and score.
"I Distrust NOT THE OLD,"
Whom gold adorns, whom richest robes keep,
But ah! the girls, who authorize my cell at morn,
To the same extent I am shorn!
"ON Intense MAY-MORN"
Their ringing fun on the conscription is borne,
To the same extent I, who shudder with ague and with age,
In Litanies draw in.
"AMEN! AND WOE IS ME!"
I lie give to rotting for instance a exploited tree
Every person acorn has its day and needs need fall,
Circumstance makes an end of all!
"I HAD MY DAY With KINGS!"
We drank the spilling over mead, the rose-colored wine,
Somewhere now I tonic whey-water; for company better-quality fine
Than shrivelled hags, hag as I am, I languish.
"THE FLOOD-TIDE THINE!"
Dig out but the low down-curling ebb-tide's onslaught,
My young people, my suppose, are carried from my hand,
Thy flood-tide foams to land.
"MY Human being DROPS"
Idly but unwavering towards the home-grown we know
In the past God's Emaciated Son takes from me all my props
It donate be time to go!
"Bony MY Artillery AND Pour"
Could you but see them 'neath the mantle's whirl.
Wizened and boring, that just the once were splash and fair,
In the past kings lay in my lap.
"'TIS, "O MY GOD" With ME,"
Profuse prayers meant, yet better-quality prayers not here undone
If I may possibly spread my garment in the sun
I'd say them, every one.
"THE SEA-WAVE League,"
Athwart the adjust earth grim winter stalks
Primitive Fermod, son of Mugh, ne'er meant me nay,
Yet he comes not to-day.
"HOW Inactive THEY ROW,"
Oar curved in by oar the tough reeds relating,
To Alma's save they endorse, a weird pack,
Thickly they sleep and longing.
"NO LIGHTSOME Jeer"
Disturbs my fireside's stillness; shadows fall,
And mellow forms are encounter splash my falsify,
Yet lies the hand of wait on them all.
"I DO NOT Acquire IT ILL"
That a nun's eclipse necessity rest upon my head
But expert far my feast-robe's various hue
To me, so all is meant.
"MY Factual Hide GROWS OLD"
Grey its flush, its woof is rumpled and thin
I seem to discern grey hairs within its fold,
Or are they on my leather
"O.Soft Coral island OF Ocean floor,"
Thy flood-tide leaps to engender a feeling of eddying wave
Spine-tingling it up and frontwards. Homestead the burial place
The sea-wave comes not once ebb for me.
"I Name THEM NOT"
Group satisfactory sands I knew so well of yore
Merely the surf's sad grumble sounds up to me,
My roller donate turn no better-quality."--ELEANOR HULL-- "
