Daily Archives: November 2, 2018

The Marsh King’s Daughter III…

 

barbrook III (14)

Hi-ho the Carrion Crow, bow and bend to me…

*

…There usually is.

Perhaps one reason for the tale’s obscurity these days is its perceived, overtly, Christian message.

This takes the form of a priest who is captured and tortured by Helga’s Viking fosterers, provokes in her the first stirrings of love and compassion and affords the young girl opportunity to embrace the process which results in the fusing of her day/night time personalities and her achievement of wholeness in mind and form.

However, the culmination of this process is complicated somewhat by the priest’s death at the hands of robbers and his subsequent appearance in a dream vision and by the denouement of the tale which sees the Changeling Child whisked away to heaven by the priest only to return a short time later and find her original home now long lost to the ravishes of time.

The Rip Van Winkle like nature of the priest’s ‘heaven’ may give inkling  to the original story source for this episode, as might his appearance on horse-back wielding his cross much like a knight would wield his sword.

As an other-world component of the story the Christian priest is perhaps less dramatically successful than he might be as a ‘Fairy King’ or ‘Lord of Light’ but still gives us pause for thought and contemplation as to the precise mode of consciousness his figure represents.

That’s almost all, folks…

*

 ‘What would the world be, once bereft

Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,

O let them be left, wildness and wet;

long live the weeds and the wildness yet.’

*

All photos – Sue Vincent.

All epithets – The Grateful Dead, ‘Mountains of the Moon’.

Epitaph -‘Inversnaid’, Gerard Manly Hopkins.

Songs of the Stone: monkish mead…

France & Vincent

*

Big-Earth…

Little-Earth…

Bigger-Earth:

Earth-Man-Stars.

*

“Sea-mist,” repeated Kieron, thirteen-hundred years before those words were uttered.

“Dragon’s Breath,” snorted Bark Jaw-Dark into the dancing particles of icy-air which swirled about his head, “And I’ve never know a world be the same once it’s raised.”

“There’s a boat out there,” said Kieron with some surprise and no little concern.

He planted his staff deep in the good earth and rested his weight on it.

“Ring the bell!”

He shouted over his shoulder into the white-soup of gloom behind him before turning to look back out across what could be seen of the sound.

Somewhere far away a bell clanged mournfully, and the slow, rhythmic plash of oar in water grew more and more distinct…

Before the cowled forms in the boat could be properly discerned, a shrill call broke the ponderous air like a banshee’s keen…

“We are come seeking that…

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