#Irish fairy tales
luna-xial a year ago
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I did a little splurging 馃憖鉂わ笍
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electricdispersion a year ago
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Illustration by Arthur Rackham for James Stephens鈥檚 Irish Fairy Tales
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astrilde a year ago
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The boyhood of Fionn, from Irish Fairy Tales, illustrated by Arthur Rackham
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vanilla-stones 2 years ago
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I have this book
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mysterytheater 2 years ago
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The Snarling Horde Below by Arthur Rackham
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dontlickdatoad 3 years ago
That if before the dews arise,
聽聽True maiden in its icy flow
With pure hand bathe her bosom thrice,
聽聽Three lady-brackens pluck likewise,
And three times round the fountain go,
聽聽She straight forgets her tears and sighs."
-"The Fairy Well of Lagnanay" by Samuel Ferguson
I've been reading a lot of poetry recently and this section of the poem is a great example of finding folklorish magic.
Still water and wells are steeped in myths involving fairies/the good people. There are all sorts of tales involving wishing and leaving offerings at wells, leaving sick children beside them to heal, discovering changelings with them, etc.
This poem tells how a virgin can petition the fair folk into removing her painful memories by going to a fairy well before dawn, bathing her chest with the water in it three times, plucking three "lady" ferns (most ferns are hermaphrodites but the term relates to smaller, thinner ferns with more delicate foliage and often less hair or scales on the stems), and holding them as she circled the well thrice.
By understanding the poem, the folklore, and the properties of this spell you can start to figure out how to use the components in your own craft.
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englishobservations 4 years ago
The Call by Peadar 脫 Guil铆n
Book Review and Recommendation by Marisa Ann
ISBN: 978-1-338-16070-3聽 聽 聽 聽 聽 $11.99 @ Barnes and Noble.
21 May 2018
Some spoilers
Stars: One Star being the worst; Five Stars being the best
~4 Stars 猸愶笍猸愶笍猸愶笍猸愶笍~
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I got this book as a blind date book from Barnes and Noble, in April/May. At first, I looked at the cover (after unwrapping it) and thought that this would be a children鈥檚 book despite it saying聽锟斤拷锟絛ark and creepy鈥 on the description. But, after spending some time with it, I actually enjoyed it. I was shocked.聽
The language was easy to follow and quick paced. This book is a mix of a dystopia meets ancient Irish fairy-tale and, like the book description said, it is very unique. The main character, Nessa, is disabled-- she has polio in a world where not many people have it anymore-- and she strives to survive in this world and against the Sidhe. She also has to struggle with her peers views on her, how they all underestimate her with her condition.
The characters consist of children of all ages and teachers, but mainly focuses on Year 4s (14 year olds). They鈥檝e gone to a sort of聽鈥渂oarding school鈥 at age 11 to try and learn how to survive against what鈥檚 awaiting them in the Grey Land-- they learn from teachers who have survived. It鈥檚 quite interesting to see the fae/sidhe/fairies as something that likes to kill when we鈥檙e so used to seeing them as beings like Tinker Bell, or maybe we鈥檝e heard of them being able to steal infants and twist our desires. But, to see them on this level is another, completely fascinating thing-- and there鈥檚 a big reason for it (which I鈥檒l leave as a surprise for you to read)!聽
I think everything came together nicely at the end and anything that might have loose ends will probably be answered in the second book, The Invasion, but I think everything has been answered by the end of the book, at least in a simple, quick way.聽
I also really like that Nessa chooses a really significant wish to, basically, stay the same, I suppose, when she might have an option not to. I think it shows a lot about her character and the author that is really great and important.聽
Oh, there IS nudity in this book, but nothing extremely explicit. There is also a character that tries to force himself onto Nessa, but doesn鈥檛 get his way/is cut short. Again, nothing too explicit there. I put this here as a warning for anyone who may need it before reading it.聽
Overall, I think it was a great read and would recommend it to anyone who likes dystopias, fairy-tales, and the fae.聽
I honestly cannot wait to buy the second one and do an update based on what I learn from that!聽
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the-october-country 4 years ago
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From聽鈥業rish Fairy Tales鈥, by James Stephens, illustrated by Arthur Rackham.聽
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astrilde a year ago
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Tuiren with Bran and Sceolan, from Irish Fairy Tales, illustrated by Arthur Rackham
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silvaris a year ago
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Ballysaggartmore by聽Rodney Harvey
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obaewankenope 3 months ago
A Banshee tale. I remember mentioning a while ago that I'd write out the fairy tales from a book I have to share here. Finally getting to it. The book is Irish Fairy Tales (1998).
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"Who sits upon the hearth forlorn,
With robe so free and tresses torn?
Anon she pours a harrowing strain,
And then鈥攕he sits all mute again!鈥
Now peals the wild funereal cry鈥
And now鈥攊t sinks into a sigh."
The Bunworth Banshee
The Reverend Charles Bunworth was rector of Buttevant, in the county of Cork, about the middle of the last century. He was a man of unaffected piety, and of sound learning; pure in heart, and benevolent in intention. By the rich he was respected, and by the poor beloved; nor did a difference of creed prevent their looking up to "the minister" (so was Mr. Bunworth called by them) in matters of difficulty and in seasons of distress, confident of receiving from him the advice and assistance that a father would afford to his children. He was the friend and the benefactor of the surrounding country鈥攖o him, from the neighbouring town of Newmarket, came both Curran and Yelverton for advice and instruction, previous to their entrance at Dublin College. Young, indigent and inexperienced, these afterwards eminent men received from him, in addition to the advice they sought, pecuniary aid; and the brilliant career which was theirs, justified the discrimination of the give.
But what extended the fame of Mr. Bunworth far beyond the limits of the parishes adjacent to his own, was his performance on the Irish harp, and his hospitable reception and entertainment of the poor harpers who travelled from house to house about the country. Grateful to their patron, these itinerant minstrels sang his praises to the tingling accompaniment of their harps, invoking in return for his bounty abundant blessings on his white head, and celebrating in their rude verses the blooming charms of his daughters, Elizabeth and Mary. It was all these poor fellows could do; but who can doubt that their gratitude was sincere, when, at the time of Mr. Bunworth's death, no less than fifteen harps were deposited on the loft of his granary, bequeathed to him by the last members of a race which has now ceased to exist. Trifling, no doubt, in intrinsic value were these relics, yet there is something in gifts of the heart that merits preservation; and it is to be regretted that, when he died, these harps were broken up one after the other, and used as fire-wood by an ignorant follower of the family, who, on their removal to Cork for a temporary change of scene, was left in charge of the house.
The circumstances attending the death of Mr. Bunworth may be doubted by some; but there are still living credible witnesses who declare their authenticity, and who can be produced to attest most, if not all of the following particulars.
About a week previous to his dissolution, and early in the evening, a noise was heard at the hall-door resembling the shearing of sheep; but at the time no particular attention was paid to it. It was nearly eleven o'clock the same night, when Kavanagh, the herdsman, returned from Mallow, whither he had been sent in the afternoon for some medicine, and was observed by Miss Bunworth, to whom he delivered the parcel, to be much agitated. At this time, it must be observed, her father was by no means considered in danger.
"What is the matter, Kavanagh?" asked Miss Bunworth: but the poor fellow, with a bewildered look, only uttered, "The master, Miss鈥攖he master鈥攈e is going from us;" and, overcome with real grief, he burst into a flood of tears.
Miss Bunworth, who was a woman of strong nerve, enquired if anything he had learned in Mallow induced him to suppose that her father was worse.
"No, Miss," said Kavanagh; "it was not in Mallow鈥"
"Kavanagh," said Miss Bunworth, with that stateliness of manner for which she is said to have been remarkable, "I fear you have been drinking, which, I must say, I did not expect at such a time as the present, when it was your duty to have kept yourself sober;鈥擨 thought you might have been trusted:鈥攚hat should we have done if you had broken the medicine bottle, or lost it? For the doctor said it was of the greatest consequence that your master should take the medicine to-night. But I will speak to you in the morning, when you are in a fitter state to understand what I say."
Kavanagh looked up with a stupidity of aspect which did not serve to remove the impression of his being drunk, as his eyes appeared heavy and dull after the flood of tears;鈥攂ut his voice was not that of an intoxicated person.
"Miss," said he, "as I hope to receive mercy hereafter, neither bit nor sup has passed my lips since I left this house: but the master鈥"
"Speak softly," said Miss Bunworth; "he sleeps, and is going on as well as we could expect."
"Praise be to God for that, any way," replied Kavanagh; "but oh! Miss, he is going from us surely鈥攚e will lose him鈥攖he master鈥攚e will lose him, we will lose him!" and he wrung his hands together.
"What is it you mean, Kavanagh?" asked Miss Bunworth.
"Is it mean?" said Kavanagh: "the Banshee has come for him, Miss: and 'tis not I alone who have heard her."
"'Tis an idle superstition," said Miss Bunworth.
"May be so," replied Kavanagh, as if the words 'idle superstition' only sounded upon his ear without reaching his mind鈥"May be so," he continued; "but as I came through the glen of Ballybeg, she was along with me keening, and screeching, and clapping her hands, by my side, every step of the way, with her long white hair falling about her shoulders, and I could hear her repeat the master's name every now and then, as plain as ever I heard it. When I came to the old abbey, she parted from me there, and turned into the pigeon-field next to the berrin ground, and folding her cloak about her, down she sat under the tree that was struck by the lightning, and began keening so bitterly, that it went through one's heart to hear it."
"Kavanagh," said Miss Bunworth, who had, however, listened attentively to this remarkable relation, "my father is, I believe, better; and I hope will himself soon be up and able to convince you that all this is but your own fancy; nevertheless, I charge you not to mention what you have told me, for there is no occasion to frighten your fellow-servants with the story."
Mr. Bunworth gradually declined; but nothing particular occurred until the night previous his death: that night both his daughters, exhausted with continued attendance and watching, were prevailed upon to seek some repose; and an elderly lady, a near relative and friend of the family, remained by the bedside of their father. The old gentleman then lay in the parlour, where he had been in the morning removed at his own request, fancying the change would afford him relief; and the head of his bed was placed close to the window. In a room adjoining sat some male friends, and, as usual on like occasions of illness, in the kitchen many of the followers of the family had assembled.
The night was serene and moonlight鈥攖he sick man slept鈥攁nd nothing broke the stillness of their melancholy watch, when the little parry in the room adjoining the parlour, the door of which stood open, was suddenly roused by a sound at the window near the bed: a rose-tree grew outside the window, so close as to touch the glass; this was forced aside with some noise, and a low moaning was heard, accompanied by clapping of hands, as if of a female in deep affliction. It seemed as if the sound proceeded from a person holding her mouth close to the window. The lady who sat at the bedside of Mr. Bunworth went into the adjoining room, and in the tone of alarm, enquired of the gentlemen there, if they had heard the Banshee? Sceptical of supernatural appearances, two of them rose hastily and went out to discover the cause of these sounds, which they had also distinctly heard. They walked all around the house, examining every spot of ground, particularly near the window from whence the voice had proceeded; the bed of earth beneath, in which the rose tree was planted, had been recently dug, and the print of a footstep鈥攊f the tree had been forced aside by mortal hand鈥攚ould have inevitably remained; but they could perceive no such impression; and an unbroken stillness reigned without. Hoping to dispel the mystery, they continued their search anxiously along the road, from the straightness of which and the lightness of the night, they were enabled to see some distance around them; but all was silent and deserted, and they returned surprised and disappointed. How much more then were they astonished at learning that the whole time of their absence, those who remained without the house had heard the moaning and clapping of hands even louder and more distinct than before they had gone out; and no sooner was the door of the room closed on them, than they again heard the same mournful sounds! Every succeeding hour the sick man became worse, and as the first glimpse of the morning appeared, Mr. Bunworth expired.
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dontlickdatoad 3 years ago
My feet are killing me and it's reminding me of that folktale about the girl getting a minature teapot thrown into her foot because she almost stepped on some fair folk partying it up on her fireplace
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the-evil-clergyman a year ago
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Illustrations from the book Irish Fairy Tales by Arthur Rackham (1920)
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willcatsworld a month ago
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17 March 2013 || The Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William attended the St Patrick's Day parade by the 1st Battalion Irish Guards as they visited Aldershot Barracks on St Patrick's Day.
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37storms 2 years ago
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鈾 鈥淒煤lam谩n na binne bu铆, d煤lam谩n Gaelach, D煤lam谩n na farraige, 鈥榮 茅 b鈥檉hearr a bh铆 in 脡irinn" Check聽鈥淭he Selkie Collection鈥 on Redbubble聽
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firefallmyths 4 years ago
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The Selkie embroidery has been dropped off at the framers. Two weeks until it鈥檚 completed, and then put up for sale on Etsy
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thefugitivesaint 4 years ago
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Arthur Rackham (1867-1939), 'They stood..', ''Irish Fairy Tales'' by James Stephens, 1920 Source
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dreamsofhades 10 months ago
I have never loved a darker blue
Then the darkness I have known in you
Honed from you
You whose heart would sing in anarchy
You who'd laugh at meanings guarantees
So beautifully
When our truth is burned from history
By those who figure justice in fond memory
Witness me
Like fire weeping from a cedar tree
Know that my love would burn with me
Or live eternally
"Better Love" by Hozier 鈥 Original motion picture soundtrack for "The Legend of Tarzan"
Lyrics taken from Genius
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