Song of the Sparrow by Lisa Ann Sandell
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Robert Graves the White Goddess
ROBERT GRAVES THE WHITE GODDESS IN DEDICATION All saints revile her, and all sober men Ruled by the God Apollo's golden mean— In scorn of which I sailed to find her In distant regions likeliest to hold her Whom I desired above all things to know, Sister of the mirage and echo. It was a virtue not to stay, To go my headstrong and heroic way Seeking her out at the volcano's head, Among pack ice, or where the track had faded Beyond the cavern of the seven sleepers: Whose broad high brow was white as any leper's, Whose eyes were blue, with rowan-berry lips, With hair curled honey-coloured to white hips. Green sap of Spring in the young wood a-stir Will celebrate the Mountain Mother, And every song-bird shout awhile for her; But I am gifted, even in November Rawest of seasons, with so huge a sense Of her nakedly worn magnificence I forget cruelty and past betrayal, Careless of where the next bright bolt may fall. FOREWORD am grateful to Philip and Sally Graves, Christopher Hawkes, John Knittel, Valentin Iremonger, Max Mallowan, E. M. Parr, Joshua IPodro, Lynette Roberts, Martin Seymour-Smith, John Heath-Stubbs and numerous correspondents, who have supplied me with source- material for this book: and to Kenneth Gay who has helped me to arrange it. Yet since the first edition appeared in 1946, no expert in ancient Irish or Welsh has offered me the least help in refining my argument, or pointed out any of the errors which are bound to have crept into the text, or even acknowledged my letters. -
Medievalisms
Favourite Medievalisms Some don’t-miss medievalisms: ELIZABETH EMERY TALKS ABOUT THE MEDIEVAL TIMES RESTAURANT AND TOURNAMENT AND RENAISSANCE FAIRES. Medieval Times Dinner and Tournament consists of nine modern-built castles spread through the United States and Canada (a single location in Toronto) in which customers purchase seats to dinner and a theatrically staged tournament. Food is served by ‘wenches’ to ‘Lords and ladies’ decked in paper crowns who eat with their hands. Commercialization surrounds the event: swords, glasses, banners, and other objects are constantly proposed for consumption throughout the day’s or evening’s activities. The company was begun by Jose Montaner, who created a medieval-style attraction infl uenced by the fi lm El Cid to enhance his barbecue restaurant in Majorca. He exported the model to Spain and then to Kissimmee, Florida (near Disneyworld) in 1983. It was absolutely unique for its time and well-reviewed in newspapers, particularly for the staged tournaments featuring jousting and equestrian feats performed on beautiful Andalusian horses. It welcomed 183,272 visitors the fi rst year and 257,350 the following. In fi ve years the initial number had more than doubled. The original location near Disneyworld is a testament to Medieval Times’s family-oriented focus. Its web site caters to the fantasies of children (the voice-over on the site in 2012 featured a boy chanting: ‘I dreamed I was a prince, a mighty warrior’, followed by an adult voice: ‘The fantasy comes alive. Incredible jousting, thrilling combat’) and it offers steep discounts for children and school groups. The phenomenon is so well-known in the United States as to have been satirized in a recent children’s book (as ‘Medieval Days Family Restaurants’). -
By T. H. White Contents
The Once and Future King by T. H. White Contents THE SWORD IN THE STONE THE QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS THE ILL-MADE KNIGHT THE CANDLE IN THE WIND The critics on T. H. White's THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING "A gay, warm, sad, glinting, rich, mystical, true and beautiful tapestry of human history and human spirit. Read it and laugh. Read it and learn. Read it and be glad you are human." —Minneapolis Tribune "Intensely contemporary and pungent . not only better . and richer for being a retelling, it is also more original ... In fact, there is everything in this great book." —Saturday Review "... should be enormously popular and become one of the curious classics of English literature." —David Garnett Other Books by T. H. White THE BOOK OF MERLYN ENGLAND HAVE MY BONES LETTERS TO A FRIEND THE MAHARAJAH AND OTHER STORIES MISTRESS MASHAM'S REPOSE Incipit Liber Primus THE SWORD IN THE STONE She is not any common earth Water or wood or air, But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye Where you and I will fare. 1 On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays it was Court Hand and Summulae Logicales, while the rest of the week it was the Organon, Repetition and Astrology. The governess was always getting muddled with her astrolabe, and when she got specially muddled she would take it out of the Wart by rapping his knuckles. She did not rap Kay's knuckles, because when Kay grew older he would be Sir Kay, the master of the estate. The Wart was called the Wart because it more or less rhymed with Art, which was short for his real name. -
Song of the Sparrow
Song of the Sparrow I am Elaine daughter of Barnard of Ascolat. Motherless. Sisterless. I sing these words to you now, because the point of light grows smaller, ever smaller now, ever more distant now. And with this song, I pray I may push back the tides of war and death. So, I sing these words that this light, this tiny ray of light and hope may live on. I dare not hope that I may live on too. I Motherless. Sisterless. I am both. But I have brothers, dozens nay, hundreds of brothers. Only two real ones: brash Lavain and my biggest brother, thoughtful Tirry. The others are not brothers by blood. There are so many of them; I call a few my friends: Lancelot, Arthur’s second, but handsomer, still. Arthur himself, who is a captain in his uncle Ambrosius Aurelius’s army. n1 The men here follow Arthur, but ultimate fealty is to Aurelius, dux bellorum. There is Gawain, a sweet bear of a man, and Tristan, who is all mystery and mischief and glee. We live here, in this army encampment, where drums beat and beat in my dreams and over breakfast, at sunrise and sundown. The here and home I speak of is no more than the collection of dirty, foul-smelling tents. I live here, in this army encampment, among men, because my mother is dead, delivered into the earth nine years ago now, and there is no one else. My father brought me here when I was eight years old. Once I heard Lavain whisper n2 to Tirry that it was a good thing our mother lived to see me through eight years of life.