A Crimson Dawn Or An Overture To The Raven-feather Lyrics
The scenery of "A Crimson Dawn" is a bloody battle area at early morning. The omnipresent colour of redindicates both aurora, and blood and fire. The Morrigan is the Celtic goddess of war, death and rebirth, whoappears as an appalling raven when like mad she rages over the battlefield. Her cries can be heard at awarrior's death.I: (The harbinger Morrigan)Blear with dew came the morrowAnd winds rustled aloud.Down by the rill where purled the flowThe Washer1 washed the shroudsAnd Nemain2 sang of woe and sorrow."O black-feathered Morrigan"II: (O'er bleak winds of death)A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed awaiting burial.On wings o'er rueful winds, she stalked along.A storm-blast of blazonry chased the sandsAnd left the drift seen afar.A breeze brought the scattered grains,That flung 'gainst the dewy scars.Her frenzied squawks exhorted the ravageAnd the hewing of sheen blades,And blood suffused the barren earth,'Pon which the crimson dawn glowered.A Crimson Dawn Awakened!III: (Hoarse cries and clanging steel)The brash and bray heartened the noble soulsTo defy the singeing fervour of battle.The carmine sky was brimming with sore shrieks,As they rose high above the flourish of brazen trumpets.IV: (The beacon glare)When, dark by smoke and red by fire,Aurora had won the day,The sun, in beacon glare, rose higherAnd sweltered drouthy fey.V: (The ascent of warlike fever)The fervour seared the sanguine plain,And the sour scent of cold dampDid linger no more. Undaunted or felled,Shrieks resounded to where their lot was cast."O black-feathered Morrigan""Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices,The red blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods.""The glorious grandeur of battle, at this blood-tinged dawn,Made boil my ebon ichor, glinstering as steel whirled."The carmine sky in ashen stains fleckedBrimmed with husky moans.Thus the sabre-rattling swollInto drear timbres of ire(The empty words sceptred).VI: (On the brink of ruin)"Wounds of savage thrustsShifted me to the brink of ruinAnd the grave burden borneStruggled tho' I strained life."VII: (A draught of immortality)A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed watching the battlefield.On wings o'er rueful winds, she stalked along."Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices,The roan blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods.""In awe of ancestral victories wonI unsheathed and brandished my swordOnce more. Dreadful countenances fellUntil the baleful knell rang triste."After the dismal rise of the sullen sun,Ravens reap the rich morning harvest,As the drenched earth is sated by thousandsAnd splendid glory has been gained.The ardent ashes that flareSmoulder with more afterglowThan a midsummer fever would leaveAnd now the embers are fanned.1. In full the Washer at the Ford, has been told to wash the clothes of those warriors already destined tofall in battle. A warrior, who saw her washing his very own blood-stained clothes, had seen theprediction of his own death. 2. Nemain is one of the three forms attained by Morrigan. She is known a scaremongerer for she sowedpanic among the warrior's wives.I who have stood dumbwhen your betraying sisters,cauled in tar,wept by the railings,who would connivein civilized outrageyet understand the exactand tribal, intimate revenge.(Seamus Heaney Punishment)
Ordo Draconis A Crimson Dawn Or An Overture To The Raven-feathered Queen
