Reformed Vampyric Druids of North America
Welcome to the Underworld! The place where Darkness reigns.Although not evil, it does take some getting used to.
In the dark dwells the balence to the light,the place where few care to venture. This is a place dedicated to the dark celt,thier poetry,thier paganism. This is a place where few care to venture. Is it evil? No. It is balence. It is the left hand path as opposed to the right. What are we? We are the Few. The Dark Ones, the Mystery which no one will speak of. We partake in forbidden pleasures,and pray to the Dark Gods. So have a seat and enjoy the trip.
Be silent, unwise bards,
Who only speak in rhyme,
Who cannot judge between truth and falsehood.
If you be primary bards,
Formed in the Land of Promise,
Tell your King of his fate.
It is I, who am a deviner,
And a inspired bard,
Who will do so.
The Stanza of the Graves
Truly did Elfin bring me
To my bardic lore
Over an ancient chieftain-
The grave of Rwfawn, too early departed
I have been where Bran was slain,
Son of Iwerydd, far famed,
Where ravens of battle have screamed.
I have been where Llacheu fell,
The son of Arthur, extolled in song,
Where ravens have screamed for blood.
I have been where Meurig was slain,
Son of Carreian, an honoured man,
Where ravens have screamed for flesh
I have been where the men of Prydein fell
From East to North,
I am alive;
They in thier graves!
The Hazel Tree
(from Dunaire Fionn)
Scarce are they too on solid earth, unless there be some seer or sage, thou shield of the King of frosty Sigear, one that knows thy career.
Scarce are they too on the same earth, man or woman, that can tell why thy name abroad is called the Dripping Ancient Hazel...
'Twas Balor that besought Lugh a short time before his beheading;Set my own head upon thy comely head and earn my blessing.
'The triumph and the terror that the men of Inis Fail found in me, Will I wish henceforth they may be found in my daughter's son'.
That blessing nevertheless Lugh Longarm did not earn; He set the head above an eastern wave in a fork of hazel before his face.
A poisonous milk drips down out of the tree of strong hardness; through the drip of bane of no slight stress, the tree splits right in two.
For the space of fifty years the tree remained unfelled, but ever bore a cause of tears, being an abode of vultures and ravens.
Manannan of the Round Eye went to the wilderness of the White Hazel Mountain,
where he saw a leafless tree among the trees that grew in beauty.
Manannan set workmen at work; workmen at this tree without slackness; to dig it
out of the firm earth;this were a mighty deed.
A poisonous vapour rises up incessently from the root of that tree until it killed-perilous consequence-nine men of the working folk.
It killed nine others of them of the people of smooth Manannan-the history of the tree I tell you not-and blinded a third nine.
Welcome to the RVDNA!
Bardic Poetry
More Bardic Poetry
Dark Celtic Paganism
(courtesy of Emma P. Oxenby)
Celtic Reconstructionism
Druidism
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