Medieval Irish Song


I will wash my face
In the nine rays of the sun,
Just as Mary washed the Holy Child
In rich fermented milk.
Love be in my countenance,
Benevolence in my mind,
Dew of honey on my tongue,
My breath as calming incense.
Black may be yonder fortress;
Black may be those within,
Yet I am as a white swan,
Raising myself above them.
I will travel there in the name of God
In the likeness of a deer,
In the likeness of a horse,
In the likeness of the birds,
With the blessing of a king,
Stronger shall I be
Than the evil I will encounter.

About mairedubhtx

I am a "youngish" grandmother of 15 year old twin granddaughter who has recently (is a year "recent"?) adopted Islam as my way of life, much to the consternation of my family. I love to read. I love to write. I am writing a book about my decision to revert, about my spiritual journey. I have another blog about stories from my youth, my parents, and grandparents. It's a blog so my OCD daughter will not be able to throw it out when I die. I suffer from depression and anxiety, for which I am treated, so my posts may be a bit dark at times. C'est la vie.
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