Kings: Moritsagus & the Nine

In Shakespeare’s Cymbeline: Cymbeline refers to himself as Morgan.
 When he is nineteen years old he visits the church of St Anne of Armor: Great Sea. ‘O Saint Anne, most holy dame, I am not yet twenty years old and I have been in twenty battles. All those I have gained by your aid, and if I return again to this land I shall make you a rich gift. I shall give you enough candles to go three times round the walls of your church, and thrice round your churchyard aye, thrice round your lands, when I come home again and further I shall give you a banner of white satin with an ivory staff. Also shall I give you seven silver bells which will ring gaily night and day above your head. And three times on my knees will I draw water for your use’

We celebrate thy radiant memory,/ all honourable Hierarch Conan,/ consolation of the afflicted, teacher of the true faith/ & shepherd of souls on the Isle of Man./ Pray for our efforts, feeble as they are,/ & save our souls. – Troparion of St Conan tone 1

Whitley Stokes (Revue Celtique 17 (1896), p. 175)

Tonna mara mórglana grian roda-toigsetar fri curach flescach fand for Conaing co-coirsetar In ben ro-lá a mong find ina churach friConaing is cas ro-tibi a gen indiu fri Bili Tortan

Great crystalline waves Which cover the sand Flow to his boat Enveloping Conaing. She cast her snowy hair into Conan’s boat, She cast a twisted smile on the sacred tree.;

‘Sinend, daughter of Lodan Luchargian, son of Ler, out of Tir Tairngire Land of Promise to Connla’s Well which is under sea, to behold it. That is a well at which are the hazels & inspirations of wisdom, that is, the hazels of the science of poetry, and in the same hour their fruit, and their blossom and their foliage break forth, & these fall on the well in the same shower, which raises on the water a royal surge of purple. Then the salmon chew the fruit, & the juice of the nuts is apparent on their purple bellies. And seven streams of wisdom spring forth & turn there again.’

Welcome Conall, heart of stone,
Fierce glow of fire, glitter of ice

Ngetal Giolcach Cawnen Reed - “The Tree of Scribes”, Used to make pens and Welsh plagawd (paper). 28 October - 24 November. Thatching, mats, baskets. Insulation, Enclosure, Covering. Preserver of Knowledge, Maintainer of Order. Nglas (glass green or yellowish-green)
Brothers: Tinne: Holly, Monodar: Sense, Sláine: Health, Genann : Cé: Cream & Cahir: Husk, Pod

But the Manx girl has only to eat a salt herring, bones and all, without drinking or uttering a word, and to retire backwards to bed. When she sleeps and dreams, she will behold her future husband approaching to give her drink – Welsh & Manx Folkcustoms

O holy Samson, imitator of God’s compassion,/ thou dost pour forth streams of divine goodness./ For radiant with God’s love/ thou didst relieve the afflicted and suffering,/ and dost grant eternal healing to all who honour thee. – Our Holy Father Samson the Hospitable Troparion tone 4
We flock to thy shrine as to a most excellent physician, O righteous, holy Samson./ We come together to praise thee with psalms and hymns/ and we glorify Christ Who has gifted thee with healing. – Our Holy Father Samson the Hospitable Kontakion tone 8

A woman came to Connla, son of Conn ‘ The immortals invite you. You are going to be one of the heroes of the people of Tethra. You will always be seen there, in the assemblies of your ancestors, in the midst of those who know and love you. ’

Light of Cornwall and pillar of the Faith,/ holy Austol, disciple of Samson:/ thou wast a fellow-labourer with Saint Mewan,/ in such companionship that thou didst die with him and share his grave./ Pray to Christ our God to grant us His great mercy. l– Troparion of St Austol tone 7

Amgylchynir y Marchlyn Mawr gan greigian erchyll yr olwg arnynt; a dywed tradodiad d’arfod i un o feibion y Rhiwen unwaith tra yn cynorthwyo dafad oed, wedi syrthio i’r creigiau i dod odiyno, darganfod ogof anferth: aeth i fewn idi a gwelod’ ei bod yn ffawn o drysorau ac arfau gwerthfawr; ond gan ei bod yn dechreu tywyllu, a dringo i fynu yn orchwyl anhawd hyd yn nod yn ngoleu’r dyd, aeth adref y noswaith honno, a boreu drannoeth ar lasiad y dyd cychwvnnodd eilwaith i’r ogof, ac heb lawer o drafferth daeth o hyd idi: aeth i jewn, a dechreuod edrych o’i amgylch ar y trysorau oedd yno:--Ar ganol yr ogof yr oedd bwrd enfawr o aur pur, ac ar y bwrdd, goron o aur a pherlau: deallod yn y fan mai coron a thrysorau Arthur oedynt--nesaodd at y bwrd, a phan oect yn estyn ei law i gymeryd gafal yn y goron dychrynwyd ef gan drwst erchyll, trwst megys mil o daranau yn ymrwygo uwch ei ben ac aeth yr holl le can dywylled a’r afagdu. Ceisiod ymbafalu odiyno gynted ag y gallai; pan lwydod i gyrraedd i ganol y creigiau taflod ei olwg ar y llyn, yr hwn oed wedi ei gynhyfu drwydo di donnau brigwynion yn cael eu lluchio trwy dand ysgythrog y creigiau hyd y man yr oed efe yn sefyll arno; ond tra yr oedd yn parhau i syllu ar ganol y llyn gwelai gwrwgl a thair o’r benywod prydferthaf y disgynod llygad unrhyw dyn arnynt eriod yndo yn cad ei rwyfo yn brysur tuag at enau yr ogof. Ond och! yr oed golwg ofnadwy yr hwn oed yn rhwyfo yn digon i beri iasau o fraw trewy y dyn cryfaf. Gallodd y llanc rywfodd dianc adref ond ni fuiechyd yn ei gyfansoddiad ar ol hynny, a bydai hyd yn nod crybwyll enw y Marchlyn yn ei glywedigaeth yn digon I’w yrru yn wallgof. – Lloyd Jones

The Marchlyn Mawr is surrounded by rocks terrible to look at, and tradition relates how one of the sons of the farmer of Rhiwen, once on a time, when helping a sheep that had fallen among the rocks to get away, discovered a tremendous cave there; he entered, and saw that it was full of treasures and arms of great value; but, as it was beginning to grow dark, and as clambering back was a difficult matter even in the light of day, he went home that evening, and next morning with the grey dawn he set out again for the cave, when he found it without much trouble. He entered, and began to look about him at the treasures that were there. In the centre of the cave stood a huge table of pure gold, and on the table lay a crown of gold and pearls. He understood at once that they were the crown and treasures of Arthur. He approached the table, and as he stretched forth his hand to take hold of the crown he was frightened by an awful noise, the noise, as it were, of a thousand thunders bursting over his head, and the whole place became as dark as Tartarus. He tried to grope and feel his way out as fast as he could. When he had succeeded in reaching to the middle of the rocks, he cast his eye on the lake, which had been stirred all through, while its white-crested waves dashed through the jagged teeth of the rocks up to the spot on which he stood. But as he continued looking at the middle of the lake he beheld a coracle containing three women, the fairest that the eye of man ever fell on. They were being quickly rowed to the mouth of the cave; but the dread aspect of him who rowed was enough to send thrills of horror through the strongest of men. The youth was able somehow to escape home, but no health remained in his constitution after that, and even the mere mention of the Marchlyn in his hearing used to be enough to make him insane. – Lloyd Jones