Vous êtes sur la page 1sur 146

Yael R.

Dragwyla First North American rights


Email: Polaris93@aol.com 55,000 words
http://polaris93.livejournal.com/

NEW MAGICKS FOR A NEW AGE


Appendices
Volume I: A New Order for the Ages
Book 3: Readings for Ritual Reinforcements

(Incomplete)

Part I: Hymns, Songs, Poems and Readings for Invocations of Earth

Earth: Sephirah 10, Malkuth, “Kingdom”

Two hymns of Earth for rituals of invocation of Gods and Goddesses of Planet
Earth and Her Living Universe of Soil, Ocean, Air, Light, and Sky by Joseph Payne
Brennan and Robert A. Heinlein

Earth – what do we think of, when we hear or see that word? Gentle Gaia, sweet and kind? A
ravished victim of modern technology? – Or do we remember Persephone and Pele, and the awesome
forces locked in the crust, mantle, and core of our Planet? Earth is a true and real Power in the Universe,
though our over-urbanized, high-tech culture often blinds us to that fact. . . . Yet Earth is also our home, our
Mother, the first Mother, the greatest, Who was here before all other Solar-terrestrial Life. We are
perfectly adapted to Her in every way, from the loveliness of Her skies and waters, that makes our hearts
break for joy at the sight of them on the best days, to the vast, remorseless puissance of Her rampaging
volcanoes, Her catastrophic earthquakes and tsunamis, and even the heavy metals, uranium, radium, and
plutonium, that keep Her core molten and active, and the relatively recent use of which by humanity has
inevitably raised the question of the viability of Her creatures. I can think of no better portrait of the
terrible molten power that lies at Earth’s heart, only a little of which is visible even in the most titanic
volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, or other tectonic frenzies, than Joseph Payne Brennan’s “Heart of Earth.”
And there is no better acknowledge of the Aeons-deep ties between Her and us, Her most cantankerous,
ingeniously mischievous, terrifyingly inventive, Star-chasing children, whose nature She has patiently
cultured and trained through countless evolutionary changes since the dawn of Life, than the heart-
breakingly beautiful “Green Hills of Earth” by the late Robert A. Heinlein (1907-1988), who, perhaps more
than anyone else, was the Man Who Sold the Stars to America.

1. “Heart of Earth,” by Joseph Payne Brennan

Never forget: beneath your feet,


beneath the rose, below the wheat,
beyond the bastioned granite floor,
lies the ultimate, molten core.
The tides of fire, locked in sleep,
a vigil down the aeons keep.
Across the whirling gulfs of space
the elements of motion race.
The aeons burn; the cycles ebb;
the stenciled stars retrace their web.
Never forget: in the heart of earth
Still licks the fire that brought its birth.
Our calendar of iron and flame
invokes the time without a name,
the days of fire, the final men,
the molten core made whole again.

2. “The Green Hills of Earth,” by Robert A. Heinlein. From Heinlein’s short story, “The Green Hills
of Earth,” copyright 1947 by The Curtis Publishing Company, included in the collection of his
works, The Past Through Tomorrow (New York: Berkley Books, 1967), pp. 363-373.

I pray for one last landing


On the globe that gave me birth;
Let me rest my eyes on the fleecy skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.

Let the sweet fresh breezes heal me


As they rove around the girth
Of our lovely mother planet,
Of the cool green hills of Earth.

We rot in the molds of Venus,


We retch at her tainted breath.
Foul are her flooded jungles,
Crawling with unclean death.

We’ve tried each spinning space mote


And reckoned its true worth:
Take us back again to the homes of men
On the cool, green hills of Earth.

The arching sky is calling


Spacemen back to their trade.
All hands! Stand by! Free falling!
And the lights below us fade.
Out ride the sons of Terra,
Far drives the thundering jet,
Up leaps the race of Earthmen,
Out far and onward! Yet –

We pray for one last landing


On the globe that gave us birth;
Let us rest our eyes on fleecy skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.

3. “Old Hundredth” – traditional English hymn (# 100 in the Anglican hymnal)

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,


Praise God all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, ye heaven’ly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
– Amen

Part 2: Hymns, Songs, and Readings for Invocations of Luna: The Tides of Life

Luna, Sephirah 9, Yesod, “Foundation”

1. The Invocation of Luna: Adapted from Dion Fortune’s Moon-Magic by Yael Dragwyla

Copyright 1987, 1994 by Yael R. Dragwyla. Adapted from Dion Fortune’s Moon-Magic (New York:
Samuel Weiser, Inc., 1979)

(The following is to be read slowly, with a feeling of tidal rhythms,


becoming more and more entranced as one reads. This work is an outstanding
accompaniment for rituals of invocation of Luna, Saturn, and Neptune and the
Gods and Goddesses associated with them, especially as an immediate
precursor of the invocation as such, to build up the force of the Call)

I am She Who, ere the Earth was formed,


Was Rhea, Binah, Ge.
I am that soundless, boundless, bitter Sea
Out of Whose Deeps life wells eternally.
Astarte, Aphrodite, Ashtoreth,
Giver of life and bringer-in of death;
Hera in Heaven, on Earth, Persephone;
Kali and Black Isis, dancing on Their hills of skulls,
Mikhail and Ezelie, Black Mary and Medusa,
Battling demons in the sky,
Star-flecked Nuit, o’er-arching all the world,
Diana of the Ways, and Hekate:
All these am I, all are found in Me.
The hour of the high full Moon draw near;
I hear the invoking words, hear and appear:
ShaDdaI EL ChaI, Kether, and Rhea, Binah, Ge,
And ELITh, self-creating Creation
In Aspects three,
I come unto the one who calleth Me.

***

O Isis Veiled and Rhea, Binah, Ge,


Lead us to the Well of Memory,
The Well-Head where the pale white cypress grows,
By secret twilight paths that no man knows,
The shadowy path dividing into three –
Diana of the Ways, and Hekate,
Selene of the Moon, and Persephone,
Mother Mary, Lilith, and Tsou-Mou,
Kali-Shiva-Chandi-Durga, Parvati,
And the Lord of Magick, Djehuti,
Thrice-Great Hermes, Psychopompos
And Divine Hermaphrodite.
The high full Moon at the zenith shines clear!
O hear the invoking words, hear and appear!
ShaDdaI EL ChaI, Kether, and Rhea, Binah, Ge!

***

Sink down, sink down, sink deeper and sink deep,


Into eternal and primordial sleep.
Sink down, forget, be still and draw apart
Into the Inner Earth’s Most Secret Heart.
Drink of the Waters of Persephone,
The Secret Well beside the Sacred Tree.
I am that secret Queen, Persephone.
All Tides are Mine, and answer unto Me.
Tides of the Airs, Tides of the Inner Earth,
The secret, silent Tides of Death and birth:
Tides of men’s souls, and dreams, and destiny –
Isis Veiled, and Rhea, Binah, Ge –
ELITh, self-creating Creation
In Aspects three.

***

I am that Star that rises from the Twilight Sea,


Bringing men dreams that rule their destiny.
I bring the Moon-Tides to the souls of men,
The Tides that flow and ebb and flow again,
That flow and ebb and flow alternately:
These are My Secret, these belong to Me.

***

I am eternal Woman, I am She –


The Tides of all men’s souls belong to Me.
The Tides that flow and ebb and flow again,
The secret, silent Tides that govern men:
These are My Secret, these belong to Me.

***

Out of My Hands he takes his destiny,


The touch of My Hands bestows serenity.
These are the Moon-Tides, these belong to Me.
Durga in Heaven, on Earth, Persephone,
Diana of the Ways, and Liberty,
Athena-Medusa, Aphrodite from the Sea,
All these am I, and They are found in Me.

***

The high full Moon at the zenith shines clear;


I hear thy prayer of invocation, and appear:
ShaDdaI EL ChaI, Kether, and Rhea, Binah, Ge,
I come unto those who call upon Me.

***

Sink down, sink down, sink deeper and more deep


Into eternal and primordial sleep.
Sink down, be still, forget and draw apart
Into the Inner Earth’s Most Secret Heart.
Drink of the Waters of Persephone,
The Secret Well beside the Sacred Tree.
Waters of life and strength and inner light –
Eternal joy born from the Deeps of Night.
Then rise, made strong, with life and hope renewed,
Reborn from darkness and from solitude,
Blessed with the blessing of Persephone
And secret strength of Rhea, Binah, Ge.

***

Persephone, O Moon of men’s desire,


Thy lambent light illumines with cold moon-fire!
Persephone, Persephone,
Moon of the night, we long for Thee.
In Outer Space, the Springs of Being arise;
With tidal sweep, Life streams across the skies,
And in men’s hearts awake the slumbering fires:
Thou art the Queen of Dreams and of Desires.
Persephone, Persephone,
Moon of the Night, we come to Thee!

***

The Moon is riding high and clear,


O Lovely One, draw near, draw near;
To lonely ones on lonely ways,
Come down in dream of silver haze.
Persephone, Persephone,
All in the end shall come to Thee,
Radiant ELITh, self-creating Creation
In Aspects three.

2. Homecoming – Luna as Crone and Mother: “Requiem,” Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894). As
quoted in Robert A. Heinlein’s short story “Requiem” (copyright 1939 by Street and Smith
Publications), which was eventually included in his collection The Man Who Sold the Moon, it is
included in the following passage:

On a high hill in Samoa there is a grave. Inscribed on the marker are these words:

Under the wide and starry sky


Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:


Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
These lines appear another place – scrawled on a shipping tag torn from a
compressed-air container, and pinned to the ground with a knife.

(Quoted in Robert A. Heinlein’s “Requiem,” in The Past Through Tomorrow (New


York: Berkley Books, 1967), p.245.

3. Luna as the Lord of the Tides of Life and History: “Dover Beach,” by Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)

The sea is calm to-night.


The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; – on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago


Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

4. The Great Mother: “Red Roses,” by A. M. Stephens (taken from A. M. Stephens’ The Rosary of Pan
[Toronto: McLelland & Stewart, Publishers, Ltd., 1923], p. 24)

Roses, red roses, from the deep, warm breast


Of Her, whose progeny in Space and Time
Are one with us, Her children, – latest, best
And fairest fruitage of Her prime –

Within thy chaliced heart there glows


The crimson tide of Life. The wine
Of youth, eternal, welling, flows
O’er thy curved rim, incarnadine.

The fragrance of Her tresses, sweet


As tender breezes that o’erflow
The sun-kissed hills at dawn, and meet
And whisper love to buds that blow;

A pulsing flame – a sky that burns –


A sun god’s pyre and altar blent,
Veiled by thy velvet breast that yearns
To spill its gold and be content;

The music of soft rains that beat


With pattering fingers on our doors,
In gusty, flying showers, replete
With memories of the wind-swept moors;

Of tender flesh, the keen, sweet tang;


Of fruitful earth, the warm embrace
That lured the lusty vine which sprang
To bear aloft thy virile grace –

Roses, red roses, jeweled Grails of Love


And Sex – mysterious and more divine
Thy symbols shine on high above
The lilies pale on Mary’s shrine.

The rich, red, torrent of thy life made bold


Since Time began, the hearts of men
To sing of freedom and of joys untold –
Inspired in turn the voice and pen

Of those who know that Love is Power


And Power is Love, beyond the reach
Of mortal minds that halt and cower
Before the truths thy roses teach.

And yet, thy fire is in the bard


Who sings of love or ruthless strife.
Thy flame is in the hearts that guard
The spirit’s growth from life to life

Till forms shall fade and symptoms rest.


The rhythm of thy magic pulse is stilled.
Still flames thy symbol on the breast
Of Isis, Ishtar – mother, matter filled.

The snow-white wonder of Her form divine,


Stretched cruciform with upturned face,
Awaits with radiant joy the coming sign
Of Him, Creation’s Lord, in Time and Space.

Her eyes, eternal wells of loving light,


The Beauty dread and high which Gods can know –
And lo – within Her mighty heart, for Him, enshrined
Roses, red roses ever-blooming glow.

5. Luna, Lord of the Home: “Bless This House,” traditional American hymn

Bless this house, O Lord, we pray,


Keep it safe by night and day.
Bless these windows shining bright,
Letting in God’s heavenly light.

Bless the roof and chimneys tall,


Let Thy peace lie over all.
Bless this door, that it may prove
Ever open to joy and love.

Bless this house, O Lord, we pray,


Keep it safe by night and day.
Bless the hearth a-blazing there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer,

Bless the folk who dwell within,


Keep them pure and free from sin,
Bless us all that we may be,
Fit, O Lord, to dwell with Thee –
Bless us all so someday we
May dwell, O Lord, with Thee.

6. Prayers and Hymns to Djehuti, Lord of the Moon, of Justice, and of Magick; He Who is Known in
Other Lands as Odin, Hanuman, Coyote, Raven, Hermes, Mercury, and the Archangel Raphael, A
Lord of both Mercury and the Moon

All but the last of the following prayers and hymns, Liber Israfel, which was originally published in
this century in Aleister Crowley’s periodical The Equinox, Volume I, are translated from actual prayers
offered by the people of pre-Christian Egypt to the God Djehuti. (These are also suitable for invocations of
Mercury/Hermes.)

a. Prayer to an Image of Djehuti. Offered as a first greeting to the classic image of Him as a
cyanocephalic (“dog-headed”) baboon, upon setting it up in the house.

Praise to Thee Thou Lord of the House!


Ape with white hair and pleasant form,
With friendly nature, belovèd of all men. He is of sehret-stone, He, even Djehuti,
That He may illumine the earth with His beauty.
That which is upon His head is of red jasper,1
And His phallus is of quartz.
His love leapeth on His eyebrows,
And He openeth His mouth to bestow life.
Mine house is happy since the God entered it;
It flourisheth and is richly furnished,
Since my Lord did tread its floor.
Be happy, ye people of my quarter,
And rejoice, all my kindred.
Behold, my Lord it is that maketh me;
Yea, mine heart longeth after Him.
O Djehuti, if Thou wilt be to me a champion,
I will fear not the Eye of Evil.2

b. Daily Adoration of Djehuti

O Ye Gods that are in Heaven, O Ye Gods that are on Earth!


Ye of the South, the North, the West and the East,
Come and behold Djehuti, how He shineth forth in His crown
Which the Two Lords hath set in place for Him
In Per-Djehuti,3 that He may exercise the governance of men.
Exult in the hall of Keb4 over what He hath done.
Adore Him, extol Him, give Him praise.
He is Lord of Kindliness, Leader of the entire multitude.
He furnisheth the Gods and Goddesses in Their chapels,
And at the altars of Their temples with hymns and songs,
The words of praise and poetry flow from His pen,
As the water from a sweet well in the wilderness.
He sets up a house for His worshippers,
And provides it with possessions and all good things.
He is loved and praised and pleased and protected
With all good people and adored in His arising.

c. Two Prayers to Djehuti

Come to me, Djehuti, Thou lordly Ibis, Thou God,


For Whom yearneth Per-Djehuti.3
Scribe of the Nine Gods,
Great one in Unu.3
Come to me, that Thou mayest lead me,
That Thou mayest make me wise in Thy calling.
Fairer is Thy Way than all others;
It maketh men great.
We have seen again and again
That he who is an adept of Thy Path
Becometh renowned.
Many deeds there are that Thou doest for them
And they are in the Council of the Thirty.5
They are strong and mighty because of Thy workings.
Thou it is Who careth for him who hath no parents,6
Fate and the Harvest-Goddess are with Thee.7
Come to me and care for me.
I am a servant of Thy house.
Let me tell of Thy mighty works in whatsoever land I be.
So will the multitude of men say:
“Great things are they that Djehuti hath done.”
So will they come with their children,
In order to mark them for Thine office.8
A bless‚d calling, O powerful Deliverer from Want,
And happy is he that followeth Thee.

***

O Djehuti, place me in Per-Djehuti, in thy city,


Where life is pleasant!
Thou givest me what I need in bread and beer,
And Thou keepest watch over my mouth when I speak.beethoven
Would that I had Djehuti behind me tomorrow!
Come with me when I enter in before the Lords of Truth,
And so shall I come forth justified.
Thou great Dom-palm, sixty cubits high, heavy with thy bounty of fruit!
Fertile seeds are in the fruits, rich with water.
Thou who bringest water to the thirsty fields from far away,
Come deliver me, the silent one.
Djehuti, Thou art a sweet well for one who thirsteth,
Thou art open to him who keeps silence,
But covered over and hidden from him who is ready with speech.
The silent one cometh and findeth the well,
The loud-mouthed hot-head cometh only to find Thee choked with sand.

d. Liber Israfel

Introductory note: This hymn to Djehuti was originally published in Aleister Crowley’s The Equinox,
Volume I, and reprinted in Gems from the Equinox (Israel Regardie, editor. Phoenix, AZ: Falcon Press,
1982), pp. 307-310. As reproduced here, it was published in Techniques of High Magic: A Manual of Self-
Initiation by Francis King and Stephen Skinner (New York: Destiny Books, 1976), pp. 168-171).

Procul, O procul este profani.


Bahlasti! Ompehda!
In the name of the Mighty and Terrible One,
I proclaim that I have banished the shells
Unto their habitations.
I invoke Djehuti, the Lord of Wisdom and of Utterance,
The God Who cometh forth from the Veil.
O Thou! Majesty of Godhead! Wisdom-crowned Djehuti!
Lord of the Gates of the Universe:
Thee, Thee I invoke!
O Thou of the Ibis Head:
Thee, Thee I invoke!
Thou Who wieldest the Doubled Wand of Power:
Thee, Thee I invoke!
Thou Who bearest in Thy left hand the Rose and Cross of Light and Life:
Thee, Thee I invoke!
Thou, Whose head is as an emerald, and Thy Nemyss as the night-sky blue:
Thee, Thee I invoke!
Thou Whose skin is of flaming orange
As though it burned in a furnace:
Thee, Thee I invoke!
Behold! I am Yesterday, Today, and the Brother of Tomorrow:
I am born again and again!
Mine is the unseen Force, wherof the Gods are sprung,
Which is as Life unto the Dwellers in the Watch-Towers of the Universe!
I am the Charioteer of the East,
Lord of the Past and of the Future.
I see by Mine own inward light: Lord of Resurrection,
Who cometh forth from the dusk,
And My birth is from the House of Death.
O Ye two divine hawks upon Your pinnacles,
Who keep watch over the Universe!
Ye Who accompany the bier to the House of Rest!
Who pilot the ship of Ra, advancing ever onward
To the heights of Heaven!
Lord of the Shrine which standeth in the center of the Earth!
Behold! He is in Me, and I in Him!
Mine is the Radiance wherein Ptah floateth over the Firmament!
I travel upon high!
I tread upon the firmament of Nu!
I raise a flashing flame with the lightning of Mine eye!
Ever rushing on, in the splendor of the daily-glorified Ra,
Giving Life to the dwellers of Earth!

***

If I say, “Come up upon the mountains!”,


The Celestial Water shall flow at My Word!
For I am Ra incarnate! Khephra created in the flesh!
I am the Eidolon of My Father Tmu, Lord of the City of the Sun!
The God Who commands is in My mouth!
The God of Wisdom is in My heart!
My tongue is the Sanctuary of Truth!
And a God sitteth upon My lips!
My Word is accomplished every day!
And the desire of Mine heart realizes itself,
As that of Ptah when He createth!
I am eternal;
Therefore all things are as My Designs;
Therefore do all things obey My Word!
Therefore do Thou come forth unto Me from Thine Abode in the Silence:
Unutterable Wisdom! All-Light! All-power!
Djehuti! Hermes! Mercury! Odin! Raphael!
By whatever Name I call Thee, still Thou art Nameless unto Eternity:
Come Thou forth, I say, and aid and guard me in this Work of Art!
Thou, Star of the East, that didst conduct the Magi!
Thou art the Same, all-present in Heaven and in Hell!
Thou that vibratest between the Light and the Darkness!
Rising, descending! Changing ever, yet ever the Same!
The Sun is Thy Father!
Thy Mother, the Moon!
The Wind hath borne Thee in its bosom,
And Earth hath ever nourished the changeless Godhead of Thy Youth!
Come Thou forth, I say, come Thou forth,
And make all Spirits subject unto Me:
So that every Spirit of the Firmament
And of the Aether,
And of the Earth,
And under the Earth,
On dry Land
And in the Waters, Of whirling Air
And of rushing Fire,
And every Spell and Scourge of God the Vast One
May be obedient unto me.
IAO! IAO! Amen.9

Endnotes
1
Image of the Moon-disc.
2
Alludes as well to the tale of Djehuti healing Horus’ eye when it was destroyed.
3
Greek Hermopolis in Upper Egypt. Principal seat of the cult.
4
Or Geb (long “e,” i.e., “ay” sound): the Earth.
5
Administrative council similar to Cabinet.
6
Djehuti is the Patron of orphans.
7
The Hathors who bless new born children, and the Goddess of Plenty.
8
Dedicate them as scribes.
9
This is a modified version of an invocation once used as the preliminary invocation before an evocation of
Taphthartharath, the Spirit of the Sphere of Mercury, by members of the Golden Dawn Lodge of the
19th Century. I first found it in Francis King’s and Stephen Skinner’s Techniques of High Magic: A
Manual of Self-Initiation (New York: Destiny Books, 1976), pp. 168-171; the version presented here
is theirs, with slightly different capitalization and, in one or two cases, grammatical arrangement for
the sake of scansion. Their version was taken from that given as Liber Israfel in The Equinox, Volume
I.

7. “The River of No Return,” by Ken Darby and Lionel Newman. From the 1954 movie starring
Marilyn Monroe, of the same title; “One Silver Dollar,” by Ken Darby and L. Newman, from the
1954 movie, The River of No Return. Here is a celebration of Luna as the Progressed Moon,
moving at about the same speed through the Inner Sky of the progressions to a natus as transiting
Saturn does the Outer Sky: “The River of No Return” by Ken Darby and Lionel Newman. From
the 1954 movie starring Marilyn Monroe of the same title

There is a river
Called the river of no return.
Sometimes it’s peaceful,
And sometimes wild and free!
Love is a trav’ler
On the river of no return.
Swept on forever,
To be lost in the stormy sea.
Wail-a-ree
I can hear the river call
(No return, no return).
I lost my love on the river
And forever my heart will yearn,
Gone, gone forever,
Down the river of no return.
Wail-a-ree, wail-a-ree –
She’ll never return to me!

8. “One Silver Dollar,” by Ken Darby and L. Newman, from the 1954 movie, The River of No Return

Astrologically speaking, money is like the Moon: it causes change, it takes on the color of whatever it
touches as long as it touches it, and no longer, then goes on to the next thing. Ken Darby wrote
this lovely song, which was used in the 1954 movie River of No Return, which starred Marilyn
Monroe and Robert Mitchum:

Silver dollars on a green table,


Lucky numbers on a wheel,
Every gambler is playin’ to win,
Just one silver dollar more, one more,
Just one silver dollar more –
What for?

One silver dollar, bright silver dollar,


Changin’ hands, changin’ hands.
Endlessly rollin’, wasted and stolen,
Changin’ hands, changin’ hands.
Spent for a baby’s trinket,
One by a gambler lost,
Pierced by an outlaw’s bullet,
And lost in the blood-red dust.

One silver dollar, worn silver dollar,


Changin’ hands, changing hands,
Love is a shining dollar,
Bright as a church-bell’s chime,
Gambled and spent and wasted
And lost in the dust of time.

Endlessly rollin’, wasted and stolen,


Changin’ hands, changing’ hands.
One silver dollar, worn silver dollar,
Changin’ hearts, changin’ lives,
Changin’ hands, changin’ hands, changin’ hands . . .

(Ken Darby–Lyle Newman, Simon House, ASCAP, 1952 (?)

9: “America the Beautiful” – patriotic anthem

Luna rules the Sign Cancer and the 4th House of the horoscope, which rule the sole, the ground one
stands on, the place of one’s birth, one’s native land, and thus all patriotic songs. None is more fit
than this one, about that Luna-ruled nation, the United States of America.

Katharine Lee Bates wrote the original version in 1893. She wrote the 2nd version in 1904. Her final
version was written in 1913.

Here is a note from Katharine Lee Bates:

"One day some of the other teachers and I decided to go on a trip to 14,000-foot Pikes Peak. We hired
a prairie wagon. Near the top we had to leave the wagon and go the rest of the way on mules. I was
very tired. But when I saw the view, I felt great joy. All the wonder of America seemed displayed there,
with the sea-like expanse."

America the Beautiful – 1913


O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet


Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife.
Who more than self the country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream


That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

***

O beautiful for halcyon skies,


For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the enameled plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till souls wax fair as earth and air
And music-hearted sea!

O beautiful for pilgrims feet,


Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America ! America !
God shed his grace on thee
Till paths be wrought through
wilds of thought
By pilgrim foot and knee!

O beautiful for glory-tale


Of liberating strife
When once and twice,
for man's avail
Men lavished precious life !
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till selfish gain no longer stain
The banner of the free!

O beautiful for patriot dream


That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till nobler men keep once again
Thy whiter jubilee!
These verses contributed by Robert Fitzpatrick of The Falmouth Historical Society, who maintain
a museum at her former home on Main Street. Visit them! Email them!

Part 3: Hymns, Songs, Poems and Readings for Invocations of Mercury

Mercury, Sephirah 8, Hod, “Brilliance”

1. “Old Hundredth” – traditional hymn – Mercury the God of veterinarians, the web of life

Praise God, all ye creatures here below;


Praise God, ?
Praise Him all ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
– Amen

2. “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” – the web of life, the persistence of all living things

The itsy-bitsy spider


Crawled up the water-spout.
Down came the rain,
And washed the spider out.
Out came the sun,
Which dried up all the rain.
And the itsy-bitsy spider
Crawled up the spout again.

3. “Boris the Spider,” by The Who – the creepy-crawliness of spiders, heh-heh-heh

4. Selections from the Space Child’s Mother Goose

5. Tongue-twisters: “Sister Sally sells sea-shells by the sea-shore,” “A big black bug bit a
big brown bear,” etc.

6. “They Call the Wind Maria,” from Paint Your Wagon: A Musical Play (Copyright 1951 by Alan
Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe). Taken from the vocal score from the musical. Book and
lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner, music by Frederick Loewe. Hermes-Mercurius is Lord of the
world’s winds, which go everywhere; He is also God of travelers and those who journey far
from their homelands. This song is particularly appropriate for both of these functions of His.

Away out here they got a name


For wind and rain and fire;
The rain is Tess, the fire’s Jo,
And they call the wind Maria.
Maria blows the stars around,
And sends the clouds a-flyin’.
Maria makes the mountains sound
Like folks were up there dyin’.

Chorus: Maria! Maria!


They call the wind Maria!

Before I knew Maria’s name


And heard her wail and whinin’,
I had a girl and she had me,
And the sun was always shinin’.
But then one day I left my girl,
I left her far behind me;
And now I’m lost, so goldarn lost,
Not even God can find me.

Chorus: Maria! Maria!


They call the wind Maria!

Out here they got a name for rain,


For wind and fire only.
But when you’re lost and all alone,
There ain’t no word but lonely.
And I’m a lost and lonely man
Without a star to guide me.
Maria, blow my love to me;
I need my girl beside me.

Chorus: Maria! Maria!


They call the wind Maria!
Maria, Maria!
Blow my love to me.

7. “The Wayward Wind,” by Herb Newman and Stan Lebowsky. Copyright 1956, 1983 by
Bibo Music Publishers (% The Welk Music Group, Santa Monica, CA 90401)

Chorus: Oh, the wayward wind is a restless wind,


A restless wind that yearns to wander;
And he was born then next of kin,
The next of kin to the wayward wind.

In a lonely shack by a railroad track,


He spent his younger days,
And I guess the sound of the outward bound
Made him a slave
To his wand’rin’ ways.

Chorus:

Oh, I met him there in a border town,


He vowed we’d never part;
Though he tried his best to settle down,
I’m now alone with a broken heart.

Chorus:

Nota bene: This song may also be sung from the point of view of the wanderer himself. In that case,
“I” should be substituted for “he”; “a girl,” for “him there” (in “I met him there”); “my” for
“his”; “me” for “him”; “she’s” for “I’m” (in “I’m now alone”). Also, the chorus may be
modified by replacing “the wayward wind” with “the wayward heart.”

8. “The Breeze and I,” adapted from Ernesto Lecuona’s “Andalucia” by T. Camarata; lyrics by Al
Stillman, music by Ernesto Lecuona. Copyright 1927 by Edward Mars Music Corporation.
The breeze and I are saying with a sigh
That you no longer care;
The breeze and I are whispering good-bye,
To dreams we used to share.

Ours was a love song that seemed constant as the moon,


Ending in a strange, mournful tune;
And all about me, they know you have departed without me
And we wonder why,
The breeze and I.

9. And last, but not least, “The Battle of the Lake Regillus.” Taken from Lord Macaulay’s Essays and
Lays of Ancient Rome (Lord Thomas Babington Macaulay, editor and translator. New York:
Longmans, Green, and Co., 1896), pp. 841-853. Old (pre-Christian) Rome, like the United States
of America, was ruled by both Mars and Mercury, the latter in His aspect of Lord of the Sign
Gemini. Gemini memorializes Castor and Pollux of Greek myth, but also refers to Romulus and
Remus, the legendary founders of the City of Rome. According to Macaulay (ibid., pp. 842-844),
the following poem, “A lay sung at the feast of Castor and Pollux on the Ides of Quintilis, in the
Year of the City CCCCLI,” came about in the following way:

The popular belief at Rome, from an early period, seems to have been that the
event of the great day of [the Battle of] Regillus was decided by supernatural agency.
Castor and Pollux, it was said, had fought, armed and mounted, at the head of the legions
of the [Roman] commonwealth, and had afterwards carried the news of the victory with
incredible speed to the city. The well in the Forum at which they had alighted was
pointed out. Near the well rose their ancient temple. A great festival was kept to their
honor on the Ides of Quintilis, supposed to be the anniversary of the battle; and on that
day sumptuous sacrifices were offered to them at the public charge. One spot on the
margin of Lake Regillus was regarded during many ages with superstitious awe. A mark,
resembling in shape a horse’s hoof, was discernible in the volcanic rock; and this mark
was believed to have been made by one of the celestial chargers.
How the legend originated cannot now be ascertained: but we may easily
imagine several ways in which it might have originated; nor is it at all necessary to
suppose, with Julius Frontinus, that two young men were dressed up by the Dictator to
personate the sons of Leda. It is probable that Livy is correct when he says that the
Roman general, in the hour of peril, vowed a temple to Castor. If so, nothing could be
more natural than that the multitude should ascribe the victory to the favour of the Twin
Gods. When such was the prevailing sentiment, any man who chose to declare that, in
the midst of the confusion and slaughter, he had seen two godlike forms on white horses
scattering the Latines, would find ready credence. . . . It is . . . conceivable that the
appearance of Castor and Pollux may have become an article of faith before the
generation which had fought at Regillus had passed away. Nor could anything be more
natural than that the poets of the next age should embellish this story, and make the
celestial horsemen bear the tidings of victory to Rome.
Many years after the temple of the Twin Gods had been built in the Forum, an
important addition was made to the ceremonial by which the state annually testified its
gratitude for their protection. Quintus Fabius and Publius Decius were elected Censors at
a momentous crisis. It had become absolutely necessary that the classification of the
citizens should be revised. On that classification depended the distribution of political
power. Party-spirit ran high; and the republic seemed to be in danger of falling under the
dominion either of a narrow oligarchy or of an ignorant and headstrong rabble. Under
such circumstances, the most illustrious patrician and the most illustrious plebian of the
age were entrusted with the office of arbitrating between the angry factions; and they
performed their arduous task to the satisfaction of all honest and reasonable men.
One of their reforms was a remodelling of the equestrian order and, having
effected this reform, they determined to give to their work a sanction derived from
religion. In the chivalrous societies of modern times, societies which have much more
than may at first sight appear in common with the equestrian order of Rome, it has been
usual to invoke the special protection of some Saint, and to observe his day with peculiar
solemnity. Thus the Companions of the Garter wear the image of Saint George
depending from their collars, and meet, on great occasions, in Saint George’s Chapel.
Thus, when Lewis the Fourteenth instituted a new order of chivalry for the rewarding of
military merit, he commended it to the favour of his own glorified ancestor and patron,
and decreed that all the members of the fraternity should meet at the royal palace on the
feast of Saint Lewis, should attend the king to chapel, should hear mass, and should
subsequently hold their great annual assembly. There is a considerable resemblance
between this rule of the order of Saint Lewis and the rule which Fabius and Decius made
respecting the Roman knights. It was ordained that a grand muster and inspection of the
equestrian body should be part of the ceremonial performed, on the anniversary of the
battle of Regillus, in honour of Castor and Pollux, the two equestrian Gods. All the
knights, clad in purple and crowned with olive, were to meet at a temple of Mars in the
suburbs. Thence they were to ride in state to the Forum, where the temple of the Twins
stood. This pageant was, during several centuries, considered as one of the most splendid
sights of Rome. In the time of Dionysius the cavalcade sometimes consisted of five
thousand horsemen, all persons of fair repute and easy fortune.
There can be no doubt that the Censors who instituted this august ceremony
acted in concert with the Pontiffs to whom, by the constitution of Rome, the
superintendence of the public worship belonged; and it is probable that those high
religious functionaries were, as usual, fortunate enough to find in their books or traditions
some warrant for the innovation.
The following poem is supposed to have been made for this great occasion.
Songs, we know, were chanted at the religious festivals of Rome from an early period;
indeed from so early a period, that some of the sacred verses were popularly ascribed to
Numa, and were utterly unintelligible in the age of Augustus. In the Second Punic War a
great feast was held in honour of Juno, and a song was sung in her praise. This was song
was extant when Livy wrote; and, though exceedingly rugged and uncouth, seemed to
him not wholly destitute of merit. A song, as we learn from Horace, was part of the
established ritual at the great Secular Jubilee. It is therefore likely that the Censors and
Pontiffs, when they had resolved to add a grand procession of knights to the other
solemnities annually performed on the Ides of Quintilis, would call in the aid of a poet.
Such a poet would naturally take for his subject the battle of Regillus, the appearance of
the Twin Gods, and the institution of their festival. He would find abundant materials in
the ballads of his predecessors; and he would make free use of the scanty stock of Greek
learning which he had himself acquired. He would probably introduce some wise and
holy Pontiff enjoining the magnificent ceremonial which, after a long interval, had at
length been adopted. If the poem succeeded, many persons would commit it to memory.
Parts of it would be sung to the pipe at banquets. It would be peculiarly interesting to the
great Posthumian House, which numbered among its many images that of the Dictator
Aulus, the hero of Regillus. The orator who, in the following generation, pronounced the
funeral panegyric over the remains of Lucius Posthumius Megellus, thrice Consul, would
borrow largely from the lay; and thus some passages, much disfigured, would probably
find their way into the chronicles which were afterwards in the hands of Dionysius and
Livy.
Antiquaries differ widely as to the situation of the field of battle. The opinion of
those who suppose that the armies met near Cornufelle, between Frascati and the Monte
Porzio, is at least plausible, and has been followed in the poem.
As to the details of the battle, it has not been thought desirable to adhere
minutely to the accounts which have come down to us. Those accounts, indeed, differ
widely from each other, and, in all probability, differ as widely from the ancient poem
from which they were originally derived.
It is unnecessary to point out the obvious imitations of the Iliad, which have
been purposely introduced [the Romans believed that Rome originally was a colony of
ancient Troy, and they borrowed freely from the Homeric literature and traditions of
Greece in their poetry and religious festivals].

The poem itself, translated into English from the original Latin, is as follows:
I.
Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note!
Ho, lictors, clear the way!
The Knights will ride, in all their pride,
Along the streets to-day.
To-day the doors and windows
Are hung with garlands all,
From Castor in the Forum,
To Mars without the wall.
Each Knight is robed in purple,
With olive each is crowned;
A gallant war-horse under each
Paws haughtily the ground.
While flows the Yellow River,
While stands the Sacred Hill,
The proud Ides of Quintilis
Shall have such honour still.
Gay are the Martian Kalends:
December’s Nones are gay:
But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides,
Shall be Rome’s whitest day.

II.

Unto the Great Twin Brethren


We keep this solemn feast.
Swift, swift, the Great Twin Brethren
Came spurring from the east.
They came o’er wild Parthenius
Tossing in waves of pine,
O’er Cirrha’s dome, o’er Adria’s foam,
O’er purple Apennine,
From where with flutes and dances
Their ancient mansion rings,
In lordly Lacedaemon,
The City of two kings,
To where, by Lake Regillus,
Under the Porcian height,
All in the lands of Tusculum,
Was fought the glorious fight.

III.

Now on the place of slaughter


Are cots and sheepfolds seen,
And rows of vines, and fields of wheat,
And apple-orchards green;
The swine crush the big acorns
That fall from Corne’s oaks.
Upon the turf by the Fair Fount
The reaper’s pottage smokes.
The fisher baits his angle;
The hunter twangs his bow;
Little they think on those strong limbs
That moulder deep below.
Little they think how sternly
That day the trumpets pealed;
How in the slippery swamp of blood
Warrior and war-horse reeled;
How wolves came with fierce gallop,
And crows on eager wings,
To tear the flesh of captains,
And peck the eyes of kings;
How thick the dead lay scattered
Under the Porcian height;
How through the gates of Tusculum
Raved the wild stream of flight;
And how the Lake Regillus,
Bubbled with crimson foam,
What time the Thirty Cities
Came forth to war with Rome.

IV.

But, Roman, when thou standest


Upon this holy ground,
Look thou with heed on the dark rock
That girds the dark lake round.
So shalt thou see a hoof-mark
Stamped deep into the flint:
It was no hoof of mortal steed
That made so strange a dint:
There to the Great Twin Brethren
Vow thy vows, and pray
That they, in tempest and in fight,
Will keep thy head alway.

V.

Since the last Great Twin Brethren


Of mortal eyes were seen,
Have years gone by an hundred
And fourscore and thirteen.
That summer a Virginius
Was Consul first in place;
The second was stout Aulus,
Of the Posthumian race.
The Herald of the Latines
From Gabii came in state:
The Herald of the Latines
Passed through Rome’s Eastern Gate:
The Herald of the Latines
Did in our Forum stand;
And there he did his office,
A sceptre in his hand.
VI.

’Hear, Senators and people


Of the good town of Rome:
The Thirty Cities charge you
To bring the Tarquins home:
And if ye still be stubborn,
To work the Tarquins wrong,
The Thirty Cities warn you,
Look that your walls be strong.’

VII.

Then spake the Consul Aulus,


He spake a bitter jest:
’Once the jays sent a message
Unto the eagle’s nest: –
Now yield up thine eyrie
Unto the carrion-kite,
Or come forth valiantly, and face
The jays in deadly fight. –
Forth looked in wrath the eagle:
And carrion-kite and jay,
Soon as they saw his beak and claw,
Fled screaming far away.’

VIII.

The Herald of the Latines


Hath hied him back in state:
The Fathers of the City
Are met in high debate.
Then spake the elder Consul,
An ancient man and wise:
’Now hearken, Conscript Fathers,
To that which I advise.
In seasons of great peril
’Tis good that one bear away;
Then choose we a Dictator,
Whom all men shall obey.
Camerium knows how deeply
The sword of Aulus bites,
And all our city calls him
The man of seventy fights.
Then let him be Dictator
For six months and no more,
And have a Master of the Nights,
And axes twenty-four.’

IX.

So Aulus was Dictator,


The man of seventy fights;
He made Æbutius Elva
His Master of the Knights.
On the third morn thereafter,
At dawning of the day,
Did Aulus and Æbutius
Set forth with their array.
Sempronius Atratinus
Was left in charge at home
With boys, and with grey-headed men,
To keep the walls of Rome.
Hard by the Lake Regillus
Our camp was pitched at night:
Eastward a mile the Latines lay,
Under the Porcian height.
Far over hill and valley
Their mighty host was spread;
And with their thousand watch-fires
The midnight sky was red.

X.

Up rose the golden morning


Over the Porcian height,
The proud Ides of Quintilis
Marked evermore with white.
Not without secret trouble
Our bravest saw the foes;
For girt by threescore thousand spears,
The thirty standards rose.
From every warlike city
That boasts the Latine name,
Foredoomed to dogs and vultures,
That gallant army came;
From Setia’s purple vineyards,
From Norba’s ancient wall,
From the white streets of Tusculum,
The proudest town of all;
From where the Witch’s Fortress
O’erhangs the dark-blue seas;
From the still glassy lake that sleeps
Beneath Arcia’s trees –
Those trees in whose dim shadow
The ghastly priest doth reign,
The priest who slew the slayer,
And shall himself be slain;
From the drear banks of Ufens,
Where flights of marsh-fowl play,
And buffaloes lie wallowing
Through the hot summer’s day;
From the gigantic watch-towers,
No work of earthly men,
Whence Cora’s sentinels o’erlook
The never-ending fen;
From the Laurentian jungle,
The wild hog’s reedy home;
From the green steeps whence Anio leaps
In floods of snow-white foam.

XI.
Aricia, Cora, Norba,
Velitrae, with the might
Of Setia and of Tusculum,
Were marshalled on the right:
The leader was Mamilius,
Prince of the Latine name;
Upon his head a helmet
Of red gold shone like flame:
High on a gallant charger
Of dark-grey hue he rode;
Over his gilded armour
A vest of purple flowed,
Woven in the land of sunrise
By Syria’s dark-browed daughters,
And by the sails of Carthage brought
Far o’er the southern waters.

XII.

Lavinium and Laurentum


Had on the left their post,
With all the banners of the marsh,
And banners of the coast.
Their leader was false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame:
With restless pace and haggard face
To his last field he came.
Men said he saw strange visions
Which none beside might see,
And that strange sounds were in his ears
Which none might hear but he.
A woman fair and stately,
But pale as are the dead,
Oft through the watches of the night
Sat spinning by his bed.
And as she plied the distaff,
In a sweet voice and low,
She sang of great old houses,
And fights fought long ago.
So spun she, and so sang she,
Until the east was grey,
Then pointed to her bleeding breast,
And shrieked, and fled away.

XIII.

But in the centre thickest


Were ranged the shields of foes,
And from the centre loudest
The cry of battle rose.
There Tibur marched and Pedum
Beneath proud Tarquin’s rule,
And Ferentinum of the rock,
And Gabii of the pool.
Three rode the Volscian succours:
There, in a dark stern ring,
The Roman exiles gathered close
Around the ancient king.
Though white as Mount Soracte
When winter nights are long,
His beard flowed down o’er mail and belt,
His heart and hand were strong:
Under his hoary eyebrows
Still flashed forth quenchless rage,
And, if the lance shook in his grip,
’Twas more with hate than age.
Close at his side was Titus
On an Apulian steed,
Titus, the youngest Tarquin
Too good for such a breed.

XIV.

Now on each side the leaders


Give signal for the charge;
And on each side the footmen
Strode on with lance and targe;
And on each side the horsemen
Struck their spurs deep in gore;
And front to front the armies
Met with a mighty roar:
And under that great battle
The earth with blood was red;
And, like the Pontine fog at morn,
The dust hung overhead;
And louder still and louder
Rose from the darkened field
The braying of the war-horns,
The clang of sword and shield,
The rush of squadrons sweeping
Like whirlwinds o’er the plain,
The shouting of the slayers,
And screeching of the slain.

XV.

False Sextus rode our foremost:


His look was high and bold;
His corselet was of bison’s hide,
Plated with steel and gold.
As glares the famished eagle
From the Digentian rock
On a choice lamb that bounds alone
Before Bandusia’s flock,
Herminius glared on Sextus,
And came with eagle speed,
Herminius on black Austor,
Brave champion on brave steed;
In his right hand the broadsword
That kept the bridge so well,
And on his helm the crown he won
When proud Fidenae fell.
Woe to the maid whose lover
Shall cross his path to-day!
False Sextus saw, and trembled,
And turned, and fled away.
As turns, as flies, the woodman
In the Calabrian brake,
When through the reeds gleams the round eye
Of that fell speckled snake;
So turned, so fled, false Sextus,
And hid him in the rear,
Behind the dark Lavinian ranks,
Bristling with crest and spear.

XVI.

But far to north Æbutius,


The Master of the Knights,
Gave Tubero of Norba
To feed the Porcian kites.
Next under those red horse-hoofs
Flaccus of Setia lay;
Better had he been pruning
Among his elms that day.
Mamilius saw the slaughter,
And tossed his golden crest,
And towards the Master of the Knights
Through the thick battle pressed.
Æbutius smote Mamilius
So fiercely on the shield
That the great lord of Tusculum
Well nigh rolled on the field.
Mamilius smote Æbutius,
With a good aim and true,
Just where the neck and shoulder join,
And pierced him through and through;
And brave Æbutius Elva
Fell swooning to the ground:
But a thick wall of bucklers
Encompassed him around.
His clients from the battle
Bare him some little space,
And filled a helm from the dark lake,
And bathed his brow and face;
And when at last he opened
His swimming eyes to light,
Men say, the earliest word he spake
Was, ’Friends, how goes the fight?’

XVII.

But meanwhile in the centre


Great deeds of arms were wrought;
There Aulus the Dictator
And there Valerius fought.
Aulus with his good broadsword
A bloody passage cleared
To where, amidst the thickest foes,
He saw the long white beard.
Flat lighted that good broadsword
Upon proud Tarquin’s head.
He dropped the lance: he dropped the reins:
He fell as fall the dead.
Down Aulus springs to slay him,
With eyes like coals of fire;
But faster Titus hath sprung down,
And hath bestrode his sire.
Latine captains, Roman knights,
Fast down to earth they spring,
And hand to hand they fight on foot
Around the ancient king.
First Titus gave tall Caeso
A death wound in the face;
Tall Caeso was the bravest man
Of the brave Fabian race:
Valerius smote down Julius,
Of Rome’s great Julian line;
Julius, who left his mansion
High on the Velian hill,
And through all turns of weal and woe
Followed proud Tarquin still.
Now right across proud Tarquin
A corpse was Julius laid;
And Titus groaned with rage and grief
And at Valerius made.
Valerius struck at Titus,
And lopped off half his crest;
But Titus stabbed Valerius
A span deep in the breast.
Like a mast snapped by the tempest,
Valerius reeled and fell.
Ah! woe is me for the good house
That loves the people well!
Then shouted loud the Latines;
And with one rush they bore
The struggling Romans backward
Three lances’ length and more:
And up they took proud Tarquin,
And laid him on a shield,
And four strong yeomen bare him,
Still senseless, from the field.

XVIII.

But fiercer grew the fighting


Around Valerius dead;
For Titus dragged him by the foot,
And Aulus by the head.
’On, Latines, on!’ quoth Titus,
’See how the rebels fly!’
’Romans, stand firm!’ quoth Aulus,
’And win this fight or die!
They must not give Valerius
To raven and to kite;
For aye Valerius loathed the wrong,
And aye upheld the right:
And for your wives and babies
In the front rank he fell.
Now play the men for the good house
That loves the people well!’

XIX.

Then tenfold round the body


The roar of battle rose,
Like the roar of a burning forest,
When a strong north wind blows.
Now backward, and now forward,
Rocked furiously the fray,
Till none could see Valerius,
And none wist where he lay.
For shivered arms and ensigns
Were heaped there in a mound,
And corpses stiff, and dying men
That writhed and gnawed the ground;
And wounded horses kicking,
And snorting purple foam:
Right well did such a couch befit
A Consular of Rome.

XX.

But north looked the Dictator;


North looked he long and hard;
And spake to Caius Cossus,
The Captain of his Guard;
’Caius, of all the Romans
Thou hast the keenest sight;
Say, what through yonder storm of dust
Comes from the Latine right?’

XXI.

Then answered Caius Cossus:


’I see an evil sight;
The banner of proud Tusculum
Comes from the Latine right;
I see the plumed horsemen;
And far before the rest
I see the dark-grey charger,
I see the purple vest;
I see the golden helmet
That shines far off like flames;
So ever rides Mamilius,
Prince of the Latine name.’

XXII.
’Now hearken, Caius Cossus:
Spring on thy horse’s back;
Ride as the wolves of Apennine
Were all upon thy track;
Haste to our southward battle:
And never draw thy rein
Until thou find Herminius,
And bid him come amain.’

XXIII.

So Aulus spake, and turned him


Again to that fierce strife;
And Caius Cossus mounted,
And rode for death and life.
Loud clanged beneath his horse-hoofs
The helmets of the dead,
And many a curdling pool of blood
Splashed him from heel to head.
So came he far to southward,
Where fought the Roman host,
Against the banners of the marsh
And banners of the coast.
Like corn before the sickle
The stout Lavinians fell,
Beneath the edge of the true sword
That kept the bridge so well.

XXIV.

’Herminius! Aulus greets thee;


He bids thee come with speed,
To help our central battle;
Fore sore is there our need.
There wars the youngest Tarquin,
And there the Crest of Flame,
The Tusculan Mamilius,
Prince of the Latine name.
Valerius hath fallen fighting
In front of our array:
And Aulus of the seventy fields
Alone upholds the day.’

XXV.

Herminius beat his bosom:


But never a word he spake.
He clapped his hand on Auster’s mane:
He gave the reins a shake,
Away, away went Auster,
Like an arrow from the bow:
Black Auster was the fleetest steed
From Aufidas to Po.

XXVI.
Right glad were all the Romans
Who, in that hour of dread,
Against great odds bare up the war
Around Valerius dead,
When from the south the cheering
Rose with a mighty swell;
’Herminius comes, Herminius,
Who kept the bridge so well!’

XXVII.

Mamilius spied Herminius,


And dashed across the way.
’Herminius! I have sought thee
Through many a bloody day.
One of us two, Herminius,
Shall never more go home,
I will lay on for Tusculum,
And lay thou on for Rome!’

XXVIII.

All round them paused the battle,


While met in mortal fray
The Roman and the Tusculan,
The horses black and grey.
Herminius smote Mamilius
Through breast-plate and through breast;
And fast flowed out the purple blood
Over the purple vest.
Mamilius smote Herminius
Through head-piece and through head;
And side by side those chiefs of pride
Together fell down dead.
Down fell they dead together
In a great lake of gore;
And still stood all who saw them fall
While men might count a score.

XXIX.

Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning,


The dark-grey charger fled:
He burst through ranks of fighting men;
He sprang o’er heaps of dead.
His bridle far out-streaming,
His flanks all blood and foam,
He sought the southern mountains,
The mountains of his home.
The pass was steep and rugged,
The wolves they howled and whined;
But he ran like a whirlwind up the pass,
And he left the wolves behind.
Through many a startled hamlet
Thundered his flying feet;
He rushed through the gates of Tusculum,
He rushed up the long white street;
He rushed by tower and temple,
And paused not from his race
Till he stood before his master’s door
In the stately market-place.
And straightway round him gathered
A pale and trembling crowd,
And when they knew him, cries of rage
Brake forth, and wailing loud:
And women rent their tresses
For their great prince’s fall;
And old men girt on their old swords,
And went to man the wall.

XXX.

But, like a graven image,


Black Auster kept his place,
And ever wistfully he looked
Into his master’s face.
The raven-mane that daily,
With pats and fond caresses,
The young Herminia washed and combed,
And twined in even tresses,
And decked with coloured ribands
From her own gay attire,
Hung sadly o’er her father’s corpse
In carnage and in mire.
Forth with a shout sprang Titus,
And seized black Auster’s rein.
Then Aulus swore a fearful oath,
And ran at him amain.
’The furies of thy brother
With me and mine abide,
If one of your accursed house
Upon black Auster ride!’
As on an Alpine watch-tower
From heaven comes down the flame,
Full on the neck of Titus
The blade of Aulus came;
And out the red blood spouted,
In a wide arch and tall,
As spouts a fountain in the court
Of some rich Capuan’s hall.
The knees of all the Latines
Were loosened with dismay
When dead, on dead Herminius,
The bravest Tarquin lay.

XXXI.

And Aulus the Dictator


Stroked Auster’s raven mane,
With heed he looked unto the girths,
With heed unto the rein.
’Now bear me well, black Auster,
Into yon thick array;
And thou and I will have revenge
For thy good lord this day.’

XXXII.

So spake he; and was buckling


Tighter black Auster’s band,
When he was aware of a princely pair
That rode at his right hand.
So like they were, no mortal
Might one from other know:
White as snow their armour was:
Their steeds were white as snow.
Never an earthly anvil
Did such rare armour gleam;
And never did such gallant steeds
Drink of an earthly stream.

XXXIII.

And all who saw them trembled,


And pale grew every check;
And Aulus the Dictator
Scarce gathered voice to speak.
’Say by what name men call you?
What city is your home?
And wherefore ride ye in such guise
Before the ranks of Rome?’

XXXIV.

’By many names men call us;


In many lands we dwell:
Well Samothracia knows us;
Cyrene knows us well.
Our house in gay Tarentum
Is hung each morn with flowers;
High o’er the masts of Syracuse
Our marble portal towers;
But by the proud Eurotas
Is our dear native home;
And for the right we come to fight
Before the ranks of Rome.’

XXXV.

So answered these strange horsemen,


And each couched low his spear;
And forthwith all the ranks of Rome
Were bold, and of good cheer;
And on the thirty armies
Came wonder and affright,
And Ardea wavered on the left,
And Cora on the right.
’Rome to the charge!’ cried Aulus;
’The foe begins to yield!
Charge for the hearth of Vesta!
Charge for the Golden Shield!
Let no man stop to plunder,
But slay, and slay, and slay;
The Gods who live for ever
Are on our side to-day.’

XXXVI.

Then the fierce trumpet-flourish


From earth to heave arose,
The kites know well the long stern swell
That bids the Romans close.
Then the good sword of Aulus
Was lifted up to slay:
Then, like a crag down Apennine,
Rushed Auster through the fray.
But under those strange horsemen
Still thicker lay the slain;
And after those strange horses
Black Auster toiled in vain.
Behind them Rome’s long battle
Came rolling on the foe,
Ensigns dancing wild above,
Blades all in line below.
So comes the Po in flood-time
Upon the Celtic plain:
So comes the squall, blacker than night,
Upon the African main.
Now, by our Sire Quirinus,
It was a goodly sight
To see the thirty standards
Swept down the tide of flight.
So flies the spray of Adria
When the black squall doth blow,
So corn-sheaves in the flood-time
Spin down the whirling Po.
False Sextus to the mountains
Turned first his horse’s head;
And fast fled Ferentinum,
And fast Lanuvium fled.
The horsemen of Nomentum
Spurred hard out of the fray;
The footmen of Velitrae
Threw shield and spear away,
And underfoot was trampled,
Amidst the mud and gore,
The banner of proud Tusculum,
That never stooped before:
And down went Flavius Faustus,
Who led his stately ranks
From where the apple blossoms wave
On Anio’s echoing banks,
And Tullus of Arpinum,
Chief of the Volscian aids,
And Metius with the long fair curls,
The love of Anxur’s maids,
And the white head of Vulso,
The great Arician seer,
And Nepos of Laurentum,
The hunter of the deer;
And in the back false Sextus
Felt the good Roman steel,
And wriggling in the dust he died,
Like a worm beneath the wheel:
And fliers and pursuers
Were mingled in a mass;
And far away the battle
When roaring through the pass.

XXXVII.

Sempronius Atratinus
Sate in the Eastern Gate,
Beside him were three Fathers,
Each in his chair of state;
Fabius, whose nine stout grandsons
That day were in the field,
And Manlius, eldest of the Twelve
Who kept the Golden Shield;
And Sergius, the High Pontiff,
For wisdom far renowned;
In all Etruria’s colleges
Was no such Pontiff found.
And all around the portal
And high above the wall,
Stood a great throng of people,
But sad and silent all;
Young lads, and stooping elders
That might not bear the mail,
Matrons with lips that quivered,
And maids with faces pale.
Since the first gleam of daylight,
Sempronius had not ceased
To listen for the rushing
Of horse-hoofs from the east.
The mist of eve was rising,
The sun was hastening down,
When he was aware of a princely pair
Fast pricing towards the town.
So like they were, man never
Saw twins so like before;
Red with gore their armour was,
Their steeds were red with gore.

XXXVIII

’Hail to the great Asylum!


Hail to the hill-tops seven!
Hail to the fire that burns for aye,
And the shield that fell from heaven!
This day, by Lake Regillus,
Under the Porcian height,
All in the lands of Tusculum
Was fought a glorious fight.
To-morrow your Dictator
Shall bring in triumph home
The spoils of thirty cities
To deck the shrines of Rome!’

XXXIX.

Then burst from that great concourse


A shout that shook the towers,
And some ran north, and some ran south,
Crying, ’The day is ours!’
But on rode these strange horsemen,
With slow and lordly pace;
And none who saw their bearing
Durst ask their name or race.
On rode they to the Forum,
While laurel-boughs and flowers,
From house-tops and from windows,
Fell on their crests in showers.
When they drew nigh to Vesta,
They vaulted down amain,
And washed their horses in the well
That springs by Vesta’s fane.
And straight again they mounted,
And rode to Vesta’s door;
Then, like a blast, away they passed,
And no man saw them more.

XL.

And all the people trembled,


And apple grew every cheek;
And Sergius the High Pontiff
Alone found voice to speak:
’The gods who live for ever
Have fought for Rome to-day!
These be the Great Twin Brethren
To whom the Dorians pray.
Back comes the Chief in triumph
Who, in the hour of fight,
Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren
In harness on his right.
Safe comes to the ship to haven,
Through billows and through gales
If once the Great Twin Brethren
Sit shining on the sails.
Wherefore they washed their horses
In Vesta’s holy well,
Wherefore they rode to Vesta’s door,
I know, but may not tell.
Here, hard by Vesta’s Temple,
Build we a stately dome
Unto the Great Twin Brethren
Who fought so well for Rome.
And when the months returning
Bring back this day of fight,
The proud Ides of Quintilis,
Marked evermore with white,
Unto the Great Twin Brethren
Let all the people throng,
With chaplets and with offerings,
With music and with song;
And let the doors and windows
Be hung with garlands all,
And let the Knights be summoned
To Mars without the wall:
Thence let them ride in purple
With joyous trumpet-sound,
Each mounted on his war-horse,
And with each olive crowned;
And pass in solemn order
Before the sacred dome,
Where dwell the Great Twin Brethren
Who fought so well for Rome!’

10. Mercury and Silly Nonsense: This following selection of hymns, poems, readings, and songs to
Mercury is dedicated to Silly Nonsense and the sort of hijinks beloved of all those who, “. . . like
schoolboy / With shining morning face / Creeping like snail / Unwillingly to school . . .” still have
fond memories of youth – and dark ones of the collective Enemy, the dreaded coalition of
Teacher-Parents-Truant Officer. Includes “Jabberwocky,” by Lewis Carroll; “Mine Eyes Have
Seen the Glory of the Burning of the School” (traditional after-school hymn); “From the Hall’s of
School’s Dark Prison” (playground marching-song); “Deck the Halls” (no, not a Christmas carol
– this one is a celebratory hymn by children everywhere on the joys of wish-fulfillment); “The
Ants Go Marching”

a. “Jabberwocky,” by Lewis Carroll

The lyrics for “Jabberwocky” are as that eminent composer and jazz-man Lewis Carroll wrote
them:

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves,


Did gyre and gimble in the wabe,
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!


The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!

The tune, appropriately enough, is shared with “Greensleeves.” See Marcia and Jon Pankake, A
Prairie Home Companion Folk Song Book (New York: Viking, 1988), p. 91.

b. “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Burning of the School”
“Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Burning of the School,” ibid., p. 100. The tune is that to “The
Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Author’s comment: “This song was submitted with more
variations than any other sent to the Department of Folk Song.” (In fact, it even has a
complimentary version, that from the other side of the same endless school wars, “Mine Eyes
Have Seen the Horror of the Ending of the Term,” to be sung by those who didn’t quite cut the
academic mustard during the school year and are now facing June Doom in the form of report-
cards or G.P.A. assessments. See ibid., p. 101.)

“Mine eyes have seen the glory


Of the burning of the school
We have tortured every teacher
We have broken every rule
We have marched into the office
And we killed the principal
The school is burning down!

Chorus: Glory, glory, hallelujah


Teacher hit me with a ruler
I met her at the door with a loaded .44
The school is burning down!

We have barbecued the janitor


And hung the principal
We stabbed the secretary
And bombed the P.T.A.
We’re walkin’ down the hallways
Writing cusswords on the wall
The school is burning down!

Chorus: Glory, glory, hallelujah


Teacher hit me with a ruler
I hit her in the seater with a fifty-millimeter
And that teacher won’t teach no more!”

c. “From the Halls of School’s Dark Prison,” ibid., p. 99. The tune is that to “The Marine’s Hymn,”
or, “From the Halls of Montezuma to the Shores of Tripoli,” 1919, based on a theme from
Offenbach’s Genevieve de Brabant, 1868.

From the halls of school’s dark prison


To the shores of Bubblegum Bay
We will fight our teachers’ battles
With spitballs, gum, and clay.
First to fight for right to recess
Then to keep our desks a mess
We are proud to claim the title
Of “Teacher’s Little Pests.”

d. “Deck the Halls,” ibid., p. 99. Tune is that of the traditional Christmas carol of the same name.

Deck the halls with gas-o-line,


Fa la la la la la la la la!
Light a match and watch it gle-am,
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Watch the school burn down to ashes,
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Aren’t you glad you played with matches?
Fa la la la la la la la la!

e. “The Ants Go Marching,” sung to the tune of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” – a
children’s song calculated to drive all adults in the area stark, staring mad when, after about ten
verses, it is evident that the song never does have to end and the little darlings have lungs of steel
and the will to keep on going unto infinity . . . Incidentally, this song was used to good effect in
Steven Spielberg’s lovely movie, Antz.

Oh . . .
The ants go marching one by one,
Hurrah, hurrah!
The ants go marching one by one,
Hurrah, hurrah!
The ants go marching one by one,
The last one stops to shoot his gun,

Chorus: And they all go marching


Out the door, under the door,
Down the drain, into the rain!

The ants go marching two by two,


Hurrah, hurrah!
The ants go marching two by two,
Hurrah, hurrah!
The ants go marching two by two,
The last one stops to tie his shoe,

Chorus:

Verses may be constructed ad infinitum ad nauseam by varying the number of ants and rhyming what
the last one does accordingly. The actions of that last damned ant may be clean, obscene, or whatever
depending upon the taste (or lack thereof) of the singers.

Part 4: Hymns of Venus: Songs, Poems, and Readings of Love in All Its Aspects – Lovers, Family,
Friends, Neighbors, Comrades, Country, Humanity, World

Venus, Sephirah 7, Netzach, “Triumph (of Love)”

1. “Greensleeves.” This gorgeous English folk-tune is known the world over. In the lyrics given here,
it invokes Venus in Taurus as Goddess of Profane Love; other lyrics recall the Christ-child and
the Christian Passion, associated with Agape, Venus in Pisces. It is thus perfect for invoking the
Goddess of Love, both Earthly and Heavenly.

Alas! my love,
You do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously,
And I have loved you so long,
Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was all my joy,


Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
2. “Londonerry Air” is another world-renowned folk tune, this one Irish, which has several sets of
lyrics. The ones given for it here constitute a love-song, and thus a good tool for invoking Venus.

Would God I were the tender apple blossom


That floats and falls from off the twisted bough
To lie and faint within your silken bosom, within your silken bosom,
As that does now.

Or would I were a little burnish’d apple


For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold,
While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple, your robe of lawn,
And your hairs spun gold.

3. “The Sunne Rising,” by John Donne (1573-1631)

Busie old foole, unruly Sunne,


Why dost thou thus,
Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide
Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices,
Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride,
Call countrey ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme,
Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time.

Thy beames, so reverend, and strong


Why shouldn’t thou thinke?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke,
But that I would not lose her sight so long:
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee,
Whether both the India’s of spice and Myne
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee.
Aske for those Kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay.
She’is all States, and all Princes, I,
Nothing else is. Princes doe but play us; compar’d to this,
All honor’s mimique; All wealth alchimie.
Thou sunne art halfe as happy’as wee,
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age askes ease, and since thy duties bee
To warme the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.

4. On the nature and place of sex in the lives of Americans, prose discourse by Thomas P. Lowry,
M.D., in his The Story the Shoulders Wouldn’t Tell (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1994):

Sex, in our society, has always occupied a peculiar place. It produced all of us; it is
the thread that links every generation; it intrudes into the thoughts of most adult men
(and many women); and it is at the same time denounced, hidden, mocked, and
trivialized. It is at once the highest and the lowest, the brightest and the darkest. The
ruler of American sex would be the Prince of Ambivalence. And, indeed, sex contains
within itself both the best and the worst of human possibilities.
If you asked the author’s own views of sexuality in human life, the answer would
parallel that of the legendary Southern senator when asked by a constituent about his
views on whiskey: ’Sir, you have asked my stand on the subject of whiskey. Well, if by
whiskey you mean that degradation of the noble barley, that burning fluid which sears the
throats of the innocent, that vile liquid that sets men to fighting in low saloons, from
whence they go forth to beat their wives and children, that liquor the Devil spawns which
reddens the eye, coarsens the features and ages the body beyond its years, then I am
against it with all my soul. But, sir, if by whiskey you mean that diadem of the distiller’s
art, that nimble golden ambrosia which loosens the tongue of the sky, gladdens the heart
of the lonely, comforts the afflicted, rescues the snake-bitten, warms the frozen, and
brings the joys of conviviality to men during their hard-earned moments of relaxation,
then I am four-square in favor of whiskey. From these opinions I shall not waver.’
The author’s opinions on the matters with which this book is concerned might be
stated in similar fashion: ’If, by sex, you mean that engine that moves the terrible wheels
of lust, that carnal burr under the saddle that hurls men of the Gospel down from their
pulpits, that tickle that causes kings to abandon their thrones for a sniff of some sweet
thing, that demon that turns the heads of captains and generals, so that they whisper
breathless nonsense and military secrets into the ear of some doe-eyed double agent, that
frenzy that leads men of common sense to thrust aside their loyal wives, weeping
children, and vested pension funds to run off with secretaries with half their years and
education, that terrible strength that enables an underweight young man to couple with
twenty different partners between Friday and Monday in a poorly lit Turkish bath, that
dizzying blindness that allows those who brush twice a day and floss every night to risk
heartbreak, herpes, AIDS, syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and lymphogranuloma
venereum for the sake of a pelvic spasm, that force that causes altar boys to flog
themselves silly in a soapy bathtub, torn between guilt and excitement, if that is what you
mean by sex, then I am irrevocably opposed to it.
’However, if by sex you mean that delectable gift of heaven that showers its
blessings upon the committed souls so that their hearts beat as one, that force that inspires
the long-married to walk holding hands in the cool of the evening, that urge to enjoy the
fruit of such unions and provide the twenty-two years of endurance, orthodontia, and
tuition hikes that such offspring engender, that force that quickens the pulse when the
loved one’s footsteps are heard on the porch, that ever-flowing font of shared memories,
of binding pleasures, or that drive that causes a pair of geese to mate for life, ever-faithful
to their troth, generous, companionate, and true, then I am four-square in favor of sex.’
Clearly, the prince of Ambivalence has not been dethroned. . . .

5. Venus, the consort of Mars: “Lili Marlene”

Vor der Kaseme,


Vor dem grossen Tor,
Standt eine lanterne
Und Steht sie noch davor.

So woll’n wir da uns weidersehen,


Bei derLanterne woll’n wir stehen.
Wie einst Lili Marlene,
Wie einst Lili Marlene.

(Original German lyrics kindly provided by L. Neil Smith)

6. “How Do I Love Thee?,” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.


I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! – and, if god choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

7. “For Cryin’ Out Loud,” by Meatloaf, Copyright 1977 by Edward B. Marks Music Corp.

8. “You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth (Hot Summer Nights),” by Meatloaf

9. “Heaven Can Wait,” by Meatloaf

10. “Bat Out of Hell,” by Meatloaf

11. “All Revved Up With No Place to Go,” by Meatloaf

12. “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” by Meatloaf

13. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” by Meatloaf

14. “I’d do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That),” by Meatloaf

15. “Good Girls go to Heaven (Bad Girls go Everywhere),” by Meatloaf

16. “Darkest Hour,” by Arlo Guthrie

Part 5: Hymns, Songs, Poems, and Readings for Invocations of the Sun

Sol, Sephirah 6, Tiphareth, “Beauty”

1. “The Sunne Rising,” by John Donne (1573-1631)

Busie old foole, unruly Sunne,


Why dost thou thus,
Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide
Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices,
Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride,
Call countrey ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme,
Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time.

Thy beames, so reverend, and strong


Why shouldn’t thou thinke?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke,
But that I would not lose her sight so long:
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee,
Whether both the India’s of spice and Myne
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee.
Aske for those Kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay.
She’is all States, and all Princes, I,
Nothing else is. Princes doe but play us; compar’d to this,
All honor’s mimique; All wealth alchimie.
Thou sunne art halfe as happy’as wee,
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age askes ease, and since thy duties bee
To warme the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.

Part 6: Hymns, Songs, Poems, and Readings for Invocations of Mars, God of War, the Protector

Mars, Sephirah 5, Geburah, “Strength/Severity”

1. Mars as Home and World: “From ’Along the Grand Canal,’“ by Robert A. Heinlein. From his
“The Green Hills of Earth,” copyright 1947 by The Curtis Publishing Co., included in his The
Past Through Tomorrow (New York: Berkley Books, 1967), p. 366

As Time and Space come bending back to shape this star-specked scene,
The tranquil tears of tragic joy still spread their silver sheen;
Along the Grand Canal still soar the fragile Towers of Truth;
Their fairy grace defends this place of Beauty, calm and couth.

Bone-tired the race that raised the Towers, forgotten are their lores;
Long gone the gods who shed the tears that lap these crystal shores.
Slow beats the time-worn heart of Mars beneath this icy sky;
The thin air whispers voicelessly that all who live must die –

Yet still the lacy spires of Truth sing Beauty’s madrigal


And she herself will ever dwell along the Grand Canal!”

2. Mars as Protector of the Defenseless, Defender of Justice, the Righteous Warrior: “Recessional”
(1897) by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

God of our fathers, known of old,


Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine –
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies;


The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away;


On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose


Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law –
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust


In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word –
Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!

3. “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” lyrics by Julia Ward Howe, circa 1861, tune probably by
William Steffe, circa 1855. William Steffe, a Sunday School hymn composer, is believed to have
written the original melody that was eventually incorporated in “The Battle-Hymn of the
Republic.” In 1856 the melody was slowly gaining in popularity in the North, and after John
Brown’s unsuccessful attempt to incite a slave rebellion, the Webster Regiment adopted the
hymn’s tune in 1861 and set words to it commemorating him, “John Brown’s Body.” Julia Ward
Howe, who saw the Northern troops marching to battle singing “John Brown’s Body,” wrote the
present version of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loos’d the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.

Chorus:
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;


They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps:
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.

Chorus:

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish’d rows of steel:


“As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on.

Chorus

He has sounded forth the trumpet


That shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men
Before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him;
Be jubilant, my feet;
Our God is marching on.

Chorus

In the beauty of the lilies


Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom
That transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy,
Let us die to make men free;
While God is marching on.

Chorus

4. “Dixie,” lyrics by Daniel D. Emmet, 1859. In 1859, Daniel Emmet, a member of the popular troupe
of “Bryant’s Minstrels,” was asked to provide a new song for a change of repertoire. Emmet
arrived at the first rehearsal with “Dixie.” Although written by a native of Ohio, “Dixie” was
picked up in New Orleans a year after its appearance, and from there on it became the favorite of
the Confederacy.

I wish I was in de land ob cotton,


Old times dar am not forgotten,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land whar I was born in,
Early on one frosty mornin’,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus: Den I wish I was in Dixie,


Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I’ll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie;
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

Chorus:

Old Missus marry Will de Weaber,


Willyum was a gay deceaber;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
But when he put his arm around ’er,
He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:

His face was sharp as a butcher’s cleaber,


But dat did not seem to greab ’er,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Old Missus acted de foolish part,
And died for a man dat broke her heart.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:
Now here’s health to the next old Missus,
An’ all the gals dat want to kiss us;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
But if you want to drive ’way sorrow,
Come and hear dis song tomorrow.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:

Dar’s buckwheat cakes and Injun batter,


Makes you fat or a little fatter;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble,
To Dixie’s land I’m bound to trabble.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

5. “Marching Thro’ Georgia,” words and music by Henry C. Work, was written in 1865 by the
Abolitionist Henry Clay Work, from Connecticut. This song was a reminder of General
Sherman’s famous march from Atlanta to the sea. So universally well-known did it become that
the British Army sang it during the first World War, and even the Japanese are said to have played
it when entering Port Arthur.

Bring the good old bugle, boys, we’ll sing another song.
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along.
Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching thro’ Georgia.

Chorus:
“Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!”
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching thro’ Georgia.

How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful sound!
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found!
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
While we were marching thro’ Georgia.

Chorus:

Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honor’d flag they had not seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
While we were marching thro’ Georgia.

Chorus:

“Sherman’s dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!”


So the saucy rebels said, and ’twas a handsome boast,
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the host,
While we were marching thro’ Georgia.

Chorus:

So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train,


Sixty miles in latitude – three hundred to the main;
Treason fled before us, for resistance ’twas in vain,
While we were marching thro’ Georgia.

6. “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching,” words and music by George F. Root, circa 1861:
The enormous losses of the Northern army spurred him to write this prisoner’s lament of the
American Civil War. With varying lyrics, it has been a marching song for American troops in
every campaign and war since the Civil War. No song better expresses the esoteric principle, “At
the heart of Neptune is Mars.”

In the prison cell I sat, thinking, Mother dear, of you,


And our bright and happy some so far away;
And the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do,
Tho’ I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

Chorus:
Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the boys are marching,
Cheer up, comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag,
We shall breathe the air again,
Of the freedom in our own beloved home.

In the battle front we stood, when the fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off a hundred men and more;
But before we reached their lines they were beaten back, dismayed,
And we heard the cry of vict’ry o’er and o’er.

Chorus:

So within the prison cell, we are waiting for the day,


That shall come to open wide the iron door.
And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost gay,
As we sing of seeing home and friends once more.

7. At His best, Mars is that valour that gives its all in the service of Life. In a note left by Commander
Robert F. Scott (1868-1912) before he died on his ill-fated 1912 expedition to the South Pole, he
wrote the following, which perfectly expresses the valiant heart of Mars:

I do not regret this journey. We took risks; we knew we took them. Things have
come out against us. Therefore we have no call for complaint.

8. “Courage,” by Amelia Earhart Putnam (1898-1937): As we will see further on, in “Horatius at the
Bridge,” one of the heraldic beasts of Mars is the wolf. But another is the eagle, above all the
American eagle, whose motto is, “Flies highest – sees farthest.” From this most valiant of all
American eagles, the aviatrix nonpareil Amelia Earhart, comes the following poem, which
expresses the very heart of Mars:

Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.


The soul that knows it not, knows no release
From little things;
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sound of wings.
9. The willingness to fight on and on for one’s goals when the odds against one seem hopeless is
among Mars’ greatest virtues. This virtue is beautifully exemplified in the following words of
John Paul Jones, founder of our country’s first Navy:

I have not yet begun to fight.

– John Paul Jones (1747-1792), aboard the Bonhomme Richard [September 23, 1779]

10. “In the heart of Neptune is Mars.” Neptune rules sacrifice. Sometimes, the warrior is called upon
to risk everything – and, ultimately, to sacrifice it. The courage to accept that risk, and face the
necessity or doom of such sacrifice with grace, are two of the highest of all the attributes of Mars.
In our own nation’s history, there have been many examples of men and women who, incarnating
these greatest of Martial virtues, paid the ultimate sacrifice – soldiers, sailors, firemen, police,
citizens in all walks and ranks of life, with one great thing in common: the courage to sacrifice
oneself – for the greater self that lives on through one’s community and one’s world. One of the
most famous of these was Nathan Hale (1755-1776), a young American patriot who, captured by
the British during the American Revolutionary War, was hanged as a spy on September 22, 1776..
These are his last words:

I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.

11. 9 is a number of power and completion, one often associated with Mars. For the 11th and last
entry of this section of readings devoted to Mars, we offer “Horatius: A Lay Made About the
Year of the City CCLX,” by Thomas Babington Lord Macaulay.* This gorgeous oratorical poem
is an old bugbear of schoolboys attending the old-fashioned sort of prep school (the kind where
you really were taught the so-called basic skills, so well that today you seem to be a wizard
compared to the poor wights who had at best only a “modern American education”), one that
pupils had to memorize by heart, all 70 rolling stanzas of it. But it is worth memorizing, and
certainly worth reciting. For, though certainly in large part, at least, apocryphal, it is one of the
most stirring evocations of the essential spirit of Mars that has ever been written in the English
language. Macaulay, who translated it from the original Latin, says of it:

The following ballad is supposed to have been made about a hundred and twenty
years after the war which it celebrates, and just before the taking of [Old, pre-Christian]
Rome by the Gauls. The author seems to have been an honest citizen, proud of the
military glory of his country, sick of the disputes of factions, and much given to pining
after good old times which had never really existed. The allusion, however, to the partial
manner in which the public lands were allotted could proceed only from a plebeian; and
the allusion to the fraudulent sale of spoils marks the date of the poem, and shows that the
poet shared in the general discontent with which the proceedings of Camillus, after the
taking of Veii, were regarded.
The God of the Roman Republic, and later of the Old Roman Empire, was Mars, the
Shepherd-God, defender of the City of Rome and her people.** This poem is a
celebration of the best of the Martial spirit, and most appropriate for this last, ninth entry
of this section of readings devoted to Mars.

*From Lord Macaulay’s Essays and Lays of Ancient Rome (London: Longmans Green and Co., 1896), pp.
833-852.

**Old Rome was also ruled by Gemini, due to its (apocryphal) founding by the brothers Romulus and
Remus. Oddly, the United States of America is, at least in astrological and Magickal terms, very
similar to ancient Rome, for our natal chart has Gemini on the Ascendant – and Mars in the First
House, in Gemini. (In addition, we also have Uranus in the First conjunct both the Ascendant and the
Fixed Star Aldebaran, which is a Martial Star. This strengthens the influence of Mars in our chart,
increasing our esoteric ties to Old Rome.)

I.
Lars Porsena of Clusium
By the Nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it,
And named a trysting day,
And bade his messengers ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his army.

II.
East and west and south and north
The messengers ride fast,
And tower and town and cottage
Have heard the trumpet’s blast.
Shame on the false Etruscan
Who lingers in his home,
When Porsena of Clusium
Is on the march for Rome.

III.
The horsemen and the footmen
Are pouring in amain
From many a stately market-place;
From many a fruitful plain;
From many a lonely hamlet,
Which, hid by beech and pine,
Like an eagle’s nest, hangs on the crest
Of purple Appennine;

IV.
From lordly Volaterrae,
Where scowls the far-famed hold
Pile by the hands of giants
For godlike kings of old;
From seagirt Populonia,
Whose sentinels descry
Sardinia’s snowy mountain-tops
Fringing the southern sky;

V.
From the proud mart of Pisae,
Queen of the western waves,
Where ride Massilia’s triremes
Heavy with fair-haired slaves;
From where sweet Clanis wanders
Through corn and vines and flowers;
From where Cortona lifts to heaven
Her diadem of towers.
VI.
Tall are the oaks whose acorns
Drop in dark Auser’s rill;
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs
Of the Cominian hill;
Beyond all streams Clitumnus
Is to the herdsman dear;
Best of all pools the fowler loves
The great Volsinian mere.

VII.
But now no stroke of woodman
Is heard by Auser’s rill;
No hunter tracks the stag’s green path
Up the Ciminian hill;
Unwatched along Clitumnus
Graces the milk-white steer;
Unharmed the water fowl may dip
In the Volsinian mere.

VIII.
The harvests of Arretium,
This year, old men shall reap,
This year, young boys in Umbro
Shall plunge the struggling sheep;
And in the vats of Luna,
This year, the must shall foam
Round the white feet of laughing girls
Whose sires have marched to Rome.

IX.
There be thirty chosen prophets,
The wisest of the land,
Who always by Lars Porsena
Both morn and even stand:
Evening and morn the Thirty
Have turned the verses o’er,
Traced from the right on linen white
By might seers of yore.

X.
And with one voice the Thirty
Have their glad answer given:
’Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena,
Go forth, beloved of Heaven;
Go, and return in glory
To Clusium’s royal dome;
And hang round Nurscia’s altars
The golden shields of Rome.’

XI.
And now hath every city
Sent up her tale of men;
The foot are fourscore thousand,
The hors are thousands ten.
Before the gates of Sutrium
Is met the great array.
A proud man was Lars Porsena
Upon the trysting day.

XII.
For all the Etruscan armies
Were ranged beneath his eye,
And many a banished Roman,
And many a stout ally;
And with a mighty following
To join the muster came
The Tusculan Mamillius,
Prince of the Latine name.

XIII.
But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign
To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city,
The throng stopped up the ways;
A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days.

XIV.
For aged folks on crutches,
And women great with child,
And mothers sobbing over babes
That clung to them and smiled,
And sick men borne in litters
High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sun-burned husbandmen
With reaping-hooks and staves,

XV.
And droves of mules and asses
Laden with skins of wine,
And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine,
And endless trains of waggons
That creaked beneath the weight
Of corns sacks and of household goods,
Choked every roaring gate.

XVI.
Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the City,
They sat all night and day,
For every hour some horseman came
With tidings of dismay.

XVII.
To eastward and to westward
Have spread the Tuscan bands;
Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote
In Crustumerium stands.
Verbenna down to Ostia
Hath wasted all the plain;
Astur hath stormed Janiculum,
And the stout guards are slain.

XVIII.
I wish, in all the Senate,
There was no heart so bold,
But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
When that ill news was told.
Forthwith up rose the Consul,
Up rose the fathers all;
In haste they girded up their gowns,
And hied them to the wall.

XIX.
They held a council standing
Before the River-Gate;
Short time was there, ye well may guess,
For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly:
’The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost,
Nought else can save the town.’

XX.
Just then a scout came flying,
All wild with haste and fear:
’To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
Lars Porsena is here.’
On the low hills westward
The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust
Rise fast along the sky.

XXI.
And nearer fast and nearer
Doth the red whirlwind come;
And louder still and still more loud,
From underneath that rolling cloud,
Is heard the trumpet’s war-note proud,
The trampling, and the hum.
And plainly and more plainly
Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left and far to right,
In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,
The long army of spears.

XXII.
And plainly and more plainly,
Above that glimmering line,
Now might ye see the banners
Of twelve fair cities shine;
But the banner of proud Clusium
Was highest of them all,
The terror of the Umbrian,
The terror of the Gaul.

XXIII.
And plainly and more plainly
Now might the burghers know,
By port and vest, by horse and crest,
Each warlike Lucumo.
There Cilnius of Arretium
On his fleet roan was seen;
And Astur of the four-fold shield
Girt with the brand none else may wield,
Telumnius with the belt of gold,
And dark Verbenna from the hold
By reedy Thrasymene.

XXIV.
Fast by the royal standard,
O’erlooking all the war,
Lars Porsena of Clusium
Sat in his ivory car.
By the right wheel rode Mamilius,
Prince of the Latine name;
And by the left false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame.

XXV.
But when the face of Sextus
Was seen among the foes,
A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.
On the house-tops was no woman
But spat towards him and hissed,
No child but screamed out curses,
And shook its little fist.

XXVI.
But the Consul’s brow was sad,
And the Consul’s speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
’Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town?’

XXVII
Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate:
’To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the altars of his Gods,

XXVIII.
‘And for the tender mother
Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses
His baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens
Who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus
That wrought the deed of shame?

XXIX.
’Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
With all the speed ye may;
I, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand
And keep the bridge with me?’

XXX.
Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
A Ramnian proud was he:
’Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
And keep the bridge with thee.’
And out spake strong Herminius;
Of Titian blood was he:
’I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee.’

XXXI.
’Horatius,’ quoth the Consul,
’As thou sayest, so let it be.’
And straight against that great array
Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Roman’s in Rome’s quarrel
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife,
Nor limb nor life,
In the brave days of old.

XXXII.
Then none was for a party;
They all were for the state;
Then the great man helped the poor,
And the poor man loved the great:
Then lands were fairly portioned;
Then spoils were fairly sold:
The Romans were like brothers
In the brave days of old.

XXXIII.
Now Roman is to Roman
More hateful than a foe,
And the Tribunes beard the high,
And the Fathers grind the low.
As we wax hot in faction,
In battle we wax cold;
Wherefore men fight not as they fought
In the brave days of old.

XXXIV.
Now while the Three were tightening
Their harness on their backs,
The Consul was the foremost man
To take in hand an axe:
And Fathers mixed with Commons
Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
And smote upon the planks above,
And loosed the props below.

XXXV.
Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
Right glorious to behold
Came flashing back the noonday light,
Rank behind rank, like surges bright
Of a broad sea of gold.
Four hundred trumpets sounded
A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host, with measured tread,
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
Rolled slowly toward the bridge’s head,
Where stood the dauntless Three.

XXXVI.
The Three stood calm and silent,
And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter
From all the vanguard rose:
And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
And lifted high their shields, and flew
To win the narrow way;

XXXVII.
Aunus from green Tifernum,
Lord of the Hill of Vines;
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
Sicken in Ilva’s mines;
And Picus, long to Clusium
Vassal in peace and war,
Who led to fight his Umbrian powers
From that grey crag where, girt with towers,
The fortress of Nequinum lowers
O’er the pale waves of Nar.

XXXVIII.
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
Into the stream beneath:
Herminius struck at Seius,
And clove him to the teeth:
At Picus brave Horatius
Darted one fiery thrust;
And the proud Umbrian’s gilded arms
Clashed in the bloody dust.

XXXIX.
Then Ocnus of Falerii
Rushed on the Roman Three;
And Lausulus of Urgo,
The rover of the sea;
And Aruns of Volsiunium,
Who slew the great wild boar,
The great wild board that had his den
Among the reeds of Cosa’s fen,
And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
Along Albinia’s shore.

XL.
Herminius smote down Aruns:
Lartius laid Ocnus low:
Right to the heart of Lausulus
Horatius sent a blow.
’Lie there,’ he cried, ’fell pirate!
No more, aghast and pale,
From Ostia’s walls the crowd shall mark
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania’s hinds shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy
Thy thrice accursed sail.’

XLI.
But now no sound of laughter
Was heard among the foes.
A wild and wrathful clamour
From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears’ length from the entrance
Halted that deep array,
And for a space no man came forth
To win the narrow way.

XLII.
But hark! the cry is Astur:
And lo! the ranks divide;
And the great Lord of Luna
Comes with his stately stride.
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the four-fold shield,
And in his hand he shakes the brand
Which none but he can wield.

XLIII.
He smiled on those bold Romans
A smile serene and high;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, ’The she-wolf’s litter*
Stand savagely at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way?’

*I.e., the Romans, in particular Horatio, Spurius Lartius, and Herminius, who defended the “narrow way”
into the city of Rome. Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were supposedly abandoned at
birth and raised by a she-wolf, suckled right alongside her own cubs. The wolf, like the raven, is
traditionally associated with Mars.

XLIV.
Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the height,
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow.
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
The Tuscans raised a fearful cry
To see the red blood flow.

XLV.
He reeled, and on Herminius
He leaned one breathing-space;
Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds,
Sprang right at Astur’s face.
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet
So fierce a thrust he sped,
the good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan’s head.

XLVI.
And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus
A thunder-smitten oak.
Far o’er the crashing forest
The giant arms lie spread;
And the pale augurs, muttering low,
Gaze on the blasted head.

XLVII.
On Astur’s throat Horatius
Right firmly pressed his heel,
And thrice and four times tugged amain,
Ere he wrenched out the steel.
’And see,’ he cried, ’the welcome,
Fair guests, that waits you here!
What noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer?’

XLVIII.
But at his haughty challenge
A sullen murmur ran,
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,
Along that glittering van.
There lacked not men of prowess,
Nor men of lordly race;
For all Etruria’s noblest
Were round the fatal place.

XLIX.
But all Etruria’s noblest
Felt their hearts sink to see
On the earth the bloody corpses
In the path the dauntless Three:
And, from the ghastly entrance
Where those bold Romans stood,
All shrank, like boys who unaware,
Ranging the woods to start a hare,
Come to the mouth of the dark lair
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
Lies amidst bones and blood.

L.
Was none who would be foremost
To lead such dire attack:
But those behind cried ’Forward!’
And those before cried ’Back!’
And backward now and forward
Wavers the deep array;
And on the tossing sea of steel,
To and fro the standards reel;
And the victorious trumpet-peal
Dies fitfully away.

LI.
Yet one man for one moment
Stood out before the crowd;
Well known was he to all the Three,
And they gave him greeting loud.
’Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
Now welcome to thy home!
Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
Here lies the road to Rome.’

LII.
Thrice looked he at the city;
Thrice looked he at the dead;
And thrice came on in fury,
And thrice turned back in dread:
And, white with fear and hatred,
Scowled at the narrow way
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
The bravest Tuscans lay.

LIII.
But meanwhile axe and lever
Have manfully been plied;
And now the bridge hangs tottering
Above the boiling tide.
’Come back, come back, Horatius!’
Loud cried the Fathers all.
’Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
Back, ere the ruin fall!’

LIV.
Back darted Spurius Lartius;
Herminius darted back:
And, as they passed, beneath their feet
They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces,
And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
They would have crossed once more.

LV.
But with a crash like thunder
Fell every loosened beam,
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
Lay right athwart the stream:
And a long shout of triumph
Rose from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops
Was splashed the yellow foam.

LVI.
And, like a horse unbroken
When first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard,
And tossed his tawny mane,
And burst the curb, and bounded,
Rejoicing to be free,
And whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
Rushed headlong to the sea.

LVII.
Alone stood brave Horatius,
But constant still in mind;
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
And the broad flood behind.
’Down with him!’ cried false Sextus,
With a smile on his pale face.
’Now yield thee,’ cried Lars Porsena,
’Now yield thee to our grace.’

LVIII.
Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see;
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus nought spake he;
But he saw on Palatinus
The white porch of his home;
And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the towers of Rome.

LIX.
‘Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge this day!’
So he spake, and speaking sheathed
The good sword by his side,
And with his harness on his back,
Plunged headlong in the tide.

LX.
No sound of joy or sorrow
Was heard from either bank;
But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
With parted lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank;
And when above the surges
They saw his crest appear,
all Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
And even the ranks of Tuscany
Could scarce forbear to cheer.

LXI.
But fiercely ran the current,
Swollen high by months of rain:
And fast his blood was flowing;
And he was sore in pain,
And heavy with his armour,
And spent with changing blows:
And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose.

LXII.
Never, I ween, did swimmer,
In such an evil case,
Struggle through such a raging flood
Safe to the landing place:
But his limbs were born up bravely
By the brave heart within,
And our good father Tiber
Bore bravely up his chin.

LXIII.
’Curse on him!’ quoth false Sextus;
’Will not the villain drown?
But for this stay, ere close of day
We should have sacked the town!’
’Heaven help him!’ quoth Lars Porsena,
’And bring him safe to shore;
For such a gallant feat of arms
Was never seen before.’

LXIV.
And now he feels the bottom;
Now on dry earth he stands;
Now round him throng the Fathers
To press his gory hands;
And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the River-Gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd.

LXV.
They gave him of the corn-land,
That was of public right,
As much as two strong oxen
Could plough from morn till night;
And they made a molten image,
And set it up on high,
And there it stands unto this day
To witness if I lie.

LXVI.
It stands in the Comitium,
Plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness,
Halting upon one knee:
And underneath is written,
In letters all of gold,
How valiantly he kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

LXVII.
And still his name sounds stirring
Unto the men of Rome,
As the trumpet-blast the cries to them
To charge the Volscian home;
And wives still pray to Juno
For boys with hearts as bold
As his who kept the bridge so well
In the brave days of old.

LXVIII.
And in the nights of winter,
When the cold north winds blow,
And the long howling of the wolves
Is heard amidst the snow;
When round the lowly cottage
Roars loud the tempest’s din,
And the good logs of Algidus
Roar louder yet within;

LXIX.
When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit;
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle
Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

LXX.
When the goodman mends his armour,
And trims his helmet’s plume;
When the goodwife’s shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

Part 7: Hymns, Songs, Readings, and Poems for Invocations of Jupiter

Jupiter, Sephirah 4, Chesed, “Mercy”

1. “An Die Freude”, or “Ode to Joy,” composed in 1785 by Friedrich von Schiller (1759-1805), is one
of the best-known poems in the world, for it comprises the lyrics of the “Chorale” portion of
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. One of Jupiter’s archetypal rulerships is joy, which informs the
entirety of the “Chorale” portion of that work, so this is an outstanding ritual tool for invocations
of Jupiter. (The English translation given here is by Norman Macleod, as collected in A Little
Treasury of World Poetry: Translations from the Great Poets of Other Languages 2600 B.C. to
1950 A.D [edited by Hubert Creekmore. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1952], pp. 740-
741.)

Joy, of flame celestial fashioned,


Daughter of Elysium,
By that holy fire impassioned
To thy sanctuary we come.
Thine the spells that reunited
Those estranged by Custom dread,
Every man a brother plighted
Where thy gentle wings are spread.
Millions in our arms we gather,
To the world our kiss be sent!
Past the starry firmament,
Brothers, dwells a loving Father.

Who that height of bliss has proved


Once a friend of friends to be,
Who has won a maid beloved
Join us in our jubilee.
Whoso holds a heart in keeping,
One – in all the world – his own –
Who has failed, let him with weeping
From our fellowship begone!
All the mighty globe containeth
Homage to Compassion pay!
To the stars she leads the way
Where, unknown, the Godhead reigneth.
All drink joy from Mother Nature,
All she suckled at her breast,
Good or evil, every creature,
Follows where her foot has pressed.
Love she gave us, passing measure,
One Who true in death abode,
E’en the worm was granted pleasure,
Angels see the face of God.
Fall ye millions, fall before Him,
Is thy Maker, World, unknown?
Far above the stars His throne
Yonder seek Him and adore Him.

Joy, the spring of all contriving,


In eternal Nature’s plan,
Joy set wheels on wheels a-driving
Since earth’s horolongue began;
From the bud the blossom winning
Suns from out the sky she drew,
Spheres through boundless ether spinning
Worlds no gazer’s science knew.
Gladsome as her suns and glorious
Through the specious heavens career,
Brothers, so your courses steer
Heroes joyful and victorious.

She from Truth’s own mirror shining


Casts on sages glances gay,
Guides the sufferer unrepining
Far up Virtue’s steepest way;
On the hills of Faith all-glorious
Mark her sunlit banners fly,
She, in death’s despite, victorious,
Stands with angels in the sky.
Millions, bravely sorrows bearing,
Suffer for a better time!
See, above the starry clime
God a great reward preparing.

Freude, schoner Goetterfunken,


Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum.
Deine Zauber binden wieder,
Was die Mode strength geteilt,
Alle Menschen werden Brueder,
Wo dein sanfter Fluegel weilt.

Chorus:
Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuss der ganzen Welt!
Brueder – ueberm Sternenzelt
Muss ein lieber Vater wohnen.

Wem der grosse Wurf gelungen,


Eines Freundes Freund zu sein,
Wer ein holdes Wiess errungen,
Mische seinen Jubel ein!
Ja – wer auch nur eine Seele
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!
Und wer’s nie gekonnt, der stehle
Winend sich aus diesem Bund.

Chorus:
Was den grossen Ring bewohnet,
Huldige der Sympathie!
Zu den Sternen leitet sie,
Wo der Unbekannte thronet.

Freude trinken alle Wesen


An den Bruesten der Natur,
Alle Guten, alle Bosen
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur.
Kusse gab sie uns und Reben,
Einen Freund, gepruft im Tod.
Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,
Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.

Chorus:
Ihr sturzt nieder, Millionen?
Ahnest du den Schopfer, Welt?
Such ihn uberm Sternenzelt!
Uber Sternen muss er wohnen.

Freude heisst die starke Feder


In her ewigen Natur.
Freude, freude treibt die Rader
In der grossen Weltenuhr.
Blumen locket sie aus den Keimen,
Sonnen aus dem Firmament,
Sphaeren rollt sie in den Raeumen,
Die est Sehers Rohr nicht kennt.

Chorus:
Froh, wie seine Sonnen Fliegen
Durch des Himmels praechtgen Plan,
Wandelt, Bruder, eure Bahn,
Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen,

Aus der Wahrheit Feuerspiegel


Laechelt sie den Forscher an.
Zu der Tugend steilem Huegel
Leitet sie des Dulders Bahn.
Auf des Glaubens Sonnenberge
Sieht man ihre Fahnen wehn,
Durch den Riss gesprengter Saerge
Sie im Chor der Engle stehn.

Chorus:
Duldet mutig Millionen!
Duldet fuer die bessre Welt!
Droben ueberm Sternenzelt
Wird ein grosser Gott belohnen.

Goettern kann man nicht vergelten,


Schoen ist’s, ihnen gleich zu sein,
Gram und Armut soll sich melden,
Mit den Frohen sich erfreun.
Groll und Rache sei vergessen,
Unserm Todfeind sei verziehn,
Keine Traene soll ihn pressen,
Keine Reue nage ihn.

Chorus:
Unser Schuldbuch sei vernichtet!
Ausgesoehnt die ganze Welt!
Brueder – ueberm Sternenzelt
Richtet Gott, wie wir gerichtet.

Freud sprudelt in Pokalen,


In der Traube goldnem Blut
Trinken Sanftmut Kannibalen,
Die Verzweiflung Heldenmut.
Brueder, fliegt von euren Sitzen,
Wenn der volle Roemer kreist,
Lasst den Schaum zum Himmel spritzen:
Dieses Glas dem guten Geist!

Chorus:
Den der Sterne Wirbel loben,
Den des Seraphs Hymne preist,
Dieses Glas dem guten Geist
Uberm sternenzelt dort oben!

Festen Mut in schweren Leiden,


Hilfe, wo die Unschuld weint,
Ewigkeit geschwornen Eiden,
Wahreit gegen Freund und Feind,
Maennerstolz vor Koenigsthronen –
Brueder, gaelt es Gut und Blut:
Dem Verdienste seine Kronen
Untergang der Luegenbrut!

Chorus:
Schliesst den heilgen Zirkel dichter,
Schwoert bei diesem goldnen Wein,
Dem Geluebde treu zu sein,
Schwoert es bei dem Sternenrichter!

2. “Tumbling Tumbleweeds,” by Bob Nolan (copyright 1934 by Williamson Music, Inc.). In 1930,
Bob Noaln joined Tim Spencer and Roy Rogers to form the original Sons of the Pioneers.
“Tumbling Tumbleweeds” was among the first which the group recorded, and became their theme
song. Gene Autry introduced it as the title song in his full-length movie in 1935, and Rogers sang
it in Silver Spurs in 1943.

See them tumbling down,


Pledging their love to the ground,
Lonely but free I’ll be found,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.

Cares of the past are behind,


Nowhere to go, but I’ll find
Just where the trail will wind,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.

I know, when night has gone


That a new world’s born at dawn.
I’ll keep rolling along,
Deep in my heart is a song,
Here on the range I belong,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.

3. “The New Jerusalem,” by William Blake (1757-1827)

One of the most exhilarating and inspiring pieces of music ever to come from the cinema was the result
of the happy marriage of the 18th-century English poet and artist William Blake and the 20th-
century Dutch-American composer Vangelis, the 1980s box-office smash Chariots of Fire. The
words to the song “Jerusalem” in that movie were taken straight from Blake’s “The New
Jerusalem.” If there is any piece of music more appropriate for an invocation of Jupiter’s best
qualities, I have yet to find it. The following are the words to Blake’s poem which inspired the
song “Jerusalem”:

And did those feet in ancient time


Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine


Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!


Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariots of fire!

I will not cease from mental flight,


Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.

Part 8: Hymns, Poems, Songs, and Readings for Invocations of Saturn: Songs of Righteousness, Poverty,
Restriction, Oppression, Constancy, Rectitude, Wisdom, Satire, Horror, and the Cycles of Time

Saturn, Sephirah {}, Da’ath

Da’ath resides in the Abyss between Sephirah 4, Chesed, associated with Jupiter, and Sephirah 3, Binah.
In a sense, it represents the energy of the entire system depicted by the Tree of Life, the bound energy
on the right side of the equation “E = mc2.” Da’ath, the child of Binah and Chokmah, Sephirah 2, in
turn gives birth to all the Sephiroth below it on the Tree of Life, from Chesed through Malkuth. All
three of the Supernals, Kether, Chokmah, and Binah, are represented as aspects of Da’ath, just as their
associated Planets, respectively Pluto, Neptune, and Uranus, rule different aspects of Saturn. The six
new, Transcendental Sephiroth, including ℵ0 (Aleph-sub-Null, the Number of All Numbers), ℵ1
(Aleph-sub-One, the Number of All Mathematical Curves), ℵ2 (Aleph-sub-Two, the Number of All
Mathematical Structures), ∅ (Null or Empty Set), 0 (Zero), and √-1 (the Square Root of Minus One),
whose hymns, etc. are given below are in a sense all entailed in Da’ath. The Virtue of Da’ath is
Wisdom, the wisdom that comes with experience and old age; its sin is the Arrogance of Knowledge,
the belief that mere objective knowledge of things and facts is a complete comprehension of reality on
all the planes, and that such knowledge confers upon its possessor both the power and the right to do
whatever he or she wishes to do, however hurtful to others it may be- – sort of like Dr. Quatermass, of
the British TV series.
The Gods of Da’ath include Eris, Goddess of Chaos, Discord, and the Void, one of the primordial
Creatrix Goddesses, above all; Persephone, Our Lady of Comets; the Furies, A.K.A. the Eumenides,
and thus Pallas Athena Medusa, Who tamed them for the city of Athens, so that, rather than forces of
bloody revenge, They became bringers of true justice; the four Great Archangels of the Four Quarters
of the Globe and the Four Elements, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Auriel; Kali-Chandi-Parvati,
Who brings both destruction and creation; and Pele, Lady of Volcanoes, Who, like Kali, both destroys
and creates.

1. “Sunrise, Sunset,” by Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock, from the musical Fiddler on the Roof
(copyright 1964 by the New York Times Music Corporation). Saturn rules Time and its rhythms.
In the horoscope, it rules the great cycles of our lives, of maturation from infancy through
childhood and adolescence into maturity and thence into old age. It rules the things that give our
lives structure and meaning and which, when combined with experience over many years, bring
wisdom. It rules community, in the sense of the structure of our human environment that gives
long-term meaning to our interactions with our families and our neighbors, and therefore rules that
aspect of Law that has to do with creation and maintenance of that structure and everything it
entails. Saturn is thus associated in Judaism and the Jewish community both with Torah and
Talmud, the canon of Jewish law, as the glue that binds community together and gives life
meaning, and the cycles and rhythms of Jewish life as defined by Jewish traditions. For all these
reasons, the song “Sunrise, Sunset,” from the all-time hit musical Fiddler on the Roof, which is the
story of the members of a Jewish shtetl in Czarist Russia, is an archetypal hymn of Saturn and
perfect for invoking Him.

Is this the little girl I carried?


Is this the little boy at play?
I don’t remember growing older,
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small?

Chorus

Now is the little boy a bridegroom,


Now is the little girl a bride.
Under the canopy I see them,
Side by side.
Place the gold ring around her finger,
Share the sweet wine and break the glass;
Soon the full circle will have come to pass.

Chorus:
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly flow the days;
Seedlings turn overnight to sun-flow’rs,
Blossoming even as we gaze.
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years;
One season following another,
Laden with happiness and tears.

2. “Gimme Dat Ol’ Time Religion!” This filk-song (i.e., a folk-song beloved of science-fiction, has
been a favorite of science-fiction fans for generations – er, well, at least a few computer
generations, maybe. At any rate, it has about ten Godzillion verses to it, with googolzillions more
spawned at every science-fiction convention, fan-club meeting, holiday party, tupperware party,
and any other possible excuse for s-f fans to get together and throw off, for a time, any illusions
that they really are normal denizens of this (or any other) Planet. Most of these verses are not
suitable for publication in a family magazine, however, while the author hasn’t run across too
many others, so only a few are included here (the aspiring student is encouraged to think up as
many new ones as possible – prizes will be awarded, please send all your creations to the author,
who plans to get rich off a party-album with them. But seriously, folks . . .) But clearly, from the
verses and chorus given here, this song is definitely concerned with (a) very old things, matters,
concerns, Gods, people, etc.; (b) critiquing attitudes of various sorts; (c) tickling your funny
bone. As Saturn is concerned with all such matters, this is an excellent song for invocation of
Saturn.

O–
It was good enough for Isis,
Who will help us in a crisis;
And She’s never raised Her prices –
So it’s good enough for me!

Chorus

It was good enough for Dagon,


That conservative old pagan,
Who still votes for Ronald Reagan
So it’s good enough for me!

Chorus

It was good enough for Eris,


The Goddess of Chaos and Discord,
Which is why this line neither rhymes nor scans –
So it’s good enough for me!

Chorus

It was good enough for “Bob” Dobbs.


With the hoi polloi he hobnobs –
And he even likes to get down with us slobs –
So it’s good enough for me!

Chorus

It was good for Nyarlathotep,


The Starry Wisdom Cult’s Head Rep;
To sci-fi cons he loves to schlepp –
So it’s good enough for me!

Chorus:
Gimme dat ol’ time religion,
Gimme dat ol’ time religion,
Gimme dat ol’ time religion –
It’s good enough for me!

3. “My Last Duchess,” by Robert Browning (1812-1889) is a poem that induces a gradually growing
horror in the reader and listener as it is made clearer and clearer just what the attitude of the
speaker is to his last duchess . . . and her likely fate. Saturn rules the tyrant, the oppressor, the
man or woman who must have control – or at least its illusion – over everything in his or her life
at any cost . . . including murder. Thus this is an outstanding invocatory poem of Saturn.

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,


Looking as if she were alive; I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolf’s hand
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fr Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
Fr Pandolf chanced to say “Her mantle laps
Over my Lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat”; such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart – how shall I say? – too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West.
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace – all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men, – good, but thanked
Somehow – I know not now – as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech – (which I have not) – to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, sand say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark” – and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
– E’en then would be some stooping, and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, Sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. Three she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your Master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, Sir! Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.

4. “Yule Horror,” by Howard Phillips Lovecraft (included in the collection of his poetry Fungi from
Yuggoth [New York: Ballantine Books, 1971], pp. 85-86) conjures up hideous cold, a lowering
oppressiveness, eldritch rituals, people from out of the dim misty dawn of Time,, sickness,
darkness, ending in three superb, short verses. It is one of the best invocatory poems for Saturn I
have ever found.

There is snow on the ground,


And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o’er the world;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings unhallowed and old.

There is death in the clouds,


There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sun’s turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance round a Yule-altar fungous and white.

To no gale of Earth’s kind


Sways the forest of oak,
Where the sick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow’rs are the pow’rs of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.

5. Saturn’s answer to the individual’s despairing cry of “Why me?” and “Why this?” is, very often,
much like the sarcastic reply of Yahweh to Job, as given in the Book of Job 38-41:

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind:


“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up your loins like a man,
I will question you, and you shall declare to me.

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?


Tell me, if you have understanding,
Who determined its measurements – surely you know!
Or who stretched the line upon it?
On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone,
when the morning stars sang together,
and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

“Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth from the womb;
when I made clouds its garment,
and thick darkness its swaddling band,
and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors,
and said, ’Thus far shall you come, and no farther,
and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?

“Have you commanded the morning since your days began,


and caused the dawn to know its place,
that it might take hold of the skirts of the earth,
and the wicked be shaken out of it?
It is changed like clay under the seal,
and it is dyed like a garment.
From the wicked their light is withheld,
and their uplifted arm is broken.

“Have you entered into the springs of the sea,


or walked in the recesses of the deep?
Have the gates of death been revealed to you,
or have you seen the gates of midnight?
Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth?
Declare, if you know all this.

“Where is the way to the house of the light,


and where is the den of darkness,
that you may take it to its territory
and know the ways to its home?
Oh, you know, for your were born then,
and the number of your days is great!

“Have you entered the storehouses of the snow,


or have you seen those of the hail,
which I have reserved for the time of woe,
for the day of battle and war?
What is the way to the place from whence cometh the light,
or that where the east wind is loosed upon the earth?

“Who has cleft a channel for the storm


and a road for the thunderbolt.
to bring rain on the desert, where no man lives,
to satisfy the waste and desolate lands
and make the ground put forth green grass again?

Has the rain a father?


Who has begotten the dewdrops?
From what womb did the glaciers come forth,
and who has given birth to heaven’s hoarfrost?
The rivers become solid ice,
and the face of the deep is frozen.

Can you chain up the Pleiades,


or loose the bindings of Orion?
Can you lead forth the Maz’zaroth in their season,
or guide the Bear with her children?
Do you know the laws of the heavens,
or establish their rule on the earth?

Can you make yourself be heard by the clouds


and call their waters to cover you?
Can you loose the lightnings, that they may go
and say to you, ’Here we are’?
Who has put wisdom in the clouds,
or given understanding to the mists?
Who has the wisdom to number the clouds,
or tilt the waterskins of the heavens
when dust fills the air
and the ground becomes hard and dry as stone?

Can you hunt his prey for the lion,


or satisfy the appetites of his cubs
when they crouch in their dens
or lie in wait in their hideout?
Who provides prey for the raven
when its young ones cry to God
and water about for lack of food?

“Do you know when the mountain-goats bring forth young?


Do you see when the roe-deer give birth?
Can you number the months of their pregnancies
and know when they will give birth,
when they go into labor and bring forth their young
and are delivered of them?
Their young ones become strong, growing up in the wild;
they go forth, and do not return to their parents.

“Who has created the wild ass,


loosed the bounds of the swift-running ass
to whom I have given the steppe for a home
and the salt land for a dwelling-place?
He scorns the tumult of the city,
ignores the shouts of the drover.
The mountains are his pastureland,
and he searches out every green thing in them.

“Is the wild ox willing to serve you?


Will he spend the night in your manger?
Can you hitch him to a plow?
Will he till the valleys for you?
Will you harness his vast strength
and set him to work for you?
Do you believe he will return to you from the wilderness
and help you mill your grain on the threshing-floor?

“The wings of the ostrich wave proudly;


but are they the pinions and plumage of love?
She leaves her eggs to the earth,
lets the ground warm them for her,
forgetting that any foot that comes along
may crush them,
and that passing wild beasts may crush them.
She deals cruelly with her young,
as if they were not hers;
when her labor is in vain
and her little ones don’t survive,
she doesn’t care,
for God has given her no wisdom
nor a share in understanding.
And when she rouses herself at last to flee the huntsman,
she laughs at the horse and rider that pursues her,
and leaves them panting in the dust of her talons.

“Do you give the war-horse his power?


Do you clothe his neck with strength?
Do you make him leap like the locust?
His majestic snorting is terrifying.
He paws impatiently at the ground, exulting in his strength;
fearlessly he charges out to meet the foe.
He laughs at fear, and is not frightened of battle,
does not turn away from the sword.
Upon him rattles the quiver he bears,
the lashing spear and the javelin,
the weapons of his rider.
Ferociously he eats up the miles as he runs;
he cannot keep still when the trumpet sounds.
When he hears the trumpet, he cries, ’Aha! Aha!”
He smells the battle from afar,
hears the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

“Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars,


and spreads his wings toward the south?
Is it at your command that the eagle soars aloft
and makes his nest on high?
He makes his home amidst the rocky crags
of the highest mountains;
from there he spies out his prey,
beholding it from afar.
His young ones drink blood;
and where the dead lie on the ground,
there is he.”

And the Lord said unto Job:


“Do you dare to criticize the Almighty?
You want to argue with Me – why then, let’s hear your answers.”

...

And the Lord spoke to Job out of the whirlwind, saying:


“Gird up your loins like a man!
Answer my questions!
Do you dare to accuse Me of wrongdoing?
Do you dare to condemn My actions,
you self-righteous ingrate?
Have you an arm like a God,
a voice that thunders like His?

“Deck yourself with majesty and dignity, little man;


o clothe yourself with glory and splendor!
Pour forth the overflowings of your anger,
and look on every one who is proud, and bring him low!
Look on the proud, and bring them down,
and tread upon the wicked where they stand!
Bury them all in the dust and send them to Hell.
Then, little man, will I own that you yourself can bring you victory!

“Behold Behemoth,
whom I made as I made you!
He eats grass like an ox –
yet see the strength in his loins
and the power in the muscles of his belly.
His tail is stiff like a sapling;
the sinews in his thighs are like cables.
His bones are tubes of bronze,
his limbs, bars of iron.

“He is the first of the works of God;


let he who made him come at Me with a sword!
The mountains yield food for Behemoth
where all the wild beasts play.
Under the lotus plants he lies,
hiding in the marsh reeds in the swamps and tide-flats.
The lotus trees give him shad;
the willows on the river-banks surround him.
Behold, he isn’t frightened when the river is in spate;
he is fearless even when the whole Jordan river tries to rush down his throat!
Can you take him with a hook,
or spear him through the nose with a snare?

“Can you catch Leviathan with a fishhook,


or rope his mouth shut with cord?
Can you put a rope through his nose,
or pierce his jaw with a hook?
Will he plead unto you
and speak to you with soft words?
Will he agree to become your servant forever?
Will you play with him as with a tame bird,
or put him on a leash as a pet for your concubines?
Will you haggle with traders over his price?
Will they buy him, and cut him up and sell him to merchants?
Can you fill his hide with harpoons,
or his skull with fishing-spears?
Try to lay hands on him!
Think of the battle!
Surely, you won’t try it again!
Behold, a man loses all his hopes just looking at him!
No man is fierce enough to try for him.
Who, then, is he that can stand before Me who made him?
Who has obligated me to him, that I should repay him?
After all, all that is under the heavens is Mine, for I created it all.

“Let us talk of Leviathan’s limbs,


his enormous strength, his vast body.
Who can skin him, peel off his double coat of mail?
Who can open the doors of his face?
Terror frames his fang-filled mouth.
On his back are rows of shields
set seamlessly, closed as with a seal.
Any one of his scales is so near to the next
that not even air can get between them.
They are welded one to another,
clasping each other inseparably.
His sneezes flash forth light
and his eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn.
Out of his mouth come jets of fire;
sparks fountain forth from it.
Smoke pours out of his nostrils
as if from a boiling pot and burning rushes.
His very breath sets things afire
and fire comes out of his mouth.
His neck is filled with might,
and terror dances before him.
The folks of his flesh cleave together,
firmly cast upon him and immovable.
His heart is as hard as a stone,
hard as a grinding-stone.
When he broaches out of the water even the most powerful are in terror;
at the crashing of his body back to the waves they are beside themselves with fear.
The mightiest sword has no effect on him,
nor does the spear, the dart, or the javelin.
Iron weapons are so much straw to him,
and bronze is as rotten wood.
Arrows can’t make him flee;
slingstones mean nothing to him.
Clubs are just toothpicks to him,
and he laughs at the rattle of javelins.
His belly is covered with ribbed hide like sharp potsherds;
he covers the water with his hugeness.
He makes the deeps of the sea boil like a pot,
bubbling like ointment over the fire.
Behind him he leaves a shining wake,
as if the deep was filled with hoarfrost
stirred up by his passage.
Upon earth there is nothing else like him.
He is utterly fearless,
beholding all that is on high.
He is a king over all the sons of pride.”

6. Sometimes, though, Saturn’s influence is more mellow, even benign, teaching us, as in ninpo and
Taoism and Zen, that their are rhythms that determine the flow of the tides of life, and when we
live in harmony with them, going with their tides rather than opposing them, our lives are at their
best. Saturn is also, via His Lordship of Aquarius, the traditional ruler of astrology, which strives
to learn the times at which those tides turn, when they are at their strongest, when their weakest, so
that we may, by taking advantage of them, come into prosperity and good fortune. For these
reasons, the following well-known verses from the Old Testament, Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8, are superb
for invocations of Saturn.

For everything there is a season,


and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to turn away;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

7. Saturn’s main function is to establish containment structures for the energy of Life, like the
firewalls of the detonation chambers of rockets: without a strong, restraining structure to keep
those raging energies securely contained, allowing them to be released only in directions that suit
the Will of the builders of the rocket, of Life itself, the terrifyingly powerful, fulminating energies
needed to power the rocket or achieve Life’s goals will be dissipated and lost long before it can do
the desired work. When we are in harmony with Saturn’s containing influence, He does His best
work – and the Spirit within us comes into its full power, glory, and joy. Aleister Crowley’s
beautiful “Hymn to Pan” is a testament to this apotheosis of Saturn’s function.

Thrill with lissome lust of the light,


O man! My man!
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady!
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me,
Come with Apollo in bridal dress
(Shepherdess and pythoness),
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thy, beautiful God,
In the moon of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of the amber fount!
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantonness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarl‚d bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain – come over the sea
(Io Pan! Io Pan!),
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man! my man!
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill!
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring!
Come with flute and come with pipe!
Am I not ripe?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion and sharp as an asp –
Come, O come!
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
All-devourer, all-begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye,
And the token erect of thorny thigh,
And the word of madness and mystery,
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan Pan! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake
In the grip of the snake.
The eagle slashes with beak and claw;
The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!
I am thy mate, I am thy man,
Goat of thy flock, I am gold, I am god,
Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.
With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks
Through solstice stubborn to equinox.
And I rave; and I rape and I rip and I rend,
Everlasting, world without end,
Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man,
In the might of Pan.
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!

8. “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” was written by Martin Luther, the first of the great successful
Protestant revolutionaries of Christian Europe. This song is a celebration of the protection and strength
given to His faithful by the Christian God, to whom He is ever a shelter and a refuge. Saturn is
associated with Sephirah 3, Binah, with which YeHoWah, the Father God of both Old and New
Testaments, and is also the Great Shield and Shelter. This is therefore a most appropriate ritual tool for
invoking Saturn.

A mighty fortress is our God,


A bulwark never failing;
Our helper, He, amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe


Doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and pow’r are great;
And arm’d with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

9. “Rock of Ages,” by Thomas Hastings, like “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” invokes Saturn as Protector
and Shield, the powerful Father God Who shelters His faithful from evil and peril.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,


Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side that flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save from wrath and make me pure.
10. “The Master of Time,” by Jan van Nijlen (1884-?). A. J. Barnouw, translator. In A Little
Treasury of World Poetry: Translations from the Great Poets of Other Languages 2600 B.C. to 1950
A.D., op. cit., pp. 789-790.

I once possessed this happiness: to bind


The one who never knew a master yet,
But drives the groping masses of the blind
With firm, relentless whiphand to their fate.

I ruled in town and village of strange lands


A vast domain. My subjects used to throng
Unto my throne to show allegiance
And love in tender gesture or in song.

Light blooms in realms more beautiful than earth,


Where careworn minds feel all their cares depart,
And those who trust discover life’s true worth.
Time’s lord and master is the poet’s heart.

My eye no longer was mere mirror’s glass


In which the image forms, appears, and fades:
The tree in bloom, the stars, the waving mass
Of ripening wheat through which the west wind wades.

But it had power over all the good


That Nature gives away or holds concealed.
One glance: and autumn stole across the wood
On silent feet, or flowers decked the field.

Until, escaping from my watchful eyes,


Dim with the mist of grief I could not brave,
Time went away into his great assize
And, King again, left me behind a slave.

O undeserved dethronement’s bitter taste,


Too harsh a blow for having failed but once.
He took my all and drove me to the waste
He made my home till Death should call me thence.

11. “This Ole House” by Stuart Hamblen (copyright 1954 by Hamblen Music Company), was written
by Hamblen while he was on a hunting trip in the Sierra Nevada in California, where he stumbled
on a remote prospector’s shack. The old miner lay dead inside, but his loyal dog, despite the
severe weather and near starvation, was still guarding the premises. Hamblen said that he wrote
this song as the old prospector’s epitaph.

This ole house once knew my children;


This ole house once knew my wife;
This ole house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life.
This ole house once rang with laughter;
This ole house heard many shouts;
Now she trembles in the darkness
When the lightnin’ walks about.

Chorus:
Ain’t a-gonna need this house no longer,
Ain’t a-gonna need this house no more.
Ain’t got time to fix the shingles,
Ain’t got time to fix the floor,
Ain’t got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window-pane,
Ain’t a gonna need this house no longer;
I’m a gettin’ ready to meet the saints.

This ole house is a gettin’ shaky;


This ole house is a gettin’ old;
This ole house lets in the rain;
This ole house lets in the cold.
On my knees I’m gettin’ chilly,
But I fear no fear nor pain,
’Cause I see an angel peekin’
Through a broken window-pane.
Chorus:

This ole house is afraid of thunder;


This ole house is afraid of storms;
This ole house just groans and trembles
When the night wind flings its arms.
This ole house is gettin’ feeble;
This ole house is needin’ paint.
Just like me it’s tuckered out,
But I’m a gettin’ ready to meet the saints.
Chorus:

This ole hound dog lies a-sleepin’;


He don’t know I’m gonna leave;
Else he’d wake up by the fireplace,
And he’d sit there and howl and grieve.
But my huntin’ days are over,
Ain’t gonna hunt the coon no more.
Gabriel done brought in my chariot
When the wind blew down the door.
Chorus:

12. “Stand by Me,” by Ben E. King, Mike Stoller and Jerry Leiber (copyright 1961 by Progressive
Music Publishing Co.).

When the night has come


And the land is dark
And the moon
Is the only light we’ll see,
No, I won’t be afraid,
No I won’t be afraid
Just as long as you stand by me.

Chorus:
Darling, stand by me.
Won’t you stand by me.
If you’re in need,
Won’t you stand by me.
And if the sky
You look upon
Should crumble and fall,
And the mountains
Should fall to the sea,
No, I won’t be afraid,
No I won’t shed a tear,
Just as long as you stand by me.
Chorus:

13. “A Christmas Carol,” by Tom Lehrer (in his Too Many Songs by Tom Lehrer with Not Enough
Drawings by Ronald Searle [New York: Pantheon Books, 1981], pp. 60-62, 150-151; and on his
record album An Evening Wasted With Tom Lehrer [1959]).

Christmas time is here, by golly,


Disapproval would be folly,
Deck the halls with hunks of holly,
Fill the cup and don’t say when.

Kill the turkeys, ducks and chickens,


Mix the punch, drag out the Dickens,
Even though the prospect sickens,
Brother, here we go again.

On Christmas Day you can’t get sore,


Your fellow man you must adore,
There’s time to rob him all the more
The other three hundred and sixty-four.

Relations, sparing no expense, ’ll


Send some useless old utensil,
Or a matching pen and pencil.
(“Just the thing I need! How nice!”)
It doesn’t matter how sincere it
Is, nor how heartfelt the spirit,
Sentiment will not endear it,
What’s important is the price.

Hark, the Herald Tribune sings,


Advertising wondrous things.
God rest you merry, merchants,
May you make the Yuletide pay.
Angels we have heard on high
Tell us to go out and buy!

So let the raucous sleighbells jingle,


Hail our dear old friend Kriss Kringle,
Driving his reindeer across the sky,
Don’t stand underneath when they fly by.

14. William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), “The Wild Old Wicked Man” (1938)

“Because I am mad about women


I am mad about the hills,”
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
“Not to die on the straw at home,
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
Daybreak and a candle-end.

“Kind are all your words, my dear,


Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
When an old man’s blood grows cold?
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?”
Daybreak and a candle-end.

Then said she to that wild old man,


His stout stick under his hand,
“Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.”
Daybreak and a candle-end.

“Go your ways, O go your ways,


I choose another mark.
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
Bawdy talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.
Daybreak and a candle-end.

“A young man in the dark am I,


But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.
Daybreak and a candle-end.

“All men live in suffering


I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman erect upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.
Daybreak and a candle-end.
“That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman’s breast.”
Daybreak and a candle-end.

15. Chorale from Mozart’s Requiem Mass. This, the great Mass of Death and Judgment, with all its
imagery of Judgment Day, is a perfect chorale hymn of Saturn in His Aspects of the Just Judge of
Libra and the Executioner of Scorpio.

No. 1: Requiem

Chor – Solo (Soprano)


Requiem aeternam doona eis, Domine; et lux perpetua luceat eis. Te decet hymnus, Deus, in
Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem: exaudi orationem meam, ad ta omnis caro veniet. –
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, Kyrie, eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison.

No. 2: Dies Irae

Chor
Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla.
Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

No. 3: Tuba mirum

Solo (Bass)
Tuba, mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulcra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Solo (Tenor)
Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Judicanti, responsura.
Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus judicetur.
Solo (Alto)
Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet, apparebit:
Nil inultum remanebit.
Solo (Soprano)
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum regaturus,
Soli
Cum vix justus sit securus?

No. 4: Rex tremendae


Chor
Rex tremendae majestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis.

No. 5: Recordare

Soli
Recordare, Jesu pie,
Quod sum causa tuae viae:
Ne me perdas illa die.
Quaerens me, sedisti lassus:
Redemisti Crucem passus:
Juste judex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis
Ante diem rationis.
Ingemisco, tamquam reus:
Culpa rubet voltus meus:
Supplicanti parce, Deus.
Qui Mariam absolvisti,
Et latronem exaudisti,
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.
Preces mesa non sunt dignae:
Sed te bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.
Omter oves locum praesta,
Et ab haedis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.

No. 6: Confutatis

Chor
Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis:
Voca me cum benedictis.
Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis:
Gere curam mei finis.

No. 7: Lacrimosa

Chor
Lacrimosa dies illa,
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Demone,
Dona eis requiem, Amen.

No. 8: Domine Jesu

Chor
Domine Jesu Christe, Rex gloriae, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de poenis inferni
et de profundo iacu: libera eas de ore leonis, ne absorbeat eas tartarus, ne cadent in sobscurum:
Soli
Sed signifer sanctus Michael repraesentet eas in lucem sanctam:
Chor
Quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semini ejus.

No. 9: Hostias

Chor
Hostias et preces tibi, Domine, laudis
offerimis: tu suscipe pro animabus illis,
Quarum hodie memoriam facimus: fac eas,
Domine, de morte transire ad vitam. Quam
olim Abrahae promisisti et semini ejua.

No. 10: Sanctus

Chor
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus
Dominus, Deus Sabaoth.
Pieni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.

No. 11: Benedictus

Soli
Benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini.
Chor
Hosanna in excelsis.

No. 12: Agnus Dei

Chor
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona eis requiem semptiternam.
Solo (Soprano) et Chor
Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine: Cum Sanctis
tuis in aeternum: quia plus es.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine; et lux
perpetua luceat eis. Cum Sanctis tuis in
aeternum: quita plus es.

16. “Alice’s Restaurant Massacree,” Arlo Guthrie

17. “The Motorcycle (Significance of the Pickle) Song,” by Arlo Guthrie

18. “Objects in the Rear-View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are,” Meatloaf

19. “Wasted Youth,” Meatloaf

20. Hymns, Songs, Readings, and Poems to the Gods and Goddesses of the Asteroid Belt, the Kuyper
Disk, and the Öort Cometary Cloud, all of which are associated with Da’ath and the Void. It must
be remembered that all of these relatively small bodies are potential brickbats which Lord Jupiter
can sling Earthward at any time. In fact, Earth has sustained numerous impacts from such bodies
over the eons, including the gigantic bolus which, crashing into the Gulf of Yucatan 65 million
years ago, put an end to the Cretaceous Era of Earthly life, rendering the magnificent archosaurs
extinct – but, in the process, enabling the birds and the mammals to finally succeed the dinosaurs
as the Lords of the Earth. Without such impacts, neither we nor the life now sharing our world
with us would exist. “The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away – blessèd is the name of the Lord

a. Ceres, mother of Persephone, Lady of the Grain

b. Juno-Hera, Queen of Heaven

c. Pallas-Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, Justice, and Battle

d. Vesta-Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth and the Center of the Home

“The Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats,” T. S. Eliot – what are hearths, if not to make cats
happy and warm

e. Psyche, Bride of Eros, the Determined Lover

f. Eros, the Oldest of Gods and yet the Son of Aphrodite, the Disappointed Lover

g. Lilith, Adam’s First Wife, the Liberator of Women

h. Toro, the Great Bull, the Angel of the Caves of Altamira, the Warrior

i. Sappho, the Bard and High Priestess of Love

j. Amor, the God of Community and Friendship

k. Pandora, Our Lady of Troubles

l. Icarus, the Arrogant, the Liberator of the Creative and Avant Garde

m. Diana, Our Lady of the Moon, Protector of Women in Childbirth

n. Hidalgo, the Protector of the People

o. Urania-Liberty, Goddess of Freedom and the Heavens

p. Chiron, the Wounded Healer

Part 9: Uranus: Hymns of Liberty, Break-Through Explorations, Deviance, Revolution, Rebellion

Uranus, Sephirah 3, Binah, “Understanding”

1. “La Marseillaise,” by Rouget de L’Isle, the marching-song of the French revolution of 1792 and
now the French national anthem, is an archetypal song of liberty and revolution. In 1792 the
Mayor of Strassbourg, during a conversation with some friends, touched upon the importance of
fighting songs which would inspire the people. Captain Rouget de L’Isle, present at the time,
wrote the following song that very night. It was printed in a journal which somehow found its
way to Marseilles. When the Marseilles battalions marched on Paris, this had become their song.
It is of interest in this context that the statue of “Liberty Enlightening the World” that stands today
in New York Harbor was made by a Frenchman and given as a gift to America by the people of
France. Liberty is a Goddess of the French Enlightenment as well as of America. This is one of
Her greatest cradle-songs. (The last verse included here is the original version, in French.)
Ye sons of France, awake to glory!
Hark! Hark! the people bid you rise!
Your children, wives and grandsires hoary
Behold their tears and hear their cries,
Behold their tears and hear their cries,
Shall hateful tyrants mischief breeding,
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band,
Afright and desolate the land
While peace and liberty lie bleeding?

Chorus:
To arms, to arms, ye brave!
Th’avenging sword unsheathe!
March on! march on! all hearts resolved
On liberty or death.

At last the dangerous storm is rolling,


Which treacherous kings’ confederates raise;
The dogs of war, let loose, are howling,
See where our walls and cities blaze!
And shall be basely view the ruin,
While lawless force, with guilty stride,
Spreads desolation far and wide,
With crimes and blood his hands embruing:

Chorus

O liberty! can man resign thee,


Once having felt thy generous flame?
Can dungeons, bolts and bars confine thee?
Or whip they noble spirit tame?
Too long the world has wept, bewailing
That falsehood’s dagger tyrants wield –
But freedom is our sword and shield,
And all their arts are unavailing.

Chorus

Allons, enfants de la patrie,


Le jour de gloire est arrive.
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L’entendard sanglant est leve.
Entendez vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces deroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Egorger vos fils, vos compagnes:

Chorus:
Aux armes, Citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons,
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!

2. Yankee Doodle (Cornwallis’ Country Dance), American Revolutionary War Song, author
unknown: This song, one of the most famous of the last three centuries, really needs no
introduction. During the American Revolutionary War, it was sung derisively at the English at the
Yankees who in turn struck up the tune as they marched the defeated British soldiers to prison.
“They even enticed away the British band,” said Marjorie Barstow Greenbie, “hired it themselves,
and had it playing the obnoxious song.” The Minute Men of Concord adopted it as their own;
when Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, it was to the accompaniment of “Yankee Doodle.”
This song, so infused with a spirit of light-hearted liveliness and pure, sheer fun, is archetypally
Uranian, for it is one of the birth-cries of the United States of America, born in liberty, conceived
in good will (whatever sad things may have become of the child since).

Fath’r and I went down to camp,


Along with Captain Good’in,
And there we saw the men and boys
As thick as hasty puddin’.

Chorus:
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be handy.

And there we saw a thousand men,


As rich as Squire David;
And what they wasted ev’ry day,
I wish it could be saved.

Chorus:

And there was Captain Washington


Upon a slapping stallion,
A-giving orders to his men;
I guess there was a million.

Chorus:

And then the feathers on his hat,


They looked so ’tarnal fine, ah!
I wanted peskily to get
To give to my Jemima.

Chorus:

And there they’d fife away like fun,


And play on cornstalk fiddles,
And some had ribbons red as blood,
All bound about their middles.

Chorus:

Uncle Sam came there to change


Some pancakes and some onions,
For ’lasses sake to carry home
To give his wife and young ’uns.

Chorus:

But I can’t tell half I see,


They kept up such a smother;
So I took my hat off, made a bow,
And scampered home to mother.

Chorus:

The popular verse goes:

Yankee Doodle went to town,


Riding on a pony;
Stuck a feather in his hat
And called it macaroni.

Yankee Doodle, doodle doo,


Yankee Doodle Dandy,
All the lads and lassies are
Sweet as sugar candy.

Another version, called “Cornwallis’ Country Dance,” a satirical swipe at the British defeat in
America, goes like this:

Cornwallis led a country dance,


The like was never seen, sir;
Much retrograde and much advance,
And all with General Greene, sir.

Chorus:
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be handy.

Greene, in the South, then danced a set,


And got a mighty name, sir,
Cornwallis jigged with young Fayette
But suffered in his fame, sir.

Chorus:

Quoth he, “My guards are weary grown


With footing country dances;
They never at St. James’s shone
At capers, kicks or dances.”

Chorus:

His music soon forgets to play,


His feet can no more move, sir;
And all his hands now curse the day
They jigged to our shore, sir.

Chorus:

Now, Tories all, what can ye say?


Come – this is not a griper:
That while your hopes are danced away,
’Tis you must pay the piper.

Chorus:

3. “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” lyrics by Julia Ward Howe, circa 1861, tune probably by
William Steffe, circa 1855. William Steffe, a Sunday School hymn composer, is believed to have
written the original melody that was eventually incorporated in “The Battle-Hymn of the
Republic.” In 1856 the melody was slowly gaining in popularity in the North, and after John
Brown’s unsuccessful attempt to incite a slave rebellion, the Webster Regiment adopted the
hymn’s tune in 1861 and set words to it commemorating him, “John Brown’s Body.” Julia Ward
Howe, who saw the Northern troops marching to battle singing “John Brown’s Body,” wrote the
present version of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” This song, a celebration of what was in
fact a holy war of Abolitionists versus States’ Rights, Republicans versus Confederates, is perhaps
the most powerful celebration of the cause of Liberty of all time, even above that of “La
Marseillaise.” It also commemorates the preservation of the Union – the United States of America
– in the face of the South’s desperate attempt to break away, and the continuation of that strange
collective, libertarian entity that came to birth on July 4, 1776 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. For
both these reasons, it is a quintessential song of Uranus, a perfect tool for invoking that Lord of
that Planet.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loos’d the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.

Chorus:
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;


They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps:
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.

Chorus:

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish’d rows of steel:


“As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on.

Chorus:

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.

Chorus:
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.
Chorus:
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.

4. “Dixie,” lyrics by Daniel D. Emmet, 1859. In 1859, Daniel Emmet, a member of the popular troupe
of “Bryant’s Minstrels,” was asked to provide a new song for a change of repertoire. Emmet
arrived at the first rehearsal with “Dixie.” Although written by a native of Ohio, “Dixie” was
picked up in New Orleans a year after its appearance, and from there on it became the favorite of
the Confederacy. This song, too, is a celebration of Liberty, though today we often forget that.
The tragedy of the American Civil War ultimately rests on the rending of the idea of Liberty in
twain that occurred because of the institution of chattel slavery in the New World. When
Europeans first encountered the New World, many were overwhelmed by its beauty and majesty,
and fell in love with it – but far too many others were overwhelmed by sheer greed when they saw
the apparently limitless wealth to be garnered there, if they could just generate some means of
exploiting it. That means was at first ready-to-hand in the form of the natives of the New World,
who, looked upon by most Europeans either as the basest of heretics and devil-worshippers or as
savages without true culture or civilized ways of life, therefore were seen by the majority of
Europeans as not quite human, perfect for capturing and taming as beasts of burden and hard
labor. But the Indians didn’t take kindly to this. They either fought back with lethal skill and
determination, or fled Westward, or, taken in captivity, lost all will to live and died rather quickly.
So another source of human draft-animals had to be found. This was accomplished rather quickly.
Africa had been a slaver’s paradise for centuries. Raiders from Islamic nations as well as others
had been doing a thriving business in capturing and selling Black Africans as slaves over much of
the Old World for a long time; now, they acquired a brand-new market, with which they happily
provided their special commodity – men and women, for sale as domestic servants, field hands, or
for any other purpose. The American South rapidly built up a thriving plantation economy on the
basis of the labor of Black African slaves, who were hardy, industrious, easy to teach, and who
had several advantages as slave-labor over the natives: they were not prone to quickly pining
away and dying in captivity; they usually did not dare try to flee to the wilderness, because,
unlike the natives, they knew little or nothing of the land there or how to live off it, and because of
their color, they would be marked wherever they might go among whites as escaped slaves, and so
usually wouldn’t try to escape to white settlements and cities. They stayed in place, and they
worked, and they worked, and a whole civilization was built on their labor. That civilization,
which was gracious, learned, and cultured in the extreme, was a gem among nations – save for the
very institution that made it possible, an institution which was one of the ugliest of all time, the
forced servitude of human beings for no fault of their own, just to serve the greed of others. It was
in that civilization’s best interests to preserve its “peculiar institution,” as the institution of slavery
was referred to all over the country, both North and South, and so quite naturally the South, even
more than the North, cherished the idea of States’ Rights, which is preserved in the Bill of Rights
as Article X: “The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited
by it to the States, are reserved to the States’, respectively, or to the people.” As a matter of fact,
this is one of the most powerful possible bulwarks against the establishment of a tyrannical
centralized government in a nation – that the states, districts, or counties which that nation
comprises retain their dominion in all but those few areas necessary to the establishment and
maintenance of the nation as a whole. This includes, for example, establishment and maintenance
of state militias which together can repel any attempt by central executive power to take away
their sovereign rights and powers. This principle is exactly as important, no more, no less, as that
of individual liberty, as far as discouragement of establishment of a centralized national tyranny
or, indeed, a tyranny of any kind in any part of that nation. By themselves, individuals cannot
hold their own against a powerful government. But if they can band together in mini-governments
– states – they then have the ability to defend themselves against attempted erosion or destruction
of their rights by centralized authority in that nation, or even localized attempts at establishment of
tyrannies. Both these aspects of liberty – states’ rights and individual rights – are necessary to the
preservation of liberty for the individual as well as cities, townships, counties, and states within a
nation.* During the American Civil War, not only was brother set against brother, but one
cornerstone of liberty was arrayed against the other, making foes of those which, by right, should
have remained the staunchest of allies forever. And the result of the war was ambiguous in the
extreme. For while, as a legal institution, chattel slavery was finally outlawed in this nation at the
end of the Civil War, and the principle of individual liberty was upheld as supreme, the principle
of states’ rights, so necessary in the long run to preservation of the liberties of individuals, was, if
not utterly destroyed, then critically damaged, perhaps irreparably. In honor, then, of those men
and women who, like those in the North, fought so long and so valiantly for their land and its
ideals, and who thus were also defenders of Liberty, if only in part, the song “Dixie” is included
here.

I wish I was in de land ob cotton,


Old times dar am not forgotten,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land whar I was born in,
Early on one frosty mornin’,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus: Den I wish I was in Dixie,


Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I’ll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie;
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

Chorus:

Old Missus marry Will de Weaber,


Willyum was a gay deceaber;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
But when he put his arm around ’er,
He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:

His face was sharp as a butcher’s cleaber,


But dat did not seem to greab ’er,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Old Missus acted de foolish part,
And died for a man dat broke her heart.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:

Now here’s health to the next old Missus,


An’ all the gals dat want to kiss us;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
But if you want to drive ’way sorrow,
Come and hear dis song tomorrow.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:

Dar’s buckwheat cakes and Injun batter,


Makes you fat or a little fatter;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble,
To Dixie’s land I’m bound to trabble.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

*If the principle of States’ Rights were still in full force, one wonders what would have happened after
April of 1993 and the burning of the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas by agents of the
federal government? Texas could have gone to war with the United States over it – and might well
have done so, unless enormous reparations were paid to her by the federal government for its actions.
But since that principle is now honored almost entirely in the breach, the states have no power to
defend themselves against encroachments of federalist oppressions, and any attempts they may make
to do so are largely a joke and will remain so unless and until that right is reclaimed by people and all
the states.

5. Liber OZ, by Aleister Crowley: A Thelemic Bill of Rights

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law!

Every man and every woman is a Star.


THERE IS NO GOD BUT MAN

1. Man has the right to live by his own law, to live in the way that he wills to do:
to work as he will;
to play as he will;
to rest as he will;
to die when and how he will.

2. Man has the right to eat what he will;


to drink what he will;
to dwell where he will;
to move as he will on the face of the Earth.

3. Man has the right to think what he will;


to speak what he will;
to write what he will;
to draw, paint, carve, etch, mould, build as he will;
to dress as he will.

4. Man has the right to love as he will.

5. Man has the right to kill those who would thwart those rights.

Love is the law, love under Will.

6. “A Voice at the Edge of Dream,” by Yael Dragwyla, 1979: A Psalm to Liberty

I will make of you


A white shadow on a black wall –
Come, look deep into
The furnace of my soul,
And lose all care.
I will make of you
Cracked green glass in a wilderness
And a grey wail expanding in the night.
You deny that I exist,
Yet I am your very bones –
And you wonder why
You dream of skulls
And waken full of dread?
I will make of you
A white shadow on a black wall –
And a black illumination
Of exposed white guilt.
I am Trinity
And a child’s white shadow
On a scorched black wall
And the cries you will not hear
In the night.
I will make of you
A blinded thing
Who can no longer will
Not to see:
I am Hiroshima
And your fleeing soul –
And all that lies ahead of you is me,
And all that lies behind you is me,
And all that lies within you is me,
And if you want it otherwise
You must acknowledge me.
I am the Phoenix –
And thou art me.
You must accept my many deaths –
Or perish utterly.

7. “List of Cities That No Longer Are” –an atomic-age nursery-rhyme (repeat three times for
maximum effect):

Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Eniwitok, Bikini;


Alamogordo, Port Chicago, Chernobyl – TRINITY!

8. The Declaration of Independence by the United States of America from Great Britain

In Congress, July 4, 1776


A Declaration
by the Representatives of the United States of America,
in General Congress Assembled

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve
the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the
powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of
Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they
should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are
endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life,
Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. – That to secure these rights, Governments are
instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. –
That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the
Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its
foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall
seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that
Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and
accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while
evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are
accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the
same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it
is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future
security. – Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the
necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The
history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and
usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over
these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused is Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public
good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance,
unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so
suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people,
unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a
right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and
distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them
into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly
firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected;
whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of annihilation, have returned to the People at
large for their exercise; the State remaining in the man time exposed to all the dangers of
invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose
obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to
encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of
Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to laws for
establishing Judiciary Powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and
the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to
harass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of
our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil
Power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our
constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of
pretended Legislation;
For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us;
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, for punishment for any Murders which they
should commit on the Inhabitants of these States;
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world;
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent;
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury;
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences;
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province,
establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to
render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into
these Colonies;
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering
fundamentally the Forms of out Governments;
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power
to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his protection and waging
War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the
lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the
works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty &
Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy of the Head
of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms
against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall
themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on
the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of
warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most
humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A
Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit
to be the ruler of a free people.
Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned
them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable
jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and
settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have
conjured them by the times of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which
would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf
to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the
necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of
mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General
Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of
our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies,
solemnly publish and declare That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be
Free and Independent States; that they are absolved from all Allegiance to the British
Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is
and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full
Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do
all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. – And for the
support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence,
we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.
We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish
justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general
welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and
establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

9. The Preamble to the Constitution of the United States and the Bill of Rights (first ten
amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America): These two documents,
above all, are perfect tools for invoking Uranus in general and His avatar of Liberty in
particular, for they provide the foundation of law and government in the United States of
America, that most Uranian of all modern nations. (It is of interest in this regard that
these instruments are also based upon principles of government that came from those
American Indian peoples collectively referred to as the Iroquois Confederacy. Native
American peoples are collectively ruled by Uranus, so these are doubly Uranian in nature
and in their power to invoke Uranus in all His avatars and aspects. –Nota bene:
“Iroquois” is a word originally applied to those native peoples by others because of some
of their less-pleasant attributes. It means “rattlesnake.” Rattlesnakes are exquisitely
Scorpionic creatures, both because they are snakes and because of their venom. They are
also strictly New World creatures, ruled by Uranus – Who is exalted in Scorpio.)

Preamble to the Constitution

We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish
justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general
welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and
establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

10. The first ten amendments to the Constitution of the United States:

These, by the way, correspond with the ten Sephiroth of the traditional Tree of Life.

Article I

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting


the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or of the
right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of
grievances.

Article II

A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of
the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

Article III

No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of
the owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.

Article IV

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects,
against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall
issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath of affirmation, and particularly
describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Article V

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless
on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or
naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger; nor
shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or
limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness, against himself, nor be
deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private
property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

Article VI
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public
trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been
committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be
informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses
against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have
the assistance of counsel for his defense.

Article VII

In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars,
the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise
re-examined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common
law.

Article VIII

Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and
unusual punishment.

Article IX

The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny
or disparage others retained by the people.

Article X

The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by
it to the States, are reserved to the States, respectively, or to the people.

11. “The Star-Spangled Banner,” by Francis Scott Key and John Stafford Smith, 1775: Born in the
smoke of battle while its author, then imprisoned by the British, watched the bombardment of Fort
Henry by the enemy, “The Star-Spangled Banner: is today the anthem of a free and sovereign
people. There is no better hymn for the invocation of Liberty and Uranus.

Oh say can you see by the dawn’s early light,


What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro’ the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming.
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air
Gave proof thro’ the night that our flag was still there.
Oh say, does that star spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

On the shore dimly seen thro’ the mist of the deep,


Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream;
’Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh, long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore


That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footstep’s pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Oh, thus it be ever, when freemen shall stand


Between their loved home and the war’s desolation,
Blessed with victory and peace, may the Heaven-rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, “In God is our trust!”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

12. “Follow the Drinkin’ Gourd” – a song of the Underground Railway of the American Civil War
era. Like so many other Black “spirituals,” this song was actually a call to freedom – and a
practical tool for attaining it. In the following song, the Gourd is the Little Dipper (Lesser Bear),
at the tip of the tail of which is the North Star, Polaris, the guide-star of the Northern Hemisphere.
The same constellation aided the moonlight rebels of Ireland, who called it the Plough and the
Stars, and put it on their flag. The “old man” referred to in the song was apparently a real
historical person, a member of the Underground Railway who guided runaway Black slaves on the
first leg of their journey to freedom; he wore the “peg-leg” of the song, and used it to mark the
trail in the ground. But at the same time, the phrase refers to the Mississippi River, across the
banks of which lay the road to freedom. 11 is the Key Number of Aleph, Whose Planet is Uranus;
Uranus rules the 11th Sign, Aquarius, and is exalted in Scorpio, which falls in November, the 11th
month. It is most appropriate that this song, “Follow the Drinkin’ Gourd,” should be the 11th item
in this chapter.

When the sun comes back and the first quail calls,
Follow the drinkin’ gourd,
For then the old man is a-waitin’ for to carry you to freedom
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:
Follow the drinkin’ gourd –
Follow the drinkin’ gourd!
For the old man is a-waitin’ for to carry you to freedom
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

The river bank will make a very good road,


The dead trees show you the way,
Left foot, peg foot, traveling on –
Follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

The river ends between two hills,


Follow the drinkin’ gourd,
There’s another river on the other side,
Follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:
Where the great big river meets the little river,
Follow the drinkin’ gourd,
The old man is a-waitin’ for to carry you to freedom,
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

13. “Slav’ry Chain (Joshua Fit De Battle),” post-bellum freedom song, circa 1870: Nobody knows the
value of freedom more than those who purchased it at an enormous and terrifying price, gaining it
only after great agony and travail, released into it from the worst sort of slavery. Here is another
freedom song, the tune of which has come down to us in “Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho (An’ the
Walls Came Tumblin’ Down!),” but the words of which have nearly been lost as the end of the
American Civil War recedes into the dim reaches of time and history. Both versions of the lyrics
to the well-known tune are given here.

Slav’ry Chain

Oh, mah Lawd, how I did suffer,


In de dungeon an’ de chains;
An’ de days I went wif head bowed down
An’ my broken flesh an’ pain.
But breth’ren:

Chorus:
Slav’ry chain done broke at las’, broke at las’, broke at las’,
Slav’ry chain done broke at las’,
Goin’ to praise God ’til I die.

I did know my Jesus heard me,


’Cause de spirit spoke to me –
An’ said, “Rise, my chile, your chillun
And you too shall be free.”
An’ breth’ren:

Chorus:

“I done ’p’int one mighty captain


For to marshal all My hosts:
An’ to bring my bleeding ones to me,
An’ not one shall be lost.”
An’ breth’ren:

Chorus:

Now no more weary travelin’ –


’Cause my Jesus set me free –
An’ dere’s no more auction block for me
Since He give me liberty.
An’ breth’ren:

Chorus:

Joshua Fit de Battle


You may talk about yo’ King ob Gideon,
You may talk about yo man ob Saul,
But dere’s none like good ol’ Joshua
At de battle ob Jericho!

Chorus:
Oh –
Joshua fit de battle of Jericho, Jericho, Jericho,
Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,
An’ de walls come a-tumblin’ down!

Up to de walls ob Jericho
He marched wit’ spear in han’,
“Go blow dem ram horns!” Joshua cried,
“Kase de battle am in my han’.”

Chorus:

Den de lam’ ram sheep horns begin to blow,


Trumpets begin to shout,
Joshua commanded de chillun to shout,
An’ de walls come tumblin’ down!

Chorus:

14. Voices of Liberty: The number 13 is of special significance both to Uranus and the United States
of America. When the United States of America was founded, it comprised the 13 original
colonies, which then became the states of the new country. The first official American flag had 6
white stripes and 7 red stripes, 13 in all, and 13 white Stars on a night-sky blue canton. Nor does
it stop there. According to Joseph Goodavage, in Astrology: The Space-Age Science (New York:
Signet Books, 1966):

Above the [head of the Eagle on the face of the Great Seal of the United States] is a
shining cloud encircled by 13 stars. . . .
. . . [T]here is a deep occult power behind [the number 13]. . . . The face of the
America Seal shows 13 stripes on the shield, 13 stars in the circle of glory, 13 branches
and 13 berries in the olive branch in the Eagle’s right talon, 13 arrows in the left talon,
and 13 letters in the legend, E Pluribus Unum.
. . . It was decreed by law that there must be a repetition of the number 13 in the
seal’s composition. Thus the date (at the pyramid’s base) was ordered to be engraved in
Roman numerals (a total of nine) rather than Arabic. “Saeclorum” was made “Seclorum”
on the scroll beneath the unfinished pyramid. This motto consisted of 17 letters.
Altogether there are 39 letters and numerals on the reverse of the Great Seal. This also
has numerological significance, inasmuch as 3 + 9 = 12, and 1 + 2 = 3. Thus, 39 is
merely three times 13.*

*It is much more than that. 13 is the reflection of 31, the value of AL, the God-Name of the New Aeon
associated with The Book of the Law; 3 is the number of Binah, associated with Uranus; 3 x 13 = 39,
the reflection of 93, the number of the New Aeon, according to The Book of the Law, a quintessentially
Uranian document.

Also, on the reverse side you will find 13 layers of stone in the unfinished pyramid.
The legend, “Annuit Coeptis,” contains 13 letters, corresponding to the 13 stripes in the
American flag. . . . Thirteen also refers to Christ and His 12 disciples; to Buddha and his
12 apostles, and to Quetzlcoatl, god-king of the Aztecs and his 12 followers. Each of
these Teachers, when numbered with their followers, totaled 13 in all.
During our Civil War, even though the Confederacy had only 11 states, their flag had
13 stars. General George Washington and 12 of his generals were Freemasons, and thus
numbered 13. During the First World War, the first convoy to France was composed of
13 ships that sailed in June 13 (1917) and took 13 days to cross the Atlantic. Even
President Woodrow Wilson’s name had 13 letters.
At the exact time the Declaration of Independence was signed, the Sun was 13ø in
the Sign of Cancer.

Ibid., in Chapter 13, pp. 180-181

15. Voices of Liberty

Thirteen is the Key Number of Gimel, whose value is 3, and is associated with the Moon. The United
States of America, whose natus has the Sun in Cancer, thus is a Luna-ruled nation – especially so,
since in that natus Luna is also in the 10th House, the highest Planet in the chart. In that chart,
Gemini, ruled by Mercury, is rising, so that Mercury rules the chart; Mars is the Gemini in the
First House; Mercury is in Cancer, disposited by Luna; Luna is in Aquarius, disposited by
Uranus; Uranus is rising, in the First House, in Gemini, disposited by Mercury – and in close
conjunction with both the Ascendant and the Martial Star Aldebaran. The colors of the flag of the
United States of America are representative of this chart: red for Mars, Who co-rules this nation
because of His placement in its First House; white for Luna; night-sky blue for the Nemyss of
Djehuti, Who is Mercury. Uranus, also co-ruling the chart because of His placement in the First
House, rules Aquarius as well as the Tenth House, the placements of Luna, and thus is extremely
prominent in the affairs of this nation – as well as being a dispositor of Luna, who not only
disposits the U.S. Sun, but is also the generic co-ruler of all charts, of all kinds. Uranus is exalted
in Scorpio, of which Mars is the ruler. So the United States is strongly associated both with
Scorpio and Luna, and thus with 13, Luna’s Key Number.
For all these reasons, it is most fitting that the 13th and last entry of this chapter be devoted to some of
the world’s most important writings and thoughts on liberty. Therefore what follows are Voices of Liberty:

***

Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides
over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The
battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides,
sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire
from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are
forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable –
and let it come!! I repeat it, sir, let it come!!!
It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, peace, peace; but there is
no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring
to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why
stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so
dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it,
Almighty God – I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty,
or give me death!

– Patrick Henry, from Speech to Virginia Assembly, 1775

O ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose, not only the tyranny, but the tyrant,
stand forth! Every spot of the old world is overrun with oppression. Freedom hath been
hunted round the globe. Asia, and Africa, have long expelled her – Europe regards her
like a stranger, and England hath given her warning to depart. O! Receive the fugitive,
and prepare in time an asylum for mankind.*

– Thomas Paine, Common Sense, 1776

*How ironic these brave words from one of America’s greatest and least appreciated patriots – for the
situation now, in 1994 era vulgaris (90 Ano Novo) is very nearly the reverse. The whole world has
taken a lesson from the America of Tom Paine – it is time for the America of today to take a lesson
from her neighbors.

These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine
patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it
NOW, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily
conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more
glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly. ’Tis dearness
only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its
goods; and it would be strange indeed, if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not
be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a
right (not only to TAX) but “to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER,” and if being
bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth.
Even the expression is impious, for so unlimited a power can belong only to GOD.

– Thomas Paine, The Crisis, 1776

In the new code of laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make I desire
you would remember the ladies, and be more generous and favorable to them than your
ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands. Remember
all men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the
ladies we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any
laws in which we have no voice, or representation.

– Abigail Adams (1744-1818), letter to John Adams (her husband) [March 31, 1776]

I hold it, that a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the
political world as storms in the physical.

– Thomas Jefferson, letter to James Madison [January 30, 1787]

What country before ever existed a century and a half without a rebellion? . . . The
tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
It is its natural manure.

– Thomas Jefferson, Letter to William Stevens Smith [November 13, 1787]

Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with the government of himself. Can
he, then, be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found angels in the forms
of kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.

– Thomas Jefferson, First Inaugural Address [March 4, 1801]

I am yet too young to understand that God is any respecter of persons. I believe that
to have interfered as I have done . . . in behalf of His despised poor, was not wrong, but
right. Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my life for the furtherance of
the ends of justice, and mingle my blood further with the blood of my children, and with
the blood of millions in this slave country whose rights are disregarded by wicked, cruel,
and unjust enactments, I submit: so let it be done!
This is a beautiful country.

– John Brown (1800-1859), Abolitionist revolutionary, remark as he rode to the gallows,


seated on his coffin [December 2, 1859]

We first crush people to the earth, and then claim the right of trampling on them
forever, because they are prostrate. . . . They [the slaves] have stabbed themselves for
freedom – jumped into the waves for freedom – starved for freedom – fought like very
tigers for freedom! But they have been hung, and burned, and shot – and their tyrants
have been their historians!

– Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880), An Appeal on Behalf of That Class of Americans Called
Africans [1833]

The men and women of the North are slaveholders, those of the South slaveowners.
The guilt rests on the North equally with the South.

– Susan Brownell Anthony (1820-1906), Speech on No Union With Slaveholders [1857]

We were told that they [federal troops] wished merely to pass through our
country . . . to see for gold in the far west . . . Yet before the ashes of the council fire are
cold, the Great Father is building his forts among us. You have heard the sound of the
white soldier’s axe upon the Little Piney. His presence here is . . . an insult to the spirits
of our ancestors. Are we then to give up their sacred graves to be plowed for corn?
Dakotas, I am for war.

– Red Cloud (1822-1909), Speech at Fort Laramie, Wyoming [1866]

When I found I had crossed that line [on her first escape from slavery], I looked at
my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything.

– Harriet Ross Tubman,* to her biographer Sarah H. Bradford [c. 1868]

*A. K. A. General Moses, a former Black slave woman who, born into slavery, made her way to freedom
alone as a young woman, then became the most famous of all the conductors on the Underground
Railway. She made 19 dangerous trips back and forth, often disguised, always carrying a pistol,
telling the fugitives, “You’ll be free or die.” She was enabled to do this in part by gifts of vision and
prophecy imparted to her apparently from an epileptic condition that came about as the result of an
injury to her head by an overseer when she was fifteen. As she expressed her philosophy: “There was
one of two things I had a right to, liberty or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other; for
no man should take me alive.”

Woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect
herself.

– Susan Brownell Anthony (1820-1906), Speech in San Francisco [July 1871]


Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is night at hand.

– Aleister Crowley (1875-1947), The Book of the Law, Chapter 3, verse 71 [April 10, 1904]

Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.


The soul that knows it not, knows no release
From little things;
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sound of wings.

– Amelia Earhart Putnam (1898-1937), American aviatrix, presumed lost at sea


during her last known flight in 1937; from her poem “Courage”

We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we
shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing
strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on
the beaches, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we
shall never surrender.

– Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965), Radio broadcast [September 11, 1940]

We only want that which is given naturally to all peoples of the world, to be masters
of our own fate, only of our fate, not of others, and in cooperation and friendship with
others.

– Golda Meir (1898-1978), address to Anglo-Americans Committee of Inquiry [March 25,


1946]

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and
the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at the table of
brotherhood. . . . I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation
where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their
character.

– Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968), Speech at Civil Rights March on Washington,
[August 28, 1963]

16. A poem by Emma Lazarus is graven on a tablet within the pedestal on which the Statue of Liberty
Enlightening the World stands in New York Harbor:

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,


With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

17. Readings from John Whiteside Parsons

18. Readings from Lewis Carroll – deviate; the unexpected thrown up from the Collective
Unconscious

19. “From the Boundless Deep,” Part 1 of James Michener’s Hawaii – Hawaiians are ruled by Uranus,
as “native” peoples; the Hawaiian Islands were thrown up in Uranian fashion from the domain of
Neptune by Uranian and Plutonian processes (volcanoes), like things emerging from the
unconscious; the night-side of Time, ruled by Uranus rather than Saturn because it has taken
modern science to come to understand just how these islands formed, and how long it took for
them to do so.

20. “Stand by Me,” by Ben E. King, Mike Stoller and Jerry Leiber (copyright 1961 by Progressive
Music Publishing Co.).

When the night has come


And the land is dark
And the moon
Is the only light we’ll see,
No, I won’t be afraid,
No I won’t be afraid
Just as long as you stand by me.

Chorus:
Darling, stand by me.
Won’t you stand by me.
If you’re in need,
Won’t you stand by me.

And if the sky


You look upon
Should crumble and fall,
And the mountains
Should fall to the sea,
No, I won’t be afraid,
No I won’t shed a tear,
Just as long as you stand by me.
Chorus:

21. “Everything Louder Than Everything Else,” by Meatloaf


21
22 22. “Pump It Up,” by Elvis Costello

23. Mars, the God of War, rules Scorpio, the House of War. Aquarius, the 4 th Sign from Scorpio,
rules the outcome of all matters ruled by Scorpio, including the inevitable fallout of all wars, the
hellish damage done to those who, whether by choice or not, participate in war or become victims
of it. The following poem, “Mental Cases,” by Wilfred Owen, is quoted by Harry Turtledove in
Volume 2, The Great War: Walk in Hell (New York: Del Rey books, 1999), of his epic alternate-
history series, The Great War. The novels in that series, which begins with The Great War:
American Front (1998), drive home the reality of war and what it does to everyone it touches in a
way unmatched by almost anything else I’ve ever found (short of actually being steam-rollered by
a war on one’s own doorstep, the way people in Kosovo, Bosnia, Rwanda, and other countries
have over the last decade. This poem perfectly encapsulates the reality which Turtledove’s novels
address in all the glorious shining colors of a mad, shell-shocked opal.

Mental Cases, by Wilfred Owen

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?


Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,
Baring teeth that leer like skulls’ teeth wicked?
Stroke on stroke of pain,– but what slow panic
Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?
Ever from their hair and through their hands’ palms
Misery swelters. Surely we have perished
Sleeping, and walk in hell; but who these hellish?

Part 10. Hymns, Songs, Readings, Poems, and Chants for Invocation of the Neptune-Poseidon and the
Lords of the Ocean Sea: Lullabies, Songs of the Sea, Songs of Loss, Redemption, Sacrifice, Vision,
Damnation and Reconciliation, Dream and Nightmare, Murder, Betrayal, Valor, Bondage, Slavery,
Exile and Homecoming, Release, the Mystic Union of Brotherhood, Neighborhood and Community,
and Eternity

Neptune, Sephirah 2, Chokmah, “Wisdom”

1. Polynesian prayers to Ta’aroa, Lord of the Underworld and the Deep Sea. Taken from Book II,
“From the Sun-Swept Lagoon,” of James A. Michener’s Hawaii (New York: Fawcett Crest,
1959)

a. Dedication of a Canoe to Ta’aroa

Ta’aroa1, God of the dark and sweeping sea,


Ta’aroa, master of tempest and gentle calm,
Ta’aroa, protector of men with vision of the reef,
Ta’aroa, take my canoe to Thy heart,
Take it to Havaiki and to Moorea and to Nuku Hiva,
To the Black Shining Road of Ta’aroa,
To the Black Shining Road of Tane,2
To the Road of the Spider,
To the Much-Traveled Road of Ta’aroa.
God of the dark and sweeping sea,
Accept as Thy gift this canoe.

b. A Prayer to Ta’aroa for Protection

O Ta’aroa, God of the boundless deep,


Ta’aroa of the mighty waves
And the troughs that lead down to blackness,
We place our canoe in Thy hands,
In Thy Hands we place our lives.

c. Wait for the West Wind (A Directional Sea-Chant Serving as a Map of the Heavens to Guide
the First Settlers of Modern Hawaii from Tahiti)

Wait for the West Wind, wait for the West Wind!
Then sail to Nuku Hiva of the Dark Bays
To find the Constant Star.3
Hold to it, hold to it,
Though the eyes grow dim with heat.
Hold to it, hold to it,
Until wild Ta’aroa sends the winds!
Then speed to the clouds where Pere4 waits!
Watch for Her Fires, the Fires of Pere,
Until Great Tane reveals the Land,
Reveals Havaiki-of-the-North,
Sleeping beneath the Little Eyes.5

1
Ta’aroa, the God of the Oceanic Abysses of the Pacific, Lord of the Tahitian Hell and its demons. His
Hawaiian analogue is Kanaloa (the main difference between the Tahitian and Polynesian languages,
which separated only relatively recently, is a slight shift in the way consonants are pronounced, e.g.,
the Tahitian “T” became the Hawaiian “K” – or at least so the ears of the first White settlers of those
islands found it).
2
Tane, the Lord of the Heavens and the Skies.
3
“The Constant Star” = Polaris, the North Star, which is not visible from Tahiti.
4
Pere, Tahitian Goddess of Volcanoes, wife of Ta’aroa (Her Hawaiian analogue is Pele).
5
“The Little Eyes” or “the Seven Little Eyes” are that cluster of seven Stars in Taurus slightly East of Algol
and about 15ø West of the Constellation Orion. Alcyone, their brightest member, is a third-magnitude,
greenish-yellow Star situated on the shoulder of Taurus, the Bull.

2. “Sweet and Low,” Alfred Tennyson (arranged by Joseph Barnby). Both because it is a lullaby
(Neptune rules sleep and dream) and due to its content, which concerns the sea, this lovely song is
perfect for reinforcing invocations of Poseidon. (The student should look up one of the musical
arrangements, such as Barnaby’s, which have been composed for this lullaby; the text below
doesn’t show the rhythm of the song, without which much of its power is lost.)

Sweet and low, sweet and low,


Wind of the western waters;
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea;
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon and blow,
Blow him again to me,
While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,


Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon,
Sleep my little one, sleep my pretty one, sleep.

3. “Aloha Oe.” This, once the national and now the state anthem of our 50th state, Hawaii, was
written by Hawaii’s last queen, Queen Liliuokalani. In 1895, Queen Liliuokalani, need Mrs.
Lydia Dominis, was arrested and imprisoned for supposedly inciting revolution against the
American colonial government in Hawaii, under circumstances engineered by various haole
(white North American mainlander) factions in the Islands, for their own benefit, as well as to
attempt to force the annexation of Hawaii by the United States. In his novel Hawaii (New York:
Fawcett Crest Books, 1959), James Michener says of this event:

The powerful, headstrong woman was incarcerated in an upper room of the palace,
and while her imprisonment was rigorously policed, it was never physically unpleasant,
and before long her adherents were circulating the greatest state paper ever produced by a
sovereign of the islands. It was a song transcribed by Liliuokalani while in prison, and
though she had composed it some years before, it had gained little notice; now its lament
swept the island and the world, ’Aloha Oe’: ’Gently sweeps the rain cloud e’er the cliff,
borne swiftly by the western gale.’ One of the missionary men said of this song: ’While
she was free Queen Liliuokalani never did a thing for her people, but when she was in jail
she expressed their soul.’ . . .

Ibid., pp. 695-696

This incomparable anthem expresses the bitter loss of their land of the native people of Hawaii to
white invaders, their grief and sorrow, as nothing else ever has, as well as the heart-breaking
beauty of their island world. It is also a song of the sea, for theirs was and, such as it is, still
remains a maritime culture, one with the oceans as European-derived cultures are one with the
land. Finally, it is a love song. Neptune is exalted in the Sign of Cancer, ruler of the home; He is
the higher octave of Venus, Goddess of Love and Mundane Beauty; and is Lord of loss, grief,
martyrdom, Vision, racial memory, Divine Beauty, and the oceans. For all these reasons, this
song above all is perfect for the invocation of Poseidon. It is also superb for the invocation of
Amphitrite, Poseidon’s wife and co-ruler of the seas and all their bounty, especially because of the
enormous wealth of native Hawaii. The verses of this song are given here in both Hawaiian and
English, each verse in native Hawaiian followed by its English translation. It was found in
Charles Edward King’s King’s Book of Hawaiian Melodies (Honolulu, Hawaii: Charles E. King,
1948), pp. 130-131. The serious student will want to get a copy of the score for it, also included in
that and numerous other collections, as well, since, even more than the lyrics, the music of this
anthem is an example of the influence of Neptune at His greatest, best, and most powerful.

Haaheo e ka ua i na pali
Ke nihi ae la i kanahele
E uhai an paha i ka liko
Pua ahihi lehua o uka.

Proudly sweeps the rain cloud by the cliffs


As onward it glides through the trees;
It seems to be following the liko,
The ahihilehua of the vale.

E ka halia aloha kai hiki mai


Ke hone ae nei i kuu manawa.
O oe no ka’u ipo aloha
A loko e hana nei.

Thus sweet memories come back to me


Bringing fresh remembrance of the past.
Dearest one, yes, thou art mine own,
From the true love shall ne’er depart.

Maopopo kuu ike i ka nani,


Na pua rose o Maunawili,
Ilaila hiaai ai na manu,
Mikiala i ka nani o ka liko.
(English translation for this verse was not provided by King.)

(Chorus)
Aloha oe aloha oe
E ke onaona noho i ka lipo
One fond embrace a hoi ae au
Until we meet again.

Farewell to thee, farewell to thee,


Thou lovely one who dwells among the bowers!
One fond embrace before I now depart,
Until we meet again.

4. Written by Pat Boone and arranged by Ernest Gold, “The Exodus Song” (copyright 1960 and 1961
by Carlyle-Alpina, S. A.), is widely known because of its use as the theme music for the movie
Exodus, which presented the story of the founding of the modern nation-state of Israel in
cinematic form. This is especially suitable for invocations of Poseidon for several reasons: First,
the modern state Israel, founded on May 14, 1948, at 4 p.m., Tel Aviv Summer Time, has Neptune
rising in its natal chart, and is ruled by Neptune in the same way that the United States of America
is ruled by Uranus (which is rising in the traditional natus of the latter). Second, while Neptune
rules loss, it also rules redemption, and homecoming after long exile, which the experience of the
Jewish people throughout their long history since the beginning of the Christian era until now
perfectly exemplifies. Third, the modern state of Israel came to exist because of the vision of a
land of their own, free and sovereign, by the Jews of all nations from the beginning of the
destruction of the Second Temple in the Second Century e.v. onward through the middle of the
20th Century, a nation where they would not be subject to the tyrannical whims, the bigotry and
hatred, from which they had suffered nearly everywhere else for so long. Neptune is the ruler of
Vision in the mystical sense, of the Great Dream – and it was out of such a Dream that modern
Israel came to be. For all these reasons, “The Exodus Song” is a profoundly Neptunian piece,
perfect for invoking Poseidon.

This land is mine,


God gave this land to me,
This brave and ancient land to me.
And when the morning sun
Reveals her hills and plains
Then I see a land
Where children can run free.

So take my hand
And walk this land with me,
And walk this lovely {golden} land with me.
Though I am just a man,
When you are by my side,
With the help of God I know I can be strong.

So strong
To make this land our home,
If I must fight,
I’ll fight to make this land our own.
Until I die
This land is mine!

5. “Moody River,” Pat Boone


6. “Summertime,” by George Gershwin and Du Bose Hayward, from Porgy and Bess (copyright 1935,
1973 by Gershwin Publishing Corporation). This dreamy lullaby evokes a vision of peace and
plenty in counterpart to the longing, loss, and oppression of the lives of the singer and their
people, post-bellum Black Africa-Americans. Luna rules the soul; Neptune, one of Her higher
octaves, rules the collective souls of peoples and nations. It is the quality of Soul which is
perceived as the hallmark of The People, everywhere, and it is within that Soul that community
and its members survive and thrive; those who lack Soul are not True People, to be dealt with as
wild, fearsome beasts who must be feared, but not necessarily respected. Neptune rules this
elusive but sociobiologically extremely important phenomenon. For all these reasons, this
beautiful lullaby from the musical Porgy and Bess (which is the offspring of Black Orpheus, the
descendant of the Greek religious drama of Orpheus and Eurydice, one of the most powerful and
haunting stories of love and loss that has ever been) is perfect for an invocation of Neptune.

Summer time
An’ the livin’ is easy,
Fish are jumpin’,
An’ the cotton is high.
Oh yo’ daddy’s rich,
An yo’ ma is good lookin’,
So hush, little baby,
Don’ you cry.

One of these mornin’s


You goin’ to rise up singin’,
Then you’ll spread yo’ wings
An you’ll take the sky.
But till that mornin’
There’s a nothin’ can harm you
With Daddy and Mammy
Standin’ by.

7. “Ol’ Man River,” by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II, from Showboat (copyright 1927 by
T. B. Harms Co.) is one of the most profoundly moving hymns to the Spirits of the Mighty Waters
– in this case, the Father of Waters, the awesome Mississippi River – that has ever been. Written
for the musical Showboat, a wonderfully bittersweet story of America’s antebellum Deep South, it
is a song of vision, dream, longing for peace, rest, ending of sorrows, and a testimony to the
stupidity and injustice of slavery and bigotry that strikes to the heart. No better hymn to Poseidon,
in all His power and beneficence, exists anywhere.

Dere’s an ol’ man called de Mississippi,


Dat’s de ol’ man dat I’d like to be.
What does he care if de world’s got troubles?
What does he care if de land ain’t free?

Ol’ man river,


Dat ol’ man river,
He must know sumpin’
But don’t say nuthin’,
He jes’ keeps rollin’,
He keeps on rollin’ along.

He don’t plant taters,


He don’t plant cotton,
An’ dem dat plants ’em
Is soon forgotten,
But ol’ man river,
he jes’ keeps rollin’ along.

You an’ me,


We sweat an’ strain,
Body all achin’ an racked wid’ pain.
Tote dat barge!
Lift dat bale!
Git a little drunk
An’ you land in jail.

I git weary
An’ sick of tryin’,
I’m tired of livin’
An’ skeered of dyin’;
But ol’ man river,
He jes’ keeps rollin’ along!

Colored folks work on de Mississippi,


Colored folks work while de white folks play.
Pullin’ dem boats from de dawn to sunset,
Gittin’ no rest till de Judgment Day.
Don’t look up an’ don’t look down,
You don’t dast make de white boss frown;
Bend yo’ knees an’ bow yo’ head,
An’ pull dat rope until yo’re dead.
Let me go ’way from de Mississipi,
Let me go ’way from de white man’s boss.
Show me dat stream called de river Jordan,
Dat’s de ol’ stream I longs to cross!

Ol’ man river,


Dat ol’ man river,
He mus’ know sumpin’
But don’t say nuthin’,
He jes’ keeps rollin’,
He keeps on rollin’ along.
He don’t plant taters,
He don’t plant cotton,
An’ dem dat plants ’em
Is soon forgotten,
But ol’ man river
He jes’ keeps rollin’ along.

You an’ me, we sweat an’ strain,


Body all achin’ an wracked wid’ pain.
Tote dat barge! An’ lift dat bale!
Git a little drunk an’ you land in jail.

I git weary
An sick’ of tryin’,
I’m tired of livin’
An’ skeered of dyin’;
But ol’ man river
He jes’ keeps rollin’ along!
8. “Danny Deever,” by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936). Neptune, Whose Tarot Trump is XII, The
Hanged Man, rules betrayal and murder. This poem, by one of the greatest modern poets of the
English-speaking peoples, evokes all three and is perfect for invocations of Poseidon.

“What are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade.


“To turn you out, to turn you out,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
“What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade.
“I’m dreadin’ what I’ve got to watch,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
For they’re hanging Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,
The Regiment’s in ’ollow square – they’re hangin’ him today;
They’ve taken of his buttons off an’ cut his stripes away,
An’ they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.

“What makes the rear-rank breathe so ’ard?” said Files-on-Parade.


“It’s bitter cold, it’s bitter cold,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
“What makes that front-rank man fall down?” said Files-on-Parade.
“A touch o’ sun, a touch o’ sun,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
They are hangin’ Danny Deever, they are marchin’ of ’im round,
They ’ave ’alted Danny Deever by ’is coffin on the ground;
An’ ’e’ll swing in ’arf a minute for a sneakin’ shootin’ hound –
O they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’!

“’Is cot was right-’and cot to mine,” said Files-on-Parade.


“’E’s sleepin’ out an’ far tonight,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
“I’ve drunk ’is beer a score o’ times,” said Files-on-Parade.
“’E’s drinkin’ bitter beer alone,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
They are hangin’ Danny Deever, you must mark ’em to ’is place,
For ’e shot a comrade sleepin’ – you must look ’im in the face;
Nine ’undred of ’is county an’ the Regiment’s disgrace,
While they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.

“What’s that so black agin the sun?” said Files-on-Parade?


“It’s Danny fightin’ ’ard for life,” the Color-Sergeant said.
“What’s that that whimpers over’ead?” said Files-on-Parade.
“It’s Danny’s soul that’s passin’ now,” the Colour-Sergeant said.
For they’re done with Danny Deever, you can ’ear the quickstep play,
The Regiment’s in column, an’ they’re marchin’ us away;
Ho! the young recruits are shakin’, an’ they’ll want their beer today,
After hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’!

9. “The United States Marine Corps Hymn” (copyright 1921 by the United States Marines), the verses
of which were written by Col. H. C. Davis, USMC, at Camp Meyer in 1911, is the official song of
the United States Marine Corps. The first two lines refer to the U. S. war with Mexico (1846-
1848) and their expedition against the Barbary Pirates. Beyond that, said Col. Davis, “I have
never been able to trace the original song beyond the words of the first two lines . . . which were
inscribed on the corps colors many years ago. The two following verses I wrote at Camp Meyer in
1911 when on an expedition.” Their motto, “Semper fidelis,” and their record in war says it all:
“No greater sacrifice, no greater devotion.” According to Aleister Crowley, “The heart of
Neptune is Mars.” The United States Marines are a living testimony of that truth. It is therefore
entirely appropriate that their Hymn be used in invocations of Poseidon. (To give the Qlippoth of
Neptune their due, Neptune also rules certain classes of psychoses; as one friend of mine, a rather
thoroughgoingly ex-Marine, once said to me, “Anybody who signs up for that outfit has got to be
crazy!”)

From the Halls of Montezuma


To the shores of Tripoli,
We fight our country’s battles
On the land and on the sea.
First to fight for right and freedom,
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of United States Marines.

Our flag’s unfurled to ev’ry breeze


From dawn to setting sun;
We have fought in ev’ry clime and place
Where we could take a gun.
In the snow of far off Northern lands
And in sunny tropic scenes;
You will find us always on the job,
The United States Marines.

Here’s health to you and to our Corps


Which we are proud to serve;
In many a strife we’ve fought for life
And never lost our nerve.
If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven’s scenes,
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.

10. “Goin’ Home.” From the Largo of the symphony “From the New World,” Op. 95 (Copyright
1922 by Oliver Ditson Company), by Anton Dvorak (1841-1904). Neptune in Sagittarius is
longing for return from exile in a far-away land. The following expresses that longing exquisitely.
As William Arms Fisher, one of Dvorak’s pupils, who gave this song its words, writes (1922):

In 1893, longing to hear his native tongue and with something akin to homesickness,
he [Dvorak] spent the summer in Spillville, Iowa, a small community of Bohemians.
Here, as the outcome of his enthusiastic study of the folk music of the American negro,
he wrote the symphony From the New World, Op. 95, his string-quartet, Op. 96, and
string-quintet, Op. 97. In these significant works he did not incorporate negro themes but
invented his own after the negro manner. He told me after his return that he had been
reading Longfellow’s Hiawatha, and that the wide-stretching prairies of the midwest had
greatly impressed him.
As a pupil of Dvorak’s I saw much of him at this time, and he was frankly annoyed
at some of the statements made in the daily press regarding his “theories,” for he had
none. He was ever seeking fresh musical material and in the Negro spiritual he rejoiced
to find something that from the old-world point of view was unhackneyed and moreover
indigenous. He saturated himself in it and then simply and naturally gave rich expression
to his “discovery” in the three works mentioned. . . .
The work [Dvorak’s symphony, “From the New World,” Opus 95] had been much
written up in advance and at the first public performance, Friday afternoon, December 15,
1893, Carnegie Hall was crowded. At the close of the Largo, so moving was the
performance, so touched to the heart was the great audience, that in the boxes filled with
women of fashion and all about the all people sat with the tears rolling down their cheeks.
Neither before nor since have I seen a great audience so profoundly moved by absolute
music. At the close of the movement and again at the end of the symphony, the modest,
simple-hearted peasant composer was persuaded with difficulty to rise and acknowledge
the ovation given him.
The Largo, with its haunting English horn solo, is the outpouring of Dvorak’s own
home-longing, with something of the loneliness of far-off prairie horizons, the faint
memory of the red-man’s bygone days, and a sense of the tragedy of the black-man as it
sings in his ’spirituals.’ Deeper still it is a moving expression of that nostalgia of the soul
all human beings feel. That the lyric opening theme of the Largo should spontaneously
suggest the words “Goin’ home, goin’ home” is natural enough, and that the lines that
follow the melody should take the form of a negro spiritual accords with the genesis of
the symphony.

Goin’ home, goin’ home,


I’m a-goin’ home;
Quiet like, some still day,
I’m jes’ goin’ home.
It’s not far, jes’ close by,
Through an open door;
Work all done, care laid by,
Gwine to fear no more.
Mother’s there, ’spectin’ me,
Father’s waitin’ too;
Lots o’ folk gather’d there,
All the friends I knew,
All the friends I knew.

Home, home,
I’m goin’ home!

Nothin’ lost, all’s gain,


No more fret nor pain,
No more stumblin’ on the way,
No more longin’ for the day,
Gwine to roam no more!
Mornin’ star lights the way,
Res’less dream all done;
Shadows gone, break o’ day,
Real life jes’ begun.
Dere’s no break, ain’t no end,
Jes’ a-livin’ on;
Wide awake, with a smile
Goin’ on an’ on.

Goin’ home, goin’ home,


I’m jes’ goin’ home;
It’s not far, jes’ close by
Through an open door.
I’m jes’ going’ home.

11. From Blow Negative, by Edward Stephens (New York: Doubleday, 1963), pp. 109-120 – Neptune
in Aquarius: the Mystic Union of Fellowship, Philadelphia, the Bond of Neighborhood and
Community. On board ship, the lives of all aboard are absolutely dependent upon the participation
of everyone aboard in a seamless web of never-ending ritual the purpose of which is to keep the
ship afloat, in good trim and repair, and all aboard in good health so that each may function
optimally in his assigned niche and place in the rituals of life onboard ship. Otherwise, the ship
will eventually founder or otherwise come to grief, and all aboard perish with her. This is never
more true than aboard a submarine, particularly the pre-nuclear subs, which had no computers to
accomplish many of the routine tasks vitally necessary to their proper functioning and the well-
being of all aboard them. The old sea-chanties were often also used as means of coordinating the
rhythm and timing of the activities of all aboard ship so that everything needed for the survival of
the ship and her people would be accomplished in the proper order and synchronization with all
other necessary actions. These were incarnated first aboard ship in pre-nuclear modern navies,
then again aboard the first submarines, in the form of the “litany of the watch,” orders, commands,
and confirmations or warnings of problems shouted back and forth – a canticle of Poseidon,
versum et responsum – through the ship or sub’ (always referred to – in polite company – as a
“boat”; you don’t want to know what the inhabitants of those first submarines often called their
combination life-support systems, homes, and work-places at moments of anguish and irritation!)
from senior-grade officer to junior-grade officer or lower-echelon hand, in order to accomplish
necessary tasks in the proper order and rhythm. Below, taken from Blow Negative!, the
fictionalized account of the life and career of Admiral Hyman G. Rickover, father of the modern
nuclear navy and a proponent of ecological sanity as well as of increased quality of standards and
performance in American education, is an example of such a “litany of the watch,” in the context
of the community it serves, the compliment of the men aboard the U.S.S. Starfish, a U. S. Navy
pre-nuclear submarine of the Korean War era. The Mystic Union of Fellowship, Philadelphia, is
the psychospiritual aspect of the formation of a highly-integrated, optimally functioning
community such as the men aboard such a submarine must create among themselves if they and
their “boat” are to survive and do their jobs properly out there in the deeps of Ocean. The psyches
and spirits of the men aboard such a vessel are in some ways, at least during the times when they
are at sea, as closely-knit as those of monks in a monastery, bees in a hive, or, indeed, the living
beings making up any healthy ecosystem. Neptune rules the Collective Unconscious, the Soul, the
Ocean Deeps, intoxication, hangovers and migraines, choreography, life-support systems and
artificial habitats, poetry, and the Mystic Fellowship or Philadelphia – not to mention hair,
entropy, and selfless service. This may therefore be one of the greatest hymns to Neptune ever
written, and perfect for an invocation of Him (or, as the characters in Blow Negative so often
allude, to him).

At sea, submerged, en route for Operation Wind.


The 7 m.c. burps and whines, sounding a little like him though it is not his voice.
“Surface! Surface! Surface!” and the diving klaxon sounds:
Ah-oogah! Ah-oogah! Ah-ooogah!
In the darkness of his bunk Harry awakes to poetry, the harsh voices in control room
filtered softly by distance.

“Blow the forward group!”

“Blow the forward group, aye!”

The submarine shudders forward.


“Forward group is blowing, sir!”
“Very well.”
“Blow the after group!”
“Blow the after group, aye!”
The submarine shudders aft.
“After group is blowing, sir!”
“Very well.”
“Ten degrees upangle!”
“Ten up, aye.”
A great silent hand lifts Harry’s
head in darkness.
“Steady at ten up, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Ease the bubble to five up.”
“Five up, aye.”
“Five up she is, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Six oh feet, sir.”
“Six oh, aye. Secure blowing for-
ward!”
“Secure forward, aye!”
Sudden silence forward.
“Forward group secured, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Five oh feet, sir.”
“Five oh, aye. Secure blowing
aft!”
“Secure aft, aye!”
Silence aft now. Silence throughout
the boat. The voices in control room
seem louder in the quiet.
“After group secured, sir.”
“Very well.”
“All main ballast blown and secured,
sir.”
“Very well.”
“Four oh feet, sir.”
“Four oh, aye. Zero bubble.”
“Zero bubble, aye.”
Harry’s feet come level with his head
again. Surface turbulence begins to
reach down and sway the rising hull
now.
“Zero bubble, sir.”
“Very well.”
Gentle silent coasting upward, with
now the beginning of gentle swaying
surface motion all in silence. Harry
hears water sighing against the metal
skin of the hull.
“Three oh feet, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Two five feet, sir.”
“Start the low-pressure blowers.”
“Start the blowers, aye.”
A whining low rumble fills the submar-
ine. The low-pressure blowers force the
remaining water from the ballast tanks,
but they also take air from inside the
boat. Harry’s ears protest. He holds his
nose and blows.
“Conning tower is out of the water, sir.”
“Very well!”
“Light on the hatch?” “Red, sir.”
“Light on the hatch?” “Red, sir.”
“Light on the #$%*! hatch?” “Intermediate, sir.”
“#$%&*!” “Blowers are pulling a vacuum in the
boat, sir.”
“Call up there and ask ’em what
their %*$%! trouble is!”
“Green light on the upper hatch!”
“Crack the lower hatch!”
“Well?”
“Too much vacuum, sir. She’s
sucked shut.”
“Stop the %$*! blowers!”
“Secure the blow, aye.”
Momentary and absolute silence.
“Blow’s secured.”
Then:
“Bleed air!”
“Air, aye!”
Harry feels it before he hears the loud
roar, the brutal assault on pummeled ear-
drums, and through it the tinny distant
voices shouting.
“Pressure?”
“Equalized.”
“Secure the air!”
“-ure the air, aye!” Abrupt silence
“Now open that damn thing.”
“Hatch . . . is . . . open!”

Again the ears and now the nose pro-


test. Fresh sea air whooshes into the
atmosphere. It smells peculiar and
somehow sickly thin because it is devoid
of engine oil, perspiration, cigarette-
smoke and batterygas. The submarine
pitches and rolls, nodding obliquely into
the sea. Waves slap the hull near Harry’s
head and over it, for on the surface he is
still beneath the water line. He drowses
in the dark motion. His body responds
gently to the gentle rolling caress of the
surface. He burrows into his blanket
in darkness. He knows where he has
been: he has been on watch. He knows
where he is going: he is going back on
watch. But not for another two hours.
He does not know why they have sur-
faced and he does not really care (he is
too sleepy with the pleasant ache of
work accomplished). He does not know
if it is day or night (there are too many
more important things to keep track of
even in his sleep).
Ah-oo-gah! Ah-ooo-gah!
Dive! Dive!
He must have been sleeping because
now he wakes again. He hears the metal
sound of scrambling feet descending, lis-
tens hard for the punctuation, hears it:
the distant hard clang! of the upper
hatch slamming shut. He lets go a little,
waiting in complete and lonely dark-
ness for the routine pressure test, wait-
ing so hard with his ears they begin to
hurt with the strain.
“Bleed air!”
“Bleed a-!” Air roars under heavy
pressure into the sealed hull and stops
abruptly, leaving in its wake a strangely
twisted silence and the musty smell of
steel flasks.
The diving officer reports up the
hatch to the conning officer:
“Pressure in the boat, sir! And
. . . holding!”
Harry’s ears know the pressure is hold-
ing, as do the ears of everyone else in the
submarine, whether they can hear the
shouted commands from control room or
not. And their ears tell them there are no
openings in the hull or the pressure
would not hold and they relax. Harry
sleeps, smiling.
“Ten degree down bubble.”
“Five down, aye.”
“I said ten down.”
“Ten down aye, sir.”
“Make your depth one hundred
feet.”
“One hundred feet, aye.”
Harry’s head gently lowers until his
body angles down at ten degrees and he
slides head first into deep black water, a
snug placid papoose.
“Bubble is ten down, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Passing fifty feet, sir.”
“Very well. Ease the bubble.”
“Ease the bubble, aye.”
“Passing seventy feet, sir.”
“Very well. Three down bubble.”
“Three down.”
“Blow negative!”
“Blow negative!”
The boat shudders, but gently, and that
does not wake Harry. The air working
against the water in negative tank makes
some noise, but that does not wake him,
either. What wakes him is the time: the
diving officer has waited too long to
blow negative tank, which should be
blown as soon as negative buoyancy is
achieved and the boat is going down
nicely. Now, at this depth, negative tank
takes a long time to blow and Harry
wakes at the disturbance in the routine of
the dive.
“Negative blown to the mark, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Permission to vent negative, sir?”
“Vent negative.”
The air from negative tank packs itself
into the sealed hull. Harry swallows and
holds his nose and blows without even
knowing he is doing it, until he hears
and feels the crack! behind his ears
somewhere and all sound becomes loud-
er, and voices have depth again.
“Zero bubble.”
“Zero bubble, aye.”
“Bubble is zero.”
“Very well.”
“Captain, we’re at one hundred feet
with a zero bubble, sir. Trim
satisfactory and holding. We’re
a little light aft and I’ll get a
final trim now.”
In Harry’s mind something clicks and
says: so that is where he is now; he is in
the conning tower. And the sweet warm
cocoon of earned and guiltless sleep
closes snugly around Harry and he
drowses, like a monk in his cell, in the
warm protective embrace of something
which he does not completely under-
stand but in which he completely be-
lieves. From the control room the
chanted litany of the diving watch
drones on. It has no beginning and no
end. It exists deep in Harry’s subcon-
scious mind even when the boat is sur-
faced, even when Harry is walking on
dry land, even, as now, when he sleeps.
“Pump from forward trim to
after trim.”
“Pump from forward trim to after trim,
aye.”
“Pumping from forward trim to after
trim.”
“Suction forward trim; after trim
venting.”
“Very well.”
“One thousand pounds.”
“One thousand, aye.”
“Two thousand pounds.”
“Two thousand, aye.”
“Secure pumping.”
“Secure pumping, aye.”
“Pumping secured, sir. Twenty-five
hundred pounds pumped from forward
trim to after trim.”
“Very well.”
“Flood auxiliaries from sea.”
“Flood aux-”
“Fire in forward battery!”
“Fire in forward battery!”
“Secure flooding!”
Harry is moving sideways in darkness before he opens his eyes. He awakens with a
fire extinguisher in his hands standing naked in the passageway with a crowd of a dozen
others staring into the wardroom pantry as Concepción, grinning sheepishly, pumps the
contents of a small hand extinguisher into the little oven in the pantry. The fire and
rescue party trailing rescue lines and wearing oxygen masks comes up as the watertight
doors at either end of the compartment slam shut.
St. Claire dismisses them all with a commendation for their promptness. They
remind Harry of a bunch of white corpuscles gathering at once and without volition at the
scene of an infection. The captain says nothing, just stares at everyone from the red
pained depths of those sleepless eyes and goes back into his room, pulling an old maroon
bathrobe about his fragile body.
They all disappear as rapidly as they assembled. The engineer officer, barefoot, in
khaki trousers and T shirt, hunches over a cup of coffee alone at the wardroom table,
going over his engine reports and bell books.
Harry remains in the passageway, blinking in at the light, hiding his nakedness with
the heavy extinguisher as he rests it on the deck. “I thought he was in the conning
tower.”
“He was,” the engineer says, not even looking up. “But he came down about an hour
ago.”
“Oh. Time is it now?”
“Twenty-three thirty.”
“Then I might as well stay up.”
“You got the midwatch?”
“Yeah.”
The engineer looks at Harry over the rim of his coffee cup. “I had the sixteen to
twenty hundred and I been working over these #@%*%! reports ever since. I’m gonna
hit the rack now for a couple hours anyway. So please drive carefully.”
The messenger of the watch comes down the passageway, starts to turn into Boys
Town, sees Harry standing in the door of the wardroom.
“Mist’ Joy. Mist’ Inkerman says to remine you you got the next diving watch, sir.
We’re down now but we’ll be surfacing in another hour or so for the weather reports. So
bring a jacket.”
“Okay. Thanks, Foster.”
“You might wear some pants too. The guys in the control room are awful horny
tonight.”
“Scram.”
The laughter is good-natured. The engineer joins in as does Concepción from the
pantry where he is cleaning up the foam. Now Harry looks forward to the camaraderie of
the watch even more than he envies the engineering officer who drains his coffee cup and
goes into the snug warm dark of Boys Town for the sleep he has earned.
And over their heads tons of black moving water, opaque, endless, and uncaring.

*****

The men who went to sea in the Starfish were constantly studying their habitat.
When they were not actually on watch or sleeping or eating, they were weaving their way
through the submarine, moving along inside the skin of the submerged ship, flashlight
ready for dark corners, a set of ship’s plans and pad and paper in hand, laboriously
tracing out and sketching some fuel system or the path of a particular hydraulic line
through the ship or the route of the ventilation system through the boat, much as medical
students might trace out nerves, tendons, trachea, and spleen in the dissecting lab. They
were like interns inside a huge breathing patient, studying everything that gave life to that
vast and intricate body, nursing the life carefully, massaging the heart with grease and
supplying fuel intravenously, freeing the lungs by opening the bulkhead flapper valves
and closing them against the foul air from the batteries, administering physics of high-
pressure air to the sanitary tanks a hundred feet down for a vast submerged bowel
movement, constantly taking all manner of measurements and recording them, charting
them, worrying over them, gathering in little clumps before the charts, noting the hour-
by-hour condition of their patient, now and then one of them donning operating costume
of grease-stained overalls (often less grease-stained than their clothing over which they
were donned, as if to keep the grease from their clothes off the machinery). They
performed minor surgery with stillson, crescent, and clamp. Occasionally, more rarely
and because of that with even greater intensity, a group of consulting specialists, brought
in from other compartments with all the quiet excitement and prestige of experts gathered
from neighboring cities, performed major surgery deep within the bowels of engine room
or battery well while a tight straining circle of colleagues looked tensely down through
the neatly unbolted or jagged torch-cut incision, offering engineering advice so explicitly
obscene that a strange would think two robots were mating down there, delivering their
remarks between sharp anxious glances overhead in that peculiar reflex of submariners
who know full well that if water is going to spurt in from anywhere it will probably come
from the part of the boat which is deepest in it, yet who continually glance upward, as if,
being sailors, they can accept the fact of water beneath them and on either side of them
but are continually appalled that now it is on top of them too.
As the transit south to the operating area for Operation Wind was completed and
the actual exercise began, [Captain Sampson H.] Greice was much more in evidence. If
he was not physically more apparent (he still remained invisible behind his green curtain
or in the dim restricted darkness of the conning tower), at least for a change everyone was
aware of what he was thinking about. He was holding regular meetings, and he was
concentrating on the conclusion of Operation Wind. When he concentrated in public it
was an awesome thing.
At almost any hour of the night or day a little group, perhaps just to or three, or
even one, but often four or five of the ship’s officers might be seen clustered before the
door of his stateroom. Sometimes he would actually be addressing them through the
drawn green curtain. Harry would never forget the spectacle of several bright young
officers huddled in the narrow passageway, addressing themselves eloquently to the
opaque curtain, nodding solemnly as the whirring voice drilled back through it, probing
for the soft places in their thinking.
The captain’s hair grew rapidly. Sometimes he would go to the forward torpedo
room and sit on an upended bucket and Concepción would drape him with a white sheet
and trim his hair. The captain would either read during this operation or use the time to
summon his officers for an audience. It made quite a sight: the huge gray head thrust
through the top of the billowing sheet while, surrounding him, Concepción and the
summoned officers stood in an uncomfortable half-stoop, ministering to him.
Harry continued to study toward his Qualification. He went through
compartment after compartment of the Starfish, explaining to Crogan what each valve
was for, and how it would be rigged for normal operation and for a dozen different
emergencies, and what each pipe, wire, and cable was that passed through the
compartment, where it went and where it came from.
Often he groped his way blindfolded, touching valves, lines, and gauges called
out at random by Crogan, the men in the compartment going about their business with
complete unconcern, writing letters, playing acey-deucey, or reading quietly while Harry
made his way blindly among them shouting irritably in response to the endless questions
and corrections barked at him by his examiner. All the men relaxing knew the
compartment so thoroughly that when Crogan shouted (for instance), “Where is the flood
valve for number-three fuel-ballast tank?” the sailor sitting on that valve would
automatically and without interrupting what he was doing raise himself to make room for
Harry’s groping hands, returning to his seat as soon as Harry found the valve and had
gone on, so that if Harry were doing well and going from one valve to another with some
rapidity the men in the compartment looked like parts of some giant steam calliope
moving up and down in rhythm to the cadence of Crogan’s shouted questions.
For the first time in his life Harry found himself totally concerned with
something other than himself. In the privacy of his bunk, he groped in his mind to fit
together various pieces of equipment with their names and their functions and recall
exactly how they looked in the light and felt in the dark and what it looked, felt, and even
smelled like when something had gone wrong. But after a few minutes of such
agonizing, he would fall off to sleep with a sweeping fatigue that stole suddenly through
him and in seconds rendered him unconscious. It was a strange, delightful feeling to go
to sleep that way, almost like being drunk. (The air was normally less than pure,
however, and he got so used to waking up with a headache that he missed it when it was
not there. So if he had his intoxication he had his hang-over too.)
Something seemed to take place in his mind as he slept, the unbelievably
complicated parts of the metal anatomy he was learning began to take permanent form
and meaning, and somewhere during Operation Wind the whole began to emerge. It
seemed to Harry like a sort of magic. Whole pieces of interrelated systems began to pop
into his mind full blown. He began moving through the ship and the ship’s routine with a
new assurance. The days – that is, the time during which he was not sleeping, which he
learned, like everyone else, to think of as daytime, though for each of them it was a
different time – piled themselves one atop the other in a structure of increasing
confidence and strength.

12. “Shenandoah (The Wide Missouri)” was an early land ballad about a trader who wooed the
daughter of an Indian chief and then left her on the shores of the wide Missouri. The song was
taken to sea, perhaps by some of the peripatetic lumberjacks who worked in the woods in the
winter and aboard ship during the summer. Without significant changes made in it, it finally
became one of the most famous and widely sung of American shanties. Its rhythm is slow and
rolling, like a long sea, its melody haunting, filled with the exile’s longing for his belovèd of his
long-lost youth, and thus is a superb accompaniment for invocations of Neptune.

O Shenandoah, I long to hear you,


Away, my rolling river!
O Shenandoah I can’t get near you.
Away, away, I’m bound away,
’Cross the wide Missouri!

O Shenandoah, I love your daughter.


Away, my rolling river!
She lives across the stormy water.
Away, away, I’m bound away,
’Cross the wide Missouri!

For seven years I courted Sally,


Away, my rolling river,
For seven more I longed to have her,
Away, away, I’m bound away
’Cross the wide Missouri!

She said she would not be my lover.


Away, my rolling river!
Because I was a dirty sailor.
Away, away, I’m bound away,
’Cross the wide Missouri!

I’m drinkin’ rum and chewin’ ’baccer,


Away, my rolling river,
I’m drinkin’ rum and chewin’ baccer’,
Away, away, I’m bound away,
’Cross the wide Missouri!
O Shenandoah, I long to hear you,
Away, my rolling river,
A-comin’ back across the river,
Away, away, I’m bound away,
’Cross the wide Missouri!

13. John Paul Jones (1747-1792), founder of the United States Navy, was himself a man of enormous
courage and vision. The latter is a traditional virtue of Neptune; the former exemplifies – again –
Crowley’s reminder that “in the heart of Neptune is Mars.” The following quotation is historically
accurate, having been thrown as a challenge to the British by the intrepid Welshman when the
British attempted to board and seize Jones’s own ship, the Bonhomme Richard, of which he was
captain at the time. Jones meant it. he won the battle – and was a good part of why the United
States was able to become and remain a free an independent nation.

I have not yet begun to fight.

– John Paul Jones, aboard the Bonhomme Richard [September 23, 1779]

14. “The ultimate sacrifice.” “The last full measure of their devotion.” How many young heroes have
gone down to the grave rather than abandon or betray their beloved land? Neptune rules sacrifice
– especially the supreme sacrifice, the foremost representation of which was of course the death of
Jesus of Nazareth on the Cross, the sacrifice of self and life in the service of a far greater Self and
Life. Nathan Hale is one of countless superb exemplars of such sacrifice.

I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.

– Nathan Hale (1755-1776), last words before being hanged by the British as a spy
[September 22, 1776]

15. “The Peat-Bog Soldiers (Die Moorsoldaten),” author unknown, was written in the Boergermoor
Concentration Camp in Nazi Germany, where Germans who had run afoul of the Nazi regime
were interned and used as slave-labor. The performance of this calm, grim song with its double
meaning was first permitted and even encouraged at the prison, but once it had spread all over
Germany and its real meaning – “Resistance or death!” – was made clear, it was banned at once. –
As history shows, to no avail. This time, “in the heart of Neptune is Mars” translates as: “In the
heart of the meanest prisoner or slave can live inconceivable courage that will endure until the
very end.”

Far and wide as the eye can wander


Heath and bog are ev’rywhere.
Not a bird sings out to cheer us,
Oaks are standing gaunt and bare.
We are the peat-bog soldiers;
We’re marching with our spades
To the bog.

Up and down the guards are pacing,


No one, no one can go through.
Flight would mean a sure death-facing,
Guns and barbed-wire greet our view.

But for us there is no complaining,


Winter will in time be past;
One day we shall cry, rejoicing,
“Homeland dear, you’re mine at last!”
Then will the peat-bog soldiers
March no more with their spades
To the bog!

Wohin auch das Auge blicket,


Moor und Heide nur ringsum.
Vogelsang uns nicht erquicket,
Eichen stehen kahl und krumm.
Wir sind die Moorsoldaten,
Wir ziehen mit dem Spaten
Ins Moor.

16. “The Valley of Sleep” (from The Zodiac), by Hendrik Marsman (1899-1940). A. J. Barnouw,
translator. In A Little Treasury of World Poetry: Translations from the Great Poets of Other
Languages 2600 B.C. to 1950 A.D. (Hubert Creekmore, editor. New York: Charles Scribner’s
Sons, 1952), pp. 791-792. Neptune rules poetry, vision, transcendent beauty, sleep, hypnosis,
dream – and horror, nightmare, and doom. “The Valley of Sleep” weaves its web of enchantment
out of all these:

The dreams cross his sleep


As monsters the universe;
The moon is a beast that dies
In the shameless valley of clouds;
And he in whose brain’s soft part,
By the bite of the scorpion,
The fire of the spirit seeped
Through the bark’s smooth labyrinth,
Like poison in a thirsty sponge,
Feels at night the sweat of his thought
Break out in a crown of thorns,
Like a fungus, a Venus wreath.
Who shall lay a cloth on his head?
His skull throbs like a wound.
But no sponge with vinegar and gall
Kisses the tortured mouth.

******

O flesh that sullies itself


With refinement’s flaccid flesh,
Be a plant again, rushing weed
In the waters of Nature’s black stream.

All words evaporate,


And the seed that ought to bear fruit
In a flowering woman’s womb
Pines away in the boyish frame

Of the polished hermaphrodite,


The hetaera who murders the growth;
Do not sleep with the intellect,
Do not couple with a cold womb.

For a brood of adders was aye


The fruit that inbreeding bred.
And also the child of the mind
Shall go the way of all flesh.

See, the moon has sullied the script


That your pen drove into the sheet.
The verse too that drains your bones
Of their marrow is short-lived as grass.

Sink away in the valley of sleep,


In the world’s original mould, –
A nameless lethargy,
An unfathomed oblivion.

17. “The Sea Dike,” by M. Vasalis (1908-?). Translated by A. J. Barnouw. In A Little Treasury of
World Poetry: Translations from the Great Poets of Other Languages 2600 B.C. to 1950 A.D.,
op. cit., pp. 792-793. Neptune rules the Ocean Sea, the wild, untamable thing that was Life’s
womb, and ultimately makes a mockery of every would-be attempt at immortality by the
tectonically ambitious land. Though temporarily Neptune can apparently be broken to harness,
bridled, saddled, ridden for pleasure or impressed for work, as the Dutch, among others, have
done, eventually He always breaks out of His paddock, tears out of His harness, kicks over the
loads He is made to pull, and regains His freedom in wild, destructive storms of exultant fury.
The Dutchman M. Vasalis, who, like all his countryman, lived his life in a strange, tense
relationship to the sea, dammed and diked as it has been by the Netherlanders, knew that fact well.
This poem of his subtly hints at the real power of Neptune that lies hidden just beneath the tamed,
diked-in surface over which the bus in which the speaker is travelling moves. Neptune rules
subtlety and concealed power; this poem exemplifies both.

The bus rides like a room across the night.


The road is straight, the dike is without end.
At left the sea, tamed but recalcitrant.
A little moon distils a delicate light.

In front of me the young, close-shaven necks


Of a couple of sailor boys. They do their best
To stifle yawns, they stretch their arms and legs,
And on each other’s shoulders drop to rest.

Then dreamily there drifts into my ken


The ghost of this bus, transparent glass
Riveted to ours, now clear, and then again
Half-drowned in the misty sea. The glass
Cuts straight through the sailors. Then I see pass
Myself as well. Only my face
Is drifting on top of the surface swell
And moves its mouth as if it would tell
A story and could not, a mermaid distressed.
There is to this journey, I feel somehow,
Neither start nor finish, only at best
This strangely split unending Now.

18. “The Bridge,” by Albert Verwey (1865-1937). A. J. Barnouw, translator. In A Little Treasury of
World Poetry: Translations from the Great Poets of Other Languages 2600 B.C. to 1950 A.D.,
op. cit., p. 788. Neptune rules sacrifice, murder, and horror; this poem illustrates all three
perfectly.

They founded in the turbulent stream their bridge,


And vowed, lest peace and strength should fail the stone,
“Whose dearest comes here first must be entombed.”

The late sun scorched the mountain’s side and ridge,


When, singing, one came by who carried home
Her husband’s food and drink. And she was doomed.

They lifted her – while he stood limply by.


They placed her in the tomb-predestined hole,
And did their masonry. Her eyes bulged large.

She shrieked! this went beyond men’s foolery.


He stood there silent. Hope ebbed from her soul,
The while the masons slowly closed the arch.

19. “Hair,” from the musical Hair, lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado, music by Galt
McDermot; copyright 1967, 1968 by James Rado, Gerome Ragni, Galt MacDermot, Nat Shapiro, United
Artists Music Co., Inc. One of the archetypal traits of Neptune is hairiness. This song from the apex of the
Acid Generation of the 1960s, sings its praises.

She asks me why,


I’m just a hairy guy.
I’m hairy noon and night,
Hair that’s a fright.
I’m hairy high and low,
Don’t ask me why, don’t know.
It’s not for lack of bread,
Like the Grateful Dead.

Darlin’, give ma a head with hair,


Long beautiful hair,
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen,
Give me down to there hair,
Shoulder length or longer,
Here, baby, there, momma, ev’rywhere, daddy, daddy,
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.
Flow it, show it, as God can grow it, my hair.

Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees,


Give a home to the fleas in my hair,
A home for fleas, (yeah) a hive for bees, (yeah) a nest for birds,
There ain’t no words for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.
Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair.

I want a long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty,


oily, greasy, fleecy, shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen,
knotted, polka dotted,
Twisted, beaded, braided, powdered, flowered and confettied,
bangled, tangled, spangled and spaghettied.

They’ll be gaga at the go-go when they see me in my toga,


My toga made of bond, brilliant, biblical hair.
My hair like Jesus wore it,
Hallelujah, I adore it,
Hallelujah, Mary loved her son, why don’t my mother love me?
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.
Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair.

20. “Empty Saddles,” by Bill Hill (copyright 1934 by Shapiro, Bernstein, and Co.). In 1936, in the
film Rhythm on the Range, in which he played the part of a cattleman turned rodeo performer,
Bing Crosby introduced this classic Billy Hill song.

Empty saddles in the old corral,


Where do you ride tonight?
Are ya roundin’ up the dogies,
The strays of long ago;
Are ya on the trail of buffalo?

Empty saddles in the old corral,


Where do you ride tonight?
Are there rustlers on the border
Or a band of Navajo;
Are ya headin’ for the Alamo?

Empty guns, covered with rust,


Where do ya talk tonight?
Empty boots, covered with dust,
Where do ya walk tonight?
Empty saddles in the old corral,
My tears would be dried tonight;
If you’ll only say I’m lonely
As ya carry my old pal,
Empty saddles in the old corral.

21. “Auld Lang Syne”

22. “Riders in the Sky,” by Stan Jones (copyright 1949 Edward H. Morris & Co.). Written by
Arizona-born actor and screenwriter Stan Jones, this song had deeper country roots than most.

An old cowpuncher went riding out one dark and windy day;
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way,
When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw,
A ploughin’ through the ragged skies
And up the cloudy draw.
Yi-pi-yi-ay,
Yi-pi-yi-o,
The ghost herd in the sky.

Their brands were still on fire, and their hooves wuz made of steel;
Their horns wuz black and shiny, and their hot breath we could feel.
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky,
For he saw the riders comin’ hard,
As he heard their mournful cry.
Yi-pi-yi-ay,
Yi-pi-yi-o,
Ghost riders in the sky.

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred and shirts all soaked with sweat;
They’re ridin’ hard to catch the herd but they ain’t caught them yet,
’Cause they’ve got to ride forever on that range up in the sky
On horses snortin’;
As they ride on, hear their cry.
Yi-pi-yi-ay,
Yi-pi-yi-o,
Ghost riders in the sky.

As the riders loped on by him, he heard one call his name,


“If you want to save your soul from hell a-ridin’ on our range,
Then, cowboy, change your ways today or with us you will ride,
A try’n to catch the devil’s herd
Across these endless skies.
Yi-pi-yi-ay,
Yi-pi-yi-o,
Ghost herd in the sky,
Ghost riders in the sky.

23. “Cool Water,” by Bob Nolan (copyright 1936 by American Music, Inc.).

All day I’ve faced a barren waste


Without the taste of water,
Cool water.
Old Dan and I with throats burnt dry,
And souls that cry for water,
Cool, clear water.

Keep a-movin’, Dan,


Don’t you listen to him, Dan,
He’s a devil, not a man,
And he spreads the burning sand with water.
Dan, can you see that big green tree,
Where the water’s runnin’ free,
And it’s waiting there for me and you?

The nights are cool and I’m a fool,


Each star’s a pool of water,
Cool water.
But with the dawn I’ll wake and yawn,
And carry on to water,
Cool, clear water.

The shadows sway and seem to say,


“Tonight we pray for water,
Cool water.”
And ’way up there He’ll hear our pray’r,
And show us where there’s water,
Cool, clear water.

Dan’s feet are spread, he’s yearning for,


Just one thing more than water,
Cool water.
Like me I guess he’d like to rest,
Where there’s no quest for water,
Cool, clear water.

24. “It’s a Long Way from Amphioxus.” In A Prairie Home Companion Folk-Song Book (collected
by John and Marsha Pankake, with introduction by Garrisson Keillor. New York: Viking, 1988),
pp. 68-69. Uranus may rule modern objective science and its corollary, high energy, super-fast
technology, but it is only the wisdom of Neptune that enables us to see all them great
achievements in perspective – the perspective they deserve. “It’s a Long Way from Amphioxus,”
originally presented on the Garrisson Keillor’s radio show, The Prairie Home Companion, goes a
long, long way in that direction . . . :-P

A fish-like thing appeared among the Annelids one day


It hadn’t any parapods or setas to display
It hadn’t any eyes or jaws or ventral nervous cord
But it had a lot of gill slits and it had a notochord.

Chorus: It’s a long way from Amphioxus


It’s a long way to us
It’s a long way from Amphioxus
To the meanest human cuss
Goodbye, fins and gill slits
Hello, lungs and hair
It’s along, long way from Amphioxus
But we come from there.

It wasn’t much to look at and it scarce knew how to swim


And Nereid was very sure it didn’t come from him
The Mollusks wouldn’t own it and the Arthropods got sore
So the poor thing had to burrow in the sand along the shore.

Chorus

It wiggled in the sand before a crab could nip its tail


It said, “Gill slits and myotomes are all of no avail
I’ve grown some metapleural folds and sport and oral hood
But all these fine new characters don’t do me any good.”

Chorus

It sulked awhile down in the sand without a bit of pep


Then stiffened up its notochord and said, “I’ll beat ’em yet,
I’ve got more possibilities within my slender frame
Than all these proud invertebrates that treat me with such shame.”

Chorus

Its notochord shall grow into a chain of vertebrae


As fins its metapleural folds shall agitate the sea
Its tiny dorsal nervous tube shall form a mighty brain
And the vertebrates shall dominate the animal domain.

Chorus

(TUNE: “It’s a Long [, Long] Way to Tipperary,” 1912)

25. The fruits of the greatest sacrifice – that of self in the service of Life – can redeem whole worlds.
Following is a passage from Robert R. McCammon’s wonderful novel Swan Song (New York:
Pocket Books, 1987). It was became of Sister’s tremendous courage, persistence, patience, and
gritty tenacity that Swan, the LightBringer, was rescued and the death of the whole living world
due to the instigations of the demon “Friend” was prevented. (You just gotta read the novel, that’s
all there is to it!)
Sister smiled. In Swan’s eyes she could see the
colors of the glass crown. Her mouth trembled and
opened again.
’One step,’ she whispered.
And then she took the next.
They stayed around her as the sun warmed their
backs and thawed out their muscles. Josh started to
close Sister’s eyes – but he didn’t, because he knew
how much she loved the light.
Swan stood up. She walked away from them, and
dug her hand into her pocket.
She brought out the silver key, and she climbed up
on a boulder and walked to the edge of Warwick
Mountain.
She stood with her head held high, staring into the
distance. But she was seeing more armies of fighting
and frightened men, more guns and armored cars, more
death and misery that would still be lurking in the minds
of men like a cancer waiting to be reborn.
She gripped the silver key.
Never again, she thought – and she flung the key
as hard and as far as she could.
Sunlight winked off it as it fell through space. It
bounced off the limb of an oak tree, hit the edge of a
boulder, fell fifty more feet into a small green pond
half hidden by underbrush. As it drifted through the
water and into the leaves at the pond’s bottom it stirred
up several tiny eggs that had been hidden there for a
long, long time. Shafts of sunlight stroked the pond
and warmed the eggs, and the hearts of tadpoles began
to beat.
Josh, Swan and Robin found a place to let Sister’s body
rest; it was not sheltered by trees or hidden in shade, but
lay where the sun could reach it. They dug the grave
with their hands and lowered Sister into the earth.
When the grave was filled again, each of them said what-
ever was on his or her mind, and they ended with ’Amen.’
Three figures came down off the mountain.

– Ibid., pp. 941-942

The days passed.


And high up where Warwick Mountain’s peak almost
touched the sky, tiny seeds that had been scattered by
the whirlwinds and stirred to life by the fingers of a
girl with hair like flame began to respond to the sunlight
and send out fragile green stems.
The stems searched upward through the dirty, pushed
through the surface and into the warmth, and there they
bloomed into flowers – red and purple, bright yellow,
snow-white, dark blue and pale lavender.
They glowed like jewels in the sunshine and
marked the place where Sister lay sleeping.

– Ibid., pp. 952-953


26. “Lost Boys and Golden Girls,” by Meatloaf

27. “City of New Orleans,” by Arlo Guthrie – Sagittarius rules the railroads; Neptune, the nocturnal
Lord of Sagittarius, rules their slow dying and the memories of their glory days

28. “The Ballad of Reading Gaol,” by Oscar Wilde

29. “Objects in the Rear-View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are,” by Meatloaf

30. “Green Door,” Bob Davie and Marvin Moore, copyright 1956 by Alley Music Corporation and
Trio Music Company, Inc. This popular song of the 1950s celebrates the clandestine, the secret,
the hidden, and the forbidden fruits of drugs, drink, or dames associated with the speakeasy and
the bordello.

Midnight, one more night without sleepin’,


Watching till the morning comes peepin’,
Green door, what’s the secret you’re keepin’?

There’s an old piano and they play it hot


Behind the green door.
Don’t know what they’re doin’ but they laugh a lot
Behind the green door.
Wish they’d let me in so I could find out what’s
Behind the green door.

Knocked once, tried to tell ’em I’d been there,


Door slammed, hospitality’s thin there,
Wonder just what’s goin’ on in there.

Saw an eyeball peepin’ thru a smoky cloud


Behind the green door.
When I said Joe sent me someone laughed out loud
Behind the green door.
All I want to do is join the happy crew
Behind the green door.

Part 11: Hymns to Persephone and Hades from the American heartland and elsewhere. For invocations of
Gods and Goddesses of Death, Buried Wealth, and the rest of Hades’ domain.

Pluto, Sephirah 1, Kether, Crown

1. “Abide With Me,” by Henry F. Lyte (arranged for musical accompaniment by William H. Monk),
circa 1860 (?)

Abide with me!


Fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens –
Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers
Fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless,
Oh, abide with me!

Swift to its close


Ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim,
Its glories pass away;
Change and decay
In all around I see;
O Thou, Who changest not,
Abide with me!

I need Thy presence


Ev’ry passing hour;
What but Thy grace
Can foil the Tempter’s pow’r?
Who, like Thyself,
My guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord,
Abide with me!

2. “Now the Day is Over,” by the Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould (arranged for musical accompaniment by
Joseph Barnaby), circa 1865

Now the day is over,


Night is drawing nigh,
Shadows of the ev’ning
Steal across the sky.

Jesus, give the weary


Calm and sweet repose
With Thy tend’rest blessing,
May our eyelids close.

When the morning wakens,


Then may we arise
Pure and fresh and sinless
In Thy holy eyes.

3. From The Lament for Makaris, by William Dunbar (1460-1520?) (a list of the Medieval words or
spellings used here that will probably be unfamiliar to the reader, along with their translations into
contemporary English, is given at the end of the poem)

I that in heill was and gladness


Am trublit now with great sickness
And feblit with infirmitie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Our plesance here is all vain glory,


This fals world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

The state of man does change and vary,


Now sound, now sick, now blyth, now sary,
Now dansand mirry, now like to die;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

No state in Erd here standis sicker,


As with the wynd wavis the wicker,
So wannis this world’s vanitie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Unto the ded gois all Estatis,


Princes, Prelatis, and Potestatis,
Baith rich and poor of all degree;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

He takis the knichtis in to the field


Enarmit under helm and scheild,
Victor he is at all mellie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

That strong unmerciful tyrand


Takis, on the mother’s breast sowkand,
The babe full of benignitie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

He takis the campion in the stour,


The captain closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewtie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

He spairis no lord for his piscence,


Na clerk for his intelligence,
His awful straik may no man flee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Art-magicianis and astrologgis,


Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,
Them helpis no conclusions slee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

In medicine the most practicianis,


Leechis, surrigianis, and physicianis,
Themself fra ded may not supplee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

I see that makaris among the lave


Playis here their padyanis, syne gois to grave,
Sparit is nocht their facultie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Sen he has all my brethren tane,


He will naught let me live alane,
Of force I man his next prey be;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Since for the Death remeid is none,


Best is that we for Death dispone,
After our death that live may we;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Glossary: Makaris, poets. Heill, health. Trublit, troubled. Feblit, enfeebled. Timor mortis conturbat me,
the fear of death troubles me. Breckle, brittle. Feynd, fiend. Slee, sly. Mirry, merry. Erd, Earth.
Sicker, sure. Wicker, willow. Wannis, wanes. Mellie (i.e., melee), battle. Sowkand, sucking or
nursing. Campion, champion. Stour, battle. Tour, tower. Piscence, puissance or power. Straike,
stroke or strike. Fra, from. Supplee, save. The lave, the rest or the remaining (i.e., the leaving, that
which is left). Padyanis, pageants. Syne, soon. Sparit, spared. Sen, since. Tane (i.e., ta’en), taken.
Alane, alone. Man, must. Remeid, remedy. Dispone, make ready.

4. “Adieu; Farewell Earth’s Bliss” or “Summer’s Last Will and Testament” (1600) by Thomas Nashe
(1567-1601)

Adieu; farewell earth’s bliss,


This world uncertain is:
Fond are life’s lustful joys;
Death proves them all but toys.
None from his darts can fly:
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Rich men, trust not in wealth,


Gold cannot buy you health;
Physic himself must fade;
All things to end are made;
The plague full swift goes by;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Beauty is but a flower,


Which wrinkles will devour:
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Strength stoops unto the grave:


Worms feed on Hector brave;
Swords may not fight with fate:
Earth still holds ope her gate.
Come, come, the bells do cry;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Wit with his wantonness,


Tasteth death’s bitterness.
Hell’s executioner
Hath no ears for to hear
What vain art can reply;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Haste therefore each degree


To welcome destiny:
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player’s stage.
Mount we unto the sky;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
5. “Farewell Angelina,” by Bob Dylan. Copyright ?. I first heard this song in 1971. At the time, I
was still a student at the University of California at Santa Barbara (though that was not to last
much longer), living in Isla Vista, California, a tiny (1.5-mile square) suburb of Goleta whose
eastern edge abutted UCSB campus which had a population of under 5,000 during the Summer but
whose population soared to such heights during the school-year that at times its population density
exceeded that of contemporaneous downtown Tokyo. The war in Vietnam was still going strong;
it had only been about a year since the citizenry of this sleepy little university town had made a
bonfire of the Isla Vista branch of the Bank of America in their outrage against everything from
the draft and the policies of the Nixon administration to what they perceived as the UC system’s
racist and sexist policies and the exuberantly criminal rip-offs perpetrated on them by most of the
local realtors, who seemed to be immune to both the law and public opinion. In spite of the best
efforts of Henry Kissinger, the Nixon administration, and the governments of many other nations,
the world seemed to be closer than ever to the brink of all-out thermonuclear war; and if we could
somehow manage to avoid that, it was becoming more and more apparent even then that we’d all
be extinct a few generations down the pike anyway, as it was, as a result of environmental
degradation due to ever-increasing levels of pollution and human devastation of Mother Earth.
Even to the totally atheistic among us, Apocalypse did not seem so remote a possibility any more;
the very air seemed charged with prescient rumors of it, the sky itself seemed to burn with all the
electric, vibrant colors of approaching doom and Judgment. It was in that atmosphere, then, that I
first heard this song. Originally written by Bob Dylan, it was one of many of his songs which
Joan Baez performed during the years of the Vietnam War, performances recorded on numerous
albums under her name that came out in the 1960s and 1970s. Now, Dylan is a fantastically gifted
song-writer, but when it comes to performing his songs, Baez has been able to render their heart
and soul in a way no one else has ever even approached, and that is true of this song, her
performance of which is one of the most beautiful I have ever heard of any song, by anyone – and
perhaps the one most hauntingly evocative of Doomsday ever created. As Uranus, Lord of the
Burning Sky rules the Space Age, and Neptune, Lord of the Burning Sea rules the Psychedelic
Age, Pluto, Lord of the Burning Earth, rules Doomsday, Apocalypse, the Ending of All Things
and the Beginning of All Things Anew (complete with a New Heaven and a New Earth), and I can
think of no song more appropriate for invoking Pluto than this one.

Farewell Angelina
The bells of the crown
Are being stolen by bandits
I must follow the sound
The triangle tingles
And the trumpets play slow
Farewell Angelina
The sky is on fire
And I must go.

There’s no need for anger


There’s no need for blame
There’s nothing to prove
Ev’rything’s still the same
Just a table standing empty
By the edge of the sea
Farewell Angelina
The sky is trembling
And I must leave.

The jacks and the queens


Have forsaken the courtyard
Fifty-two gypsies
Now file past the guards
In the space where the deuce
And the ace once ran wild
Farewell Angelina
The sky is folding
I’ll see you in a while.

See the cross-eyed pirates sitting


Perched in the sun
Shooting tin cans
With a sawed-off shotgun
And the neighbors they clap
And they cheer with each blast
Farewell Angelina
The sky’s changing color
And I must leave fast.

King Kong, little elves


On the rooftops they dance
Valentino-type tangos
While the make-up man’s hands
Shut the eyes of the dead
Not to embarrass anyone
Farewell Angelina
The sky is embarrassed
And I must be gone.

The machine guns are roaring


The puppets heave rocks
The fiends nail time bombs
To the hands of the clocks
Call me any name you like
I will never deny it
Farewell Angelina
The sky is erupting
I must go where it’s quiet.

6. On the Plutonian Smith-Gods (from J. C. Cooper, Chinese Alchemy: The Taoist Quest for
Immortality (New York: The Sterling Publishing Company, 1990), pp. pp. 73-77):

Two of the artificers most concerned with alchemy and necessary for its work
were the miner and the smith. The miner operates in the early stages, bringing forth the
ores, helping and hastening the process of birth. That he was involved in the sacred
aspect of the work is shown by the fact that the opening of a new mine required a
religious ceremony and elaborate ritual: fasting, prayer or meditation, incantation, ritual
cleanliness and sexual abstinence were necessary as in any other branch of alchemy. To
interfere with the Earth Mother is to tread on dangerous ground, indeed, in some cultures,
such as the Tibetan and Amerindian, it was altogether prohibited by sacred scruples.
Even on the lower folk-level, mountains, mounds and the underworld are treated with
extreme caution as the homes of spirits, fairies, dwarfs, trolls and gnomes. These
underground workers were always mysterious and feared for being in touch with
underworld and dark powers.
There is a vast background of myth which incorporates all transformers; among
these the smith occupies an important but extraordinarily ambivalent position; he can be
venerated as a god or royalty, or despised as an outcast. In some cases he is the First
Ancestor who came down from heaven to found civilization. Like Prometheus, he
brought the secret and use of fire to humanity and had a close association with the sky
and thunder gods. These were the white smiths. Among shamanistic tribes these smiths
were also descendants of a celestial smith who came to earth to teach men the use of fire
and metals. The smiths’ sons married the daughters of earth and all smiths are descended
from them. Smiths held a high position at court, or were treated as royalty, on account of
their divine descent; they were the divine artisans and the smithy was a centre of ritual
and worship. Among Mongols and in Turkistan the smith was also a culture here, ’a free
horseman.’ There is a tradition that Ghengis Khan was a smith before he rose to become
ruler of the Mongols and a world-conqueror. There were also king-smiths in Africa. On
the other hand, also in Africa, among the Massai, the smith was ’an unclean one’ and it
was dangerous to go near his hut, while to sleep with a woman of the smith class could
cause a man to go mad or beget deformed offspring.
It was largely the pastoral, nomadic and hunting tribes, with the exception of the
Mongols, who looked down on the smith and regarded him as an untouchable. But in all
cultures the smith was held in awe and feared as a Master of Fire. He could reduce solid
matter to liquid, something without form, and then could turn the pliable liquid into the
solid again. Like all ’creation’ craftsmen, and like the alchemist, he was a transformer
and a transmuter of matter and dealt with the mysterious and magical; like the potter he
turned the pliable into form; like the carpenter he brought form out of the formless, the
prima materia. In his ambivalent position the smith could be creator or destroyer; he
made both the weapons of death, the sword and the spear, and the tools of life and
growth, the spade and the plough. As the blacksmith he handled iron, an almost
universally disliked and feared metal, though it was sacred in some cases as an
apotropaic. This association with iron was also ambivalent; the metal is everywhere
dreaded by the spirit world, evil spirits, witches or fairies will not go near it or cross an
iron object: ’Iron scares spirits.’ As an evil metal it was not allowed to be used in the
construction of any sacred place, but since it repels evil spirits, the shaman loads himself
and his ritual robes with iron articles and iron is used for this purpose in amulets. The
blacksmith, as a master of fire, is naturally associated with the hearth and this puts him in
touch with the powers of the underworld; the hearth gives access to the forces of the dark
regions and the blacksmith originally learned his craft from an underworld divinity. In
the Hebrew tradition the craft was brought down to earth by the fallen angel Azazel.
With this connection with the powers of the underworld it was natural that smiths were
credited with other magical powers, such as prophecy and healing.
Another reason for the fear of the smith was the practice of blood sacrifice, both
human and animal, in the smelting of metal, although sometimes the sacrifice was
voluntary. Also he was constantly surrounded by evil spirits, menacing him and against
which he had to take every precaution and there had to be absolute silence accompanying
his movements, all of which made him worth avoiding. Then, again, his tools, the
hammer, anvil and bellows have magic powers of transformation, while the stove,
cauldron and furnace all have the function of dissolution and death. Smelting is a work
of fusion, the abolition of individual identity, the return to primordial chaos. The ores,
regarded as male and female, yang and yin, become one in union. This has a sex
symbolism which is further accentuated by the ’heat’ involved; a symbolism also present
in the hammer and anvil, the hammer being the formative, masculine force in nature, with
the anvil as the passive feminine. The hammer is the weapon of the Thunder Gods, the
Divine Smiths, with the anvil as the earth, matter. The striking of the hammer on the
anvil, bringing down fire from heaven, represents divine justice and power, this is why
oaths were taken on the anvil, a practice which continued until recent times when
marriages over the anvil, at such places as Gretna Green, perpetuated the smith’s ancient
religious functions.

[Know anyone named “Smith”? <g> – YRD]

7. Plutonium, the transuranic analog of iron


Hades or Pluto is associated with the metal plutonium, just as Mars (Ares), with Whom He co-rules the
Signs of His dignities, is associated with the metal iron. The atomic number of iron – the number
of protons in its nucleus, the essence and origin of its chemical identity and behavior – is 26, a
number associated at once with 8 (2 + 6 = 8), 2 and 13 (since 2 x 13 = 26), respectively numbers
of Mercury (Hod, 8) as well as Luna (Cheth, value 8); Neptune (Chokmah, 2) and Mercury (Beth,
2); and Luna (Key Number 13). Also, 2 is the atomic or Z-number of the chemical element
helium, ruled by the Sun; 8 is the Z-number of oxygen, ruled by Mercury; and 13 is the Z-
number of aluminum, ruled by Luna. An atom of iron has four valence orbitals, or “shells,” with
two quantum “slots” in the innermost orbital, which is always filled with electrons; eight in the
next outward, also always filled; fourteen “slots” in the next outward, not always filled; and two
in the outermost, often empty. Iron can have a valence* of 2, 3, 4 or 6 (in this case, positive). In
the Periodic Table of the Chemical Elements, iron occupies the first column of Group VIII and
Row 4 (filling electronic orbitals or “shells” K-L-M-N**).
Plutonium, on the other hand, has an atomic number of 94. Like iron, it occupies the first
column of the Group VIII elements, but is in Row 7 (filling orbitals K-L-M-N-O-P-Q), three
below iron’s position in the table. 94 is associated with 13 (9 + 4) as well as with 2 and 47 (since
94 = 2 x 47); and since 4 + 7 = 11 and 1 + 1 = 2, plutonium is also associated with 2 and 11. It
thus shares some of the numerological associations of iron, but it also is associated with 11, the
number of Magick, appropriate for a transuranic element which, like uranium (atomic number 92
– 9 + 2 = 11), is highly radioactive. Plutonium is also intensely poisonous in its own right; in the
Tarot, Trump XIII, Death (Nun, 50, Key Number 24) is associated with Scorpio, ruled by Pluto,
the domain of all poisons and venoms, highly fitting for the extremely toxic metal of Pluto.
Is plutonium thus the ultimate metallic key to the secrets of alchemy, the Lord of which is
Pluto, Child of the Great Transformers? Is there, hidden in its hot, dark, unstable heart, a quantum
cave in which the great dragon Dis guards esoteric treasures that could give us the key to the
Philosopher’s Stone – or the Tunnel in the Sky, the vast stygian basalt pylons supporting its near
end sunk deep in the frozen iron soil of great Yuggoth, that would open the way to the Stars?
Hideously poisonous precisely because chemically it so resembles iron – which is the sine qua non
of vertebrate metabolism – and easily fools the body into accepting it as such, then wreaks havoc
on the body’s internal workings rather than promoting life, it may also (2=0!) be Earth’s one great
chance to spread Her children among the Stars before She sinks into Her own final sleep, like so
many of the beings that have dwelled within Her before Her. Is the metal that was used to destroy
Nagasaki also the Element of Life’s hope? Someday will some alchemist, born of parents and
grandparents who Alchemically, unknowingly, decomposed and recomposed deep within their
bodies the transuranics that came to them in the fallout from atmospheric tests the world over,
thereby transmuting the deadly metal into a quantum-tool of life, give us all the Stars by doing
consciously, in an alchemist’s laboratory, what his or her forebears did all unknowing in order to
live long enough to produce him or her? What Alchemical secrets do the “artificial” materials –
plastics, transuranic elements created in nuclear reactors – so long considered to be useless and
undesirable materials for their Art by Alchemists hold for us? Lately we have found that many
plants and fungi produce compounds within their tissues which are virtually identical to certain
plastics created by human artifice, and we know that all the chemical elements, including all the
transuranics, have been created within the Stars, either in the course of normal Stellar evolution or
in the cataclysmic cosmic forges of supernovas. So plastics and transuranics are no less “natural”
than the ores and other compounds with which we are long familiar, from Neolithic times, and are
therefore fit material for Alchemical experimentation. What, one wonders, will come of such
experimentation? Perhaps the ultimate secrets of Pluto will come out of it – the keys to
rejuvenation, the Stars, communion with the Gods . . .

*The valence of an atom of a given element is that property which is measured by the number of atoms of
hydrogen (or its equivalent) which one atom of that element can hold in combination if negative, or
can displace in a reaction if it is positive. The valence electrons of that atom are electrons which are
gained, lost, or shared with other atoms in chemical reactions with them.
**Orbital K, the only electronic orbital in hydrogen and helium atoms, contains at most two electrons (2 =
2 x 1). Orbital L, found in all elements heavier than helium (Z=2), can contain a maximum of 8 (2 x 1
+ 2 x 3) electrons. Orbital M, found in all elements heavier than neon (Z=10), can contain up to 18 (1
x 2 + 3 x 2 + 5 x 2) electrons. Orbital N, found in all elements heavier than argon (Z=18), can contain
up to 32 (1 x 2 + 3 x 2 + 5 x 2 + 7 x 2) electrons. And so on. The general formula for the maximum
number of electrons which a given orbital can contain is 2 x {1 + 3 + 5 + . . . + [(n - 2) x 2] + [(n - 1) x
2]}, where n is the number of the orbital outward from the nucleus (i.e., 1 being the innermost or “K”
orbital, containing at most two electrons; 2 being the next one outward, the “L” orbital, containing at
most 8 electrons; and so on). The causes of this very real instance of cosmic numerology is not
completely understood, but can provide tons of excellent shoveling material for your next bull-session
over at the faculty lounge of the physics department of your local university!

8. William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), “The Second Coming.” This poem, written in 1921, has even
more relevance for us now, at the very end of the 20th Century e.v, the First Century A.N., than
even when Yeats wrote it. Full of the imagery and spirit of Tarot Trump XX, The Last Judgment,
which is associated with the letter Shin, the Element Fire, and the Planet Pluto, it is a fitting hymn
to the Lord of Last Things, Child of the Great Transformers, Whose domain is the Underworld,
realm of the dead and the Collective Unconscious:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre


The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;


Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight; somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

9. Chorale from Mozart’s Requiem Mass. This is the great Mass of the Dead, of Death and Judgment,
with all its terrifying and exalting imagery of Judgement Day – a perfect chorale hymn of Pluto.

No. 1: Requiem

Chor – Solo (Soprano)


Requiem aeternam doona eis, Domine; et lux perpetua luceat eis. Te decet hymnus,
Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem: exaudi orationem meam, ad ta omnis
caro veniet. – Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, Kyrie, eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie
eleison.
No. 2: Dies Irae

Chor
Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla.
Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

No. 3: Tuba mirum

Solo (Bass)
Tuba, mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulcra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Solo (Tenor)
Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Judicanti, responsura.
Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus judicetur.
Solo (Alto)
Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet, apparebit:
Nil inultum remanebit.
Solo (Soprano)
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum regaturus,
Soli
Cum vix justus sit securus?

No. 4: Rex tremendae

Chor
Rex tremendae majestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis.

No. 5: Recordare

Soli
Recordare, Jesu pie,
Quod sum causa tuae viae:
Ne me perdas illa die.
Quaerens me, sedisti lassus:
Redemisti Crucem passus:
Juste judex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis
Ante diem rationis.
Ingemisco, tamquam reus:
Culpa rubet voltus meus:
Supplicanti parce, Deus.
Qui Mariam absolvisti,
Et latronem exaudisti,
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.
Preces mesa non sunt dignae:
Sed te bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.
Omter oves locum praesta,
Et ab haedis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.

No. 6: Confutatis

Chor
Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis:
Voca me cum benedictis.
Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis:
Gere curam mei finis.

No. 7: Lacrimosa

Chor
Lacrimosa dies illa,
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Demone,
Dona eis requiem, Amen.

No. 8: Domine Jesu

Chor
Domine Jesu Christe, Rex gloriae, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de poenis
inferni et de profundo iacu: libera eas de ore leonis, ne absorbeat eas tartarus, ne cadent
in sobscurum:
Soli
Sed signifer sanctus Michael repraesentet eas in lucem sanctam:
Chor
Quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semini ejus.

No. 9: Hostias

Chor
Hostias et preces tibi, Domine, laudis
offerimis: tu suscipe pro animabus illis,
Quarum hodie memoriam facimus: fac eas,
Domine, de morte transire ad vitam. Quam
olim Abrahae promisisti et semini ejua.

No. 10: Sanctus

Chor
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus
Dominus, Deus Sabaoth.
Pieni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.
No. 11: Benedictus

Soli
Benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini.
Chor
Hosanna in excelsis.

No. 12: Agnus Dei

Chor
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona eis requiem semptiternam.
Solo (Soprano) et Chor
Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine: Cum Sanctis
tuis in aeternum: quia plus es.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine; et lux
perpetua luceat eis. Cum Sanctis tuis in
aeternum: quita plus es.

Part 12: Hymns, Songs, Chants, Readings, and Poems for Invocations of Persephone, the Golden Girl Who
Married the Lord of the Underworld, the Dark Lady of Disaster Who is also the Restorer of Life and
Bringer of Justice to those who would otherwise have none, Ruler of the Clay Matrix which gave rise
to the first living cells and of DNA: Persephone, Kali, Parvati, Chandi, Black Isis, the Black Madonna

Persephone, Sephirah is √-1, square Root of Minus One, the Sign of Weird and of the Magickal
Imagination, female analog of Hermes-Mercurius as well as the Transcendental one of Uranus

Part 13: Hymns to the Queen of Heaven: Durga, Juno, Pallas Athena, Hera, Isis, Mary Mother of Christ,
Our Lady of Guadeloupe, Kwan Yin

Hera/Durga, Sephirah ℵ2 (Aleph-sub-Two), Ain Soph Aur, Limitless Light, the Splendor of the Starry
Heavens, the Number of all Possible Mathematical Structures, Transcendental analog of Neptune-
Poseidon

1. “She Walks in Beauty,” by George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)

She walks in beauty, like the night


Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,


Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent1

Part 14: Hymns and readings to Lobachevski, a hypothetical trans-Plutonian Planet named after the great
non-Euclidean geometer and mathematician Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevski (1793-1856 e.v.)

Lobachevski, Sephirah is 0 (Zero), Ain Soph, Limitlessness, Lord of Origins, Balances, and Equilibria,
Transcendental analog of Mars: Songs, Hymns, and Poems of Mathematical Ideas and Play

1. Tom Lehrer, “Lobachevsky”

2. From The Space-Child’s Mother Goose

3. Quotation:

God made integers, all else is the work of man.

– Leopold Kronecker (1823-1891), Jahresberichte der Deutschen Mathematiker Vereinigung,


bk. 2

Part 15: Hymns and readings to Amphitrite, Poseidon’s Wife, Who is Queen of the Ocean Sea and Ruler of
all its Life, as well as of the Hypersea, Life on Land, sometimes called Bifröst: Amphitrite, Pele,
Bifröst

Amphitrite (Bifröst, Pele), Sephirah ℵ1 (Aleph-sub-One), Number of all Possible Mathematical Curves,
Transcendental analog of Jupiter

Part 16. Hymns to the Emperor Joshua Norton (a hypothetical trans-Plutonian Planet associated with the
new transcendental Sephirah ℵ0 (Aleph-sub-Null), Number of All Numbers, Transcendental analog
of Venus

1. The legend of Joshua Norton, who was a real historical person:

Everybody understands Mickey Mouse.


Few understand Herman Hesse.
Hardly anybody understands Einstein.
And nobody understands Emperor Norton.
– Malaclypse the Younger, K.S.C.

Joshua Norton, or, as he preferred to be called, Norton I, proclaimed himself


Emperor of the United States and Mexico in 1859.
Although a pauper, he was fed free in San Francisco’s best restaurants.
Although a madman, he had all his state proclamations published in San Francisco’s
newspapers.
While rational reformers elsewhere failed to crack the national bank monopoly with
alternate currency plans, Norton I had his own private currency accepted throughout San
Francisco.
When the Vigilantes decided to have a pogrom against the Chinese, and sane men
would have tried to stop them, Norton I did nothing but stand in the street, head bowed,
praying. The Vigilantes dispersed.
Although a fool, Norton I wrote letters which were seriously considered by Abraham
Lincoln and Queen Victoria. Although a charlatan, Norton I was so beloved that 30,000
people turned out for his funeral in 1880.

– Author unknown

2. The United States Marine Corps Hymn. “The United States Marine Corps Hymn” (copyright 1921
by the United States Marines), the verses of which were written by Col. H. C. Davis, USMC, at
Camp Meyer in 1911, is the official song of the United States Marine Corps. The first two lines
refer to the U. S. war with Mexico (1846-1848) and their expedition against the Barbary Pirates.
Beyond that, said Col. Davis, “I have never been able to trace the original song beyond the words
of the first two lines . . . which were inscribed on the corps colors many years ago. The two
following verses I wrote at Camp Meyer in 1911 when on an expedition.” Their motto, “Semper
fidelis,” and their record in war says it all: “No greater sacrifice, no greater devotion.” According
to Aleister Crowley, “The heart of Neptune is Mars.” The United States Marines are a living
testimony of that truth. It is therefore entirely appropriate that their Hymn be used in invocations
of Poseidon. (To give the Qlippoth of Neptune their due, Neptune also rules certain classes of
psychoses; as one friend of mine, a rather thoroughgoingly ex-Marine, once said to me,
“Anybody who signs up for that outfit has got to be crazy!”)

From the Halls of Montezuma


To the shores of Tripoli,
We fight our country’s battles
On the land and on the sea.
First to fight for right and freedom,
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of United States Marines.

Our flag’s unfurled to ev’ry breeze


From dawn to setting sun;
We have fought in ev’ry clime and place
Where we could take a gun.
In the snow of far off Northern lands
And in sunny tropic scenes;
You will find us always on the job,
The United States Marines.

Here’s health to you and to our Corps


Which we are proud to serve;
In many a strife we’ve fought for life
And never lost our nerve.
If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven’s scenes,
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.

3. “The Impossible Dream,” from Man of La Mancha, lyrics by Joe Darion, music by Mitch Leigh
(copyright 1965 by Andrew Scott, Inc., Helena Music Corp., Sam Fox Publishing Co., Inc.)

To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe,


To bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong, to love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary to reach the unreachable star!

This is my quest, to follow that star,


No matter how hopeless, no matter how far;
To fight for the right without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause!
And I know, if I’ll only be true
To this glorious quest, that my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest,
And the world will be better for this;
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable stars.

4. “Man of La Mancha (I, Don Quixote),” lyric by Doe Darion, music by Mitch Leigh (copyright
1965 by Andrew Scott, Inc., Helena Music Corp., Sam Fox Publishing Co., Inc.)

Hear me now, oh thou bleak and unbearable world,


Thou art base and debauched as can be;
And a knight with his banners all bravely unfurled
Now hurls down his gauntlet to thee!
I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha,
Destroyer of evil am I.
I will march to the sound of the trumpets
Of glory forever to conquer or die!

Hear me, heathens and wizards and serpents of sin,


All your dastardly doings are past;
For a holy endeavor is now to begin,
And virtue shall triumph at last!
I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha,
My destiny calls and I go.
And the wild winds of fortune will carry me onward
Whither soever they blow,
Onward to glory I go!

Part 16. Hymns, Songs, and Readings for Tubman (a hypothetical trans-Plutonian Planet), sometimes
identified with Eris, Goddess of Chaos, the Transcendental analog of Hermes-Mercurius: Harriet
Ross-Tubman, The Spirit of Freedom, the Guardian of the Outer Bounds of the Universe

Tubman (Eris), Sephirah ∅ (Empty or Null Set), Ain, No-Thing, Void, the Beginning

Harriet Ross Tubman, also widely known and remembered as General Moses, a former Black slave
woman who, born into slavery, made her way to freedom alone as a young woman, then became
the most famous conductor on the Underground Railway. She made 19 dangerous cross-country
trips, back and forth, between the South and the North, often disguised, always carrying a pistol,
escorting more than three hundred escap[ed] slaves to freedom, telling the fugitives, “You’ll be
free or die.” She was enabled to do this in part by gifts of vision and prophecy apparently given to
her by an epileptic condition that came about as the result of an injury to her head inflicted on her
by an overseer when she was fifteen. Her philosophy of life finally came down to one thing,
liberty. She put it thus:

“There was one of two things I had a right to, liberty or death; if I could not have
one, I would have the other; for no man should take me alive.”
During the Civil War, leading black and white Union troops, she raided Southern plantations, and in
one expedition she helped free 750 slaves.

The Planet named after this inconceivably courageous and visionary woman is the Way-Shower, the
beacon that goes before those who seek escape from oppression to show them the way to Liberty, Whose
Planet is Uranus.

1. In Harriet Ross-Tubman’s own words:

When I found I had crossed that line [on her first escape from slavery], I looked at
my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything.

– Harriet Tubman,* to her biographer Sarah H. Bradford [c. 1868]

2. “Courage,” by Amelia Earhart Putnam

Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.


The soul that knows it not, knows no release
From little things;
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sound of wings.

– Amelia Earhart Putnam (1898-1937), American aviatrix, presumed lost at sea during her
last known flight in 1937; from her poem “Courage”

3.

Woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself.

– Susan Brownell Anthony (1820-1906), Speech in San Francisco [July 1871]

5. “Follow the Drinkin’ Gourd” – a song of the Underground Railway of the American Civil War era.
Like so many other Black “spirituals,” this song was actually a call to freedom – and a practical
tool for attaining it. In the following song, the Gourd is the Little Dipper (Lesser Bear), at the tip
of the tail of which is the North Star, Polaris, the guide-star of the Northern Hemisphere. The
same constellation aided the moonlight rebels of Ireland, who called it the Plough and the Stars,
and put it on their flag. The “old man” referred to in the song was apparently a real historical
person, a member of the Underground Railway who guided runaway Black slaves on the first leg
of their journey to freedom; he wore the “peg-leg” of the song, and used it to mark the trail in the
ground. But at the same time, the phrase refers to the Mississippi River, across the banks of which
lay the road to freedom. 11 is the Key Number of Aleph, Whose Planet is Uranus; Uranus rules
the 11th Sign, Aquarius, and is exalted in Scorpio, which falls in November, the 11th month. It is
most appropriate that this song, “Follow the Drinkin’ Gourd,” should be the 11th item in this
chapter.

When the sun comes back and the first quail calls,
Follow the drinkin’ gourd,
For then the old man is a-waitin’ for to carry you to freedom
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:
Follow the drinkin’ gourd –
Follow the drinkin’ gourd!
For the old man is a-waitin’ for to carry you to freedom
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

The river bank will make a very good road,


The dead trees show you the way,
Left foot, peg foot, traveling on –
Follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

The river ends between two hills,


Follow the drinkin’ gourd,
There’s another river on the other side,
Follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

Where the great big river meets the little river,


Follow the drinkin’ gourd,
The old man is a-waitin’ for to carry you to freedom,
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.

Chorus:

6. Liber OZ, by Aleister Crowley: A Thelemic Bill of Rights

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law!

Every man and every woman is a Star.


THERE IS NO GOD BUT MAN

1. Man has the right to live by his own law, to live in the way that he wills to do:
to work as he will;
to play as he will;
to rest as he will;
to die when and how he will.

2. Man has the right to eat what he will;


to drink what he will;
to dwell where he will;
to move as he will on the face of the Earth.

3. Man has the right to think what he will;


to speak what he will;
to write what he will;
to draw, paint, carve, etch, mould, build as he will;
to dress as he will.

4. Man has the right to love as he will.

5. Man has the right to kill those who would thwart those rights.
Love is the law, love under Will.

7. The charge of Moishe Rabbinu to the people Israel:

See, today I set before you life and prosperity, death and disaster. If you obey the
commandments of JHVH, your God, that I enjoin on you today, if you love JHVH, your
God, and follow his ways, if you keep his commandments, his laws, his customs, you will
live and increase, and JHVH, your God, will bless you in the land which you are entering
to make your own. But if your heart strays, if you let yourself be drawn into worshiping
other gods and serving them, I tell you today, you will most certainly perish; you will not
live long in the land you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. I call heaven and
earth to witness against you today: I set before you life or death, blessing or curse.
Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live, in the love of JHVH, your
God, obeying his voice, clinging to him; for in this your life consists, and on this
depends your long stay in the land which Yahweh swore to your fathers Abraham, Isaac
and Jacob he would give them.

Deuteronomy 30: 15-20 (The Jerusalem Bible)

8. Timely graffito:

God made man and woman. Samuel Colt made them equal.

– Anonymous

Vous aimerez peut-être aussi