tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176854912023-11-15T16:55:16.250+01:00St.Clair's Space-TimeWelcome... to the PORTAL and to the invisible world of St.Clair. Photos & caption texts (Lord Byron & EarthStar excepted) copyright 2005 by St.Clair; Blog Design by ID-2025. SCROLL DOWN & ENJOY ! Pictures lead to hidden knowledgeMichael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1129415609151908142006-09-28T11:33:00.000+02:002007-10-13T02:21:51.175+02:00The 3 Gems<strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#33ffff;">Video:</span></strong> <div align="justify"><a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-9010107450745772771&hl=en" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/StarGate11.jpg" /></span></a><br /><br /><a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-9010107450745772771&hl=en"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7155/2158/320/Window_C.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#6666cc;">SEEING MIRROR</span></strong><br />Zen master and Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh wrote:<br /><em><span style="color:#99ffff;"><br /></span><span style="color:#33ccff;">"Many of us worry about the situation of the world. We don't know when the bombs will explode. We feel that we are on the edge of time. As individuals, we feel helpless, despairing. The situation is so dangerous, injustice is so widespread, the danger is close. In this kind of a situation, if we panic, things will only become worse. We need to remain calm, to see clearly. Meditation is to be aware, and to try to help.</span></span></em><span style="color:#33ccff;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br /><em><span style="color:#33ccff;">I like to use the example of a small boat crossing the Gulf of Siam. In Vietnam, there are many people, called boat people, who leave the country in small boats. Often the boats are caught in rough seas or storms, the people may panic, and boats may sink. But if even one person aboard can remain calm, lucid, knowing what to do and what not to do, he or she can help the boat survive. His or her expression - face, voice - communicates clarity and calmness, and people have trust in that person. They will listen to what he or she says. One such person can save the lives of many.</span></em></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><span style="color:#33ccff;"><br /></span></div><div align="justify"><em><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="color:#33ccff;">Our world is something like a small boat. Compared with the cosmos, our planet is a very small boat. We are about to panic because our situation is no better than the situation of the small boat in the sea. You know that we have more than 50,000 nuclear weapons. Humankind has become a very dangerous species. We need people who can sit still and be able to smile, who can walk peacefully. We need people like that in order to save us."<br /></span><br /></div></span></em></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify">I studied and like Thich Nhat Hanh so much, and I wish I could invite him here to talk one day. This little personal blog shows a castle, my old home from an old time, and its hidden and true history, its inspirational power, its visitors, its ideas, and its energy, vision, and creativity. Please come and visit me here in person, as this place is REAL . . . </span></div>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1135015073444905232006-09-09T18:06:00.000+02:002007-10-13T02:16:52.871+02:00Smaug<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><em><strong>The dragon - </strong></em><em><strong>who guards </strong></em></span></span></div><div align="justify"><em><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;">The High Elves Resources</span></strong></em><br /><br /><a href="http://passage11.com/forecast.htm" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/smaug.jpg" /></span></a><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ffff66;">"Either we abandon the long-honored Theory of Relativity, or we cease to believe that we can engage in continued accurate prediction of the future. Indeed, knowing the future raises a host of questions which cannot be answered under conventional assumptions unless one first projects an Observer outside of Time and, second, nullifies all movement. If you accept the Theory of Relativity, it can be shown that Time and the Observer must stand still in relationship to each or inaccuracies will intervene. This would seem to say that it is impossible to engage in accurate prediction of the future. How, then, do we explain the continued seeking after this visionary goal by respected scientists? How, then, do we explain Muad'Dib? </span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong>-- Lectures on Prescience by Harq al-Ada </strong><br />see source in picture below:<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Dune#Children_of_Dune_.281976.29" target="_blank"><span style="http: //en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Dune#Children_of_Dune_.281976.29;font-family:verdana;" ><img src="http://passage11.com/image/mistymounts.jpg" /></span></a></div>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128960818046669832006-08-11T11:11:00.000+02:002006-06-26T19:14:35.390+02:00Bridging Reality<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ccccff;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#6600cc;"><strong>Icons of Destiny</strong></span><br /></span><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/zen+of+stars" rel="tag"><strong>zen of stars</strong></a><strong><br /></strong><div align="justify"><br /><a href="http://icons.passage11.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Tower.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#99ffff;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3333ff;"><strong>The Two Towers - Tower to Tower -</strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3333ff;"><strong>Two miles & two worlds -- 800 years apart...</strong></span></span></div></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">If I was a master of time, or a time lord, and I had to show you how to bridge realities, then this is the picture I would show you. I shot it on October 7th, 2005, in the afternoon, looking west to my own Ivory Tower, and I was then standing in the Watch Tower of Chillon Castle, my old home from home. I am glad the architects of time obliged and let me come back to my own space in time. This swan claims CHILLON Castle and its moat, as well as the whole Lake of Geneva -- and the Vortex of Savoy Templars -- his home...</span> </strong></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"><strong><div align="justify"><br /><br /><a href="http://atlantisoracle.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Swan.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#339999;">"If you want your soul to find peace, go to Montreux." </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#339999;">- Freddie Mercury </span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#339999;">Peace - Michael St.Clair</span></strong></span></div><br /></span>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128960058858555752006-08-10T20:11:00.000+02:002006-06-29T22:08:54.340+02:00Time Vortex<div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com/guide.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Timeportal_Stc.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><p align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">Chillon is the place I remember since I was a 5 year old kiddo. Some people who have an insight have said I owned or ruled the place. I dunno about that... Today to me it is my time portal. My clients and friends come here to sit on a 1,000 feet high granite needle to get the healing that is needed to carry on life in this world in 2006 and onwards with Jupiter in Scorpio and Saturn in Leo. Architecture and eternal structure was my hobby when I loved to draw castles in the air... I feel that a nonhuman hand built this place long before human time began and then - successively over hundreds of years - first the Celts placed their Vortex onto the needle of granite - and then in the 12th Century</span><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;"> the Templars displayed their knowing and skills into this place of timelessness and of knowledge - which You and I CAN GO VISIT & ASK it FOR ADVICE - if you so wish...<br /><br />SILENTLY<br />Peace - Michael St.Clair<br /><br />Click:</span><span style="color:#333399;"><br /></span></p><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://passagetopeace.com/Ch34.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/ChillonNight.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><p align="justify"><br />More blogs about <a href="http://technorati.com/blogs/zen+of+stars" rel="tag directory">zen of stars</a>.<br /><a href="http://technorati.com/blogs/"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/tbf.gif" /></a></p>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128960890510610902006-08-10T19:07:00.000+02:002005-10-10T19:58:13.143+02:00Window Into Another World<div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/WestTower_Postcard.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128960524117057212006-08-10T18:06:00.000+02:002005-10-12T23:35:02.173+02:00Timeless Mountains<div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com/Siteindex.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Mountains.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#66ffff;">The Guardians of the Time Portal are known as "Les Dents Du Midi" the teeth of noon, and their silent message is for us to stand tall and to weather the storms. Shamans say we are here to hold the energy together when the earth changes are underway. They sent in masters of light who are fluent in their language..</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ccccff;"></span></div>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128960732129296002006-08-10T17:08:00.000+02:002005-10-16T02:21:19.920+02:00TimeSpace-Portal<div align="justify"><a href="http://passagetopeace.com/mind.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Vortex11.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><em><strong>C O S M I C<br />M I N D S</strong></em><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://passagetopeace.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://passagetopeace.com/Venus.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><strong>VENUS in SAGITTARIUS as the picture was taken.<br />Love of the vast outdoors & the search for truth...</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://passage11.blogspot.com/2005/09/seeing-star.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/ChillonNight.jpg" /></a>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128960423167409662006-08-10T16:11:00.000+02:002005-10-16T02:19:45.133+02:00Thought Dial<span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><strong>Clock Face Tower</strong><br /></span><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com/Strategy/Front.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Castle.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;"><strong>Time is non-existant.<br />Yet the tower clock face - a thought dial -<br />- which says it is four in the afternoon -<br />points to an eclipse of the sun & moon.<br />The doorway of dimensions have opened now...<br />Peace - M StC.</strong></span>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128962613908034032006-08-10T15:00:00.000+02:002006-07-03T18:26:12.090+02:00Rainbows Of Light<div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Pillars.jpg" /></a> </span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br />He stood with his back to the wall. Wearing a dark suit, a white shirt and dark polished shoes. He looked the way a Time Lord would as he passed though the corridors of time. The sun at midday sent crescents of light to shape the shadows cast by the windows. Lines fell between the shadows across the stone floor. He was perfectly at home in the castle, his portal between the worlds.</span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br />The wall behind shimmered slightly and opened out into a large space filled with light. People dressed in fine flowing robes seemed to be at work in the space beyond the walls of our reality. Like a gentle rain, rays of rainbow coloured light flooded into the chamber and merged with the man standing close to the wall. How sad that most people have forgotten the Rainbow Clans, the Master Of Light has not forgotten.</span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br />Much later he turned to look at the light cast through a portal window high above the lake. Tiny rainbows turned mysteriously across his forehead. The perfectly round crystal was the mirror fragmenting the Eclipse. The same rainbow colours appear on dark mussel shells growing on the rocks beside the seashore. If you look closely enough you can see the rainbow colours of light within the dark pearl of the shell people. The shellfish listen to the sound of the moon passing slowly over the face of the sun.</span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="justify"><br />The portal of light closed as silently as it had opened. The space beyond once more merged into heavy stone and the high pillars holding the chamber in place returned to their original form. Only the man walking back across time seemed to shimmer with the light of the portal wall, otherwise the rainbow tribes would be forgotten and humans would lose their connection with the Clans of Light across the bridge of time.<br /><br /></div><div align="justify"></span></div><p></span></span></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="http://passagetopeace.com/Ch33.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/SmallWest.jpg" /></a></p><p align="justify"><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc33cc;">The Master of The Light rules over the Sunset on the Lake of Geneva . Shot from my tower window -- looking west -- into a timeless no-man s land, while the clans of light are discussing how we will move on to another - a 5th - world... it is spherical not hierarchical, the ET sends its message via a bleep on the night sky... </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff99ff;"></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff99ff;"></p></span></strong>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1129122122006629122006-08-10T14:20:00.000+02:002005-11-09T21:27:27.936+01:00The Waterbearer<div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com/2006.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/SmallWaterbearer.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc66cc;">The above picture of Aquarius contains my horoscope for 2006 when CHIRON -- the son of KRONOS Saturn -- goes into Aquarius the sign of the waterbearer, to oppose Saturn. the master of time This means the structural upheaval is guaranteed and you do well to tune in to the age of KNOWLEGDE - aka The Age of Aquarius. Saturn in Leo is about how leaders are held accountable and about how you can do self management on your own. 2006 and 2007 are the last years in which to get the hang of creative independence.<br /><br />I shot this picture on October the 7th, 2005, in the afternoon, when the moon was in Sagittarius and in a nice aspect to Neptune in Aquarius, which will be reached by Chiron in 2010/11... so, stay tuned to the Zen of Knowledge in the sky. In astrological terms I am capturing for those who wish to know "The Zen of Knowing." How do you do that? </span></strong></p><p align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc66cc;"></span></strong></p><p align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc33cc;"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">You develop it by itself...</span> </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;"></p><p align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#ffcc66;">THE ZEN OF MAGIC<br /><br /><br />"I don't know how old I was - probably four years old - when I began to tell my family about the things I was being shown by "My Friends". Everyone in the family called me "the changeling". They said the Elves - or the invisible ones - took the human child and left one of their own in its place. So I guess I am not really of this world albeit in it...<br /><br />One thing that bothered me somewhat was the fact that I could not cope well with the inherent ignorance of this world. The low level of psychic development and the high level of denial of the invisible world inherent in the people around me was something I could not figure out nor understand. Even worse: No one would listen to me when I talked about the things I was learning and seeing. OK so I kept it to myself. No point in laying it on thick. I was working on the assumption that if I pointed out the existence of my little friends, then the people around me would look and see. After all... How could they miss it? I mean I saw them as if they were real and alive, which they are.<br /><br />I am sure you can imagine how hard it was for a young one - and later a young adult - to be aggressed by family and later by friends, teachers, colleagues, and by society as a whole. When my book appeared I had to escape. But I had only myself to escape to.<br /><br />The worst part of it was that the things the "invisible world of the guidance" told me all turned out to be true. Each teaching, and every instruction, each warning, and every admonition - became an obvious and undeniable fact as daily life progressed over some 40 years from 1967 to 2007. So would people listen then? The ultimate denial of the truth is the accusation: "You brought it about. You made it happen." As though the very act of warning people to change their ways in order to avoid the inevitable consequences of their actions was in itself an act of malicious intent.<br /><br />So what is this deeply rooted denial? This worldwide amnesia? The moving away from openly visible truths, consequences and actions? The fact is we humans have come from the stars. Whichever way you want to argue it the absolute undeniable fact is that we have come from the stars, because where else in Cosmos have we come from? The star seeds came to earth either physically or as soul travelling through time, or both. This is a fact that many will come to realize soon...<br /><br />Before we go into understanding this deeper mechanism of denial, or the very mechanism that a small number of us have deleted from the hard drive of our DNA, it is important to establish an inner form of Zen. I have coined this "thing" in a simple term: THE ZEN OF MAGIC. What is Magic? And what is Zen? See my books... The invisible world call this the Zen of Knowing, and it is their gift to me and to you.<br /><br />The fact is that for whatever reason you see what you see and you know what you know. The restrictions and the denial do not have dominance over your brain. Something in you cancels out the world wide amnesia and the cultural denial. You can see! That is the point from which we start, and from no other point. The invisible world did not teach me how to deal with other peoples denial. They taught me to deal with my own state of mind, with my own state of seeing. Once you have mastered that reality the other falls into place.<br /><br />Simple but powerful, the teachings of the invisible world show how the inner world, the inner garden is the Key to existence, the Key to knowing and the Key to peace. As a first step on the Way, you - the individual - learn to be sovereign, to be answerable to no one. You learn to retain a peaceful inner knowing, an inner certainty about the things you see and the multiple reality you are aware of. Knowing that strangeness co-exists with strangeness, and that we are as strange to other worlds as they are to us.<br /><br />The Zen of Knowing is your own inner garden, your own inner landscape. A fascinating, rich and varied world that you inhabit. You are the gardener of your own inner landscape, you are its creator and its inhabitant.<br /><br />In the process of looking within for answers, solutions to the outer world, you may discover a wise Zen monk. If he or she says something others do not want to hear, things that upset people along the Way, then listen to his or her response: "Please forgive me, I did not mean to offend you. Of course you are right!"<br /><br />This is the first of many lessons to be published in my book -- SEEING MIRROR -- in a special section dealing with a life-long journey journey into the "invisible world" and with the direct work of oneself with the beings I like to call "The Guidance of The Force".<br /><br />Many asked me -- WHO ARE YOU?<br />I say I am an astrologer...<br /><br />Click:<br /></span><br /></p><div align="justify"><a href="http://passage11.com/bio.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/time.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"><br /></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;"><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">Knowing the Sky - Why?<br />The Magi Vision...<br />copyright 2001 by St.Clair:</span> </span></strong></p><p align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;"><a href="http://passage11.com/vision.htm">http://passage11.com/vision.htm</a></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;"><br /></span></strong><br /></p>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1129122586498870072006-08-10T14:12:00.000+02:002005-10-16T02:22:30.636+02:00Dream Catchers<div align="justify"><a href="http://passagetopeace.com/lead.htm" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/Small_Dreamcatchers.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="justify"></div><br /><p align="right"><a href="http://atlantisoracle.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/SmallSunset.jpg" /></a></p><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffff33;"><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff9900;">Rainbow of Sunset Lights - focus on the Crystal pendant -<br />The crystal distributes the rainbows of the clans of light...</span></strong></span></p><br /><a href="http://chamber11.blogspot.com/2005/09/mirror-of-seeing.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/ChillonNight.jpg" /></a>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128962440335994492006-08-01T22:11:00.000+02:002005-11-15T13:59:03.013+01:00Through The Looking Glass<div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ccccff;"><em><span style="color:#6633ff;">The Code of this message - a humble blog - is written inside a book that was published for free online on the the world wide web in 2004. The pictures were updated in 2005. The message will remain always valid over the next decade. Click inside the coded stones of timelessness...</span><br /></em></span><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><br /><a href="http://passage11.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/code.jpg" /><br /><br /></span></a><br /><em><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">The Book - in above picture:</span></strong></em></div><div align="justify"><em><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">-- SEEING MIRROR -- by St.Clair</span></strong></em></div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><em><span style="color:#ccccff;"><span style="color:#6633ff;">The free online book is hidden below this surface of light...</span><br /></span></em><br /><a href="http://passagetopeace.com" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/Drinklight.jpg" /><br /></span></a>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17685491.post-1128968724950071832005-09-11T11:11:00.000+02:002005-10-16T01:00:44.536+02:00The Prisoner Of Chillon<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><div align="center"><br /><em><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;">by Lord Byron</span></em></span><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><br /><br /><em></em></span></strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em></em><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>My hair is grey, but not with years,<br />Nor grew it white<br />In a single night,<br />As men's have grown from sudden fears:<br />My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil,<br />But rusted with a vile repose,<br />For they have been a dungeon's spoil<br />And mine has been the fate of those<br />To whom the goodly earth and air<br />Are bann'd, and barr'd --- forbidden fare;<br />But this was for my father's faith<br />I suffer'd chains and courted death;<br />That father perish'd at the stake<br />For tenets he would not forsake;<br />And for the same his lineal race<br />In darkness found a dwelling-place;<br />We were seven --- who now are one,<br />Six, in youth, and one in age,<br />Finish'd as they had begun,<br />Proud of Persecution's rage;<br />One in fire, and two in field,<br />Their belief with blood have seal'd,<br />Dying as their father died,<br />For the God their foes denied;<br />Three were in a dungeon cast,<br />Of whom this wreck is left the last.<br /></strong></span><br /><br /></span></span></div></span><div align="center"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><strong><em></div></em></strong></span><strong><em></em></strong><strong><em></em></strong><strong><em><div align="center"><a href="http://passage11.com/Presentation/BookTitle.mht" target="_blank"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/TimePortal_bw.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"></span></div></em></strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"><div align="center"><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;"><strong>II<br /><br />There are seven pillars of Gothic mould,<br />In Chillon's dungeons deep and old,<br />There are seven columns, massy and grey,<br />Dim with a dull imprison'd ray,<br />A sunbeam which hath lost its way<br />And through the crevice and the cleft<br />Of the thick wall is fallen and left;<br />Creeping o'er the floor so damp,<br />Like a marsh's meteor lamp:<br />And in each pillar there is a ring,<br />And in each ring there is a chain;<br />That iron is a cankering thing,<br />For in these limbs its teeth remain,<br />With marks that will not wear away,<br />Till I have done with this new day,<br />Which now is painful to these eyes,<br />Which have not seen the sun so rise<br />For years --- I cannot count them o'er,<br />I lost their long and heavy score<br />When my last brother droop'd and died,<br />And I lay living by his side.<br /><br />III<br /><br />They chain'd us each to a column stone,<br />And we were three --- yet, each alone;<br />We could not move a single pace,<br />We could not see each other's face,<br />But with that pale and livid light<br />That made us strangers in our sight;<br />And thus together --- yet apart,<br />Fetter'd in hand, but joined in heart,<br />'Twas still some solace in the dearth<br />Of the pure elements of earth,<br />To hearken to each other's speech,<br />And each turn comforter to each<br />With some new hope, or legend old,<br />Or song heroically bold;<br />But even these at length grew cold.<br />Our voices took a dreary tone,<br />An echo of the dungeon stone,<br />A grating sound, not full and free,<br />As they of yore were wont to be;<br />It might be fancy, but to me<br />They never sounded like our own.<br /><br /></strong></span><a href="http://passage11.com/Presentation/BookTitle.mht" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/SmallCastle_bw.jpg" /></span></strong></a></em><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em></em></span><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"><em><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;"><strong>IV<br /><br />I was the eldest of the three,<br />And to uphold and cheer the rest<br />I ought to do --- and did my best ---<br />And each did well in his degree.<br />The youngest, whom my father loved,<br />Because our mother's brow was given<br />To him, with eyes as blue as heaven ---<br />For him my soul was sorely moved:<br />And truly might it be distress'd<br />To see such bird in such a nest;<br />For he was beautiful as day ---<br />(When day was beautiful to me<br />As to young eagles, being free) ---<br />A polar day, which will not see<br />A sunset till its summer's gone,<br />Its sleepless summer of long light,<br />The snow-clad offspring of the sun:<br />And thus he was as pure and bright,<br />And in his natural spirit gay,<br />With tears for naught but others' ills,<br />And then they flowed like mountain rills,<br />Unless he could assuage the woe<br />Which he abhorr'd to view below.<br /><br />V<br /><br />The other was as pure of mind,<br />But form'd to combat with his kind;<br />Strong in his frame, and of a mood<br />Which 'gainst the world in war had stood.<br />And perish'd in the foremost rank<br />With joy; --- but not in chains to pine;<br />His spirit wither'd with their clank,<br />I saw it silently decline ---<br />And so perchance in sooth did mine:<br />But yet I forced it on to cheer<br />Those relics of a home so dear.<br />He was a hunter of the hills,<br />Had follow'd there the dear and wolf<br />To him his dungeon was a gulf,<br />And fetter'd feet the worse of ills.<br /><br />VI<br /><br />Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls:<br />A thousand feet in depth below<br />Its massy waters meet and flow;<br />Thus much the fathom-line was sent<br />From Chillon's snow-white battlement,<br />Which round about the wave inthrals;<br />A double dungeon wall and wave<br />Have made --- and like a living grave.<br />Below the surface of the lake<br />The dark vault lies wherein we lay:<br />We heard it ripple night and day;<br />Sounding o'er our heads it knock'd;<br />And I have felt the winter's spray<br />Wash through the bars when winds were high<br />And wanton in the happy sky;<br />And then the very rock hath rock'd,<br />And I have felt it shake, unshock'd,<br />Because I could have smiled to see<br />The death that would have set me free.<br /><br />VII<br /><br />I said my nearer brother pined,<br />I said his mighty heart declined,<br />He loathed and put away his food;<br />It was not that 'twas coarse and rude,<br />For we were used to hunter's fare,<br />And for the like had little care:<br />The milk drawn from the mountain goat<br />Was changed for water from the moat,<br />Our bread was such as captives' tears<br />Have moisten'd many a thousand years,<br />Since man first pent his fellow men<br />Like brutes within an iron den;<br />But what were these to us or him?<br />These wasted not his heart or limb;<br />My brother's soul was of that mould<br />Which in a palace had grown cold,<br />Had his free breathing been denied<br />The range of the steep mountain's side;<br />But why delay the truth? --- he died.<br />I saw, and could not hold his head,<br />Nor reach his dying hand --- nor dead, ---<br />Though hard I strove, but strove in vain,<br />To rend and gnash my bonds in twain.<br />He died, and they unlock'd his chain,<br />And scoop'd for him a shallow grave<br />Even from the cold earth of our cave.<br />I begg'd them, as a boon, to lay<br />His corse in dust whereon the day<br />Might shine --- it was a foolish thought,<br />But then within my brain it wrought,<br />That even in death his freeborn breast<br />In such a dungeon could not rest.<br />I might have spared my idle prayer ---<br />They coldly laugh'd --- and laid him there:<br />The flat and turfless earth above<br />The being we so much did love;<br />His empty chain above it leant,<br />Such murder's fitting monument!<br /><br />VIII<br /><br />But he, the favourite and the flower<br />Most cherish'd since his natal hour,<br />His mother's image in fair face,<br />The infant love of all his race,<br />His martyr'd father's dearest thought,<br />My latest care, for whom I sought<br />To hoard my life, that his might be<br />Less wretched now, and one day free;<br />He, too, who yet had held untired<br />A spirit natural or inspired ---<br />He, too, was struck, and day by day<br />Was wither'd on the stalk away.<br />Oh, God! it is a fearful thing<br />To see the human soul take wing<br />In any shape, in any mood:<br />I've seen it rushing forth in blood,<br />I've seen it on the breaking ocean<br />Strive with a swoln convulsive motion,<br />I've seen the sick and ghastly bed<br />Of Sin delirious with its dread:<br />But these were horrors --- this was woe<br />Unmix'd with such --- but sure and slow:<br />He faded, and so calm and meek,<br />So softly worn, so sweetly weak,<br />So tearless, yet so tender, kind,<br />And grieved for those he left behind;<br />With all the while a cheek whose bloom<br />Was as a mockery of the tomb,<br />Whose tints as gently sunk away<br />As a departing rainbow's ray;<br />An eye of most transparent light,<br />That almost made the dungeon bright;<br />And not a word of murmur, not<br />A groan o'er his untimely lot, ---<br />A little talk of better days,<br />A little hope my own to raise,<br />For I was sunk in silence --- lost<br />In this last loss, of all the most;<br /><br /></strong></span></em><br /></div><p align="center"><strong><em><a href="http://passage11.com/Presentation/BookTitle.mht" target="_blank"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/SmallWindow_bw.jpg" /></span></a></em></strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"><em><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#c0c0c0;">And then the sighs he would suppress<br />Of fainting Nature's feebleness,<br />More slowly drawn, grew less and less:<br />I listen'd, but I could not hear;<br />I call'd, for I was wild with fear;<br />I knew 't was hopeless, but my dread<br />Would not be thus admonished;<br />I call'd, and thought I heard a sound ---<br />I burst my chain with one strong bound,<br />And rushed to him: --- I found him not,<br />I only stirr'd in this black spot,<br />I only lived, I only drew<br />The accursed breath of dungeon-dew;<br />The last, the sole, the dearest link<br />Between me and the eternal brink,<br />Which bound me to my failing race,<br />Was broken in this fatal place.<br />One on the earth, and one beneath ---<br />My brothers --- both had ceased to breathe!<br />I took that hand which lay so still,<br />Alas! my own was full as chill;<br />I had not strength to stir, or strive,<br />But felt that I was still alive ---<br />A frantic feeling, when we know<br />That what we love shall ne'er be so.<br />I know not why<br />I could not die,<br />I had no earthly hope, but faith,<br />And that forbade a selfish death.<br /><br />IX<br />What next befell me then and there<br />I know not well --- I never knew ---<br />First came the lost of light, and air,<br />And then of darkness too:<br />I had no thought, no feeling --- none ---<br />Among the stones I stood a stone,<br />And was, scarce conscious what I wist,<br />As shrubless crags within the mist;<br />For all was blank, and bleak, and grey;<br />It was not night, it was not day;<br />It was not even the dungeon-light,<br />So hateful to my heavy sight,<br />But vacancy absorbing space,<br />And fixedness without a place;<br />There were no stars, no earth, no time,<br />No check, no change, no good, no crime,<br />But silence, and a stirless breath<br />Which neither was of life nor death;<br />A sea of stagnant idleness,<br />Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless!<br /><br />X<br />A light broke in upon my brain, ---<br />It was the carol of a bird;<br />It ceased, and then it came again,<br />The sweetest song ear ever heard,<br />And mind was thankful till my eyes<br />Ran over with the glad surprise,<br />And they that moment could not see<br />I was the mate of misery;<br />But then by dull degrees came back<br />My senses to their wonted track;<br />I saw the dungeon walls and floor<br />Close slowly round me as before,<br />I saw the glimmer of the sun<br />Creeping as it before had done,<br />But through the crevice where it came<br />That bird was perch'd, as fond and tame,<br />And tamer than upon the tree;<br />A lovely bird, with azure wings,<br />And song that said a thousand things,<br />And seem'd to say them all for me!<br />I never saw its like before,<br />I ne'er shall see its likeness more:<br />It seem'd like me to want a mate,<br />But was not half so desolate,<br />And it was come to love me when<br />None lived to love me so again,<br />And cheering from my dungeon's brink,<br />Had brought me back to feel and think.<br />I know not if it late were free,<br />Or broke its care to perch on mine,<br />But knowing well captivity,<br />Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine!<br />Or if it were, in winged guise,<br />A visitant from Paradise;<br />For --- Heaven forgive that thought! the while<br />Which made me both to weep and smile ---<br />I sometimes deem'd that it might be<br />My brother's soul come down to me;<br />But then 'twas mortal well I knew,<br />For he would never thus have flown,<br />And left me twice so doubly lone,<br />Lone as the corse within its shroud,<br />Lone as a solitary cloud, ---<br />A single cloud on a sunny day,<br />While all the rest of heaven is clear,<br />A frown upon the atmosphere,<br />That hath no business to appear<br />When skies are blue, and earth is gay.<br /><br /><strong><em><a href="http://passage11.com/Presentation/BookTitle.mht" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/Chillon/SmallPillars_bw.jpg" /></a></em></strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"><em><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;"><strong>XI<br />A kind of change came in my fate,<br />My keepers grew compassionate;<br />I know not what had made them so,<br />They were inured to sights of woe,<br />But so it was; --- my broken chain<br />With links unfastened did remain,<br />And it was liberty to stride<br />Along my cell from side to side,<br />And up and down, and then athwart,<br />And tread it over every part;<br />And round the pillars one by one,<br />Returning where my walk begun,<br />Avoiding only, as I trod,<br />My brothers' graves without a sod;<br />For if I thought with heedless tread<br />My step profaned their lowly bed,<br />My breath came gaspingly and thick,<br />And my crush'd heart felt blind and sick.<br /><br />XII<br /><br />I made a footing in the wall,<br />It was not therefrom to escape,<br />For I had buried one and all,<br />Who loved me in a human shape:<br />And the whole earth would henceforth be<br />A wider prison unto me:<br />No child, no sire, no kin had I,<br />No partner in my misery;<br />I though of this, and I was glad,<br />For thought of them had made me mad;<br />But I was curious to ascend<br />To my barr'd windows and to bend<br />Once more, upon the mountains high,<br />The quiet of a loving eye.<br /><br />XIII<br /><br />I saw them, and they were the same,<br />They were not changed like me in frame;<br />I saw their thousand years of snow<br />On high --- their wide long lake below,<br />And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;<br />I heard the torrents leap and gush<br />O'er channell'd rock and broken bush;<br />I saw the white-wall'd distant town,<br />And whiter sails go skimming down;<br />And then there was a little isle,<br />Which in my very face did smile,<br />The only one in view;<br />A small green isle, it seem'd no more,<br />Scarce broader than my dungeon floor,<br />But in it there were three tall trees,<br />And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,<br />And by it there were waters flowing,<br />And on it there were young flowers growing,<br />Of gentle breath and hue.<br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em><br /><br /><span style="color:#c0c0c0;">The fish swam by the castle wall,<br />And they seem'd joyous each and all;<br />The eagle rode the rising blast,<br />Methought he never flew so fast<br />As then to me he seem'd to fly;<br />And then new tears came in my eye,<br />And I felt troubled --- and would fain<br />I had not left my recent chain,<br />And when I did descend again,<br />The darkness of my dim abode<br />Fell on me as a heavy load;<br />It was as is a new-dug grave,<br />Closing o'er one we sought to save, ---<br />And yet my glance, too much opprest,<br />Had almost need of such a rest.<br /><br />XIV<br /><br />It might be months, or years, or days,<br />I kept no count, I took no note<br />I had no hope my eyes to raise,<br />And clear them of their dreary mote;<br />At last men came to set me free;<br />I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where;<br />It was at length the same to me,<br />Fetter'd or fetterless to be,<br />I learn'd to love despair.<br />And thus when they appear'd at last,<br />And all my bonds aside were cast,<br />These heavy walls to me had grown<br />A hermitage --- and all my own!<br />And half I felt as they were come<br />To tear me from a second home:<br />With spiders I had friendship made,<br />And watch'd them in their sullen trade,<br />Had seen the mice by moonlight play,<br />And why should I feel less than they?<br />We were all inmates of one place,<br />And I, the monarch of each race,<br />Had power to kill --- yet strange to tell!<br />In quiet we had learn'd to dwell;<br />My very chains and I grew friends,<br />So much a long communion tends<br />To make us what we are; --- even I<br />Regain'd my freedom with a sigh." </span></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;">* * *<br /></span><br /></span><span style="color:#6633ff;">Click into - THE MIRROR OF SEEING<br />by St.Clair</span> </strong></em></span><br /><br /></p><p align="center"><br /><a href="http://chamber11.blogspot.com/2005/09/mirror-of-seeing.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/ChillonStarGate.jpg" /></a><br /></p><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><br /></span><br /></span></span></em></span></em><br /><em></em><br /><br /><a href="http://passage11.blogspot.com/2005/09/seeing-star.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://passage11.com/image/ChillonNight.jpg" /></a>Michael St.Clairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04803214711667531352noreply@blogger.com