|Hogmagog, Gogmagog (Expansion, Extension) / Gog (Cuckoo) & Magog (Regenerating, Glow-worm) Gogyrwen (Spiritual Being) Margaret, Gretchen (Pearl) |
Shall not my chair be defended from the cauldron of Ceridwen? May my tongue be free in the sanctuary of the praise of Gogyrwen. The praise of Gogyrwen is an oblation which has satisfied Them with milk, and dew, and acorns. – Book of Taleisin
|(pron. GOHG) Mother Goddess. She is a solar diety of the mountains and the spiritual guardian of London, progenitor of the Sarmatians (Lower Don River), Scythians a.k.a Magogites (Armenia and North of the Black Sea), Slavonians (A region in eastern Croatia, northern Yugoslavia), and Tartars/Tatar (Tatarstan, Russia. Siberia is known as Tartary and the Crimea as Little Tartary).|
Britains Meggs Hills are named for her, and several hillside chalk effigies portray her. One is carved into the earth at Wandlebury near Cambridge. She is usually depicted as a four breasted woman astride a horse. In patriarchal times she became Englands St. Margaret who was beheaded after entering the body of a red dragon and re-emerging from its stomach. In her male aspect she is Grandson of Noah, who became the ancestor of Partholón: Shape of a Woman and Nemed: Sacred Grove. During the middle ages, the Syrians applied Magog as a geographical term for Asiatic Turkey. The Arabians also applied Magog as a general name of the country north of the Caucasus Mountains between the Black and Caspian Seas. Her feast day is December 31st, Hogmanay. Gogzichensis: Gozeca. (58, 76, 99, 116, 134, 188)
|Sweet Williams Ghost: Scotland|
There came a ghost to Margarets door,
Is this my father Philip?
Tis not thy father Philip;
O sweet Margret! O dear Margret!
|Thy faith and troth thouse nevir get,|
Of me shalt nevir win,
Till that thou come within my bower,
And kiss my cheek and chin.
If I should come within thy bower,
O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
Thy faith and troth thouse nevir get,
|My bones are buried in a kirk yard|
Afar beyond the sea,
And it is but my sprite (spirit), Margret,
Thats speaking now to thee.
She stretched out her lilly-white hand,
Now she has kilted her robes of green,
Is there any room at you head, Willie?
|Theres nae room at my head, Margret,|
Theres nae room at my feet,
Theres no room at my side, Margret,
My coffin is made so meet.
Then up and crew the red red cock,
No more the ghost to Margret said,
O stay, my only true love, stay,