Another allegorical saga is the narrative of the share taken by the
man in the moon in the matter of the daily ebbing and flowing of
the sea. His chief, or indeed only occupation, seems to be to pour
water from a huge bucket. Being somewhat lazy, the old gentleman
soon grows weary of the employment, and then he lies down to rest.
Of course whilst he is napping, the water avails itself of the
opportunity to return to its ordinary level.
The constellation of the Great Bear, or Charles's Wain, is,
according to the Frieslanders, the chariot in which Elias and many
other great prophets ascended into heaven. There being now-a-days
no individual sufficiently pious for such a mode of transit, it has
been put aside, with other heavenly curiosities, its only office
being to carry the angels in their nocturnal excursions throughout
the year. The angel who acts as driver for the night, fixes his eye
steadily upon the centre point of the heavenly arch, (the polar
star,) in order that the two stars of the shaft of the chariot
may keep in a straight line with the celestial focus. The rising
and setting of the sun is thus explained:--A host of beautiful
nymphs receive the sun beneath the earth in the western hemisphere,
and cutting it into a thousand parts, they make of it little air
balloons, which they sportively throw at the heavenly youths,
who keep guard at the eastern horizon of the earth. The gallant
band, not to be outdone by their fair antagonists, mount a high
ladder, and when night has veiled the earth in darkness, toss back
the golden balls, which, careering rapidly through the vault of
heaven, fall in glittering showers upon the heads of the celestial
virgins of the west. The children of the sky, having thus diverted
themselves through the night, they hasten at dawn of day to collect
the scattered balls, and joining them into one huge mass, they bear
it upon their shoulders, mid singing and dancing, to the eastern
gates of heaven. The enchanting rosy light which hovers round the
rising orb is the reflection of the virgins' lovely forms, who,
beholding their charge safely launched upon its course, retire, and
leave it, as we see it, to traverse the sky alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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