"Take my tidings: Stags contend; Snows descend-- Summer's end! "A chill wind raging, The sun low keeping, Swift to set O'er seas high sweeping. "Dull red the fern; Shapes are shadows; Wild geese mourn O'er misty meadows. "Keen cold limes each weaker wing, Icy times-- Such I sing! Take my tidings." GRAVES: _First Winter Song._ Then the flocks were driven in, and men first had leisure after harvest toil. Fires were built as a thanksgiving to Baal for harvest. The old fire on the altar was quenched before the night of October 31st, and the new one made, as were all sacred fires, by friction. It was called "forced-fire." A wheel and a spindle were used: the wheel, the sun symbol, was turned from east to west, sunwise. The sparks were caught in tow, blazed upon the altar, and were passed on to light the hilltop fires. The new fire was given next morning, New Year's Day, by the priests to the people to light their hearths, where all fires had been extinguished. The blessed fire was thought to protect the year through the home it warmed. In Ireland the altar was Tlactga, on the hill of Ward in Meath, where sacrifices, especially black sheep, were burnt in the new fire. From the death struggles and look of the creatures omens for the future year were taken. The year was over, and the sun's life of a year was done. The Celts thought that at this time the sun fell a victim for six months to the powers of winter darkness. In Egyptian mythology one of the sun-gods, Osiris, was slain at a banquet by his brother Sîtou, the god of darkness. On the anniversary of the murder, the first day of winter, no Egyptian would begin any new business for fear of bad luck, since the spirit of evil was then in power. From the idea that the sun suffered from his enemies on this day grew the association of Samhain with death. "The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the wither'd leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay And from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day. "The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the wild rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow: But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the cold clear heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen." BRYANT: _Death of the Flowers._