01-24-2021, 06:25 PM
Have you read Shakespeare's Phoenix and Turtle? Possibly the world's most obscure poem. It was published in a little book called Love's Martyr, and the title page alludes to Torquato Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered (1581). Well, turtledoves were sacrificed at Jerusalem, however the Phoenicians practice black magic and child sacrifice. That's what the poem's about, here's a talk by a Phoenician Freemason about the poem (he's covering the subject and misdirecting: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hjx1obZKzZI&t=3310s )
Phoenician writers on black magic include Iamblichus and Porphyry, who are popular with Freemasons, and Freemason mythology is all about Hiram Abiff, based on Phoenician king Hiram I, famed for his involvement in the building of Solomon's temple. Solomon took on Phoenician women and allowed their friends to build temples, with decidedly unsavory rites. These are the Eyes Wide Shut crowd, they became immensely wealthy 5,000 years ago selling Lebanon cedars to Egypt, to this day they are the world's aristocratic "elite". They just erected three Phoenician arches, in Trafalgar Square, New York City Hall, and the Capitol in Washington, D.C. One, ok, three seems a bit weird. If you want to read some more limited hangout stuff about them, search for Miles Mathis Ancient Spooks, there's four papers on them. -Ryan
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troupe come thou not near.
From this Session interdict
Every foule [fowl or soul] of tyrant wing,
Save the Eagle feath'red King,
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the Priest in Surplice white,
That defunctive Music can,
Be the death-divining Swan,
Lest the Requiem lack his right.
And thou treble dated Crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st,
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
...
Here the Anthem doth commence,
Love and Constancy is dead,
Phoenix and the Turtle fled,
In a mutual flame from hence.
...
Beauty, Truth, and Rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed, in cinders lie.
Death is now the Phoenix' nest,
And the Turtle's loyal breast,
To eternity doth rest.
...
Truth may seem, but cannot be,
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she,
Truth and Beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair,
That are either true or fair,
For these dead Birds, sigh a prayer.
William Shake-speare.
Phoenician writers on black magic include Iamblichus and Porphyry, who are popular with Freemasons, and Freemason mythology is all about Hiram Abiff, based on Phoenician king Hiram I, famed for his involvement in the building of Solomon's temple. Solomon took on Phoenician women and allowed their friends to build temples, with decidedly unsavory rites. These are the Eyes Wide Shut crowd, they became immensely wealthy 5,000 years ago selling Lebanon cedars to Egypt, to this day they are the world's aristocratic "elite". They just erected three Phoenician arches, in Trafalgar Square, New York City Hall, and the Capitol in Washington, D.C. One, ok, three seems a bit weird. If you want to read some more limited hangout stuff about them, search for Miles Mathis Ancient Spooks, there's four papers on them. -Ryan
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troupe come thou not near.
From this Session interdict
Every foule [fowl or soul] of tyrant wing,
Save the Eagle feath'red King,
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the Priest in Surplice white,
That defunctive Music can,
Be the death-divining Swan,
Lest the Requiem lack his right.
And thou treble dated Crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st,
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
...
Here the Anthem doth commence,
Love and Constancy is dead,
Phoenix and the Turtle fled,
In a mutual flame from hence.
...
Beauty, Truth, and Rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed, in cinders lie.
Death is now the Phoenix' nest,
And the Turtle's loyal breast,
To eternity doth rest.
...
Truth may seem, but cannot be,
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she,
Truth and Beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair,
That are either true or fair,
For these dead Birds, sigh a prayer.
William Shake-speare.