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babila
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Legends from Your Country
As Tina said in the other thread it would be a nice idea open a thread to share and to tell the banatics the legends or the stories of our country.
Well, I'll start...
The Gulf of Naples
Many years ago lived in Naples 4 brothers who had a very close relationship.They were young,strong and happy.But one day they fell in love with the same girl and they would do anything for her love.
The girl didn't want none of the 4 brothers and she left them.
Since then, the brothers waited the arrival of the girl for days, months, years and centuries and Capodimonte,Vomero,San martino and Poggioreale(their names) came out onto the sea of naples waited for their love.
Last Edited by Xycolsen, Feb/14/2006, 2:13 pm
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Jun/10/2005, 11:32 am
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Stardust75
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Re: Legends from your country
Christy,
You're more than welcome mate 
So pleased you love that movie!!
Thats so cool!!
It's one of my all time favorites.
Tom Berlinson is fantastic!!
An amazing horsman.
I always wanted to him to wisk me away on his horse.
Was the movie called Return to Snowy river in America?
There are two Man from Snowy River movies.
They were recently relesed together.
The 2nd movie is pretty sad but still good.
Tom is also in the movie about Phar Lap
as Tommy Wood****.
http://www.tomburlinson.com.au/newactor4.html
(the site would'nt let me hotlink
but there are some really cool pics here)
It's a wonderful movie, but really hard to find. I'm still trying to get a copy. 
This is Banjo Pattersons poem.
About the bloke himself.
The Man from Snowy River
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up —
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony — three parts thoroughbred at least —
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry — just the sort that won’t say die —
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, ‘That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop — lad, you’d better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you.’
So he waited sad and wistful — only Clancy stood his friend —
‘I think we ought to let him come,’ he said;
‘I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.
‘He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.’
So he went — they found the horses by the big mimosa clump —
They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,
And the old man gave his orders, ‘Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills.’
So Clancy rode to wheel them — he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.
Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, ‘We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side.’
When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat —
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.
He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.
And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.
And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
Craig's hut from the movie, still stands in
the Blue Mountians. There are all sorts of
tours to go and visit it.
http://www.neoffroadtours.com.au/craigs_hutnj.html
It'll be great when you get the chance to visit  You'll need to stay for a month to
hunt Eric and see all the sights. 
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Jun/22/2005, 5:07 pm
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LizFinland
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Re: Legends from your country
Thank you girls for sharing all the fascinating things with us! I wanted to briefly tell you about Kalevala, it's our national epic poem.
The main character of the Kalevala is Väinämöinen, a shamanistic hero with the magical power of songs. He is born of the primal Maiden of the Air and contributes to the creation of the world. Many of his travels resemble shamanistic journeys, especially the one where he visits the belly of a ground-giant, Antero Vipunen, to find the words of boat generation. He plays the kantele, a Finnish string instrument that is played like a zither. One of his kanteles is made of the jawbone of a giant pike. His search for a wife is a central element in many stories; he never finds one though, for example one of the brides, Joukahainen's sister Aino drowns herself instead of marrying him. He is also part of the group who steals the Sampo, a magical mill, from the people of the north.
Other characters, some of whom have their own chapters, are Seppo Ilmarinen, a heroic artificer-smith (comparable to the Germanic Weyland) who crafted the sky dome, the Sampo and more; Louhi the Hag of the North, a shamanistic matriarch of a people rivaling those of Kalevala who at one stage pulls the sun and the moon from the sky; Väinämöinen's young rival, Joukahainen, who promises his sister Aino to him when he loses a singing contest; vengeful, self-destructive Kullervo who is born as a slave, goes into berserk rage and commits suicide; and handsome but arrogant Lemminkäinen, whose mother has to rescue his corpse from the river of Death which runs through Tuonela, and bring him to life, echoing the myth of Osiris.
Some of the chapters describe ancient creation myths, a long wedding ceremony, and the right words for magical spells of healing and craftsmanship.
Many finnish artist have been strongly inspired of Kalevala, for example the painter Akseli Gallen-Kallela, here's his view about the robbery of Sampo, Sammon Ryöstö
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Jun/22/2005, 5:31 pm
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babila
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Re: Legends from your country
Girls, thank you very much for sharing these beautiful legends with us.
Christy and Star, I haven't heard about the man from snowy river...It's the firt time.
@Ned Kelly,I think I've heard it was made a film about this man, uh?
And Liz, I think Finnish legends are very beautiful.
Thanks!
I'll try to post some italian legends ASAP.
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Jun/27/2005, 12:03 pm
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kasel
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Re: Legends from your country
Uh, uh... very dangerous topic for Kasel...
We have in Galicia a great pile of legend and fantastic personages who inhabit our forests and seas... but I think Finland could to be the legend's champion.
what a beautiful topic, Babila. 
The first I remember is
THE PRINCESS OF BARBANZA
In Barbanza, a celtic town resisted the Roman occupation. 
After many fights, the Romans paid to a traitor  and managed to take to prisoner to the daughter of the celtic king. 
The Romans requested in exchange for their freedom that celtics left the arms and a gold rescue.
Celtics of Barbanza laid down the arms to recover the daughter of the king.
The legend says the Romans gave back the princess alive, but they cut her both chests .
Since then, the legend tells the Barbanza river, before arriving at the sea, makes a noise that resembles to that arms when falling to the ground ones on others.
In the border of the sea, people send stones so that, when bouncing on waters, their desires become in fact. 
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Jun/27/2005, 2:32 pm
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kasel
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Re: Legends from your country
Babila, I hope you like more this legend. No sad...
I know Tina like it sure... 
In a small island, very near of A Coruña, was a city governed by a celtic called Breogán.
He made construct a tower more close possible of the open sea which served as guide for the navigators.
Ith, Breogán' son, raised the stop of the tower and it seemed to descry to him, very far, to the distant, in the horizon, unknown earth.
He asked his father permission to organize an expedition and is as well as celtas of Galicia knew Ireland.
On the place where the tower of Breogán was constructed, the tower of Hercules is elevated today (constructed by the Romans), a Roman light still in operation.
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Jun/28/2005, 2:06 pm
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