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The Swarm: Rune

In the Rune calendar two drinking horns crossed signify January first, the time of the New Year's feast; and another of the signs of the Rune calendar, denoting the month of September, is a bee-hive, "betokening the time for collecting the honey of the bee, which was so necessary in the preparation of the mead."

At the New Year's feast and the continuing Yule festivities, drinking-horns filled with mead passed incessantly around the board.

In the sixth century, long before the "Eddas" were written, the Cymric bard Aneurin opens the "Gododin" with these glorious words in praise of Owain, - "He was a man in mind, in years a youth, And gallant in the din of war; Fleet, thick-maned chargers Were ridden by the illustrious hero; A shield, light and broad, Hung on the flank of his swift and slender steed; His sword was blue and gleaming, His spurs were of gold, his raiment was woollen.

Thou hast gone to a bloody bier, Sooner than to a nuptial feast! Thou hast become a meal for ravens, Ere thou didst reach the front of conflict! Alas, Owain! my beloved friend; It is not meet that he should be devoured by ravens! There is swelling sorrow in the plain, Where fell in death the only son of Marro. Adorned with his wreath, leader of rustic warriors, whenever he came Unattended by his troop, he would serve the mead before maidens. But the front of his shield would be pierced, if ever he heard the shout of war. No quarter would he give to those whom he pursued; Nor would he retreat from the combat until blood flowed; And he cut down like rushes the men who would not yield. The Gododin relates, that on the Coast of Mordei, Before the tents of Madog, when he returned, But one man in a hundred came with him." Farther in the story we learn that mead was not always a blessing to the heroes. "The heroes marched to Cattraeth, loquacious was the host; Blue mead was their liquor, and it proved their poison; In marshalled array they cut through the engines of war; And after the joyful cry, silence ensued! They should have gone to churches to perform penance; The inevitable strife of death was about to pierce them. The heroes marched to Cattraeth, filled with mead and drunk, Compact and vigorous; I should wrong them were I to neglect their fame; Around the mighty, red, and murky blades, Obstinately and fiercely the dogs of war would fight."