St Michael and the Dragon
A story to introduce The Michael Festival
When people lived on the earth in the middle world between heaven and the dark depths, all was
peaceful and well. The dragon nestled in the fiery centre of the mountain, rested and made its
plans. On a pitch-dark night it went forth. By the light of its own fiery breath it found crops and
animals and the little villages that tended them…and laid waste to them! By morning nothing
was left on the trail it had made across the land. Scorched fields of stubble, the bleaching bones
of animals, and the crushed and smouldering remains of houses and churches were all that
remained. Nothing could flourish or even grow, where the dragon had scraped and scratched
with it’s terrible claws and where it’s fiery breath had burned and scorched.
Every month on the darkest night the dragon would appear on its destructive journey, until
around the mountain was a barren plain. Where beautiful forests had stood now not even one
tree rose above the scorched land. Many villages had been destroyed and all the people
trembled at the thought of what would happen when the dragon came to their land. Fear stalked
freely and the people were very afraid. In desperation the villagers held a large meeting. People
came from all around. “What can we do? No one can fight the dragon and win. Who can help
us! Something must be done! This dragon must be stopped!”
The people decided to go to the king for he was very wise and good. Surely he would know how
to defeat the dragon.
The king was indeed wise and also very humble and he saw that no mortal could defeat the
dragon without help from on high. Now, faced with this terrible situation he turned from his
other pressing duties and called upon St Michael to lend his aid.
That night there was a mighty meteor storm, and the sky blazed with streaks of fiery light from
the meteor’s tails.
“St Michael has sent his aid,” said the King quietly.
The next morning the village people were amazed to see, lying on the ground, in the fields and
on the road, hundreds of lumps of meteoric iron.
”Gather them up,” cried the people as they scooped up the lumps and collected them in sacks
and baskets.
Nearby to the village was a mine where much iron, tin, gold and copper had been dug out in the
past. It was also the home of the gnomes.
When the villagers had collected all the iron, they carried the heavy sacks up the mountain trail
to the entrance of the mine. There they placed the sacks carefully inside the entrance tunnel,
and called out respectfully, “Good Gnomes, we thank you from our hearts.” Then they quietly
withdrew, knowing that the gnomes were shy creatures who preferred not to be seen by humans.
The next day, when the men came back to the mine, there in the tunnel entrance was a pile of
the most beautifully made swords. Sharp as the sharpest blades, gleaming in the sunshine. One
for everyone in the village. They felt the swords and took one each, placing them carefully into
their scabbards in readiness for battle, before bowing graciously towards the mineshaft and
returning to the village again.
Upon their return the people of the village gathered together in the town green, and began a
song of thanks that carried on the late afternoon air all the way to the mine, high in the
mountains. There it reached the ears of the gnomes, who were well pleased with their
workmanship, and rejoiced at the wonderful reception their work had received. One stepped
forward and called down the mountain side, “Help from on high men sought, magic the swords
they wrought,”
But before more thank yous could be shared there came the dreadful sounds of the dragon. Its
footsteps and fearsome roar could be plainly heard, from many miles away, and it appeared to
be getting closer and heading directly towards the little village. Before long the villagers could
see clouds of smoke, drifting in dark angry clouds, above the distant fields; the last of the
autumn crops, laid waste to by the dragon…
Trembling, they gathered together on the village green, wearing what armour they could find,
and carrying their swords still inside their scabbards.
The old people and children were hidden from harm but able to see the village green easily.
Time seemed to stand still as the dragon made its destructive way straight towards the village
green. They stood back in the shadows of the trees as the monster roamed the village looking
for people or animals to devour, and destroying whole houses with one blast of its fiery breath.
Finally it stalked its hideous way right onto the village green and stopped exactly in the middle.
The men drew their swords, and with one glance heavenward, in thanks to St Michael, they
rushed as one powerful unit and fell upon the monster.
The shiny, polished scales of the dragon, which had turned and broken many a mortal sword,
could not withstand a blow from a sword forged from heavenly iron. Down on its knees the
dragon fell, bleeding from many wounds. The men watched in amazement as a bright light
descended from the sky and came to stand before the dragon. The dragon screamed and tried
to turn away from the blinding light. With a sudden flash the light grew even stronger and the
monster fell silent, slain by St Michael.
A great, spontaneous cheer rang from the people. They came from their hiding places to stand
around the enormous body, cautious in case it should suddenly come to life again. Smiles began
to spread across faces as they realized that the monster could trouble them no more. People
began to talk and soon a noisy chatter and laughter filled the green. Music broke out.
“So for joy let’s dance and sing, faster, faster around the ring, this way that way leap and
spring,” they called, and soon the whole village was dancing joyfully around the still body of the
dragon.
Tired and happy, the villagers left the green and went back to their homes. In later weeks the
body of the dragon was used to make a town flour mill. The polished scales became tiles for the
roof; the strong bones became the axles that drove the great mill stones and the rows of sharp
teeth were placed into the gears as the teeth that drove the wheels. Even the skin was used to
make strong and resilient sails to catch the wind and drive the stones. And so the dragon was
redeemed, for all the wickedness it had brought into the world it was now harnessed as a helpful
force. And every time the mill successfully ground another corn and wheat harvest into flour the
people would give their thanks to St Michael, and hold a great festival in his honour.
And what became of the heavenly-iron swords? Well, whenever darkness and strife fell upon a
town or city, one of the village people would take one of the swords to the King or Mayor of the
town and the trouble seemed to clear up very quickly.
Who knows maybe there are still some
swords around, even today…
St. Michael’s Harvest Song
In autumn Saint Michael with sword and with shield
Passes over meadow and orchard and field.
He’s on the path to battle ‘gainst darkness and strife–
He is the heavenly warrior protector of life.
The harvest let us gather with Michael’s aid;
The light he sheddeth fails not nor does it fade,
And when the corn is cut and the meadows are bare
We’ll don Saint Michael’s armor and onward we’ll fare.
We are Saint Michael’s warriors with strong heart and mind,
We forge our way through darkness, Saint Michael to find.
And there he stands in glory; Saint Michael, we pray,
Lead us into battle and show us the way.
METEORS:
Bright -gliding meteors
Curve through the night.
Michael’s messengers,
Swift is our flight.
Golden light is turning grey,
Mists begin to rule the day.
Bare the trees, their branches lift.
Clouds of dead leaves earthward drift.
Through the field the farmer goes,
Seeds of ripened corn he sows.
Trusts the earth will hold it warm,
Shelter it from cold and harm.
For he knows that warmth and light
Live there, hidden from our sight.
And beneath a sheltering wing,
Deep below, new life will spring!
Deep below, deep below, new life will spring!
The Autumn winds wail through the wood,
Through rushes and through reed.
Who is the rider of radiant light
On the snowy white, shimmering stead?
Of garment of gold, he rides along,
His face like the sun so bright.
O Michael, lend us your starry sword,
The darkness of Earth fills with light.
Brave Saint Michael is my guide,
As free and fearless forth I ride.
With courage of Saint George of old,
I dare to fight fierce dragons bold.
The autumn wind blows open the gate,
O Michael, you, you we await.
We follow you, show us the way.
With joy we greet the autumn day,
Good morning, good morning
And I wonder who is this, Michael? And I hear the wind sing:
Michael, God’s great knight,
Strong and pure and shining bright.
I’ll be a knight of Michael, too,
And polish my crown to a golden hue.
Ask the gnomes the iron to mine,
Iron from the stars, from the earth, so fine,
To bring to the blacksmith, who with his might
Will make me a sword, so strong, so bright.
And we follow the falling stars to the mountain cave where the gnomes are working.
And the gnomes say:
With fire and stone, we work with a will
With our strength and our skill.
The iron we soften and then we bend
Into hammers, swords, and nails to mend.
Dear gnomes, may I have some iron?
Are you noble? Oh, yes.
Are you good? Oh, yes.
And do you hear the singing of the stars? Oh yes.
Then you may have some iron.
(Song) Thank you little gnomes, in your crystal homes.
Oh bring me a galloping horse for to ride,
A crown on my head, the iron by my side.
Off to the blacksmith we must go.
Galloping, galloping, off we go.
Dear blacksmith, will you make me a sword?
Of course! for:
I am a blacksmith, strong and true, best of work I always do.
All day long my hammers go, slinging, clanging, clanging, so,
A rickety, tickity, tickity, tick,
A rickety, tickity, tickity, tick.
Thank you, kind blacksmith, for your might.
I’ll polish my sword, so fine, so bright.
I will use it for the right,
Not for some silly quarrel or fight,
But to drive away evil, I will try
And protect those who are weaker than I.
(After a week or two of the preceding, the following is added.)
Oh bring me a galloping horse for to ride,
A crown on my head, my sword by my side,
For it’s off the to castle we will go.
Galloping, galloping, here we go.
The knights came together and proclaimed
No fear here! Michael, be my guide and stand by my side.
And they knew that Michael was always ready to help.
Michael, God’s great knight,
Strong and pure and shining bright.
