Macnab clan

[clangarra]

You may be interested to know that Clan An Abba was supposedly under a curse because the MacNab lands are purported in legend to be the birthplace of Pontius Pilate. There is an ancient yew tree near Glendochart that is supposed to mark the spot. History confirms that Pilate's father was commander of a Roman garrison in the area at the time of Pilate's birth......We also had trouble with witches and a number of the Clan (especially the females had second sight).This came from an article in a small Canadian newspaper.

I thought this was pretty cool.
gary mcnabb

[CelticRadio]

Quote (clangarra @ Feb. 22 2002,10:44)

History confirms that Pilate's father was commander of a Roman garrison in the area at the time of Pilate's birth......We also had trouble with witches and a number of the Clan (especially the females had second sight).

As a follow up to this post, you might be interested in a booklet published by Unicorn Limited called, "Highland Second Sight."

Perhaps this is an article better for Halloween, but it is one that has always interested me. Here is a quote from the book I have that describes Highland Second Sight occurances over the period of two hundred years:

"The Second Sight is a singular faculty of seeing an otherwise invisible object, without any previous means used by the person that sees it for that end, the vision makes such a lively impression upon the Seers, that they neither see nor think of anything else, except the vision, as long as it continues; and then they appear pensive or jovial, according to the object which was represented to them."

Not sure if many people are familiar with General Patton (A famous WWII Scot descendent). The name Patton was a sept of Clan Donald. He believed that he was a warrior from other times, in fact, he claimed he was a Roman General. Here is a poem that he wrote about his "Second Sight." Please be warned, this "war" poem contains some content that might be considered offensive. So, please turn back now if you don't want to read it!



Through a Glass, Darkly
by George S. Patton, Jr.

Through the travail of the ages,
Midst the pomp and toil of war,
Have I fought and strove and perished
Countless times upon this star.

In the form of many people
In all panoplies of time
Have I seen the luring vision
Of the Victory Maid, sublime.

I have battled for fresh mammoth,
I have warred for pastures new,
I have listed to the whispers
When the race trek instinct grew.

I have known the call to battle
In each changeless changing shape
From the high souled voice of conscience
To the beastly lust for rape.

I have sinned and I have suffered,
Played the hero and the knave;
Fought for belly, shame, or country,
And for each have found a grave.

I cannot name my battles
For the visions are not clear,
Yet, I see the twisted faces
And I feel the rending spear.

Perhaps I stabbed our Savior
In His sacred helpless side.
Yet, I've called His name in blessing
When after times I died.

In the dimness of the shadows
Where we hairy heathens warred,
I can taste in thought the lifeblood;
We used teeth before the sword.

While in later clearer vision
I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery
When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.

Hear the rattle of the harness
Where the Persian darts bounced clear,
See their chariots wheel in panic
From the Hoplite's leveled spear.

See the goal grow monthly longer,
Reaching for the walls of Tyre.
Hear the crash of tons of granite,
Smell the quenchless eastern fire.

Still more clearly as a Roman,
Can I see the Legion close,
As our third rank moved in forward
And the short sword found our foes.

Once again I feel the anguish
Of that blistering treeless plain
When the Parthian showered death bolts,
And our discipline was in vain.

I remember all the suffering
Of those arrows in my neck.
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage
As I died upon my back.

Once again I smell the heat sparks
When my Flemish plate gave way
And the lance ripped through my entrails
As on Crecy's field I lay.

In the windless, blinding stillness
Of the glittering tropic sea
I can see the bubbles rising
Where we set the captives free.

Midst the spume of half a tempest
I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot
Sent destruction to our foe.

I have fought with gun and cutlass
On the red and slippery deck
With all #### aflame within me
And a rope around my neck.

And still later as a General
Have I galloped with Murat
When we laughed at death and numbers
Trusting in the Emperor's Star.

Till at last our star faded,
And we shouted to our doom
Where the sunken road of Ohein
Closed us in it's quivering gloom.

So but now with Tanks a'clatter
Have I waddled on the foe
Belching death at twenty paces,
By the star shell's ghastly glow.

So as through a glass, and darkly
The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises,
Many names, but always me.

And I see not in my blindness
What the objects were I wrought,
But as God rules o'er our bickerings
It was through His will I fought.

So forever in the future,
Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter,
But to die again, once more.