Albums/
Celtic Mythology/
String of the Gods
This track conveys the soothing yet ominous power of Dagda's music, using hypnotic and gentle melodies to lull his enemies into an eternal slumber. The rhythm and tone aim to create a trance-like atmosphere while also conveying the weight of the spell. Does it match the vision you had? Let me know if you'd like any revisions!
"The Strings of Sleep" draws from one of the most powerful and enigmatic aspects of Dagda’s harp, Uaithne—its ability to lull enemies into a deep, magical slumber with a single, haunting melody. In Irish mythology, Dagda, the great god of the Tuatha Dé Danann, wielded a harp unlike any other, one whose strings were bound not just with sound, but with the forces of fate, emotion, and natural law.
This song centers on the mythical Song of Sleep, one of Uaithne’s three sacred melodies. It was said that during battle, Dagda could strum this tune and entire armies would collapse into sleep, their weapons falling from their hands, their will to fight dissolved in dreams. Not even the monstrous Fomorians could resist its power.
In this mythic retelling, the harp’s music becomes an invisible force, drifting through moonlit skies and over blood-stained fields, ushering a strange and peaceful end to violence. Beneath its sound, warriors find not fear or pain, but silence. The battlefield stills. The night deepens. And in that calm, the harp plays on.
"The Strings of Sleep" is more than a magical lullaby—it is a weapon veiled in beauty, a reminder that in the hands of the gods, even serenity can be an act of divine might.
The Strings of Sleep
A melody drifts on the air,
Soft as whispers, calm as prayer.
The harp begins its gentle hum,
The spell is cast, the end has come.
With every chord, the world grows still,
The night descends against their will.
The strings of sleep, the silent song,
They fall to rest where they belong.
No more to fight, no more to stand,
The Song of Sleep takes every hand.
The earth is quiet, the winds are cold,
The lullaby, a tale of old.
Dagda’s hands, they move with grace,
The song that binds, the endless space.
With every chord, the world grows still,
The night descends against their will.
The strings of sleep, the silent song,
They fall to rest where they belong.
No more to fight, no more to stand,
The Song of Sleep takes every hand.
Their eyes grow heavy, the world fades away,
Into the night where shadows play.
The song that brings the dark serene,
A dreamless sleep, forever unseen.
With every chord, the world grows still,
The night descends against their will.
The strings of sleep, the silent song,
They fall to rest where they belong.
No more to fight, no more to stand,
The Song of Sleep takes every hand.
No cries remain, no battle’s roar,
The sleep prevails forevermore.
Dagda’s song, a soft refrain,
A slumber deep, a quiet reign.
With every chord, the world grows still,
The night descends against their will.
The strings of sleep, the silent song,
They fall to rest where they belong.
No more to fight, no more to stand,
The Song of Sleep takes every hand.
And in the stillness, they all lie,
A peaceful end beneath the sky.
Dagda’s song will never cease,
For in its sleep, they find their peace.