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                |   IRISH RELIGIONIn the Irish language there are several names for God in 
					general, without reference to any particular god. The most 
					general is dia, which, with some variations in 
					spelling, is common to many of the Aryan languages. It was 
					used in pagan as well as in Christian times, and is the 
					Irish word in universal use at the present day for God.  In 
					Irish literature, both lay and ecclesiastical, there are 
					vague references to the pagan gods, without any hint as to 
					their identity or functions. The 'gods' are often referred 
					to in oaths and such expressions as "I swear by the gods 
					that my" are constantly put into the mouths of the heroes of 
					the Red Branch.  The pagan Irish worshipped the sidhe [shee], i.e. 
					the earth-gods, or fairies, or elves. These sidhe are 
					associated with the mythical race called Dedannans, to 
					whom the great majority of the fairy gods belonged. 
					According to bardic chroniclers, the Dedannans were the 
					fourth of the prehistoric colonies that arrived in Ireland 
					many centuries before the Christian era. 
					 The Dedannans were great 
					magicians, and highly skilled in science and 
					metal-working. After inhabiting Ireland for about two 
					hundred years, they were conquered by the people of the 
					fifth and last colony - the Milesians. 
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            		 The Dedannans then 
					arranged that several chiefs, with their followers, were to 
					take up their residence in the pleasant hills all over the 
					country in the sidhe [shee] or elf-mounds. Here they could 
					live free from observation or intervention. 
					 Bodb Derg 
					[Bove Derg] was chosen as their king. Deep under ground in 
					these abodes they built themselves glorious palaces, all 
					ablaze with light, and glittering with gems and gold. 
					Sometimes their fairy palaces were situated under wells or 
					lakes, or under the sea. 
			 All the Words that I gather,
            And all the words that I write,
 Must spread their wings untiring,
 And never rest in their flight,
 Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
 And sing to you in the night,
 Beyond shore the waters are moving,
 Storm darkened or starry bright.
 W.B. Yeats, All the Words that I 
            gather, 1892 
             
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