Aeneas the Trojan cut through the boisterous and dreadful sea with his fleet and people, after the royal and sacred funerals of Polydorus, the epic warrior who gloriously fell among hamlets and bucklers in a bloody battle. Sailing swiftly, he arrived at the land of Delos, a land of many Hyperborean traditions. Then, blazing with the flame of faith, he consulted the Oracle of Apollo which was wisely built upon the hard rock.
Herodotus, in his IV Book, chapter XXXII and XXXIV, comments that the Hyperboreans, who were the ancestors of the Lemurians, were periodically sending their sacred offerings wrapped with fromentun straw to Delos. Such venerated offerings had their sacred itinerary very well marked. Firstly, they were passing into the country of Escita and then after towards the Occident, until the Adriatic Sea. This was a similar route which was followed from the Baltic Sea until the boisterous river Po, then to the Italic Peninsula for the pursuit of amber.
The first among the Greeks who received the Hyperborean offerings were the Dodonans. Then, the Hyperboreans were descending from Dodona until the Maliaco Gulf, and after continuing until Euboea and Cariptia.
Ancient legends which are lost within the night of the centuries narrate that these very sacred Nordic offerings were continuing their voyage from Cariptia without arriving into Andros. From there, the Catechumen were carrying them to Tenos, and then into Delos.
The people of Delos wisely said that the Hyperboreans had the beautiful and innocent custom of sending their sacred, divine offerings in the hands of two enchanting and ineffable virgins. The name of one was HYPEROCHA and the other LAODICEA.
The sacred scriptures say that in order to guard these so charming and sublime holy women, five Initiates or Perpheres were accompanying them in their long and dangerous voyage.
Nonetheless, everything was in vain because these holy men with the two sublime Sibyls were assassinated on the land of Delos, when they were accomplishing their mission.
Many beloved and beautiful nubile maidens of that city, filled with pain, cut their hair and deposited their curly tresses on a spindle found upon a monument built in honor of those sacred victims, who (it was said) were coming accompanied by the Gods Arternis and Apollo.
So, Aeneas arrived at Delos, a most revered place, a place of archaic Hyperborean legends which are hidden as precious jewel stones in the profound bottom of all ages.
While prostrated on the ground and breathing the dust of the centuries, with his heart in pain, he invoked Apollo, the God of Fire, within the sacred precinct. He begged the God to protect the city that he was going to build, which became the second Trojan Pergamum.
History tells us that this respectable man gazed in reverence at the God Apollo and asked about the place appointed to settle themselves. Then the earth began to tremble frightfully. The hero and his people threw themselves to the ground and these were the words that Febo Apollo said:
O much-enduring Sons of Dardanus, the land which first bore you from your parents’ stock will be the land that will take you back to her rich breast. Seek out your ancient mother. For that is where the house of Aeneas and his sons’ sons and their sons after them will rule over the whole earth.
The epic leader narrates that after hearing the Oracle of Apollo he became worried, wondering which was this most remote land of his own origin. Then, his elderly father who was vividly remembering the ancient family traditions said:
Listen, you leaders of Troy, and learn what you have to hope for. In the middle of the ocean lies Crete, the island of great Jupiter, where there is a Mount Ida, the cradle of our race, and where the Cretans live in a hundred great cities, the richest of kingdoms. If I remember rightly what I have heard, our first father Teucer sailed from there to Asia, landing at Cape Rhoeteum, and chose that place to found his kingdom. Troy was not yet standing, nor was the citadel of Pergamum, and they lived low down in the valley.
This is the origin of the Great Mother of Mount Cybele (the Divine Mother Kundalini), the bronze cymbals of the Korybant, our grove of Ida, the inviolate silence of our worship and the yoked lions that draw the chariot of the mighty goddess.
Come then, let us follow where we are led by the bidding of the Gods. Let us appease the winds and set forth for the kingdoms of Cnossus. It is not to far to sail If only Jupiter is with us, the third day will see our ships on the shores of Crete.
Rumour (said Aeneas) as she flew told the tale of the great Idomeneus how he had been forced to leave his father ‘s kingdom and how the shores of Crete were now deserted. Here was a place empty of our enemies, their home abandoned, waiting for us.
The sailors raised all manner of shouts as they vied with one another in their rowing and my comrades (continued Aeneas) kept urging me to make for Crete and go back to the home of their ancestors. The wind rising astern sped us on our way and we came to shore at last on the ancient land of the Curetes. Impatiently I set to work on walls for the city we all longed for. I called it Pergamea and the people rejoiced in the name.
So, the heroic and terrific people commanded by Aeneas, the illustrious Trojan paladin., could have definitively established themselves on that island, if a malignant disastrous plague would not have obligated them to sail over the sea in search of other lands.
In the polluted putrefaction of that ill air, men were losing the lives they loved or were dragging around their sickly bodies because the sinister plague was disgracefully infecting all of their bodies and causing them to fail fulminated by the ray of death.
“The Dogstar (said Aeneas) burned the fields and made them barren, the grass dried, the crops were infected and gave us no food.”
A tempest was released in the furious mind of Aeneas and with desperation, as a cast away who clings to a cruel rock, he thought to go back across the sea to the sanctuary of Phoebus Apollo, the God of Fire, and to his oracle at Ortygia to pray for his gracious favor again. But, that very same night, in those delectable hours in which the body sleeps and the soul travels out of the physical organism within the Superior Worlds, Aeneas found himself with his Phrygian Pennate Gods, the tutelar Genii of his family, the JINNS or Angels of Troy.
The Lords of the Flame spoke these words:
Deliaiz Apollo did not send you to these shores, Crete is not where he commanded you to settle. There is a place -Greeks call it Hesperia- an ancient land, strong in arms and in the richness of her soil. The Oenotrians lived there, but the descendants of that race now said to have taken the name of their king Italus and call themselves Italians. This is our true home. This is where Dardanus sprang from and his father Lasius from whom our race took its beginning. Rise then with cheerful heart and pass on these words to Anchises your father.
His astonished father then remembered Cassandra, the Trojan prophetess, that grievous woman who made the same prophesy to him before the destruction of the proud Illion. None had believed her prophecies since Apollo was punishing her.
This noble woman whose name was Cassandra, who was so blessed and adored, paid a very singular type of karma for having wrongly used her divine faculties in her past lives. Thus, the legend of the centuries tells us that Aeneas and his people, without wasting time set sail upon their ships to run before the wind over the vast ocean towards the lands of Lacinium.
Samael Aun Weor
