From Braveheart to King Arthur to Lord of the Rings, Celtic music and culture have taken the movie industry by storm. Evolved from folk music traditions, it is also a favorite for fantasy games and animation shows. Whichever project you are working on, this list of 20 popular royalty-free Celtic music is definitely a great resource to start. Mix in these iconic tunes to make even a budget film stand out and create an emotional connection.
Looking to add depth to your mystical scenes? Are you working on a sci-fi fairy tale film? Then the Celtic Forest is a great background royalty-free music that will fill and enhance your scenes. Featuring the classic flutes with airy harp ambient sound effects, create the perfect ethereal and dreamy textures!
The Gaelic King full movie free download
Enjoy this soft yet boisterous Celtic folk-style royalty-free music track for your next pub or bar-themed scenes. Featuring the Irish flute, mandola, bouzouki and even drums, the Irish Pub is also a fantastic option for medieval movies, travel documentaries or other ethnic films.
Looking for a happy and nostalgic royalty-free music track? Maybe a touch of energetic Irish folk jig in the mix? Late In The Glen Tavern is infused with both traditional and lively sounds, featuring acoustic guitars, bodhran, claps and fast kicks. Your cinematic scenes, festival videos or travel montages will feel more professional.
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This Saturday afternoon, in the fall of the year, I had gone huntingafoot. In hot pursuit after a deer, I penetrated a thicket deep in theforest, there to lose track of my game. But in making my way out, camefull upon a panther's burrow, and so much admired the one striped andmottled cub curled therein, that the fancy seized me to carry it homeand attempt to tame it. Hearing no sound of the parent beast, I put thesleeping cub into my game bag, and started homeward. Scarcely half amile had been covered when there came from the thicket behind me thatnerve-shaking cry of the panther, resembling nothing else so much as thescream of a child in mortal terror. My steady gait quickened into a run.A second screech came from the pursuing panther. Knowledge of my dangerlent wings to my limbs, but the beast gained on me with long leaps ofher agile body. Louder and louder sounded her oft repeated cries, andthe cub in my bag answered with pitiable whines. I could hear her deep,swift panting, and the soft thud of her feet upon the leafy ground. Theopen field was gained but a few yards in advance of her, and turning toface my foe a sudden panic seized me. To my amazement she paused at theedge of the forest, and, after turning a scornful glance in mydirection, fixed a meditative eye upon a sunset more gorgeous thanusual. With that alertness of observation, and acuteness ofconsciousness which most persons experience in moments of high tension,I remember noting the rich coloring of the tan and brown rings on thecreature's sleek and mottled skin, and of thinking what a fine, softcover it would make for my mother's rocking chair.
The confused, doubtful struggle was presently over and not only was Ialive and fully conscious, but could even move my mangled arm, and standupon my feet. The hilt of my knife stuck straight upward in the long furupon the creature's breast, and I pulled it out, wiped it upon thegrass, and sheathed it, thinking I would not use it again, but keep itfor remembrance.
"Your time might be better spent, nephew, in my opinion," continued AuntMartha, as she stood waiting on the step, looking with stern disapprovalfirst at me, and then at the cluttered floor of the porch. "Our lads, itseems to me," (Aunt Martha always accented the me or the my) "aregrowing up to be a turbulent and bloodthirsty race, with but the mostcarnal ideas of life. Did we but serve God more entirely, and trust Himmore fully, we would depend less upon our own strength and skill, andmore upon Him to defend and take care of us. And after all what is man'spuny strength against the dangers of this life? It is our all powerfulHeavenly Father who must save and protect us."
My grandmother spoke with a rich Irish accent that it is impossible toindicate, for it was not a brogue, nor a dialect; it was merely afull-throated, and somewhat rolling sound which she gave to certainwords. Her language too, was freely sprinkled with Scotch words, andthese she pronounced with broad Scotch accent. The combination wasdelightful, and her blended speech added a peculiar charm to thefascinating stories she could sometimes be beguiled into telling.
Not only were cider and persimmon beer drawn from the full barrels inthe cellar, but a big bowl of apple toddy was concocted early Christmasmorning, and flanked by plates of doughnuts, and ginger bread, raisinand spiced cake, apples, and nuts, sat upon the long table in the bigroom, all day, every one being free to eat and drink his fill. Thiscustom of my father, which usually drew to our house most of the menwithin a ten mile ride, always scandalized my Aunt Martha, and but forUncle Thomas' backing we would never have gotten Ellen and Thomas to ourhouse until after Christmas day. Uncle Thomas himself always came,however, and on this occasion Aunt Martha broke her rule and came withhim, bringing too their younger son, John.
The ensuing hour brought a dozen others, the most substantialfreeholders in the community, nearly all of them members of the church,as well as men of influence in public affairs. A few drank only cider orbeer, but most of them quaffed full cups of the spiced, apple-seasonedtoddy with evident appreciation, and ate the cakes, apples and nutswithout stint.
We followed the print of the bear's feet across the meadow behind thebarn, and then around the curve of a low range of hills to the edge ofthe forest, walking Indian file, Ellen between us, and stepping, as Ibade her, in my tracks. The air was so crisp and buoyant that we werehalf intoxicated by long, full breaths of it, and went skimming over thefrozen surface as if, like fabled Mercury, we had wings to our heels.The meadows gleamed and scintillated, and the edge of the hill'sundulating outline shone in opalescent lines, as if the prying rays ofthe sun, forcing their way through the thin snow clouds at the easternhorizon, were disclosing a ledge of hidden jewels. The world all aboutus was downy soft, radiantly pure, and familiar fields and hills took ona strange newness, in which perspective was confused and outlinesblurred; white fields melted into white hills, hills merged into whitesky, and one might, it seemed, walk out of this world into the nextwithout noting the point of transition.
The conversation around our Yule fire, to which I had listened with sucheager absorption, had caused my budding convictions to bloom in an hourinto fully expanded principles. I had caught the fever of patriotismrunning like an epidemic through the land. Were not we of Scotch Irishrace and Presbyterian faith pledged already to the cause since the firstblood shed for American liberty was the blood of the Scotch IrishPresbyterians, spilled at the battle of Alamance, when the stern NorthCarolina "Regulators" had risen, like Cromwell's "Ironsides," againstthe tyranny of their royal governor? The "Boston Tea Party," therefore,found quickest sympathy among the Scotch Irish of the Southern andMiddle States, and the earliest and grimmest of the resolutions sent upto the several assemblies, urging that Massachusetts be sustained, andkingly tyranny determinedly resisted, came from the towns and countiessettled by these people. "Freedom or death" was the consuming sentimentin the hearts of many Scotch Irish Americans for months before thetypical orator of that race thrilled a continent by speaking thoseimmortal words, "Give me liberty, or give me death."
"Amen, lad, say I to that! and may there be other of your brave spirit.I like not this dallying, this parleying with the stubborn king, who butdeludes us with promises while he gains time to equip and to land histroops upon our shores. And I am beginning to think that this talk ofour Congress that we take up arms as loyal subjects of England, to forcefrom the crown redress of our grievances, goes not far enough. Only ademocracy where all are free and equal, and where the stakes are worththe risks and privations to be endured, is suited to the genius of thisvast and virgin continent. Under no other form of government may she berightly developed."
After two months of toils and privations such as I wonder now we wereable to endure, we reached Quebec with but seven hundred of the thousandmen with whom we had started from Boston. In response to Arnold's daringsummons to fight or surrender, the garrison shut the city's gates in ourfaces, and we were compelled to lie in our trenches, and wait forGeneral Montgomery's reinforcements. On the last day of December, 1775,in the midst of a blinding snow storm, we attacked Quebec. GeneralMontgomery soon received the bullet that ended his career, and ColonelArnold was wounded shortly after. But for these two untowardmisfortunes, I truly believe we had won the day, and over all Canada andall British America would now be waving the Stars and Stripes. Be thatas it may, we riflemen came very near to taking Quebec alone andunsupported, for Morgan took the battery opposed to him, and penetratedto the very center of the town. Meanwhile, General Montgomery's troops,broken and disorganized for lack of a leader, and Arnold's, in likecase, were falling back; our opponents were left free to concentratetheir forces upon us, so that, after a fierce resistance, we werecompletely surrounded, outnumbered, and compelled to surrender. 2ff7e9595c