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A 'riddle of the unicorn' received by me in 1989, on the occasion of a small group's journey to the Isle of Man:
Four turns to the power of eight, find the bridge that is the mate.
Coffers full, resolved to time, trace the path of the Sacred Nine.
As he grows in lavender mist, silver bears he to a tryst.
Gold is broken upon his brow, as heather bows before the plow.
Lightening scores the ten to one, and with this stroke, a circle done.
Follow close the path of Nine, seek ye there and ye shall find.
Bring the One, the Lightening Born, to sacred ground beneath the horn;
And here shall rise the dragon's hand, that none shall stay the Day of Man.