Dalan
A druid who figures in the medieval Irish legend of Conary Mor (q.v.).
Dalton, Thomas: The history of this alchemist is veiled in obscurity, but he appears to have lived about the middle of the fifteenth century; and, as he is mentioned in the Ordinall of Alchimy by Thomas Norton, it is likely that he was a pupil or at least a friend of the latter. Dalton was a churchman, resident at an abbey in Gloucester; and it is reported that, on one occasion, he was brought before the king, Edward IV., in whose presence he was charged with the surreptitious practice of magic, in those days a capital crime. His accuser was one Debois, to whom the unfortunate alchemist had at one time been chaplain, and this Debois affirmed upon oath that he had seen the accused create a thousand pounds of pure gold within the space of a single day. Thereupon Dalton reminded his accuser that he had sworn never to reveal this or any kindred facts. Debois acknowledged his perfidy herein, yet added that he was acting for the good of the commonwealth. The alchemist then addressed the king himself, telling him that he had been given the powder of projection by a certain Canon of Litchfield, and that since then he had been in so constant a state of trepidation that he had ultimately destroyed the precious article. Edward accordingly granted him his freedom, at the same time giving him money sufficient for his journey home; but on his way there he was seized by a certain Thomas Herbert, who had heard of the accusation brought against the churchman, and was naturally inquisitive. Herbert carried his victim to the castle of Gloucester, and, incarcerating him in a cell there, tried every means to make him disclose the secret at issue. All was in vain, however, and at length Dalton was condemned to death by his persecutor, and brought out to be beheaded in the courtyard of the castle. He placed his head on the block, and, crying out to God to receive his soul, he called upon the executioner to strike speedily; but now a strange scene was enacted, for hardly was the axe raised ere Herbert sprang forward to avert it, at the same time declaring that he dared not shed innocent blood. In short, the projected execution was no more than a dastardly ruse, the persecutor imagining that the alchemist would confess all when his life was at stake; and, as the plan had failed, Dalton was allowed to go free. So he returned to his abbey in Gloucestershire, and there he lived quietly and unmolested for the rest of his days.