Freya, the Cat

Last night, about 10:30 PM, our 19-year old cat, Freya, breathed her last.  Never a big cat, Freya has suffered from hyper-thyroidism the past three years or so.  She had shrunk to barely 5 pounds, skin and bones.  Yet, she burned brightly, defiant, loving, adventurous to the end.  Last niht, she apparently was struck down by a blood clot.  She died peacefully.

Unable to sleep, I pulled out my collection of lausaversir and discovered one I could use as inspiration and a base for a new poem for Freya.  I often thought how ironically she was named, as she could have never pulled the goddess's cart, but would have been much more at home riding by her namesake's side.

For Freya

Mice-disturber maunders

mighty flay-paw slightly

stupid in dawn's shadows

slides to bedside idly.

paws on fish-foes pillow -

purrs to master's stirring.

grumpy herring-giver

grouses at the mouse-bane.

Still remains her spirit

strong despite her slightness

Grousing yet still graceful

Gold eyes sleeps in peace now

Flaypaw goes to fiercely

Forage midst the borage

Ancient, kitten ever 

always Freya's maiden.

Freya (l.) next to a napping Mr. Cid

Freðrik drápa inn Frisi, The Complete Movie

Here is the complete movie of the complete Freðrik drápa inn Frisi.  It was recorded and edited by Jesse Horning, a student at R.I.T.  The recording was done at the castle of Lord Richard von Tanner.  I thank them both for their help in making this project a reality.  Enjoy!  Comment!

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi UPDATES ARE DONE

Hej!

So you've read the Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, but you haven't HEARD it?  Well, the four sections now all have audio!

You can find them here:

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part One


Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part Two


Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part Three


Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part Four

Enjoy!

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part Four

Here is the final section of the Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, my praise poem for Duke Frederick of Holland.  In this section, we see evenings at Highrafters at Pennsic and his return to the West Kingdom where he reigned as King and later has served the Crown and the Dream.   In this section, you will see a cameo of Mistress Morgana Bro Morganwg and some tiny blue devils (including al-hrifinn af sauðfé Willy).

This concludes the poem.  You can hear this section HERE.


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kvæða söngu at kvældi
kváma  til há-rapts
kappa-lið hverr kýla
kaldr mjöði ok alvi.
úgeigað í elding
arin-hauk rita sögum
völva með raust vofinn
vaklyndr dökk-blár púka

í sögur-hring af-bragðs
ȯr  skald löndum öðrum
eiki-hæsts al-fagna.
yngi hlýði kvæðum.
Heyra þu orð-hegi
hljótti allir lata.
allir söngu eld-kvæð
iðja-grœnn ok hunang

hringkastr um haf vestr
heima siglt mikil
undir ráskegg arði
álvags Trundle skelfr.
Herstillr þú handtakit
hljóð-ligr al-gull-króna;
þín ríki þarf-liga
þjónað vellbrójtr sóknharðr.

þín konungar þjónað
þolinn sverð ok drótt-mál.
drauminn varða drjúgr
drengskap með þín lífs-blóð.
harði-stjór fyr skelfin
skafitung þik geðfastr
þrysvar-drótinn þegnar
þín rað-verðum heyrir

Hvernig sýna hæstu
heimill liege minna
elskandi hlatur eilifr
ölsöng sunginn fulla.
Hlátur þinn að heyra
hlið komum með liege
Komum með heim kennar
kátliga þegnur tengda

In the evenings at Highrafters we sang songs of war; warriors came and we drank deeply of cold ale and mead.  Un-lost, in the very late night, old men told stories; the wise woman with a weaving voice, summoned frisky wee blue devils.

Many fine skalds from foreign lands rejoiced in Oaktall’s circle.  Young folks sat to hear songs.  All grew quiet to hear your skilled words, All sang the old songs, evergreen and honeyed.

Proud ring-tosser [GENEROUS RULER], you sailed to the Western shores.  Under the sailyard beard [SAILS] Trundle plowed the trembling eel-plain[SEA] .  Troop-controller, you seized the heavy gold-crown.  You humbly served your Kingdom, battle-strong gold-breaker [KING].

You served your king with enduring sword and court-voice.  You defend the lasting dream courageously with your life-blood.  Tyrants tremble before you sharp-tongued steadfast-minded [WISE MAN] .  Thrice-master, freemen hear your true words.

Bring us home, my liege, to you, Sing the old ale-songs with loud loving laughter.
Your laughter leads us; liege, we come home. We come home, master, merry thanes to join you.

Haakonr saga eiki, Chapter One

At long last, you have before the first chapter of Haakonr saga eiki (The Saga of Haakon-oak), as Hakon oak-tall would likely have been called in ON.  Of course, it starts with a bit of family history.  This brief chapter has no poetry in it, but it is in Old Icelandic, at least as good as I can get.  If you see errors that I should correct, please drop me a line at fridrikrinngamli@gmail.com or fridrikr@thescorre.org, or simply post your correction in a comment.  This struggling neophyte in Old Icelandic would appreciate any help he can get.

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Kapituli fyrsti -- Inn sonnar Þorvalds

Þorvaldr hét maðr, sonr Dagar.  Þorvaldr var maðr sterkr ok auð-angraðr.  Enn er hannvar á unga aldri, lá hann í vikingu ok herjaði.  Hann gerðist enn auð-kýfingr ok goðí.  Hann var giptask á Þorarna Þorarinsdottir.

Þorvaldr átti þrír sonar, hétum Dalr, Boris, ok Hakonr.  Dalr var lág-vaxinn ok sterkr.  Hann var fyrsti soninn ok kallaðr Dalr bola-kalfr.  Inn annar sonr hét Boris.  Hann var höfði hærri a Dalr ok mið-digr.  Han var kallaðr Boris bjór-tunna.  Inn þriðji hét Haakon.  Hann var mestr ok sterkast.  Hann var kallaðr Haakonr eiki.

Þorvaldstadir at svartárdalr var ból-staðdr Þorvalds ok var auðigr með sauði ok fé ok hesti.  Ok sonnar Þorvalds átt enn bjarn-hunn kallað   tanngnjóstr þat þeir glímaðum.

Chapter one -- the sons of Thorvald

Thorvald was the name of a man, the son of Dag.  Thorvald was a strong man and easily angered.  When he was a young man, he went viking and raided.  He became a heaper up of riches and a chieftain.  He was married to Thorarna Thorarin´s daughter.

Thorvald had three sons named Dale, Boris, and Haakon.   Dale was short, but strong. He was the first son ok was called   Dale bull-calf.  The second son was named Boris.  He was a he was a head taller than Dale and stout waited.  He was called Boris beer-barrel.   The third son was named Haakon.  He was the tallest and strongest.  He was called Haakon-oak.

Thorvaldstead in the Black River valley was Thorvalds home-stead  and it was rich with sheep and cattle and horses.  Thorvald´s sons also owned a young-bear called  “gnaw-tooth” which they wrestled.

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part Three (UPDATED August 26!)

In this section, there are two main events.  The first two verses tell of Cooper's Lake and the great battles that Frederick fought there, particularly the year he fought in two tournaments at once.  The second section speaks of festive parties at his house in Buffalo, where he taught for two (?) years.  I've interpolated a tale told me about a frozen clove lemon. (The cloven fruit game is a kissing game --- when you give the fruit to a person, he or she pulls a clove from the fruit.  The forfeit is a kiss.) In this case a frozen fruit was given to Frederick by a pretty girl with the thought that he would be unable to pull a clove loose.  Instead, he dispatched it by biting into the lemon, sending the young lady running away in mock horror.

Anyway, the verses are followed by translation.  If you missed the first two sections of the Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, they are here and here.  The fourth and final section will be posted later this week.

You can here this section of the poem HERE.

Enjoy!

Siglt of uppdal stag lautr
sildar Traundle strauma.
Telgjaðr drekka tiginn
tirar flótti þinga.
Brennu höggorms byrskíð
buðkr á fjördr blákaldar.
Mikil-sigr vannt á móti
merglauss þar reyfara

Hafðr til bloði heljar
(Hreggskomir í hænar)
hundruð gráskegg hjalmôru
(höslur innan hólmi).
Hrafna-gælir handsterkr
hólmstað bykis reist;
lifa á hræs lanar
lastauð ulfr sakaðar.

Hvernig sýna hæstu
heimill liege minna
elskandi hlatur eilifr
ölsöng sunginn fulla.

Söngur hávað ok sœtt
skjalfrað þafstöng gallharð.
Fors horna inn fœtar
flaug-gniesta hrœða.
kinn-roði meyjar kembda
karr ok ertað karlar.
Dróttir segjað drengr
drykkja mildi mikill.

Snúa afleið sæt-ligr
skorðar silki borða;
gleyning ok gamanligr
galsi inn yðr halla.
Mildligr ok munligr
mayjar á þu færa
fagr gull-aldin fádœmi
freiðinn ok bitr-kryddað.

Gaddfrosinn beit gersemi
götvar Iðuns Gríska;
negull  kaldir naglar
hnykðir upp með jarn-tönn.
Meyjar kinn-roðr móður
mykrblar flýja kyrtill
hreimar glymjaði höll
heimskr ulf-brosa eltu

You sailed the ox of the hollows of the herring [SHIP] Trundle across inland streams.  You carved the Dragon’s fleet high born.  You burned  the viper’s breeze-skis [SHIPS] at the cooper’s black-waved fjord.  You won a great victory against the marrowless pirates there.

You, a storm-cutter [EAGLE] among hens inside the battlefield-poles,  put to bloody death hundreds of grey beard helm-envoys [WARRIORS].  You rise on the cooper’s fields, strong-handed raven-feeder [WARRIOR].  The  vicious wolf feeds on the pile of your foes’ corpses.

Bring us home, my liege, to you, Sing the old ale-songs with loud loving laughter.

Sweet loud songs shook the rock-ribbed roof-beams.  The Waterfall of horns [MEAD] fueled foot-spark-showers [DANCING].  Blushing maidens combed their curls and teased the men-folk.  The good folk speak of your very generous feasts.

Sweet silken Embroidery props [WOMEN] you hunted and charmed.  Mirthful and playful, they frolicked in your hall. Mild and pleasant maidens brought you the finest golden-fruit sharp spiced and frozen.

You bit into Idun's hard-frozen treasured jewel [CLOVE LEMON] from Greece; the cold cloves you pulled up with iron teeth.  Blushing maidens fled to their mother's dark blue skirts; their squeals echoed through the hall.  Your joking wolfish grin chased them.

Two couplets from vacation

Hej!

A brief interlude from the  Friðrek drápa inn Frisi.  Every year (or almost every year) since 1976, I have attended the Pennsic Wars.  From a weekend camping event with three battles, this has evolved into a two-week vacation camping event filled with fighting, fencing, archery, thrown-weapons, shopping, classes (this year I taught four classes, seven sessions - all of them on things Icelandic), bardic circles, and good times with good friends.

While sitting in camp over the course of two mornings, I wrote two and a half vísufjórðungar (couplets)  that are worthy of being kept and used in a later poem.  Four hours = five lines of poetry.

Here they are:

Verse One

haslaði á holm-gang

holinn-menn fyrir gull-hringr

Challenged (he) to holm-gang

bragging-men for gold-ring-the

Verse Two

röskar Morghun rauð-harr

ræti hamingja leitinn

brave Morguhn red-haired

rode (his) fortune seeking

And a partial Verse Three

bat tvía skjoldar hvita ok rauða

bore (he) twin shields white and red [white shield = peace; red shield = war]

Now, for the more complicated part, how I took four hours to write a total of five lines of poetry.  These are pretty well shown on the notebook pages attached.  It takes five steps:

1. Brain-storm ideas for the rough meanings in English

2. Hunt down key words in the Cleasby-Vigfusson I have on my lap-top

3. Work out the grammar in the New Introduction to Old Norse

4. Place the key words into partial lines and build the lines around them

5. Translate the lines back out in English

And that's how I write the verses you read in my blog.

Here are the notebook pages for these five lines of verse.

Hope you enjoyed this trip into the Skald's mind.

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part Two (UPDATED AUGUST 26!)

This is the second section of the Friðrek drápa inn Frisi. In this section, two occurrences. The first is a boar hunt. The second is a two verse depiction of a bear hunt. The important thing to know is that during his reign in the East (back in 1977-1978), Fredrick and Nicorlynn (his queen) forbade the use of the word "bear" to describe the mammal. Thus, no direct references to the bear appear in these verses. As to the bear-skin rug and the splinter, you should look at The Boreal Master page

You can here this section of the poem HERE.

I hope you enjoy these verses.

Hvernig sýna hæstu
heimill liege minna
elskandi hlatur eilifr
ölsöng sunginn fulla.

Alkuna bána-elkjar
ýla hundum byljandi
slíðrtanni ráði spyrja
slátra blóði-greiðr.
Staka þem af stokki
stinga þem af rýting;
hóf hrönn steikja heimi
hirðligr fæða dirfða

Barða stadr ok býheim
býulfr ljótlig ok hungrað
Bassi skráma born ok
blahornr all-slátraði.
Ógnað myrktönn alhýsi;
Iorek vasiknap morða.
Frekrtönn skorað fleinÞund;
flásvín drundi máttkar.

Berðir með bý-bana
bloðorm ok skoðs hagl
rauð-flóði út ran ok
ráfa-regns týrta rifi.
Strang-dafar strá-drapa
smali-hjarðar hlyja;
róinn-bekka röggi
ransakka þu bana-flís.

Hlátur þinn að heyra
hlið komum með liege
Komum með heim kennar
kátliga þegnur tengda


Bring us home, my liege, to you, Sing the old ale-songs with loud loving laughter.

Notorious elk-bane [HUNTER], the howl of the roaring hounds, as they scented the sharp-tusked boars, lead us to the bloody-slaughter. You stuck them with spears - stuck them with daggers. You hefted home much meat to feed the bold hirth-men.

Bee wolf attacked the farm and hive. Bassi frightened children and mauled Blue-horn. Dark tooth threatened all the land. Iorek murdered the sheaf-beard [FARMER]. Greedy tooth challenged spear-Þund [WARRIOR]; Swine-flayer roared horribly.

You fought with the bee-slayer using blood-snake {SPEAR] and wound-reed [ARROW]. a red-flood [BLOOD] ran out and howling rent the rain-roof [SKY]. You slew all the strong-butts [BEARS] and saved the flocks. You gained a soft rowing-bench rug and avoided the splinter.

Your laughter leads us; liege, we come home. We come home, master, merry thanes to join you.

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi, Part One (UPDATED AUGUST 26!)

This poem was written to honor the man who fostered me into the SCA, Duke Frederick of Holland.  I presented it to him at the Pennsic War.  I will post it in four parts, over the next week or two.  A recorded version will be up as soon as I complete editing it.

The first section describes his arrival in our then very young part of the SCA (Western NY) and the impact he had on us.  As is traditional for a drápa, the poem begins with a refrain.  This refrain repeats before each section of the poem.

You can hear the poem here.

The translation of the Icelandic follows the section.

Friðrek drápa inn Frisi

Hvernig sýna hæstu

heimill liege minna

elskandi hlatur eilifr

ölsöng sunginn fulla.

Hlátur þinn að heyra

hlið komum með liege

Komum með heim kennar

kátliga þegnur tengda 

Vestan um haf vit-maðr

vitr spek færa nytful

Djupvitr færið daemum

drengliga upp syngja.

Forkunna grípu fræði

fætr at fræðimaðr.

Mart drengir þer mátu

mor-broður fleygi-maðr. 

Sal þin var upp sendir 

seima til al-beimar.

Veitir pella veizlan

val-born kema hábarð.

Hunangsbára hornar

heðra drakk í gleði.

Rota húfur roskinn

risnu-maðr hávaði.

Gladdi skaldur glaðr 

gramr  hátlíðir kátligr,

Gulla hyreti gjofull

gaf þau góðar gjafar

songvinn yngri skaldr

stamatunga namgipt

mannung spottað margir

málhalt fífill kallað

Tínir mærðar tóku

tala skald albliðlig:

gagl elska hvað gerir

ok gera það þú elskar.

stendur í dag stoltliga

stað-goðr öl-Yggsmað

“Hlydnað þú gull-hlifandi

Hlœgir mik fá gœzka.”

Bring us home, my liege, to you, Sing the old ale-songs with loud loving laughter.

Your laughter leads us; liege, we come home. We come home, master, merry thanes to join you.

From the Western seas, wise-man, you carried useful wisdom.  Deeply wise, you brought brave lore you sang out loud.  The eager-to-learn [STUDENTS] grasped lore at your feet, learned man.  Many young folk praised you Uncle “Flying-man”.

Dispenser of gold [GENEROUS MAN] your hall was open to all men.  The well-born came to feast at your high-table, giver of costly materials [GENEROUS MAN].  Horns of honey waves [MEAD] <they> drank here in joy.  hospitable man you served ripe root-caps [MUSHROOMS].

Skalds entertained the cheerful king at joyous feasts.  The flinger of gold [GENEROUS MAN > KING] gave them good gifts.  One young skald called stammer-tongue sang.  Many mocked the youth, called him dull-tongue daffodil.

Gatherer of Glory [KING] took the skald and kindly told him: goose-bright,  love what you do - do what you love. Today the well-tempered Man of Ygg’s Ale [POET] proudly stands: “I obeyed you gold-protector [KING]; Now I am glad to grasp kindness.”