Hrafnars ýr (Ravens' yews)

In the Barony of Thescorre (located in Rochester, NY), we have excellent archers. In celebration of these fine folk, I wrote the following poem. It involves an attack by certain raiders from the Kingdom of Ealdormere and how they are repelled by the brave archers of the Barony. From what I understand, this  poem may well start a bardic war with our friends from across the Inland Seas.

If so, while I may perish, I will struggle to the end. To wit,

"HAVE AT YOU, WOLVES OF THE BREED!"

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Hrafnars ýr Fram norðt vargsfjǫll fimvig fjándr sigla svandalir; nautfé kaupangs unýtast níðings-sunnar rifsa gangandi til gunnar geirviðir af myrkskógi - akraspillir ekrum undír traðkað sunnhreinn. Athos goði ýskelfir ættfólk kallar snjallast: Virkismenn varðatu vals Yggs heim með hagl skóds. Á barna gylðis berbeinn bogaþruma dundu! Með undreyr svartast svǫrrblóð svíneyg ulfgrár dreiftu! Svara ýglǫð Eadmund enski : Bogar bendum svarttyrf hrafnars sverjum með skirir Hǫgna firra! þrir skora bog-menn þermsligr þrymu Ullar fljúgask. Hergaupur harki hagli Finna vinna. Nóttfǫrullars norðr nóra hlaunnar ǫrbursti. Flyja dreypandi frenjar til festa gaula hestr. Of vǫll lunda válandi vargmenn sigǫrs targa; rekald vargham Roaks hrylla til heim sigla.

The Ravens' Yews War-skilled fiends from wolf-fells northern sail swan-dales; niðings-bastards pillage townfolk's useless cattle. Spear trees from dark woods marching to battle - destroyers of fields trample sun-bright acres. Athos bow-shaker, chieftain, calls to his best kinsfolk: Yeomen, Yggs gull's homeland defend with weapons hail! On Gyldis's-bastards bare-legged rain down your bow-thunder! With blackest blood-birds' wound-reeds scatter swine-eyed grey-wolves!" Edmund yew-glad English answered: Bend we bows - Raven´s black-turf we swear to defend with Hogni's showers! " Three score fittest bow-men Join in Ullar´s Thunder; Rabble of war-lynxes suffer Sami's hail. Little northern night-thieves' buttocks arrow-bristle. They flee to mooring-horses dropping cattle lowing. Across the plain of puffins wolfmen – war-shafts targets; Roak’s wolfish jetsam horrid sail homeward.

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Kennings Used

svandalir > swan's dale > SEA
níðings-sunnar > níðings sons > RAIDERS
geirviðir > spear trees > WARRIORS
akraspillir > destroyers of fields > WARRIORS

vals Yggs > gulls of Ygg > RAVENS
vals Yggs heim > gulls of Yggs home > THESCORRE
barna gylðis > Gyldis's bastards > RAIDERS
bogaþruma > bow-thunder > ARROWS
undreyr svartast svǫrrblóð > blackest bloodbirds' wound-reeds > blackest ravens' wound-reeds > ARROWS
ulfgrár > grey wolves > RAIDERS

skirir Hǫgna > Hogna's showers > ARROWS
þrymu Ullar > Ullar's thunder > BATTLE
hagli Finna > Sami's hail > ARROWS

Nóttfǫrullars > Night thieves > RAIDERS
festa gaula > mooring horses > SHIPS
vǫll lunda > plain of puffins > SEA
sigǫrs targa victory (or war) shafts targets> arrows' targets > RAIDERS
rekald vargham Roaks > Roak's wolfish jetsam > RAIDERS

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Foes and Friends Forever

For those of you who are in the SCA, you may have heard that I was elevated by TRM Andreas and Kallista to the Most Noble Order of the Laurel. Her Majesty then invited me to be one of her bards for the Known World Bardic Challenge at the Pennsic Wars. As you read this entry, the circle has ended, and the following poem received its world debut.

The theme of the circle was Enemies and Friends , and this poem catches the theme, I think.  It is written in English, in the dróttkvætt meter. The kennings are pretty simple.

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Foes and Friends Forever

Battle joined by bitter bold foes crying old gripes - blood is let by blade-Tyrs blasting horns call fast spears. Sword-storm's lightning seering seething helm-lines heaving - Iron-gods' knights-errant On field reddened yield not. Day's heat on the hot field hammers foes in gam'sons drives the sword-tree droves drained of precious rains-gift. Seek the helm-folk sacred sups of Odin's cup-streams. Find they there the fiend-men friends to glad-night's ending. Joined by valor's gentle jumbling, spear-foes humbled honor's love find intact. Armored not gainst harm now, point-din yields til pint-song peals from laughing steel-oaks - spear-trees come from spar-storm sword-gods hug their war-friends.

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You can hear the poem by clicking below:

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I hope you enjoyed the poem. Please let me know by commenting below or by writing me.

Hrafnar Syngja

So, here it is, late June, and I haven't posted in like forever. It has been busy and I have been very distracted by life. Still, things have been in my mind and one of them escaped that dark black pit of despair recently.

As most of you know by know, I'm a resident of the Barony of Thescorre, in the Kingdom of Æthelmearc. The barony's heraldry is "Argent, on a pall azure between three ravens volant sable, a laurel wreath Or."

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In the lore of the barony, the ravens have been named: Hugin, Munin, and Bob (!) - the third raven who does what the other two think of and recall. As the newly appointed Baronial skald, I see it as my duty to instruct the folk of the ravens and how they sing. Thus, the latest poem.

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Old Icelandic Verse

Prose Translation

Stef: Vargǫld syngdu virðiligr valir axlar aldinn. Morðarákefð merkvalds magnið sárgǫgl bragir. Vísur 1 (af Hugin) Hugrenning þin hagrádr hjálms gný aptr kallað: Ráðagǫrð af róðrvíd reiðar at leiðadu. Dýfjarðar fyrðar fljúgask með tré-konung: með spakleik þin siklingr slagr gefa dólgmann. Verse 2 (af Munin) Aldinn draumar íllir ǫrlǫgs brenna knorr-muns orras hjaldrs eyrendi - aptir dagstingr minna. Gefa hásæt gjafar - gnýr minna fyr dýjarl; Gefa þiljur gjafar - geira-mun fyr herjar. Verse 3 - (af Svart-Rob) Flǫgrað vígstars fljúga fjarri ofan merkjum. Dýfolk fylgdu dagfar djarfum á gnýs darra. Drukk af fors horn drekis drógdu þeima heima; Sennu vápna syngdu - sælligr með dýfolk hlæðu.

Stef: Sing of ancient age of wolves, worthy hawks of the shoulder. Best of wound-gulls, you raise mark-guards' slaughter-rashness. Verse 1 (about Hugin): Wise-counselor, your mind's wandering calls after helmets' din: Lead you the raiders to blood-storm counsel-taking. The warriors of the bog-fjord fly to battle with Tree-King; With your wise-play the king gives his foes defeat. Verse 2 (about Munin): Ancient dreams of evil's doom burn the mind´s ship; The battle´s blackcock´s errand - be-minded after day's sting. Give gifts of din-dreams to Bog-lord in high-seat Give gifts of spear-thought to warriors on benches. Verse 3 (about Black-Bob): Fly far above slaughter- starling's banner fluttering. Guide the bog-folk bold on the spear-roar´s journey. Lead them homeward drunk on dragon's-horn-wave; Sing of weapon-quarrels Laugh with bog-men happy!

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Kennings Used

NOTE: As you know, if you read my blog often, a kenning is a specialized form of metaphor. Ordinarily, I would refer to Thescorre as hrafna heim "Ravens' Home", but in this case, I've changed the base noun to dý "bog" after the old description on Thescorre as the Barony of the Bog.

Stef:

Vargǫld > age of wolves > WAR
valid axlar > Hawks of shoulder > RAVENS
Morðarákefð > slaughter-rashness > BRAVERY

Verse 1:

Hugrenning > mind's wandering > THOUGHTS
hjálms gný > din of helmets > BATTLE
Ráðagǫrð > counsel-taking > ADVICE, PLANNING
róðrvíd > blood-storm > BATTLE
Dýfjarðar > bog-fjord > THESCORRE (Barony of the Bog)
tré-konung > Tree King > KING OF ÆTHELMEARC
spakleik > wise-play > WISDOM
dólgmann > enemy-men > FOES

Verse 2:

knorr-muns > ship of mind > MEMORY
orras hjaldrs > battle's blackcock > RAVEN
dagstingr > day-sting > DAWN
gnýr minna > din's memory > BATTLE
dýjarl > bog-earl > THESCORRE BARON
geira-mun > spear-memory > BATTLE

Verse 3:

vígstars > slaughter-starling > RAVEN
Dýfolk > bog-army > THESCORRE ARMY
dagfar > day-faring > JOURNEY
gnýs darra > spear roar > BATTLE
fors horn drekis > dragon's horn-wave > BLOOD
Sennu vápna > weapon-quarrel > BATTLE




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In other news, this past weekend, Their Majesties of Æthelmearc, Andreas and Kallista, gave me a writ for elevation to the Order of the Laurel. This document orders me to appear before Their Majesties to be inducted into the order, which is the highest order our "medieval recreation" group offers in the Arts and Sciences. It is a great honor and I thank Their Majesties for Their generosity.




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So, please comment on the poem. I'd appreciate any comments you have.

Two verses on The Avengers

Yep. The Avengers is out on DVD. I saw The Avengers, and I enjoyed it, even if Steed and Mrs. Peel weren't in there. One battle scene was Elder Edda-ish for me and I've described it in there two verses, again in English.

Just For Fun!!!!! Anyone taking these seriously should get out more often......

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Stood then Loki steadfast

Stared at Green skinned terror,

Took in Chaos's cousin

Cool commanded, "FOOL!"

"Think I fear you Forsworn

Frog-hued Jotun's dog-leashed?

Kneel before me Null-brain

Now at my Wrath Cower!"

Jotun's leaf-man laughed then

Leered at Muspell's steersman,

Oðling tore from Terra

tossed the Trickster crossways.

Dale of Dain's kin dented 

Deep with godling creepy:

Green-clad Hulkster grinning

Growled, "Loon god's puny!"

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So, Jotun is a giant, the Muspell are monsters, Oðing is one of Loki´s aliases, Dain is a Dwarf, his kins' dale is the Earth.

I hope it works for you. You can comment below or here.

The Fisherman (in English this time)

I've been working on a poem with an eye to a lesson on how I transform ideas in English to poems in Old Norse-Icelandic. On the way there, I wrote a poem in English, something I seldom do because, well, "Dammit, I'm a skald, Jim, not a poet!" However, I think this one turned out pretty well. So I'm swerving from my usual path and publishing a poem in English here. It's called "The Fisherman" and it's about much much more than its title promises. It's for Cy, Aunt Ellen, and a myriad of others I've never met.

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On morning's light  you'd go to let
the fish come jump into your net
and every one you could recall.
No matter be they large or small
You'd fish and each became a grain
to think upon when morn brought rain
to darken skies. You'd calmly set
your bait, your hooks, and then your net.

Your bait, your hooks, and then your net
in high noon's warmth you'd always set
to bring home more. And then compare
with those you caught from everywhere
and some you'd keep, still more you'd free
to go back to the loving sea -
For now the sea your net fills full
with fish, to think upon and mull.

With fish to think upon and mull
until they overflow the hull
of ship. And yet by night your seine
unravels and by day your mein
no longer pulls a net to give
you fish, but rather pulls a sieve.
And thus into the night you sail
but fish no more, your nets have failed.

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I hope you enjoyed it. You can post comments below.

Geirþeyr (Spear Storm)

This poem is a revision of Vigþeyr which I wrote last year. As I noted in a post not too long ago, the main improvements lie in the stef which is now in true runhendr, in the rhyme schemes which have been tightened, and in the grammar, which I believe has been much improved.

As this is a significantly longer poem than most of my efforts, I know it's difficult to get a grasp on in a blog reading. Because of this, I'm putting it up as a pdf which you can download and read at your leisure. Also, there is a recording you can listen to.

The poem itself is designed as a call to war for the seven baronies of our Kingdom. I hope that many will choose to read it.

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As always, your comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated,

Happy New Year!

To those of my readers in the SCA, Happy New Year! (May 1 starts the SCA calendar. The New Year is the Year of the Society - Anno Societatis - 47).

To ALL of my readers, my thanks. When I started this blog a year ago, I had no idea if anyone would pay any attention to it. I have been very pleasantly surprised (and sometimes, puzzled) by the response to it. As of last evening when I wrote this blog entry, the views of his blog were a tad short of 4300. While I don'y pretend that I'm setting records or anything, I am both pleased and thankful for your views and support, which has come from over 50 nations on six continents. Simply amazing! Thanks to you all.