Ageless Age with Edge

Ageless Age with Edge
welcomes you twofold
Showing posts with label Sway of Lays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sway of Lays. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 December 2015

Aage and Else, the only true translation of the early Danish ballad, parallel to `Sweet William's Ghost`

Giving you my own translation of my favourite Danish ballad, Aage og Else. Not one accurate translation exists of this tale of a woman who mourns her dead beloved so hard, that he comes back from the grave.
Original language version: http://heimskringla.no/wiki/Aage_og_Else

Aage and Else, my translation

Three girls sat in their chamber
— two warped and wove the gold —
the third wept for her promised one
{Refrain}: For she betrothed the knight

It was Aage the knight
— rode land and sea —
promised himself to Else,
a fair girl

He gave himself to Elselille,
gave all himself and gold,
and by the Monday after
his body lay under mould

She wept, Else, so sore,
wrang her hands;
and Aage heard it
under black earth

Aage he got up
took his coffin on his back.
He trudged to his betrothed's bower,
weighed down under struggle

He rapped on the door with his coffin
— he had no furs, couldn't softly knock.
`You rise up, stately Elselill,
Let your beloved in.`

Else she spoke
with tears down her cheek,
`If you can name Jesus by name,
then you, you come in.`

`You get up, Elselill !
Unlock your door.
I can name the name of Jesus
so well as I could before.`

Up stood the stately Else
with tears down her cheek.
She opened up her room
and let the dead man in.

Then she took her golden comb
and combed and combed his hair.
For every strand of hair she combed,
there fell down a tear.

`Listen to me, Herr Aage my knight,
my most dear one.
How is it under the black earth,
How is it in your grave?`

`It's like happiest Heaven,
down in the black earth,
down in my grave with me.
So be glad.`

`Listen to me, Herr Aage my knight,
my most dear one.
Can I go with you into the black earth,
into your grave.`

`It's like blackest Hell,
down in the black earth,
down in my grave with me.
Make the Cross over you!

Every time you weep,
Every time your loving care is stirred,
My coffin stands full to the brim
with clotted blood.

Above by my head
the grass grows green,
But down by my feet
snakes lie coiled.

But every time you sing,
Every time your heart is glad,
My grave is all canopied inside
with twining rose-leaves.

Now the Black Cock craws
in the Dark Yard's Nook
and all the Portals open up
— I must away.

Now the White Cock craws
in the High Hall
— All living dead yearn for the earth
— I must away.

Now the Red Cock craws
on the Heathen Ground
— All living dead yearn for the earth
— I must go along with.`

Aage he got up
took his coffin on his back.
Trudged back to the graveyard,
weighed down under struggle

Her mind stirred with her love,
stately Elselille,
she followed her beloved
through the mirk woods

When she came through the woods
and to the graveyard,
there dimmed and faded Aage's
fair and golden hair.

`Look, look up to the skies,
see all the specks of stars.
See there, see with joy
how all Night passes away.`

She looked up to the skies,
saw all the specks of stars.
The dead man slipped into the Earth.
Him she never saw.

Else went home,
filled with sadness.
The Monday after
she lay in the mould.
{Refrain}: For she betrothed the knight

Saturday, 9 November 2013

Klaus Eberhardinger

I like Austrian Drama Pop. Here is my own translation into English. Klaus Eberhardinger has a peerless presence. Erste Allgemeine Verunsicherung`s staged song may be viewed here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBMnkVXq1iE

`Death`

It's Twelve in the night
Outside a storm's going,
the death-bells knell.
Once again - someone's off into the Grave

Death is a fair man -
be you rich or poor.
"Dead is dead,"
says the worm.
Once a corpse, we're all alike.

You can be lazy your life long
- or busy as hell -
Five days after Death's got you,
Everybody starts to rot all soft.

Given what I can sense
about the ol' Scythe-father,
I can hear this shriek outside
to make alkylene freeze in my veins:

"Every one of you,
"Every one!"

Black coat, swarthen hat -
A scary figure!
He's got a scythe
and an egg-timer!

Slowly he comes closer,
clops on the door
- I smell a whiff of mold
as he says to me,

REFRAIN:
"Greetings - I am Death!
Gone is your distress.
Come, your time is up,
Get movin and no fuss
It's me - the godfather!"

I tell the old father
"Come in, come closer!
but scythes I won't need to buy
-- I got my own lawnmower !!
You must be awfully hungry
-- you're nothing but bones.
Shall I make you hot spiked tea,
or boil you some soup?"

He drinks a tea down,
then the next - the whole way to X
- he throws it down his ribs.
But he only burns his teeth -
He's no lips, you see.

But then he grips his egg-timer -
My hair goes up stiff to heaven!
He taps me on my shoulder --
and introduces himself again!

***"Greetings - I am Death!
Your distress is over.
Come, your time is up,
Get movin and no fuss
It's me - the ol' godfather!"

He whets his scythe:
"Before I mow you down,
bring me another, one final Jager Tea."

But after the fifth cup
the gaffer loosens up!
He rattles his bones and mounts the barn stool:

"Every one of you!
E-e-e-e-e-e-vry Man!"

"Listen now, you're mistaken!
My name's not Everyman !
you need to go to Salzburg -
That's where Death's at home!"

I go with him to the station - had to carry him right to the train!
I buy him another ticket and set him in the dining car.

The train rolls away - I'm wallking on air!
I wave him off from behind.
He sways there with his scythe
and says to the cart porter:

"Greetings,
I am Death!
Your distress is over.
Come, brother, come,
Bring me quick a Jager Tea, but with loads of rum!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jagertee: 'hunter's tea' - black tea with rum

Saturday, 29 May 2010

From the East the Donkey Came, Mally's Meek, Prophecy of the End (self-sung)!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yoOyIl2LIs&feature=related

This song originally hails from a 12th century Latin song "Orientis Partibus" which first appeared in France and is usually attributed to Pierre de Corbeil, Bishop of Sens (d 1222) ("Office de la circoncision," "Lew manuscrit de l’office de la Circoncision de Notre-Dame-du-Puy," or "L’Office de Pierre de Corbeil," circa 1210). The Feast of the Circumcision is celebrated on January 1. The song is associated with the Feast of Fools.

The tune is said to have been part of the Fete de l’Ane (The Donkey’s Festival), which celebrated the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt and was a regular Christmas observance in Beauvais and Sens, France in the 13th century. During the mass, it was common for a donkey to be led or ridden into the church.

The words and tune were designed to give thanks for the ass on which Mary rode, and began: Orientis partibus Adventavit asinus (‘From the East the ass has come’). Each verse was sung, and finished with the chorus ‘Hail, Sir donkey, hail’. It was a solemn affair, but the tune became very popular in 17th and 18th century Germany.

Orientis partibus
adventavit asinus,
pulcher et fortissimus,
Sarcinis aptissimus.

Hez, Sire Asne, hez!

Hic in collibus Sychen
iam nutritus sub Ruben
transiit per Jordanem
saliit in Bethlehem

Saltu vincit hinnulos
damas et capreolos
super dromedarios
velox madianeos

Dum trahit vehicula
multa cum sarcinula
illius mandibula
dura terit pabula

Cum aristis, hordeum
comedit et carduum
triticum ex palea
segregat in area

Amen dicas, asine
Iam satur ex gramine
amen, amen itera
aspernare vetera

An English Translation:
In Easter Lands
the ass arrived
beautiful and strongest,
for burden fittest made.

Here in the hills of Sychen
nursed now below Ruben,
he crosses over Jordan
he enters Bethlehem!

In his leaps he conquers mules
fallow deer and roebucks
and surpasses camels
so speedy of the Medes.

While he pulls the wagons,
many loaded heavy,
using his jaws,
he grinds the tough fodder.

He eats barley, beards and all,
and the spiny thistles,
Separates the wheat from chaff
on the threshing floor.

You say Amen to the ass,
now all filled with grass!
"Amen, Amen!" once again,
spurning what is passed.

**********************
From the East the donkey came,Stout
and strong as twenty men;Ears like wings and eyes like flame,Striding
into Bethlehem.Faster than the deer he
leapt,With his burden on his back;Though all other creatures
slept,Still the ass kept on his track.Still
he draws his heavy load,Fed on barley and rough hay;
Pulling on along the road--Donkey,pull our sins away!Wrap him now in cloth of gold;All rejoice who see him pass;Mirth inhabit young and old On this Feast Day of the Ass.
Refrain: Heh! Heh, Sir Ass, Oh Heh!

***********************
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeRPZS5-4Vc

***********************
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHYLpHb3NOo

Friday, 19 February 2010

Wanton Seed


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wcNkJuhrfc&feature=related


http://www.nicjones.net/index.htm


This year's spring time walking song. I've tried it out on my voice several times, got it memorised and like the fit.

Monday, 7 July 2008

Win-Driving Wife

Sigrdrífomál, The Lay of Sigrdrífa,
‘Victory-Provoker’

from the body of mytho-poetic verse called Elder Edda,
mainly preserved in Codex Regius (1270-1280),
translated from Old Icelandic
by Nathan Paul Hillman

Sigurðr* rode up to Hindarfjall, the Mountain Behind, and made south for Frankenland. Upon the fell, he saw a large light like a burning fire – its glow glanced into the sky. When he reached it he saw a wall of shields beneath a banner. Sigurðr went into the shield-wall and saw a man lying down in his weapons of war. Before anything else, he took the helm off his head. Then he saw it was a woman. Her corslet clung skin tight, as if grown into her flesh. With Gramr* he sliced straight down her corslet, neck to base and along both arms. Then he peeled it off her. She woke and sat up. She saw Sigurðr and said to him:

1. Sigurðr < *Sigi-warður, ‘Toward Victory’. Cp. English surname Siward.
2. ‘Grim’, Sigurðr’s sword inherited from Óðinn who hilt stuck it in a hall’s tree trunk for the fated man to yank out.


‘What bit my corslet? What broke my sleep?
Who slit from me the blanching chains?’


‘Sigmundr’s son, and Sigurðr’s sword –
used to cut a copse made of carrion,
newly made corpses for corbies.’


‘Long I slept, long was I sleeping,
Long are the woes of the world;
Óðinn ordained I’d have no might
to doff the dozing spells.’


Sigurðr sat, he sought her name.
A mead-filled horn he handed her
to drink a remembrance draught.


'Hail day, hail sons of day!
Hail night and sister of night!
With wrathless eyes
here stare on us,
and win us victory
while we wait.


'Hail Æsir!* Hail Ásynjor!*
Hail the worth of all earth!
Give words and wisdom to us both,
to us two twinned in fame,
and hands of healing while we live.'

1,2. 'gods'; 'goddesses'.


Sigrdrífa she was, a Valkyrja,*
a chooser of the slain.
He heard her tell
a tale of two kings,
Hj
álmgunnarr and Agnarr,
in a fight to the end.

1. 'slain-chooser', a valkyrie. German Walküre, Old English wælcyrige.


Sigrdrífa said:

'For Helm-Gunnarr, hard and old,
Óðinn availed a victory.
Agnarr, brother of
Auða,
welcomed no man nor wight.

'In the fray, Sigrdrífa felled him,
inciting a counter from
Óðinn,
who banned her choice
to choose the slain,
and commanded her to marry.
He stuck her with a slumberthorn.


'For my turn, I told Óðinn
I'd sworn a fierce oath
to wed no man who knew fear.'


Sigrdrífa said to Sigurðr:

'Man-tree of turmoil, I bring you beer
mingled with might and mighty fame.
It's filled with songs, and soothing staves,
with splendid spells, and runes of joy.


'Runes for winning you must learn
if you want to vouchsafe victory

cut them on hilt of hewing sword,
some on blade ridge, some on blade flat,
and invoke
Týr’s name twice.


'You must know ale-runes
if you don't want another's wife
to trick you in trust,
even when you believe her.
Carve them on horn, on your hand's back,
Upon your nails write Need.

'Sign a token over the cup filled up
and beware of danger

Sink a leek in your liquid.
In this way I'll know

No harm will mingle in your mead.

'Rescue-runes you must know
if you desire to save,
and unbind babies
from women's wombs.
Carve them on your palms,
Gird them on your loins,
then pray to D
ísir* to empower them.

1. "Ladies", "Goddesses", an order of female powers bound to the earth and fostering lifecycles.


'Sea-runes you must make
for surety's sake
for ships upon the sea,
for oar-horses on the sound.
Carve them on the prow,
write them on the rudder,
etch them with fire on the oars.
No breaker's so craggy,
No waves are so black
you won't come whole to harbour.

'You must know limb-runes
if you yearn to heal others
and help their wounds.
Cut them on bark,
in the tree trunk's wood,
on limbs leaning east.


'You must master speech-runes,
so none will make feud
for any sorrows felt.
Wind them around,
weave them around,
set them around
the people's court of doom,
the field of full judgment.

'You must know mind-runes
to make all see
you've the keenest mind of men.
Hroptr* conceived them,
cut them and ordered them
from the draught that dropped
from Glory-Gusher's head,
from Hoard-Reaver's horn*.

1. Hroptr =
Óðinn
2. Glory-Gusher and Hoard-Reaver = Hei
ðdraupnir and Hoddrofnir, alternate names for Mímir/Mímr, the god whose wise head floats in Mímir's Well, one of three great wells nourishing the cosmic tree, Yggdrasill. He is all head, and his horn is for drinking the liquid in the well. This liquid includes bark dew dripping down from Yggdrasill and mead emitted from Óðinn's eye (floating in the same well).



Hroptr stood high on the cliff,
bearing Brimir's* sword,
wearing helm on head.
Then M
ímr's head
mouthed the first word,
spoke in wisdom,
told true letters.


MORE TO COME

Sunday, 1 June 2008

Weland's Wile

Völundarkviða, The Lay of Völundr
the Elfsmith,

in English named Weland or Wayland

from the body of mytho-poetic verse called Elder Edda,
mainly preserved in Codex Regius (1270-1280),
translated from Old Icelandic
by Nathan Paul Hillman


From the south flew maidens right through Mirkwood,
All-wise girls, their fate to live out;
Maidens from the South spun the dear linen.
They rested and sat on the shore of the sea.


The first of them* Egill took to defend,
a fair maid of mankind inside her bright arms.
Swanwhite* in swan feathers the second was named;
the third* wrapped her arms
round the white neck of Völundr.

1. Ölrún below.
2. Name of Slagfiðr’s bride. His name appears below.
3. Her name is Alvitr (Allwise), also Hervor below.


Seven winters they sat at this,
but in the eighth they pined;
and in the ninth, hard need split them.
The maidens itched for Mirkwood,
the all-wise girls, their fate to live out.


Came there from the hunt, weather-sharp shooter;
Slagfiðr and Egill found the hall bare;
They went out, they went in, they sat down.
East strode Egill toward Ölrún*.
South strode Slagfiðr* toward Swanwhite.

1. <*Ali-runa, 'Alien Secret'. 2. ' Smite-Finn '. Finns (Lapps, Sami) were masters of the woods, the hunt and shamanic magic.


But alone sat Völundr in Wolf-Dales;
He struck gems into the red gold,
He clasped rings around the bast-rope.
Then he awaited his bright lady,
Till she should come to him.


Níðuðr found this out, Lord of the Njárar,
that Völundr sat alone in Wolf-Dales;
Men went at night with stud-nailed corslets –
Their shields glared in the waning moon.


They got off the saddles at the gabled hall,
and walked its length from end to end;
They saw his rings drawn onto bast,
Seven hundred from all that Völundr owned.


And they took them off, and they tried them on –
All save one which they made off with.


Came there from the hunt, weather-sharp shooter,
Völundr, winding back his long way.
He went to braze the brown bear-flesh;
High burnt the boughs of the all-dry fir,
the wind-dried wood before Völundr.


He sat on the bearskin, the Prince of Elves,
counting his rings – he missed one of them!
He thought that Hlöðvér’s daughter* had it –
That she’d come home, the all-wise girl.

1 Völundr’s bride, Alvitr, one of the three swancloaked girls.


He sat for so long that he fell asleep –
and then he woke up, his joy lost;
On his hands he felt heavy bonds,
clinching fetters around his feet.


' Who are the boar-blokes who wrapped me in ropes
and bound me in bast? '


Níðuðr called out, Lord of the Njárar:

‘ How did you, master of Elves,
come by our gold in the Wolf-Dales? ’


‘ No gold was got on Grani’s Road*
and our land’s far from the Rhine;
I mind the time yours and mine were greater,
when safe you and I each sat at home.

1. The road walked upon by Grani, Sigurðr the dragonslayer's horse.
Grani bore the Rhine hoard from the stabbed dragon, Fáfnir ( ' Embracer ')


' Hlöðvér fathered Hlaðguðr and Hervor* ;
Kjárr's daughter was Ölrún, cunning in spells. '

1. Swanwhite and Alvitr, whose magic may perhaps fashion treasure.


The lord’s wife walked the length of the hall,
stood on the floor, lowered her voice:

‘That one’s not tame, that one from the woods.’


King Níðuðr gave Völundr’s own ring
the gold-ring gained from the bast rope –
to Böðvildr, his own daughter.
He himself wielded the sword
which Völundr owned.


Yet the Queen said:

‘He shows his teeth when shown the sword,
when he remembers the ring on Böðvildr.
His eyes glower like a glaring snake;
Snit his knee sinews, the cords of his strength.
Strand him on the island called Seastead. ’


So twas done. His knee-sinews were sliced.
He was set on a lone isle facing the land,
a place named Sea’s Steading.
There he smithied the king all manner of treasure.
No man dared visit save the king himself.


‘ At Níðuð’s loin shines the sword
I skilfully sharpened with cunning
and tempered with whim and ease.
That bright blade is born far from me
– I’ll never see it brought to Völundr’s smithy.


' Now Böðvildr wears my bride’s red ring
– I won’t wait for amends. ’


He always sat, he never slept,
and he smote with the hammer;
He keenly wiled crafts for Níðuðr.


Níðuðr's sons, two boys,
rushed off to espy
the costly trove at Seastead.

They came to his chest, sued for the keys.
The plot was plain when they peered inside.
The boys saw necklaces and peerless things

red gold in make and appearance.

'Come, you two! Come another day!
I'll make sure you're given gold!
Tell no females nor folk of the hall
nor any man that you found me.'

Early in the morning,
the blighters call to each other,
brother to brother: 'Let's go see the rings!'

They came to his chest, sued for the keys.
The plot was plain when they peered inside.

He hewed off the heads of those cubs,
laid their limbs under smithy mud;
the skulls under their scalps
he wrapped in silver, sent to
Níðuðr.

He devised from eyes resplendent stones*
and gave them to
Níðuðr's crafty queen.
From those twosome's teeth
he beat breastpins for
Böðvildr.

1. iarcnasteina, Old English eorcnanst
ānas, whence The Hobbit's Arkenstone of Lonely Mountain. Germanic
*erkan- means any one or all of the following:
'pure', 'genuine', 'resplendent', 'bright', 'golden', 'precious'.



Then
Böðvildr came to praise her ring
which now she'd broken:

'I dare tell no one about this,
no one except for you.'

Völundr spoke:

'I'll make the busted gold all better

much better for your mother to see,
much fairer for your father to find,
nicer for you in the same measure.'

He boozed her with beer*
since he knew better how
till she drowsed down in her seat.
'Now I've paid back for all the pain,
for all the deeds of malice,
for all except one.

1. This scene is depicted on the 8th century
whalebone box (200 years preceding the oral eddaic norse version,
and 500 years before the manuscript of this poem!), the
Frank's Casket now viewable in the British Museum.

'It's well for me', said
Völundr,
'that I don't go away on web-feet,

since Níðuðr's stormers stole them from me.'
Laughing,
Völundr rose to the sky.*
Weeping,
Böðvildr went from the island,
dejected at her lover's and father's wrath.

1. Perhaps on goosewings made for him by
Völundr's brother Egill, as narrated by Þíðreks saga.


Outside stood
Níðuðr's crafty queen,
and she walked inside, the length of the hall;
Resting on the ramparts sat
Völundr:
'
Are you awake, Níðuðr, Lord of the Njárar?'

'I endlessly wake and rarely sleep
since my sons died.
My joy is lost.
My head is ice
– your counsels are cold.
I pine now for parley with
Völundr.

'Tell me
Völundr, Prince of Elves,
what's happened to my healthy cubs?'

'First you must grant me all these oaths:
by ship's side and shield's rim,
by blade of horseback,
by blade of sword

that Völundr's lady
you never molest,
nor kill my conjugal bride,
even when I've a woman you know,
or a baby within your hall.

'Go to the smithy, the one you made

You'll find the bellows stiff with blood.
I hewed off the heads of your cubs,
laid their limbs under smithy mud.

'And
the skulls under their scalps
I wrapped in silver, sent to
Níðuðr.
I devised from eyes resplendent stones
and gave them to
Níðuðr's crafty queen.

'From those twosome's teeth
I beat breastpins for
Böðvildr.
Now walks
Böðvildr bulging with child,
the only daughter of you both.'

'No words you could've spoken
would crush me more.
Nor could I wish,
Völundr,
to deprive you worse.
No man's high enough
to hunt you from his horse,
nor strong enough below
to bow-shoot you down
where you hover on high
and hide in clouds.'

Laughing, Völundr rose to the sky.
Sorrowing,
Níðuðr sat behind.


'Get up, Þakráðr*, best of my thralls!
Ask
Böðvildr, the blond-browed girl,
to wear her fair web
and confide with her father.'

1. 'Counsel of Thanks' ? If so, onomastic meaning merges with plot



'Is it true,
Böðvildr, what they tell me?
Did you and
Völundr sit together,
side by side on the isle?'

'What he told you,
Níðuðr, is true.
Völundr and I sat together,
side by side on the isle,
one awful hour

– we never should have!
I'd no craft to contest him;
I'd no might to resist him.'



THE CHEERY END

Tuesday, 13 May 2008

VÖLUSPÁ

VÖLUSPÁ
Prophecy of the Seeress (völva)
 
 
from the body of mytho-poetic verse called Elder Edda,
mainly preserved in Codex Regius (1270-1280),
translated from Old Icelandic
by Nathan Paul Hillman
 
 
 
All sacred children, great and small,
children of Heimdallr*, lend your ears.
Father of the Slain*, you desired me to tell  
the tales of beings, farthest back I* know.
1`World-Brightener’, warden on the rainbow bridge to the upperworld.2 Óðinn, a chief divining elitist god;shamanic; lord of those slain while fighting3 the seeress, the poem’s narrator, invoked by Óðinn

I remember Giants, born of yore,
those who nursed me in ancient times;
Nine worlds I remember, nine trollwives,* 
Famous Tree of Fate* below the earth.   
1 íviðjur:  female forest giants
2 mjötviðr:  ‘ fate-dealing tree’, the cosmic axis
When ages were young and Ymir* lived,   
No sand, nor sea, nor cool swell heaved.
Earth and Upheaven, both were unfound,
Grass was nowhere; Gaping Gap yawned.
1 ‘wailer’, ‘howler’; a giant
[From Vafþrúðnismál 31, 33, 21:
Up from Sleet Stream popped venom drops;
it grew and grew, became a giant.*

1 Ymir
Under its armpit grew a girl with a boy, ...
the wise giant’s thigh coupled with thigh,
two legs begat his six-headed son.
 
The earth was formed from Ymir’s flesh
and from his bones the mountains;
sky came from skull of the ice-cold giant,
and from his blood the sea. ]
 
First Burr’s sons* lifted up lands, 
those who shaped the Middle World;
From the South shone the sun on halls of stone,
the soil was sprouted with green shoots.
1 Óðinn, Lóðurr and Hœnir (belong to a god family named Æsir)
Sun, path-fellow of Moon,
threw her right arm over the sky-rim;
Sun did not know what hall she had,
stars did not know what place they had,
Moon did not know what might he had.
 
Then all the Powers came, sacrosanct gods,
to their doom-seats to take council:
They gave names to Night, and to her offspring,
called one Morning, another Midday,
Forenoon and Afternoon, to count the years.
 
The Æsir* met on Splendor Plain;*  
Bloodshrines and temples, they built them high.
They founded forges and wrought wealth,
shaped tongs, fashioned tools.
1 a particular family of gods; sing. Ás 
2 Iðavöll
Glad they played at games in meadow,
not a bit of gold they lacked,
until three came, all main powerful,
maidens from Jötunheimr* of giant kin. 
1 Giant Realm
 
She* remembers the world’s first war,   
when Gullveig* was propped with spears, 
and they burned her in High One’s*  hall.  
Three times burned her, the three times born one,
often, unseldom, though she lives yet.
1 the seeress herself2 'Gold Liqueur’; likely the name of the narrator herself, the völva (seeress)3 name for Óðinn
Wherever she visited, they named her Clear One;* 
the fairspoken seeress, she cast wand-spells;
She entranced wherever she could, entangled the charm-led mind.
She was sweetest smell to evil wives.
1 Heiðr (which puns with ‘heath’ and ‘heathen’ in Old Norse)
Then all the Powers came, sacrosanct gods,
to their doom-seats to decide
whether Æsir should hand over tributes,
or all the gods offer and feast for peace.

Óðinn flung his spear, hurled it into the host,
and war wore on, the first in the world.
The stronghold's shield shattered, defense of the gods,The war-boding Vanir* reared up on the plain.
1 rival tribe of gods (probably includes Gullveig); associated with  regenerative cycles
of birth and death, mirrored by soil, sea, water cycles, esp sexual union.


Then three came home, strong and loving,
gods from the host of Æsir;
they found on the earth, little able,
Askr and Embla*, devoid of destiny.
1 `Ash’ (masculine) and ‘ Elm’ (feminine); two trees, pre-humans 

They had not breath, they had not soul,
Blood nor voice, nor blushing face;
Óðinn gave breath, Hœnir gave soul,
Lóðurr gave blood and blushing face.  
An ash I know, named Yggdrasill*, 
a towering tree, libated with loam;
It trickles with white dews which wet the dale,
Green it stands always over Fate’s Well*. 
1 'Steed of Awe’, or ‘Steed of Yggr, Óðinn’2 Urðar brunni, ‘Well of Weird (Urð)’, of ‘That Which Must Be’. From verða, ‘to become’
From the well come three allwise maidens,
up from the sea-encircled tree*;   
they write out runes on sticks;
One’s named Urð*, the second Verðandi*,  
the third is Skuld*;
They laid laws, allowed life
or destined death, foretold the lot of humankind.

1 þollr, specifically ‘fir tree’, here a poetic word for 'tree'
2,3,4 ’Has Come to Be’, ‘Is Coming to Be’, ‘Obliged to Be’

She* knows the ear of Heimdallr’s hid  
beneath the holy light-loving tree.
She sees the pledge, the eye of Valföðr,* 
libating the tree in loamy streams*.
Did you already know?
1 the seeress2 `Father of the Slain’, Óðinn; so called since his hall, Valhöll, fills with his chosen
reborn dead.
3 One-eyed Óðinn's deposited eye spills mead which washes and waters the World Tree.

She sat out alone when the Agéd One* came;     
the Dread among gods looked in his own eye:
‘Why do you ask me, why do you tempt me?
I fully know, Óðinn, where you hid your eye* –
in the famous Well of Mímir.'*  
Every morning Mímir drinks mead
from the eye of Valföðr – Did you already know?
1 Óðinn2 Óðinn gave his eye to Mímir in exchange for wisdom. His eye emits nourishing honeywine.3 Mímir = ‘mindful’, ‘ponderer’; a giant or a Vanr; he exists as a dismembered wise head.

Herföðr* provided rings and neckrings    
to get her* sage tales and divining wands; 
Wide wide went her sight into each world.
1 `Father of the Host’, Óðinn2 the seeress's


She saw Valkyries* come from afar,   
geared up to ride to the Gothic clan;
Skuld held one shield, Skögul another,
Gunnr, Hildr, Göndul and Geirskögul;* 
Now are tallied the handmaids of Herjan,* 
Valkyries rigged to ride the earth.
1 valkyrjur, ‘choosers of the slain’ (on behalf of Óðinn & Freyja)2 `obligation’, ‘shaker’, ‘war’, ‘battle’, ‘wand-wielder’, ‘spear-shaker’3 `the Harrier’, Óðinn


I* saw Baldr, the bloodied god,       
the child of Óðinn, his fate hidden.
Higher than the plain; slender, lovely,
grew a mistletoe.
1 the seeress
It* seemed slender, but the stalk was grief, 
a dangerous dart, heaved by Höðr*.         
Baldr’s brother* was timely born –  
Óðinn’s son, one-night old, went avenging.
1 the mistletoe2 Baldr’s blind brother3 Baldr's other (not blind) brother, Váli below. Váli is a half-brother.

He* never washed hands, never combed his head, 
till Baldr’s dead foe* he bore to the pyre.
But Frigg* she wept in Halls of Fen           
for Valhöll’s woe – Did you already know?
1 Baldr's unblind half-brother, Váli2 Baldr's blind brother, Höðr
3 Baldr's mother, who loses her dearest son (Baldr) as well as her other son, Höðr.
A bloodfeud extending to bloodbound brothers marks the end of the world.
Váli* twisted hard cords from innards, 
vaunted with fetters, mercilessly made.* 
1 son of Óðinn by the giantess Rindr and therefore Baldr's half-brother. Baldr's parents
are two gods - Óðinn and Frigg. Óðinn's father, however, is a giant.2 made for Loki, Baldr’s ráðbani, slayer by plot. Höðr is the handbani, slayer by hand.

She saw under grove of steaming springs
a baleful body in Loki’s likeness.
There Sigyn* sits, she’s not a bit happy 
about her husband*. Did you already know?  
1`Victory Girlfriend’
2 Loki. From Snorri's Prose Edda we know that Váli bound Loki with cords made from the
innards of Loki's own son. A viper drips venom down onto Loki, as Sigyn catches the
poison in a bowl to protect him.
Then all the Powers came, sacrosanct gods,
to their doom-seats to discover
who had stirred with poison all the air,
and given Óðr’s girl* to Giants. 
1 the goddess lover of Óðr, ‘ frenzy ’, 'seized inspiration' , is Freyja, the Nordic Venus,
here defruited and made barren by cold titans; she was
born into the Æsir, but her father
is a Vanr.

Þórr alone thrashed back, swollen with rage,
he seldom sits when he hears the like;
oaths were voided, words and promises,
all solemn speech once said between them.
 
A river from the East, Slíðr* its name, 
rives with knives and falls with swords.
1 `cruel’, ‘sharp’ 
The hall of gold of Sindri’s people*        
stands in the North on Dark-of-Moon Plains;
On Never Cooling another stood,
a beerhall of Giants, Brimir* it’s called. 
1 dwarves2 ‘Brim’, ‘Sea’
Upon Corpse Strand, far from the sun,
she saw a hall – its doors open North;
Its roof shafts dripped with venom drops –
That hall’s wound with spines of serpents.
 
She saw their wading viscous streams
perjured men and murderers,
the beguiler of another’s bosom love;
There Níðhöggr* sucks on bodies died off                     
a wolf tears into men – Did you already know?
1 'Hateful Striker', an underworld serpent 
The old woman* squatted in Ironwood
and suckled there Fenrir’s* children;
Among them stands out one
in troll’s raiment, the moon’s raper.* 
1 a troll-crone or female giant. the 'squatting' is probably the upright stance for giving
birth, utilising gravity and conforming to scandinavian custom2 the bound cosmic wolf, child of Loki; destined to swallow Óðinn, who is
Loki’s blood-brother3 possibly Hati (‘Hate’), an astral wolf who will one day eat the moon

He* binges on blood of death-bound men,      
reddens with gore the houses of gods;
the sun shines black in following summers,
the weather all bitter – Did you already know?
1 the moon's raper
The troll-crone’s herdsman, happy Eggþér,* 
sat on the gravemound and struck his harp;
Near him crowed in Screeking Wood
the bright red cock called Fjalarr.* 
1 ‘Sword Servant’2`Concealer’ (why or of what, I don’t know)
Goldencomb* crowed above the Æsir,    
rouses the heroes of the Father of Hosts;* 
Another screeches beneath the earth,
an ash-red cock at the halls of Hel.* 

1 Gullinkambi, an upperworld rooster2 Herjaföðr, Óðinn3 the underworld goddess with her lodge in Niflheim, 'Mist World'; her hall is
sometimes named Hel
 
[Refrain]
Garmr* bays loudly before Gnipa Caves,  
the fetter will break and the Ravener* run free; 
Her vast wit lengthens, yet further she* grasps
the crushing fall of the Victory-Gods.

1 ‘Rag’, a huge cosmic hound2 freki, a metaphorical name for Wolf of Fenrir, bound by a magic fetter
3 the seeress
 
Brother and brother will fight to death,
Cousin and cousin will cut their ties,
It’s hard on the earth, heavy whoredom;
Axe age, sword age, shields are split,
wind age, wolf age, then world tumbles –
not one person will spare the other.
 
Mímr’s* sons cast spells, 
The Fate-Tree* flames up  
next to the ancient Gjallarhorn;* 
His horn is aloft:  Loud blows Heimdallr,
Óðinn speaks with Mímr’s head.
1 Mímr probably same as Mímir2 Yggdrasill, the cosmic axis tree3 `Echo Horn’, Heimdallr’s horn
 
The upright ash of Yggdrasill* shudders, 
the old tree groans; the giant slips loose.
Dread fills all on the paths to Hel
before Surtr’s fire* engulfs the tree. 
1 `Steed of  Awe’, the cosmic tree; drasill = ‘steed’, Yggr = ‘Awe’,`Terror’, also
an Óðinn name.2 Surtar sefi, ‘Soul of Surtr’, kenning for fire. Surtr means ‘black’, ‘swart’; volcanic
black fire giant; Tolkien's Balrog

Garmr bays loudly before Gnipa Caves,
the fetter will break and the Ravener run free;                          
Her vast wit lengthens, yet further she grasps
the crushing fall of the Victory-Gods.

Hrymr* rolls from the East, raises his shield,
Whelming Worm* uncoils in giant wrath,
He beats the waves, the eagle screams,
Pale-Beak flays corpses, Nail-Ship* cuts loose.
1`rime’, ‘frost’; maybe ‘ decrepit ’ ; a giant2 Jörmungandr, ‘Enormous Withy’, or ‘ Stupendous Gaper’, the ocean serpent encircling the world3 composed of toe and finger nails

Out of the East come Muspell’s* band,
A ship on water - Loki steers it!
All the troll rogues sail with the Ravener;*
their journey mate is Byleist’s brother.*
1 identified with Surtr; name may imply ‘perdition’; Old High German Muspilli = ‘apocalypse’; here it is probably a place name, referring to the southernmost Fire that met northernmost Ice in the beginning of time. 2 probably Fenrir, maybe Loki himself3 Loki

What’s with the Gods? What’s with the Elves?
All Giant Realm’s aroar, the Æsir assemble;
the Dwarves moan at doors of stone,
the cliff-rock kings – Did you already know?

From the South comes Surtr with branches’ bane*,
his blade mirrors fire, the Sun of Slaughter Gods.*
Boulder crags snap, and hags stride,
Humans walk the Hel-way; sky splits open.
1 sviga lævi; ‘fire’2 Sun of Slaughter Gods is a kenning for 'fire', but who are the 'Slaughter Gods' who wield this fire? Are they fire giants?
Note that Surtr's sword blade MIRRORS the red glint of their flame.

Hlín* is hit with a second grief
when Óðinn goes to fight the Wolf*,
and bright Freyr, Beli’s* bane, flies at Surtr.*
There Frigg’s dear heart* will die.
1 'protectoress'; goddess Frigg, Baldr’s mother2 Fenrir; Fenris-Úlfr, 'Fenris-Wolf
3 ' roarer '; ' fire '; a giant which weaponless Freyr once killed with a stag's antlers.
4 Freyr, Freyja's brother, is the chief norse fertility god, the antithesis of Surtr. Freyr kills him, but dies doing it.
5 her husband, Óðinn, who is swallowed by the Wolf.


So Víðarr*, mighty son of Victory Óðinn,
advances on the Beast of Slaughter.*
He screws open the mouth of Hveðrung’s son*,
sets sword to heart – his father’s avenged.
1 Acc. to Snorri (mediaeval editor), he's the son of Óðinn by the giantess Gríð2 valdýr, Fenrir (cosmic wolf)3 Fenrir

[From Vafþrúðnismál 53:
The Wolf will swallow the Father of Men*.
Víðarr will repay this pain;
He’ll cleave the cold jowls of the Wolf in battle.* ]
1 Aldaföðr (father of the age/life of humankind), Óðinn
2 From other sources (Snorri's Prose Edda), we know that
Víðarr jams the jaws open with a
shoe made of all dead men's shoe leather, then torques the jaws to break face and neck.


The Earth’s Girdler* stretches up to the air,
the jaws of the grim worm gape on high.
Óðinn’s son* will meet the serpent,

Víðarr’s kin* will kill that criminal.
1 referring to the World Serpent, the sea-snake encircling the world; also called Jörmungandr
2
Þórr, ‘Thunder’; defends gods against male giants; his father is giantess Jörð, ‘Earth’
3 = Þórr, Víðarr’s half-brother

Then comes Óðinn’s famous son, Hlóðynjar’s* boy,
to wallop the Worm;
Middle World’s warden smites in fury,
everyone must abandon home;
Fjörgynn’s* boy barely staggers
nine steps back from that snake
whose name is never flouted.
1 Þórr’s mother, also known as Jörð, 'Earth'. The boy is Þórr.
2 Þórr’s mother, also known as Jörð. Fjörgynn linguistically evokes an
indo-european lightning and mountain-top god.


Sun turns black, earth seeps into sea,
the white stars wheel from the sky;
Vapour hisses against vital fire,
the heat licks high against heaven itself.


Garmr bays loudly before Gnipa Caves,
the fetter will break and the Ravener run free;                          
Her vast wit lengthens, yet further she grasps
the crushing fall of the Victory-Gods.
She sees come up a second time,
Earth from sea, ever green;
waterfalls fall, eagle flies over,
the one who hunts fish on the mountain.
Æsir find one other on Splendor Plain,
speak of the awful earth-wrapping snake,*
and there recall their seats of power
and ancient runes of the Fimbul God.*
1 World Serpent
2 ‘Numinous God’ ; either Óðinn (who wields the runes), or the Judeo-Christian deity

Later they* found, golden in grass,
the magical chessmen they’d cherished of old.
1 the reborn gods

Unsown fields will flower,
All bad will be bettered, Baldr* will come.
Höðr* and Baldr, gods of the slain,
will settle down on triumphant turf.
In the home of the gods they live in peace.
1 Baldr, innocent in shameful death, is a pre-Christ, messianic in merging traditions
2 Baldr's blind brother, who killed Baldr on accident when Loki guided his hand.
In a happy game to test Baldr's invulnerability, the blind brother hurled a mistletoe spear.

There Hœnir will choose from prophecy sticks;
the two brothers’ sons* will inhabit the air,
dwell in the wide world of the wind.
Did you already know?
1 sons of Höðr and Baldr

She sees there a hall on Fire-Lee*
fairer than the sun, thatched with gold.
Faithful followers there will dwell,
and through life’s days live in bliss.
1 Gimlé, ‘ flame of protection’

Then from above the Mighty One* comes
to the judgment place of the gods.
Powerful, he rules over all.
1 probably the Judeo-Christian God

There comes the dark dragon,
flying from Fells of the Waning Moon.
Níðhöggr*, gleaming serpent,
carries corpses under wing, flies over the plain –
Now she* will sink.
1 `Malice-Cutter`:  serpent in Niflheim (Mist-World, underworld) who gnaws on roots of the cosmic tree
2 the seeress will sink back down to the place
Óðinn called her from

Sunday, 6 January 2008

Organ Misplacement

My true love hath my heart and I have his,
A just exchange, one for another given.
I hold his dear, I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss.
There never was a better bargain driven.
**Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss --
My true love hath, my true love hath my heart, my heart, my heart, and I have his.

His heart in me keeps me and him in one.
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides.
He loves my heart, he loves my heart, for once it was his own.
I cherish his because in me it bides.
**

His heart his wound receivéd from my sight.
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart.
For as from me, for as from me, my hurt on him did light.
So still, methought, in ME his hurt did smart !
**

-Work (song) of Sir Philip Sidney. Arcadia, 1590.

Spencer the Rover

These words were composéd by Spencer the Rover
Who travelled Great Britain and most parts of Wales.
He had been so reducéd, which caused great confusion
And that was the reason he went on the roam.

In Yorkshire near Rotherham he had been on his rambles
Being weary of walking, he sat down to rest.
At the foot of a mountain there ran a clear fountain –
With bread and cold water he did him refresh.

And it tasted far sweeter than the gold he had wasted,
Far sweeter than honey and gave more content.
But the thoughts of his children lamenting and crying
Brought tears to his eyes which made him repent.

The night fast approaching, to the woods he resorted,
With woodbine and ivy his bed for to make.
There he dreamt about sighing, lamenting and crying,
‘Go home to your family and wand’ring forsake.’

On the Fifth of November, I’ve a reason to remember,
When first he arrivéd home to his family and wife,
They looked so supriséd when first he arrivéd,
To see such a stranger once more in their sight.

And his children they gathered round him with their prittle-prattling stories,
Their prittle-prattling stories to drive care away.
Now they’re all united like birds of one feather,
Like bees in one hive, they’re contented to stay.

Now they’re all living in a cottage most contented,
With woodbine and roses growing all around the door.
They’re as happy as those who have thousands of riches,
He’s contented to stay and go rambling no more!

-The Copper Family. Version as sung by the Watersons. Roberts and Barrand do it with equal love.

Saturday, 25 November 2006

A Stór A Stór

A Stór mo Chroí, traditional after Karen Casey

A Stór mo Chroí, when you're far away
From the home you will soon be leavin,
Sure it's manys the time by night and day
Your heart will sorely be grievin.
Though the stranger's land is rich and fair,
And has riches and treasures golden,
You pine, I know, for the land, long ago
And the heart that's never olden.

A Stór mo Chroí, in the stranger's land
There is plenty of wealth and earnins.
Sultan gems adorn the rich and grand,
but their faces are pulled and tearin'.
For the road it is weary and hard to tread,
And the lights of the city do blind you;
Oh turn, A Stór, to Éirinn's shore
And the ones you left behind you.

A Stór mo Chroí, when the evenin sun
on mountain and meadow is fallin,
won't you turn away from the throng and sounds,
And maybe you'll hear me callin.
For the voice you hear is surely mine
after somebody's speedy returnin.
Aroon, aroon, won't you come home soon
To the ones who'll always love you.