How the blog works

The poems on this blog are mostly written on the basis of my historical reading and are intended to be both educational and entertaining.
Recently I have also begun posting some of my work with Anglo-Saxon charms. This work is somewhat speculative and is conducted as an amateur researcher and keen Pagan historian.

Please feel free to use anything on this site as a resource if you think that it may be relevant to your needs.

Monday 17 September 2012

Sutton Hoo


Sutton Hoo
Introduction to Sutton Hoo
The poem starts by describing the best preserved Saxon barrow burial in detail. It then goes into Saxon dragon lore and beliefs, without which the mound would without doubt have been plundered in antiquity. Finally the poem ends with a cryptic reference to the timing of the modern excavation, leaving the reader free to draw their own conclusion.

Sutton Hoo (624AD)
East Angles misty mead, ship of ninety feet,
In its final dry dock, noble of fleet.
Leader of Wuffing, death thee could not cheat,
Long robed sorcerer, galdor complete.

Splendid Raedwald, interred within thy ship,
Wodan lead thy soul, on its final trip.
An epic journey to, Woden's mead hall,
With thine drinking horn, final port of call.

Thine chamber formed, from the oaken tree,
Decorated helmet, to protect thee.
Dragons on thy crest, forming a stiff shank,
Strong shining bronze boars, ever guard thy flank.

Laid out with thy finest, silver and gold,
Sword and spear, to Valhalla for the bold.
War shield of linden, placed beside thine head
Mead hall of Woden, reserved for the dead

Galdorcraeftiga, last spell for thee cast,
Blunting others swords, all now in the past.
Thine sword by thy hand, ship without a mast,
The gates of Valhalla, still to be passed.

Long chain mail tunic, folded next to thee,
Caldrons and grill, a bucket of yew tree.
Ten silver bowls, by thy head in the west,
Buckets of fine mead, for forthcoming fest.

A dragon doth come, sniffing out thy hoard,
Guarding thy wyrm bed, for this our great lord.
Taking possession, of thy treasure mound,
Do not disturb him, and he will sleep sound.

Do not disrupt him, let him stay earth bound,
You may awake him, if his hoard is found.
Guarding his treasure, through long mists of time,
Steeling his treasure, anger wilt thee prime.

If he awakes. then destruction will come,
Screaming over land, there be death to some.
Thirteen centuries later, opening mound,
Taking thy hoard, thine golden treasure found.

Thine sacred barrow, dug and ripped apart,
All hallowed items, merely works of art.
Noble earth dragon, he was long benign,
Till he was enraged, May of thirty nine.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2010


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