With Faerstice

With Faerstice

Introduction

This poem is my adaptation of the translation of Lacnunga CXXXIV-CXXXV, which forms part of a medical text from circa 1050. The name means against a sudden stich and could apply to anything from a stich to acute appendicitis. The words would have been use in conjunction with a herbal preparation and the use of ritual. The use of magic is apparent.

The reference to ‘a little spear’ refers to elf shot which was fired by dark elves (these were the latter day demonised version of the early Saxon light elves). The shot was forged by the Smithas.

‘The mighty women’ refers to Haegtesse (hag) which were groups of terrifying supernatural females that rode over the land causing harm, the origin of the word hag, also meaning witch.

Notice that the penultimate verse contains a lot of repartition, this was common in Anglo-Saxon galdors (spells or charms).

The last verse sets out that wherever the shot came from (man, elf or hag) that this is the cure.

With Faerstice (against a sudden stitch)

Based on: - Lacnunga CXXXIV-CXXXV

Loud were they, when they rode over the mound,

They were fierce, when they rode over the ground.

Shield thyself now, that thee this evil win.

Out now, little spear, if thee be herein!

Stood under linden, under a light shield,

Where the mighty women, their power sealed,

And their screaming spears, now to be sent.

I back to them, again another went,

A flying dart, be returned to thine kin,

Out thee little spear, if thee be herein!

Sat elfin smithy, forged he a knife long,

Little iron elf shot, in the wound strong.

Out little spear, if thou be’est herein!

Six smithies sat working, war-spears they spin.

Out thou retched spear, thou be not in spear!

If a small bit of iron, be in here.

Haegtesse thy effort, it shalt now rot,

If were in skin shot, or were in flesh shot,

Or were in blood shot, or were in bone shot,

Or were in limb shot, may thee beat her plot.

If it were sir’ shot, or it elves' shot be,

Or it were hag's shot, now I willst help thee.

This cure for ’sir shot, this cure for elves' shot,

This thine cure for hag's shot; I willst help thee.

No rest for it, into the hills It flea,

Whole be’est thee now, Divine Lord help thee!

Copyright Andrew Rea 2010

Drawing down the moon

Drawing down the moon

By the vigor of my acorns,

I do call thee down from above.

By the might of my burly bowers,

I do summon thee with my love.

By the breeze in my supple branches,

By the warmth of my growing shoots.

By the sap rising in my trunk,

By the firm earth beneath my roots.

Show yourself to us thy servants,

Draw down the moon and us address.

Reveal thine profound mystery,

Enter the body of thy priestess.

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2010

Stir up Sunday

Stir up Sunday (November 25th)

Stir up Sunday, Its Christmas pudding day,

All stir the pudding, lets go have a play.

Stir from east to west, good fortune for to be,

With 13 ingredients, a blessing unto thee.

A silver coin will bring, wealth to the finder,

Keep it safe till Christmas, who’ll be the minder?

A lucky life thimble, if thee do discover,

A ring to bring marriage, it may be thine lover.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2009

November (Blotmonath)

November (Blotmonath)

Blotmonath, the month of blood and sacrifice,

Culling the weakest, or paying the price.

Not enough fodder, in the barn to keep,

All of the animals, so we must reap.

In honour of the gods, we sacrifice,

Preparations before, the months of Ice.

Meat is laid down, for the winter and feast,

Frosty winds now blow, suns power has ceased.

But let us rejoice, mead cup bearing boys,

All join in the feast, and share in the joys.

Delight in the spread, and line the benches,

Drink hail now me lads, to those young wenches.

Spells be laid to, blunt the blade of coldness,

Darkest frosty days, where art thou boldness.

Dreadful Goblins, Grendel bog to banish,

Earthen dwarfs, in Nida’vel’lir to vanish.

Greybeards hath they, endured cruel winter tides,

In dead of night, the darkest elf now strides.

Spirit spell to cast, dark elves to Svartheim,

Let us live to see, another summer time!

Copyright Andrew Rea 2009

Here be ghosts

Here be ghosts

Introduction to ‘Here be ghosts’

This is another poem looking at places with variations of the Anglo-Saxon word for ghost in their names. It is suggested that place names form a kind of palimpsest, layered meaning to our landscape. Grimley was given to the church for absolution by a king. Grimescar wood is an as yet unexcavated Roman settlement. Skinburness slid into the sea. All that is left of Scuccan Hlau is a hole in the ground!

Here be Ghosts

The earth still abounds, with phantom’s remains,

Saxon palimpsest, ghostly village names.

Illusion or real, in name to preserve,

The ghostly remains, and spectre to serve.

Grimley from grima, Saxon for Spectre,

Ghostly woodland glade, his soul’s protector.

King of Mercians, gave up the ghost land,

So he with angels, in heaven could stand.

Yorkshire Grimescar wood, is spectre’s skerry,

Phantasm in glade, away with the fairy.

The ghosts of Romans, still trapped in the wood,

Wassailing flagons, found where they once stood.

Grimshaw in Pendle, small wood with a stream,

In centre of wood, they can’t hear thee scream.

Copse haunted by ghost, Saxon’s styled the wood,

For a thousand years, coppice it has stood.

Old Nordic skyrsi, Viking phantasm,

Skirse Gill in Yorkshire, is spectre’s chasm.

Dry stone pen over, earthly incision,

Manifestation, or ghostly vision.

Skirsgill Hill Cumbria, ancient settlement,

Its last standing stone, sings Nordic lament.

On industrial park, hidden away,

Used to be honoured, first Sunday in May.

Skinburness headland, on phantasm coast,

Saxon’s said scinna, where now we say ghost.

Village in salt marsh, with ghostly stronghold,

Then vanished under, into the sea cold.

Saxon Scuccan Hlau, was the spectre’s mound,

Became Warren farm, water hole in ground.

Fertile Nerthus earth, was taken away,

Spectres spirits ghosts, have had the last say.

Grimston a message from the past

Grimston a message from the past

introduction to ‘Grimston (ghost settlement) a message from the past’

This poem focuses on a hamlet and old peoples home just outside of York on the road to Stamford Bridge. The landscape around contains many towns and features called through their many Saxon names after significant constructs. For reasons of clarity all the Saxon words on the modern map are translated into modern English within the poem.

Grimston – a message from the past?

Were Yorkshire village, Grimston it was named,

Ghost wood to west dial, hast not yet been tamed.

Reduced so only, does hamlet remain,

The ghost farm hamlet, on elf friendly lane.

Lying south east dial, village of elf friends,

Where elf friendly lane, cunningly extends.

Witch friendly village, it lays to the west,

To south dial village, is death ditch possessed.

North dial witches wood, south dial witches wood,

But here thirteen hearth, ghost hall it once stood.

Death ditch to south dial, or is drake a beast?

But thirteen hearth hall, is long since deceased.

Grew ghost manor where, there once stood ghost hall,

Then ghost court arose, and manor did fall.

Now ghost court awaits, the angel of death,

And folk take their last, shallow ghostly breath.

Saxon messages, through time they have passed,

Death ditch or dragon, warning from the past?

Elves witches and ghosts, in landscape around,

Still angle of death, is to the land bound.

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2012

Angel of death

Angel of death

Introduction 

Note: this poem was inspired by separate conversations with three nurses that had worked on terminal wards. All of which could recount several cases, as witnessed first hand, of a person who was in their last hours or days apparently seeing another person standing by their bed that was not in corporeal form to be seen by the nurse. Some nurses see this as a sign that the end is near.

In this poem we imagine ourselves back in Saxon times as the healer in the village comes to her end and is greeted by the kindly angle of death (Wodan was also called Grimr) to guild her to the other world. I have made her very old for the period, about 60. A study concluded that 97.5% of people were dead by 50 during Saxon times. The description of her abode is based on archaeological evidence. The reference to aelf shot is from medical books of the time, see Lacnunga and leech books, and refers to any disease caused by an aelf firing an invisible arrow into you, e.g. any viral infection. A galdor is a charm, spell or incantation, from galan= to sing (preserved in the word nightingale). Heofon is the forerunner to heaven. The way of Wyrd was a fatalistic world view where there was an underlying connecting principle, similar to the way of Tao.

Angel of death

Small pit hut, with reeds on the floor,

No windows but, an oaken door.

Copper cauldron, over fire stone,

Warn old thatched roof, medicinal crone.

Old wise wife man, soon to be gone,

Healing people, thirty years long.

The angel of death, now close by,

Helping her to, depart and die.

The last night tide, here at last,

Toiling in meads, forty years passed.

On wooden bed, and straw there laid,

With elder daughter, there to aid.

Herbs in mead, carefully uproot,

Fifty years finding, nuts and fruit.

Survived she war, plague and child birth,

Gaest she soon, to mother earth.

Weapon man gone, many a year,

Sixty winters, soon on her bier.

In small village, eldest was she,

But aelf shot did, she not foresee.

Daughter now older, than most folk,

Waiting for Wodan, wrapped in cloak.

Mother’s galdors, not all well learnt,

Which fragrant herbs, should beest burnt.?

Runes to charm, hot cauldron to brew,

Which herbs to keep, the mixture true.

Where when how, healing herbs to find,

No one morrow, her to remind.

Oh Heofon death, where art thy sting,

Kind angel of death, other world bring.

In the morrow, another day,

The children play, this is Wyrd’s way.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2010