Return ye Haegtesse

Introduction

This poem employs the somewhat unusual construct of invoking a lesser known Anglo-Saxon mythical group to come to our aid and help defeat the fungus killing our ash trees (chalara dieback).

The Haegtesse were wild, armed supernatural women riding out in a group and causing harm havoc and mayhem! But were also known to help warriors on the battlefield and hinder others.

These Supernatural cavalcades rode loudly over the landscape.

They were also referred to as ‘ða (tha) mihtigan wif’ (the mighty women) and were seen as a cavalcade of riding women shooting its victims.in some documents the word Haegtesse was used as a scan for Wælcyrige, sometimesthe term ‘shield-maidens’ was employed.

From the word Haegtesse we also derive the word 'hag' used in Saxon times to describe a witch.

Return ye Haegtesse

Ye powerful hags, of the Saxon hills,

Rid our ashes of, their terrible ills.

I doth here invoke, and call upon ye,

Ye hags rough ride out, return and help me.

Oh thou cavalcade, of women riding,

Awful shield-maidens, the battle deciding.

Defend our ashes, from fungal attack,

Help us overthrow, chalara dieback.

Tha mihtigan wif, return to us now,

Dreadful Wælcyrige, protect sacred bough.

With ragged garments, and thine linden shield,

Like devils ride out, on tree battle field.

Oh ye Haegtesse, with helmets on head,

Fill our enemies, with thine battle dread.

Ride ye loudly through, fair forests again,

Through heathen sky come, cast out the profane.

May din of thine spears, force fungus to flea,

Thunor's magic spear, from ash the world tree.

Females from beyond, return to help me,

May all sacred ashes, be fungal free!

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2013

March (Hrethmonath)

Introduction to March (Hrethmonath)

In Saxon times March was marked by the triumph of the spring goddess over the winter.

We know from Bede that the goddess honoured this month was Hretha as this is mentioned in his 'on the computation of time'.

References to the work in the fields are taken from 'The Good Reeve' a late Saxon farming handbook. We do not know for sure who Hretha (later known as Erce) fort to defeat 'winter', but from the study of similar Germanic folklore I propose that it may have been the winter goddess Hella. The word 'songal' means 'a handful of corn'. Galdors are spells cast in song.

March (Hrethmonath)

Hrethmonath, be winters end,

Hella's coldness, to hell thee send.

Hretha has won, cold winter's fight,

Day art longer, then darkest night.

First fields full ploughed, harrowed and sown,

Last corn songal, art cast and thrown.

Fertile fields, now made complete,

Barley, peas beans, cabbage and leek.

Yon meads be ploughed, and crop now set,

Labours of thine, tuff toil and sweat.

To thee Hretha, we doth thee bring,

Our offerings, for coming spring.

The goddess of, winter’s battle,

Wakes up pastures, for our cattle.

She who conquers, winter's cold spell,

Returns Hella's, spirit to hell.

Rejoice ye all, the spring goddess,

Least long last lost, thine agelessness.

Thee doth Hretha, springtime us bring,

And to help thee, galdors we sing.

Copyright Andrew Rea December 2012

Here be Dragons

Introduction

The poem outlines a number of place names based on Anglo Saxon words meaning ‘dragon’. All of these places can be traced back to Saxon times, although some have now vanished. The references are cryptic and present the reader at times with a riddle. The reference for tunnels in Draklow for example refer to a ‘shadow factory’ which made principally the engines for war planes during the latter years of WWII. All the locations referred to can be found on maps available on the internet.

Here be Dragons

There be dragons sleeping, under the ground,

Guarding their wyrm bed, not making a sound.

Some towns and villages, long since passed by,

Perhaps their dragon, did cause them to die.

Walmsgate in Lincolnshire, just hamlet left,

Long barrow wyrms bed, was there a great theft?

The village and church, lost in mists of time,

Carried off by Earth dragon, in their prime.

Nottinghamshire Drakeholes, meads of clover,

Where fiery dragons, flew screaming over.

Only hamlet not priory, could withstand,

Dark water tunnel, now cleanses the land.

Nordic wyrm town, had it a water mill,

Lincolnshire South Ormsby, did well until.

Dragon venomed men, and beast with his air,

Till only was hamlet, and church left there.

Wormhill in Derbyshire, what shouldst thee fear?

The last English wolves, did here disappear.

Well dressing each year, cast out the profane,

Wyrma’s Hyll dragon, hast not yet been slain.

Drakelow dragon’s mound, a wyrm bed of yore?

Derbyshire Saxons, named it Dracan Hlaw.

Four miles of tunnels, making dragon’s parts,

Flying war dragon’s, mechanical hearts.

Guarding Epona, Wiltshire Dragon Hill,

Mill, abbey and church, on barrow to kill.

Taken from time, Eccles Beorh disappears,

But white horse has lived, for three thousand years!

Here be Goblins

Introduction to 'Here be Goblins'

Goblins or demons in Old English these were known as scucca. I have found that these are usually associated with hills and mounds, many place names are based on them, some of which have found their way into this poem.

The Old English word scucca has lent itself to a number of fantastic beasts across our landscape the most famous of which is possibly Black Shuck, an East Anglian demon dog. In Lincolnshire tales tell of Shagfoal, a large black donkey.

There are many more…. So perhaps more food for thought and poetry.

However the subject matter appears to have its hazards. While researching places named after scucca I had quite a rough time with various areas of work, its as if a demon were on my back. For example, moments after I opened my research notes document, a plant in my study 2 ½ meters away decided to collapse. This was merely amusing other things however were not been much fun and are too numerous to list. So read this poem if you dare.

PS the gap at the beginning of the last line above just appeared! and despite several attempts to re-post it will not go away or be deleted!

Here be Goblins

Goblins or demons, Scucca art thy name,

Found on hill and mound, thee be styled the same.

Villages they languish, most folk stay away,

Hamlets didst not wax, by night or by day.

Watch out for old Scucca, his spirit lives on,

In ancient landscape, he wilt not be gone.

Shuck shady shadows, Grendel marsh Black Shuck,

Sinister places, his evil to cook.

Goblin-hill hamlet, Shuckburgh Warwickshire,

Hill goblin family, held nine hundred year.

Lower Shuckburgh’s, six sided steeple,

Upper Shuckburgh, has church but no people.

Shobrooke in Devon, long been goblin-brook,

Denoted and known, before Doomsday Book.

Village on high hill, but church stays outside,

When they built the church, did goblin misguide.

Shocklach in Cheshire, goblin haunted bog,

Dragon lord Drogo, with his hunting dog.

It's church dare not come, within mile of village,

With Odin's Slepnir, Vikings may pillage.

Beware of Scucca, he'll lead thee along,

Slow Internet down, Street View icon gone.

He plays tricks on thee, brings thee much bad luck,

Makes things fall apart, until thee say .... Puck.

Copyright April 2012 Andrew Rea

Aelfred

Introduction to “Aelfred”

This poem is set in late Saxon times after the influence of Christianity had caused the demonisation of elves and other Wights of our land.  The elves are now referred to as the dark elves and were thought to be a source of much malignancy and disease. The healer if lacking in the knowledge to effect a cure would go into a trance like state and return with the remedy. Charms were often made up into a pouch and attached to ones person to ward off the influence of such things as elf shot (also known as flying venoms) when going about especially at night or in forests. To understand elf shot compare with the concept of a virus: you can’t see it, feel it, touch it, or smell it but it is/was accepted as a cause of disease. Sometimes one may feel a sudden sharp pain or stitch seemingly for no reason, the explanation might have been that you had been shot by an elf!

NB. Aelfred is made up of two parts: meaning ,’elf wisdom'.

Aelfred

Beautiful spirits, some elves that they be,

Goodly white shining, creatures of the tree.

Slender and tall, billowing long blond hair,

With a glowing brightness, thee canst compare.

But who hath strayed, within thine secrete lair,

Into their glistening eyes, dare thee stare.

With the wisdom of elves, Aelfred his name,

Through elfin influence, became his fame.

At twilight the power, is at its height.

Palpable darkness, creatures of the night,

The shape of shadows, moves silent and black,

On these shady nights, fear elf shot attack.

A charm wilt guard thee, against elfin shot,

Some herbs in flax sheet, sown Into a knot.

Spell casting weapon man, invoking on god,

Conjuring invoking, with oaken rod.

Working his charm, against the nights dark elves,

Into realm of spirit, chanting he delves.

Gathering magical, herbs of full moon,

Chanting and singing, the spell to attune.

Over hill and dale, landscape he has trekked,

The full moons magical, herbs to collect.

Working with yon herbs, in ritual to charm,

Magic signs and deeds, the elf shot disarm.

Elfin charm now well set, and tied in its place,

Attached to thine tunic, to bring thee grace.

With magical strength, and confidence be,

To safeguard us, to the highest degree.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2009

This is the Thyng

Introduction to ‘This is the Thyng’

In 2005/6 local history enthusiasts rediscovered the Old English name of Hanger Hill Thynghowe (= assembly + bronze age burial site) which had been used for public meetings until the 1800s. With the hills original name together with its location within Birklands, OE Birkelunde (= sacred grove with birch trees) the significance of the site became a no brainer. The site is now controlled by English Heritage and represents the only intact Thyng left in England.

This is the Thyng

Birklands Wapentake, in Nottinghamshire,

Name of sacred hill, It did disappear.

Birkelunde it hid, from the Doomsday Book,

Its secret Thynghowe, to shadows it took.

Bronze age barrow site, its meaning mislaid,

For many years more, folk met on its glade.

In Sherwood Forest, was grove with birch trees,

But its name Thynghowe, did locals displease.

In green wood clearing, godly worship planned,

Ancient sacred site, with rune sword in hand.

Wapentakes to meet, site for council things,

A show of weapons, vote with lords and kings.

Marker standing stone, on old maps was named,

Still used as a thyng, this meet place was famed.

Sacred name lost in, recent mists of time,

Gatherings no more, folk no longer climb.

Thynghowe used as meet, for two thousand years,

But Viking elders, it no longer hears.

This Birkelunde hill, much time did withstand,

Thynghowe is the last, intact thing in our land.

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2012

February (Solmonath)

Introduction to ‘February’ (Solmonath)

Solmonath, means mud month,

Saint Bede in his ‘De Temporum Ratione’ (on the computation of time) mentions that the name of the month came about as a result of the cakes the Anglo-Saxons offered to their gods in that month. There are surviving Anglo-Saxon charms that give first hand evidence of such a custom amongst Heathen farmers.

The Earth Mother (Eorthen Mordor) was called Nerthus/Erce and the Sky Father was called Wuldorfadur, or Glory Father.

The sol cakes were planted into the ground as an offering to both Nerthus and Wuldorfador. We have no complete recipe for the cakes, but given that the tradition of ploughing the corn dolly into the ground at the start of ploughing and sowing season was widely observed until modern times it seems possible that the dolly would have been broken up and added to a mixture of some kind, perhaps of flour of various grains, and returned to the ground uncooked to preserve its fertility.

February (Solmonath)

February ploughing, of the field,

Sowing the seed, to bring the yield.

The Anglo-Saxon, month of cakes,

As snow departs, and nature wakes.

Offer to the gods, to give rebirth,

The month, to celebrate the earth.

Hoping to see, the last snowflake,

The season for, Solcakes to Bake.

Earth Mother Nerthus, we implore,

And Sky Father, Wuldorfadur.

Cakes in the ground, we now enchant,

Wish for abundance, you may grant.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2008