Here be Altars

Introduction 

Hearg is the Old English word for altar this became Harrow- and all such sites are on hills.

Weoh and wig are common elements in place names and they are often compounded with OE dun “hill” or leah “woodland glade, clearing”, suggesting that favourite spots for this type of shrine were hill-tops or forest clearings.

Usually, weoh became Wee- and wig became Wy- or Wye-.

Here be altars

Hearg on hill top, Hearg in oak wood,

To worship where our, ancestors have stood.

Churches sitting on, such old sacred sites,

The new religion, with their Roman rites.

Harrow on the Hill, Hearg on the hill,

Heaving up high hill, Grove Road leads us still.

Ox heads about church, found buried in ground,

Sacred ancient rites, they still can be found.

Altar of pipers, on hill top to stand,

Was Peper Harow, Surrey’s promised land?

Thousand year spirit, church yard sacred yew,

Holy well close by, early morning dew.

Old English weoh, and wig were our shrines,

Magicians and priests, made their magick signs.

Saxon holy place, now no longer known,

Saxon shrine of wood, becomes church of stone.

Shrine in Weedon Beck, was altar on down?

Two saints two crashes, Northamptonshire town.

Two Doomsday entries, with two mills betwixt,

Royal Saxon palace, Wating Street affixed.

Wyfordby shrine near, settlement and ford,

Weedon is shrine hill, and still unexplored.

Weeley Old English, shrine near woodland glade,

On hill or on down, the altar was laid.

Churches sitting on, such sacred altars,

Singing their holy, new psalms and psalters.

Our sacred old oaks, art long since destroyed,

Their witness for oaths, no longer employed.

Copyright April 2012 Andrew Rea

June (Ærra Litha)

Outline Introduction

This poem includes various references to Anglo-Saxon magic and the forging of a sword. In Anglo-Saxon times swords were given names and imbued with magical power by adding runes. Nine was a magical number to the Saxons (note the ninth month was called Halig-monath –‘holy month’; the lay of the nine twigs of Woden; the division of the cosmos into nine worlds). The third verse draws from ‘The Good Reeve' an Anglo-Saxon farming document.

June (Ærra Litha)

Three spirit nights leading, to mid summers eve,

Nine runes on a rope, crafting spells to weave.

Litha the mark, of the longest daytime,

Wuldorfadur wilt, soon complete his climb.

The summer solstice, it be drawing near,

A time to raise, thine horn of fine beer.

Bonfires wilt be lit, on high hills close by,

Nearby the smithy, the fire his ally.

While the dung cart winds, its way to yon meads,

Mowing and harrowing, digging up weeds.

Smithy crafting within, his thatched work shop,

The shimmering billowing, from the top.

Formed in a pit hut, by the central fire,

Under Wayland’s guiding, hand to inspire.

Dragon’s final rune, begins to take shape,

With spell well cast, he wilt lend no escape.

Smithies hut is sunk, into mother earth,

His Hammer and anvil, have given birth.

No spells wilt now take, to blunt this bright blade,

The power of dragon, shalt not ever fade!

Copyright Andrew Rea 2009

LEECHDOMS, WORTCUNNING AND STARCRAFT OF EARLY ENGLAND

Here are links to useful Anglo-Saxon Healing documents used as a basis for some of my poems relating to healing or magic in Saxon times:

LEECHDOMS,
WORTCUNNING AND STARCRAFT OF EARLY ENGLAND

Vol
I 

Vol 2

Vol 3




These cover Leechbooks 1 - 3, Lacnunga and other lessor manuscripts and represent parallel texts in Anglo-Saxon and what may be described as Shakespearean English




Note that the file sizes vary between 34.6M - 36.6M so may take some time to down load

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Spell of invincibility

Introduction

This poem is just a bit of fun, working with the four elements and four of the wights.

Remember in early Saxon times the elves were associated with positive qualities - Tolkien new this! Without dragon lore and the belief that they guarded buried treasure for an age such finds as Sutton Hoo would have been dug up the next day/month/year, (see the poem on this blog in Sept 2012). Anyone familiar with Tai Chi will know the value of flowing like water.  We know little about early dwarves Saxon but perhaps they were once good guys too, at least Tolkien went with this.

Spell of invincibility

Travel like an elf, as fast as the Wind,

Be a bright shining one, with him now twinned.

Fight like a drake, as potent as Fire,

Be strong of heart, soar higher and higher.

Yield like a nymph, as flowing as Water,

A fluid solution, all may thee alter.

Arise like a dwarf, as firm as the Earth,

Be to make ready, for thine own rebirth.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2009

Thou art Aelfscyne

Introduction

This poem is based on early Anglo-Saxon elves.

The reader is asked to imagine the mind of a lad that has traveled to a distant village. On his arrival he sits down exhausted from the long hot walk and has a bite to eat, then spies a young lady……

Glossary

Wifman = woman

Aelfheim = the realm of the light elves

Wyrm bed = golden in this context

Middangeard = the realm of man

Aelfscyne = elf beauty or as beautiful as an elf.

Wyrd = fate                        

Alfcynno = of the elfin race

Weaponmen = men

Aelfsiden = elfin magic

Gif thu waere scoten = if you were shot

Aelfadled = any illness caused by an elf

Smithas = supernatural beings that forged the elf shot

Galdor = a spell which would have been sung, from galen = to sing, compare Nightinggale =   night singer

Galdor-craeft = conjuring spirits by chanting, singing or spell crafting.

Aelfthone = elf vine, a herb which causes mind-altering experiences.

Thou art aelfscyne

The youthful wifman, Aelfflad be her name,

As if out of bright, aelfheim she doth came.

Long flowing blond hair, of the wyrm bed corn,

Into Middangeard, human realm was born.

Tall and slender, as a willow she be,

Brilliant sunny sapphire, eyes to see.

Wearing her long, aelfscyne gossamer dress,

With elfin enchantment, wilt thee impress.

Immaculate skin, and of perfect health,

She hast Aelfscyne beauty, as a wood elf.

The way of Wyrd, hast made her fare of face,

Is she Alfcynno? of the elfin race.

Alvingham Weaponmen, they doth admire,

Her fair dainty face, the best in the shire.

Forged with Aelfsiden, the magic of elves,

I think they want to keep her, for themselves.

Gif thu waere scoten, by her splendour,

Then thee be aelfadled, forever more.

An Alfcynno, or an illusion be,

Or hast Aelfsiden, put a hex on me.

With Aelfsiden magic, of elves to forge,

Didst the smithas spin, this pie to gorge.

Aelfflad fast of fare foot, and long in gate,

How I wouldst like to have her, as my mate.

A galdor hast been spun, with me as bait,

To be Aelfadled, surely is my fate.

Didst the grey beard, with Galdor-craeft create,

Or was it Aelthorn, in the pie I ate.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2009

Elizabethan May

Introduction

The poem describes village life from the eve of May Day throughout May Day itself.

I have drawn from some of the contemporary writers criticisms of the festival’s goings on. This poem was much inspired by the works of Prof Ronald Hutton of Bristol University
By the way, formation ribbon dancing around maypoles originates in the 18th century and is derived from dance forms in Italy and France, so is a modern import.

Elizabethan May

Young men women, and other married folk,

Run gadding to woods, and yon groves of oak.

To spend the warm night, in pleasant pastime,

Summer gives blessing, to those in their prime.

Forty oxen to carry, the Maypole,

Three hundred people, devotedly stroll.

Sweet nose gays of flowers, on oxen horn,

With branches and birch, return in the morn.

Back to the village, they doth slowly trek,

Mayday assemblies, ready to deck.

Hauling branches for, arbours and bowers,

The Maypole covered, with herbs and flowers.

From top to bottom, Maypole bound with string,

Painted with bright colours, for the May king.

Pulling on long ropes, they haul it up straight,

But amorous play, and dancing must wait.

Arbours and bowers, to be built hard by,

Raunchy summer halls, beneath the blue sky.

Bawdy fun in arbour, if it doth rain,

Only bishop and priest, might they abstain.

The lusty men, and their Lord of Misrule,

Hobby horses dragons, giants and fool.

Handkerchiefs borrowed, from their mopsies dear,

For busying them, in the dark with cheer.

Summer lord and queen, crown their love with flowers,

And revel with them, in summer bowers.

The pipe and tabor, make such merry glee,

As at a May pole, you would wish to see.

Pipers and drummers, strike up devils dance,

Skirmishing amongst, the throng they advance.

Into the church, like incarnate devils,

Jingling bells, like madmen in revels.

Handkerchiefs and flags, on the Maypole top,

The bawdy and lewd, behaviour nonstop.

The ground strewn about, with herbs and flowers,

Bears many a couple, in the small hours.

Falling to dance around, in the warm sun,

In times to come, prudish priests stopped the fun.

Handkerchiefs swinging, above heads like madmen,

Save us from rude, Hobby horses amen.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2010

     

     

A-Maying

Introduction

The poem is set in preindustrial and early industrial England and relates to the May Day practice whereby young maids in the villages went out in the morning to gather flowers for their mothers to use as decorations for the festival home. The poem draws on some writings by contemporary puritanical opponents of the practice.

A-Maying

Young ladies to, celebrate The May,

Out early morn, finding a bouquet.

Their families' homes. to soon adorn,

Gathering May baskets, in the corn.

Young wenches with, young lads doth play,

And laugh and court, in meadows stray.

On a warm and sunny, spring day such deeds,

May simply be guessed, among the meads.

In every bush, a song be’est made,

The landscapes beauty, is now laid.

In some secrete place, within the field,

Young men and maidens, willingly yield.

Oft ten maiden, who went to the May,

Nine returned home, with infant that day.

Its best be said: ‘courtship bed and wed’,

Else ‘grass widows’ women, be thee instead.

In every marriage, it be’est said,

In Avalon’s fields, bed precedes wed.

Love poems, to mistresses be writ,

Before to wenches, they doth commit.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2008