Introduction to 'Charming a Dwarf'

(For the poem see last post)

This poem is based on With Dweorgh II (Against a Dwarf II) from the Lacnunga manuscript.

With Dweorgh II is a charm seemingly to banish a dwarf. Scholars differ both in the translation of this text and its interpretation. The first part describes writing the names of seven saints on wafers, these to be taken to the afflicted, each day of three by a virgin and hung around their neck. This part of the charm is distinctly Christian and has clearly been added or changed over the course of time. It is significant that the names are those of the  Seven Sleepers of Ephesus who awoke from a long sleep into which they had gone to escape persecution.

The second part of the charm is a spoken text that the leech (healer) is to sing three times into each ear and three times above the head. The text refers to a spider wight (supernatural spider creature), there is reference to the afflicted being ridden like a horse. The mara/mare may be used as a scan for incubus/succubus and rides its victim like a horse, hence nightmare. As wights such as elves can cause nightmares, then it seems dwarves can too. Compare High German alpdruck (elf pressure) meaning nightmare. The charm may serve as a kind of dream-therapy to protect against nightmares and/or sleep Paralysis.

Reference to a cooling affect may be alluding to reducing a fever (in other texts we see the use of a herb known as dweorge dwosle (destroyer of dwarves, believed to be pennyroyal) used to treat symptoms of fever. Note also that there is a medieval Italian manuscript which refers to 'riving as if vexed by a dwarf'.

The calling of Eastre, the Goddess of the Dawn is based on an alternative possible translation of an incomplete word in the charm which otherwise reads as dwarf.

Finally the beasts sister comes to the aid and brings things to an end and swears that this shall never again harm the sick or the anyone that knows how to cast the charm.

The charm in Anglo-Saxon:

Wið dweorh man sceal niman VII lytle oflætan swylce man mid ofrað, et wri[t]an þas naman on ælcre oflætan: Maximian(us), Malchus, Iohannes, Martimianus, Dionisius, Constantinus, Serafion. Þænne eft þ(æt) galdor, þ(æt) heræfter cweð man sceal singan, ærest on þ(æt) wynstre eare, þænne on þæt swiðre eare, þænne [b]ufan þæs mannes moldan. Et ga þænne an mædenman to et ho hit on his sweoran, et do man swa þry dagas; him bið sona sel.

“Hēr cōm ingangan, inspidenwiht. Hæfde hi(m) his haman on handa,

Leg[d]e þē his tēage an swēoran. Sōna swā hy of þǣm lande cōman

cwæð þ(æt) þū his hæncgest wǣre, Ongunnan hi(m) of þǣm lande līþan.

þā ongunnan hi(m) ðā liþu cōlian. Þa cō(m) ingangan dēores sweostar.

Þa g(e)ændade hēo, et āðas swōr

ðæt nǣfre þis ðǣ(m) ādlegan derian ne mōste,

ne þǣm þe þis galdor begytan mihte, oððe þe þis galdor ongalan cūþe.

Am(en). Fiað.”

Translation:

Against a dwarf, one must take seven little wafers such as one might offer, and write these names on each wafer: Maximianus, Malchus, Iohannes, Martimianus, Dionisius, Constantinus, Serafion. Then the galdor that is hereafter spoken of one must sing, first in the left ear, then in the right ear, then above the person's head. And then let a virgin go to him and hang it on his neck, and do this for three days; he will soon be well.

“Here came walking in a spider-creature.

With his coat in his hand, saying you were his horse;

He laid his fetters on your neck. He started sailing from the land;

As soon as he came away from land, his limbs started cooling.

Then the beast's sister came walking in.

Then she ended it and swore oaths. That this must never hurt the sick,

Nor he who could obtain this charm, Nor he who could chant this charm.

Amen. Let it be so.”

For further reading:

A good set of notes on the subject:

http://wodening.englatheod.org/eric/dwarf.html

A thesis on the possible link with sleep paralysis:

http://athenaeum.libs.uga.edu/bitstream/handle/10724/11287/lewis_matthew_c_200905_ma.pdf?sequence=1

Charming a Dwarf

This poem is based on With Dweorgh II (Against a Dwarf II) from the Lacnunga manuscript.

Full Introduction to follow next week.

Here cometh hither, a creature stalked past,

Had his bridle held tight.

He said that thee beest his mare to ride,

Until dark day be light.

Last night he awoke, but limbs would not move,

Dwarf sat on chest to scare.

Paralysed and bound, like a spider's pray,

Was ridden like a mare.

With quill in thine hand, and magic to charm,

Runes on wafers to write.

I call on thee Eástre, Goddess of Dawn,

Banish dwarves of dark night.

Help this weapon man, so vexed with terror,

This nightmare dwarf to fight.

He will no mare be, to take for a ride,

Put this dark dwarf to flight.

Leech came and he sung, spider spell nine times,

Thrice sung into left ear.

Then thrice to the right, and thrice above head,

To cast out dwarfish fear.

Virgin brings to hut, seven small wafers,

His neck to hang around.

She will come three days, with thin wafers new,

Until the spell is bound.

Spider sworeth oaths, and maketh an end,

This dwarf shalt never more harm.

Never let this creature, hurt this weapon man,

Nor those with skill to charm.

So mote it be

Copyright Andrew Rea midsummer 2013

Here be Puckers

Introduction

This poem explores four such places including Pucklechurch where king Edmund I was murdered in 946.There are at least 20 places in England who’s names derive from Pucker (OE puca goblin or sprite)

The importance of puckers was on the wane until Shakespeare breathed in new life in ‘A Mid Summer Night’s Dream’. These Wights appeared as large animals (especially hares or rabbits – see the 1950 film ‘Harvey’). Sometimes they were good natured spirits and could be helpful but at other times they could be mischievous and were known to lead folk astray.

Kipling of course was also found of this Wight and was inspired to write Puck of Pook’s Hill. http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/kipling_ind.html

By the way Pookhill is in Sussex and was first recorded in 1350 as Poukehale, from OE pûca + healh nook or corner of land.

Here be Puckers

Old English puca. hobgoblin or sprite,
He leads folk astray, in woodlands at night.
Shakespearian Puck, mischievous puck,
He’ll mess thee about, and bring thee bad luck.

Pucka’s attracted, to spring stream and well,
In glade and fell, thee be under his spell.
Puck can be helpful, and will work away,
But this hobgoblin, can lead thee astray.

Minerva temple, had Roman Ad Fines,
On two Roman roads, Doomsday saw no signs.
This Celtic village, the devil it took,
Was not to be found, in the Doomsday Book.

Saxon Puckeridge, grew up in its place,
But Hertfordshire town, vanished without trace.
This devil’s hill town, escaped Doomsday Book,
Puck led them astray, just where did they look?

Doomsday Pucklechurch, Edmund met his end,
From Leofa the thief, he could not defend.
Bronze age tumulus, air force without flight,
Gloucestershire village, with grim pucka blight.

Northamptonshire Puxley, naughty puck’s glade,
Twice found by Doomsday, but then it did fade.
Though only hamlet, and field now remain,
Two Puxley manors, nearby still pertain.

Sussex Pucan Wylle, eight century known,
Pucka’s well still springs, but now is unknown.
With pooka afoot, things aren’t what they seem,
To lead thee astray, is his impish scheme.

Three spirit nights lead, to mid summers eve,
Hobgoblin’s about, his mischief to weave.
Horse rabbit or goat, this goblin may seem,
He wilt thee deceive, mid summer’s night’s scream.

Copyright Andrew Rea May 2012

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

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fia600602.us.archive.org%2F3%2Fitems%2Fleechdomswortcun01cock%2Fleechdomswortcun01cock.pdf&h=IAQH0rwBHAQFmBX00DiynlxoG9_ZcIsELyh5hDtntVpCvOw&s=1
 

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fia700803.us.archive.org%2F20%2Fitems%2Fleechdomswortcun18642cock%2Fleechdomswortcun18642cock.pdf&h=oAQH9vl7zAQFj7__9wwRtAJ_5Ap8EFAXUZqztG7tKb3QhjQ&s=1

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fia700801.us.archive.org%2F1%2Fitems%2Fleechdomswortcun03cock%2Fleechdomswortcun03cock.pdf&h=AAQF7RAheAQFRYX3Ik31FbXtllx268Yy3YeFM0LCQSts8sw&s=1

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

Here be Groves’

Introduction

Within the Dane Law ‘Lundr’(Old Norwegian and Old Danish) described a sacred grove. this word existed alongside the old English word 'land'. Over time Lundr lost its meaning and changed into Lunt, Lound or Land. This poem explores those names that can be traced back to the original Anglo-Saxon word for grove. There are far too many such places in England to do little more than just scratch the surface.

Here be Groves

Bright forest clearing, oak tree proudly stands,

Galdor songs are sung, in these ancient lands.

Assembled in groves, in tunic and hood,

Singing gallant songs, to lord of green wood.

Lundr Viking Old Norse, and Danish for grove,

Into sacred wood, with rune swords they strove.

Norse lundr and land, are not the same word,

But thousand years past, their meaning is blurred.

Kirkland Lancashire, hid from the Doomsday,

Does its round churchyard, Druid past betray.

Only one person, from the Black Death died,

The phantom church grove, on the other side.

Lancashire Lunt hid, from Doomsday Book too,

As part of Sefton, it had to make do.

Lund was its title, It was to rename,

Only this was a, ninth century name.

Art many more groves, hid in a place name,

Three Lounds in England, art found to remain.

Many suffixed ‘land’, did see Saxon rites,

Now old churches stand, on these sacred sites.

Copyright Andrew Rea 2012

Here be wizards

Introduction

Within the Dane Law the Old Norse word ‘skratti’ was used to denote wizard. In England the word became synonymous with devil or demon ,so it is sometimes difficult to infer the original intention behind these place names.

Here be Wizards

Norwegian wizard, Scratti he was named,

Awd Scrat the Devil, to him much was blamed.

Devil on the moor, demon in the wood,

On land canst thee see, where once he had stood.

Haunted Scratta Wood, in Nottinghamshire,

Forest uprooted, and burned out of fear?

Revealing Iron Age, dry stone wall compound,

Wyrd dancing blue lights, at night can be found

Cartgate in Cumbria, was known as Scratgate,

Carvings on church stones, did Vikings create.

Saint Bees Priory owned, Skratti Wizard’s Street

Its monks not demon, did Henry defeat.

Scrathawe, Scarthing Moor, Scratta can be found,

Preserved on England’s, landscapes all around.

Scratters and Scrathowes, Yorkshire’s Devil mound,

Scratby in Norfolk, his names still abound.

Long robed sorcerer, his spell now complete,

Blunting his foe’s swords, he did them defeat.

Preserved in the stones, set in circle round,

His magic lives on, his spell is still sound.

Copyright January 2012 Andrew Rea