#Anglo-Saxon poetry

[thefugitivesaint]

Eric Fraser (1902-1983) ''Anglo-Saxon Poetry'', Selected and Translated by Robert Kay Gordon, 1976 Source

[poeticnorth]

Northumbrian Rune Poems is now officially available for purchase. Digital and physical copies available here.

Inspired by the Old English Rune Poem, Northumbrian Rune Poems centres its focus on the Early Medieval English Futhorc runerows with additional attention paid to the four runes that were in use in Northumrbia. Mixing free verse poetry with kennings found within Old Norse and Old English poetry, Northumbrian Rune Poems is a magical read that breathes new life into an otherwise neglected runerow. Alongside each poem is an Old English adaptation written in a Northumbrian dialect using Old English alliterative style to capture the spirit of the poems in a new light.

[hesy-bes]

Wanderer of the World

Even when I am distant, wandering amidst the past, mimicking your mind, focused on finding my Truth, you guide me back home. Wanderer, O’ Woden, you hold a place deep in my heart. I feel the beat of your staff on earth, in time with the rhythm in my chest. Your runes are my comfort, your wisdom is my well. No matter how far I stray, O’ Woden, I always wander home.

[unopenablebox]

im committing lord of the rings fanfiction crimes

[berkeley-mews]

from manish sharma, 'heroic subject and cultural substance in the wanderer'.

[sparrownotes]

There’s no country I can call my own. But I’ve learned to grow strong by being still. I know if I fail I’ll be broken, and all that’s part of me will be torn from me.

Let me find my place among the stones, and be held.

“All My Life’s a Struggle with Water and Wind” from The Word Exchange: Anglo-Saxon Poems In Translation (tr. Lawrence Raab)

[passengerpigeons]

memorizing more of lake superior. it's insane how mnemonic her poetry is given its fairly free verse. reading her earlier nursery rhyme/mother goose inspired stuff shows these rhymes and uses of enjambment/breath that shows in the assonance and consonance and alliteration in her later works

[arda-marred]

Tolkien challenged existing attitudes to the poem in a 1953 paper, “Ofermod”, published with his verse drama The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son in Essays and Studies. “The Battle of Maldon” tells how Beorhtnoth, an Anglo-Saxon leader, led his men in a doomed defence against a Viking attack. The Vikings were on a tidal island in the river; but crucially Beorhtnoth decided to let this marauding force across a causeway (pictured above). Battle was joined, and the English were slaughtered. The poem seems to celebrate what has been called “Northern courage”, a spirit of dogged bravery even in the face of certain defeat. But the poet also describes Beorhtnoth’s decision as the product of ofermod, the meaning of which isn’t entirely clear. Tolkien argued that the Old English word means not simply “daring” but “overmastering pride”. This could be taken to reverse the sentiment of the poem, turning it into a critique of an irresponsible act of leadership. Stuart, whose book The Keys of Middle-earth (written with Elizabeth Solopova) provides a guide to Tolkien’s medieval sources, has been looking at Tolkien’s manuscript notes on the poem, from when he was an undergraduate onwards. And it turns out that Tolkien breathed not a word of criticism of Beorhtnoth for many years – not until around the start of the Second World War. This, Stuart suggests, undermines any supposition that Tolkien’s view of “The Battle of Maldon”, as expressed in his “Ofermod” essay, indicated a “lions led by donkeys” attitude shaped by First World War experiences. I’d agree that Tolkien’s view of the Great War military leaders wasn’t as black-and-white as all that. But I’d certainly argue that his trench experiences gave him some reason to feel very ambivalent about the leaders. As I said at the end of Stuart’s talk, there is the case of one company commander in Tolkien’s battalion who led a company on a night raid that overshot its goal – so when the sun rose, they were sitting ducks for the German machine-gunners and for the British artillery (unaware of their position), and most of the men were wiped out. This fatally over-extended advance by a military leader seems echoed in quite a few incidents in Middle-earth, including the charge by Théoden at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Tolkien’s writing displays a range of attitudes to the different incidents – implying, I think, that he felt deeply ambivalent about such acts of courage from leaders responsible for others’ lives. In a talk which also covered a number of other interesting points from the manuscripts at the Bodleian Library, Stuart cautioned against looking to Tolkien’s life or to contemporary events to explain the change in Tolkien’s views on “The Battle of Maldon”. The Second World War itself could have led to a shift in Tolkien’s view – perhaps because he saw ofermod at its worst in Hitler. And as I pointed out, his later view might have been coloured by the fact that two of his sons were in the forces, and facing mortal danger, whereas Tolkien himself had to sit on the sidelines powerlessly. However, Stuart‘s point was not about the creative writer but the rigorous scholar. As he said in a later email exchange, whatever Tolkien felt about the military leadership of 1914-18 (a debatable question), “he was entirely at liberty to overlay these views onto scenes or characters in his fiction, of course, and did so I believe; but he was too great a scholar to allow his own personal feelings and experiences in the 20th century to colour his views of the tenth.” That’s a persuasive argument.

[ofoakandash]

The Worlds ‘Neath the Windy World Tree

A poem by me, speculating on the cosmos from an Anglo-Saxon pagan point of view. Much of this is taken from Norse cosmology, but is given a uniquely English flavour. It is written in alliterative verse, as is much of Old English poetry.

‘Twas on one windy night, that I dreamt a dream of Wōden, the High One, in his High Seat. I went to him ‘fore I wandered the Worlds, to pray for knowledge of their number and names.

I begged that he tell me of those bright and those dark; the dread-homes of dead things, the hallowed halls of high Gods, so of the Worlds ‘neath the windy World Tree might I know.

And so High from the highest of heights spoke thus, as he sat in his seat at the summit of All: “Wisdom I shall grant you; but what shall you give? For the price is a gift for a gift from the Gods.”

So to High I did say, “I shall swear to you thus: that a sacrifice be made unto you and yourself. I promise you this with prayer and praise, from one wanderer to the wisest of all.”

Then High said to me, “I hear your prayer, and the words that you weave for your oath. So my knowledge I’ll grant you, that know you might of the Worlds ‘neath the windy World Tree.

“The first I shall speak of is the first among worlds, the supreme and shining seat of Gods. Esageard we call it, cradled by Heaven, where rule does High from his hall.

“Within Esageard are three heavenly halls, a refuge for the righteous from rot, and the Fields of Frīge, Neorxnawang, and Wælheall where wælcyrian roost.

“Within our borders beneath one of three mighty roots, reside the three weavers of Wyrd. There they tend to the well from which fate is drawn and draw up the doom of Men.

“Yonder, yet not far from Esageard are the hallowed halls of the elves. There dwell they in brightest Ælfhām ruled by fair Ingui-Frea.

“By Ælfhām, you’ll know, is the abode of Man, called Middangeard, or by you Middle-earth. By an ocean it’s embraced, older than time, wherein waits the World Serpent for night.

“To the east if you go you shall find Ettin-home, Ēotenhām, land of the ettins and ents. Where in Iron-wood wolves and worse monsters are spawned, and ‘neath a root is Memory’s well.

“Yet go north from your world, Middangeard, and you’ll arrive in murky Murkhām. Where halls of gold and of grand craftsmanship serve as dwellings for the deep-delving dwarfs.

“Further still from Murkhām is misty Hell, where the Queen of the Dead does dwell. Find your way to the hall of the Goddess Hell lest you wind up in Wyrmsele, ravaged by worms.

“Next go north to the northernmost realm, Nifolhām, a bitter land of frost and fog, where the third of the World Tree’s roots does rest above a bubbling, ancient spring.

“From this spring flow the rivers, their numbers unnumbered, that with waters old wend a way between worlds, crossed only by bridges, and we brave wanderers.

“Thus I speak of the seven worlds beneath the World Tree, and to you make this knowledge known. Go with it, wanderer, with wisdom and sense.”

So said High, the Seer of All, as he shared his secrets with me. And so of the names do I now know of the Worlds ‘neath the windy World Tree.

[attitude-rains]

Book Review: Rudiments of Runelore, Stephen Pollington

If you have been looking for a relatively condensed source to get started with Runes I think I may have just the book for you. In this post, I will be going over the book Rudiments of Runelore, by Stephen Pollington. This is a small book that focuses more on the historical evidence we have for runes and their development rather than a magic- or divination-focused description, although these…

[hesy-bes]

Spinning your threads,

you wrap around me,

embracing and enshrouding me in the warmth of a Mother’s arms.

O’ Queen of Osgeard,

you spin the wool of my heart,

shaping it and guiding it to goodness,

and weave the tapestry of my Wyrd.

You call to me,

a Mother’s call to her child,

beckoning them to safety.

I fall into your arms,

held in warmth and home,

and finally, I feel whole.

[aegentisto]

~ The Seafarer ~

In the realm of waves, a seaman of old,

His heart a tale of love untold.

Upon the sea, a lone crusade,

Forlorn, he sailed, love's light betrayed.

The ocean vast, a fathomless maze,

His vessel tossed through tempest's haze.

Yet within his chest, a beacon's glow,

A lighthouse love, lost long ago.

A distant shore, where warmth did bloom,

Beside a hearth, dispelling gloom.

In every crest, in every gale,

He sought that light, a lover's trail.

Through darkened nights and raging storm,

He'd dream of her, his heart forlorn.

A lighthouse gleam, a steadfast guide,

Yet elusive, on the oceans wide.

The salty air, a bitter kiss,

He yearned for solace, love's sweet bliss.

His ship a ghost in twilight's gleam,

Chasing shadows, love's fading dream.

Each wave that crashed, a lonely call,

As memories echoed, like seagulls' squall.

The lighthouse gleamed on distant shores,

Yet, in his heart, despair endures.

A haven lost, a haven sought,

In solitude, his love was caught.

The seaman gray, his spirit tamed,

By love's cruel game, forever named.

The lighthouse stood, a distant flame,

A beacon lost, yet still the same.

In solitude, he found release,

Catharsis bound, eluding peace.

A seaman's tale, a love untold,

Through ocean depths, his story scrolled.

The lighthouse gleams through time's embrace,

A distant love, in morrow’s space.

For Jess. Hopefully this homage is good enough.

[my-own-lilypad]

Living has killed us all. We're dustbinned by destiny.

Beowulf

Maria Headley trans.

[aidenwaites]

Would love to put Giles btvs and The Gray Man trc in the same room together