Maunche for Christiana Crane

Maunche for Christiana Crane, given at Birka AS 50. Words inspired by and adapted from “The Pearl” – a late 14th century Middle English poem by an anonymous author. Below it is in middle English and modern English.

The gilt and gall wel knawe þys hyne

Abowte hyr displayed much gode work there

Se more mervayle by hyr hyne bygynne

Come, Maunche, to maid ful debonere

Þat in alle wyyes we now myght wynne

Christiana Crane, bryght and fayre,

Worthé fraunchyse joye and blysse hereinne.

As glysnande golde that man con schere,

I sette hyr sengely in synglere.

Grant heo armes, azure, a crane

in vigilance argent and a tierce ermine

and wel singe hyr dede once agayn.
Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye

Wordes clanly clos in golde so clere;

Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye.

Ne proved I never her precios pere.

Quere-so-ever one jugged letters gaye,

So smal, so smothe her hyne were,

So fyne, so reken in uche araye.

At Birka in the winter market chere

in society’s fiftieth yere

Þirty days in January it was seen,

whene set þeir names in fine ink here

did Brennan King and Caoilfhionn Queen.

The gold gilt and gall ink knows well this hand

about her displayed much good work there

see more marvels by her hand begun

Come, Maunch, to this gracious maid,

that in all ways we might now win

Christiana Crane, bright and fair,

worthy franchise will have joy and bliss herein.

As glistens gold that man has wrought

I set her worth as truly rare

grant her arms, azure a crane

in its vigilance argent and a tierce ermine

and sing well of her deeds once again.
Pearl, to delight a prince’s day,

Words flawlessly set in gold so fair

In all the East, I dare to say,

I have not found one to compare.

Wherever one judged letters gay

So small, so smooth her hands were,

So fine, so radiant in array.

At Birka in the winter market cheer

in society’s fiftieth year

thirty days in January it was seen,

whene set their names in fine ink here

did Brennan King and Caoilfhionn Queen.

Below are sections of “The Pearl” which inspired and guided the above text.

Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye

To clanly clos in golde so clere;

Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye.

Ne proved I never her precios pere.

So rounde, so reken in uche araye,

So smal, so smothe her sydes were,

Quere-so-ever I jugged gemmes gaye,

I sette hyr sengely in synglere.

Allas! I leste hyr in on erbere;

Thurgh gresse to ground hit fro me yot,

I dewyne, fordolked of luf-daungere

Of that pryvy perle wythouten spot.

Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye

Wordes clanly clos in golde so clere;

Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye.

Ne proved I never her precios pere.

So fine, so reken in uche araye,

So smal, so smothe her letters were,

I sette hyr sengely in synglere.

Pearl, to delight a prince’s day,

Flawlessly set in gold so fair

In all the East, I dare to say,

I have not found one to compare.

So round, so radiant in array,

So small, so smooth her contours were,

Wherever I judged jewels gay

I set her worth as truly rare.

I lost her in a garden where

Through grass she fell to earthen plot;

Wounded by love beyond repair

I mourn that pearl without a spot.

c
a

The gilt and gall wel knawe thys hyne

Abowte hyr displayed much gode work there

Se more mervayle by hyr hyne bygynne

Come, Maunche, to maid ful debonere

Than in alle wyyes we now myght wynne

Christiana Crane, bryght and fayre,

Oure fraunchyse joye and blysse hereinne.

As glysnande golde that man con schere,

I sette hyr sengely in synglere.

Grant heo armes, azure, a crane

in vigilance argent and a tierce ermine

and wel singe hyr dede once agayn.
Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye

Wordes clanly clos in golde so clere;

Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye.

Ne proved I never her precios pere.

So fine, so reken in uche araye,

So smal, so smothe her hyne were,

Quere-so-ever one jugged letters gaye.

At Birka in the winter market chere

in society’s fiftieth yere

thirty days in January it was seen,

whene set their names in fine ink here

did Brennan King and Caoilfhionn Queen.

More haf I of joye and blysse hereinne,

Than alle the wyyes in the worlde myght wynne

Whether welnygh now I con bygynne-

Fyrst of my hyre swete Maunche con mynne:

First off, the Maunche that evening welcomed me

‘Deme3 þou me’, quod I, ‘my swete,

To dol agayn, þenne I dowyne.

Now haf I fonte þat I forlete,

Schal I efte forgo hit er euer I fyne?

Why schal I hit boþe mysse and mete?

My precios perle dot3 me gret pyne.

What serue3 tresor, bot gare3 men grete

When he hit schal efte wyth tene3 tyne?

Now rech I neuer for to declyne,

Ne how fer of folde þat man me fleme.

When I am partle3 of perle myne,
“Þat date of 3ere wel knawe þys hyne.

Þe lorde ful erly vp he ros

To hyre werkmen to hys vyne,

And fynde3 þer summe to hys porpos.

Into acorde þay con declyne

For a pené on a day, and forth þay got3,

Wryþen and worchen and don gret pyne,

Keruen and caggen and man hit clos.

Aboute vnder þe lorde to marked tot3,

And ydel men stande he fynde3 þerate.

‘Why stande 3e ydel?’ he sayde to þos.

‘Ne knawe 3e of þis day no date?’

Pearl, to delight a prince’s day,

Words flawlessly set in gold so fair

In all the East, I dare to say,

I have not found one to compare.

So fine, so radiant in array,

So small, so smooth her contours were,

Wherever I judged jewels gay

Like gold that craftsmen work upon

I set her worth as truly rare.

The gilt and gall know well this hand

Like gold that craftsmen work upon
More courtly maiden there was none.

Than all the world could e’er profess

so sing well of her deed and thought again.

The gilt and gall wel knawe thys hyne.

The lady ful erly up he ros

To hyre werkmen to hys vyne,

And fyndes ther summe to hys porpos

The gilt and gall know well this hand

To pen

‘The hands knew that the day was near;

That lord full early up arose

To hire men, and commandeer

Their labour; and he hires those

That juel thenne in gemmes gente

Vered up her vyse wyth yyen graye,

Set on hyr coroun ot perle orient,

And soberly after thenne con ho say:

‘Sir, ye hat your tale mysetente,

To say your perle is al awaye,

That is in cofer so comly elente

As in this gardyn gracios gaye,

Hereinne to lenge for ever and play,

Ther tnys ne mornyng com never nere.

Her were a forser for the, in faye,

If thou were a gentyl jueler.’

That jewel then in gems arrayed

Lifted to me those eyes of grey,

And donned her crown, of jewels made,

And gravely then I heard her say:

‘Sir, your conclusion is mislaid

To say your pearl has fled away,

That is in such a casket laid

As in this gracious garden gay,

To dwell in joy in endless day;

Never can loss or grief come near.

No pearl in such a casket lay,

‘Twould seem, for any jeweller

More mervayle con my dom adaunt:

I sey byyonde that myry mere

A crystal clyffe ful relusaunt;

Mony ryal ray con fro hit rere.

At the fote therof ther sete a faunt,

A mayden of menske, ful debonere;

Blysnande whyt was hyr bleaunt.

I knew hyr wel, I hade sen hyr ere.

As glysnande golde that man con schere,

So schon that schene anunder shore,

On lenghe I loked to hyr there;

The lenger, I knew hyr more and more.

More marvels to my sense repair

I looked and saw yet more anon,

A crystal cliff resplendent there

With royal rays of splendour shone;

And at its foot a child so fair

More courtly maiden there was none.

A gleaming mantle she did wear;

I knew her well from times long gone,

Like gold that craftsmen work upon

So shone that maid upon that shore,

And long my eyes did linger on

That maid, and knew her more and more.

So al was dubbet on dere asyse

That fryth ther fortwne forth me feres.

The derthe therof for to devyse

Nis no wyy worthé that tonge beres.

I welke ay forth in wely wyse;

No bonk so byg that did me deres.

The fyrre in the fryth, the feier con ryse

The playn, the plonttes, the spyse, the peres,

The rawes and randes and rych reveres –

As fyldor fyn her bonkes brent.

I wan to a water by schore that scheres;

Lorde, der was hit adubbement !

The splendour bright of that display,

The wood where fortune smiled on me,

The glory thereof to portray

No man could render worthily.

I wandered joyful on my way;

No height could do me injury.

As through the woods my footsteps stray

Field, shrub, and spice, and each pear-tree,

Hedgerow and stream and banks I see

Like gold thread shines each wooded height;

I came to a streamlet running free;

Lord, glorious was that splendour bright !

The adubbement of tho downes dere

Garten my goste al greffe foryete.

So frech flavores of frytes were,

As fode hit con me fayre refete.

Fowles ther flowen in fryth in fere,

Of flaumbande hwes, both smale and grete.

Bot sytole-stryng and gyternere

Her reken myrthe moght not retrete;

Fir quen those bryddes her wynges bete,

Thay songen wyth a swete asent.

So gracios gle couthe no mon gete

As here and se her adubbement.

The splendour of those bright hills there

My spirit freed from my side fate;

Refreshing was the fragrance clear

Of fruits, as though of food I ate;

Birds flew in all the woodland near

Of myriad hue, both small and great,

Cytole and cithern none could hear

To match a sound so delicate;

The notes their wing-beats did create

Made sounds of such sweet delight

Such charm no man could fabricate,

As here in all their splendour bright.

Christiana Crane was born July 28, 1315 in York. The daughter of a successful and well respected merchant, her family was mercifully spared from desperate hardship during the Great Famine. Many years later, her family undertook a pilgrimage to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela to give thanks for their many fortunes. Sadly, her family succumbed to the various hazards of the road, leaving her to seek sanctuary with Lord and Lady Fulton. As a member of their household, Christiana has had the pleasure of meeting many new people from all points of the globe, and experiencing their exotic ways.

Grant her arms, azure, a crane in its vigilance argent and a tierce ermine.

January 31, 2016March 2, 2016

AoA for Brynhildr

In the Eastern lands ruled great King called Brennan and also his wife Queen Caoilfhionn. Brynhildr Amsvarsdottir had come to serve their longhouse and was sent to guard the land’s most precious treasure, the Queen. It was the fiftieth year, on the seventh day of nóvember, after Gormánuður but before Ýlir, that Brynhildr was called to the Crown Tournament in the holdings of the Hersir of Bergental. Because she had served with joy and abundance, she was given the right to bear arms, ____________________________________ and take the title Hefdharkona. The King had his poet and scribe make for her a ring of word-gold to be read and seen that day.

The linden of the battle-wall

lifted her slender hands

to join the Njords of swords.

Shield-bearer now arms-bearer

Silver-goddess of the raven-field

You are worthy to hear an ode

war-valiant one, wrought for you*
King Brennan and Queen Caiolfhionn made their names on it.

Brynhildr is a fighter and man-at-arms to Sir Brennan, who has been a brother to me. I was thrilled to be able to write text for her. Norse sagas frequently used prose and then called out a poem of praise (or insult, on occasion too!). I used the same technique to do this. I had to edit mercilessly – the original wanted to be longer, but sometimes we just have to live by the word count. I pulled directly one line from the Sagas of the Warrior Poets, because I wanted her to have that direct connection to the past in this piece. (I try to do that with pretty much all my text.)

Below are my working notes to produce this piece.

(The longer piece)

In those days the ruler of the Eastern lands was a great Chieftain called Brennan. Beside him ruled his wife Caoilfhionn. Now Brynhildr Amsvarsdottir had come to serve the King and was sent to guard his most precious treasure, the Queen. Brynhildr wore a shirt of silver plates against which her dark hair shone like trees against the moon. After she had served for a full year and more, at the Crown Tournament in the holdings of the Hersir of Bergental. It was held on the seventh day of nóvember, after Gormánuður but before Ýlir. Brynhildr was called to court that day where she was given the right to bear arms

________________________________________ and be called Hefdharkona. The King had his poet make for her a ring of word-gold and it was read.

You are worthy to hear an ode

war-valiant one, wrought for you* (31 in Sagas of the Warrior Poets)

The linden of the battle-wall (the shield maiden)

has lifted her slender hands

to join the Njords of swords. (the gods of the swords)

Silver-goddess of the raven-field

from shield-bearer to arms-bearer

Gormánuður (mid October – mid November, “slaughter month” or “Gór’s month”)
Ýlir (mid November – mid December, “Yule month”)

http://oldeuropeanculture.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-riddle-of-odins-ravens.html

kennings:

Linden birch goddess

Holder of the king cup

Shield sister

Man at arms

And so the king bade a verse to be made for her

1,2,3, 1234 / Sagas of the warrior poets

July 13, 2015July 15, 2015

Chivalry Scroll for Anè du Ve

Illumination and Calligraphy by Dutchess Catherline Stanhope. Photo by Brenden Hill.

Here counsil of the Eastland Quene and Kyng,
Writ with wysdom at their name,
Boldely speake of this fyne thyng
to grant their seruant earned fame.
His motto speaks of the great game,
“Ces’t un gran jou” is wel spake,
Joy in play does not make corage les,
They that do gret gode shal honor take.
Our kyngdom shal have reste and pes.

See Knyghts of Chivalrie sae wyse
Look to Anè du Vey and fynde
No place in hart for cowardyse.
Wel lyvyng man, with honor kynde,
To the righte weye is neure blynde,
He worschips trouthe at every des.
The good lyvere hath God in mynde,
That mannys counseil maketh pes.

A worthi knyght wol worchip wynne;
He wil not yelde hym though me thret,
But rathere as Malice doth begynne,
Quenche hit at the firste het.
For, and ye lete it growe gret,
Hit brenneth breme as fyre in gres.
Laweles novellerye loke ye lete,
So mowe ye lyve in reste and pes.

Argent, a chevron inverted ploye,
vert in chief a fleur-de-lys inverted purpure,
a chief engrailed vert, borne with joy
by Letters Patent are secure
As writen in the lawen be sure
That bereth the Ordre as it wes
Address him with the title Sir
Let lawe have cours in reste and pes.

With these words Anè du Vey is made a Knight of the Society by the hand of King Darius Aurelius Serpentius and Queen Etheldreda Ivelchyld at their Court in the Province of Malagentia at the Great Northeastern War on July 11, anno sociatis fifty, the feast day of St. Leonitas the Younger.

Words by Aneleda Falconbridge | Calligraphy and Illumination by Katherine Stanhope | Based on the poem “Truthe, Reste, and Pes” What Profits a Kingdom (1401) (Bodleian Library Oxford MS Digby 102 fols. 100r-101v) from the text Medieval Institute Publications edited by James. M. Dean. The third verse is directly taken from the original poem without edit. The remainder of the piece is adapted with respect to the original poem’s text and wording.

http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/dean-medieval-english-political-writings-truthe-reste-and-pes#57

“C’est un grand jeu” is Anè du Vey’s motto.

Argent, a chevron inverted ploye vert in chief a fleur-de-lys inverted purpure, a chief engrailed vert.
This is the poem which was the inspiration and form.

Truthe, Reste, and Pes
by: James M. Dean (Editor)
from: Medieval English Political Writings 1996

[What Profits a Kingdom (1401)]

(Bodleian Library Oxford MS Digby 102 fols. 100r-101v)

100

105

110

115

120

125

130

135

140

145

150

155

160

165

For drede ofte my lippes I steke,For false reportours that trouhte mys-famed. 1Yut Charitee chargeth me to speke

Though trouthe be dred, he nys not ashamed.

Trouthe secheth non hernes ther los is lamed; 2

Trouthe is worschiped at every des.

In that kyngdom ther trouthe is blamed,

God sendes vengeaunce to make trouthe have pes.

Trouthe is messager to ryght,

And ryght is counseille to Justice;

Justice in Goddis stede is dyght. 3

Do evene lawe to fooll and wyse.

Set mesure in evene assise,

The righte weye as lawe ges.

And lawe be kept, folk nyl not ryse.

That kyngdom shal have reste and pes.

Yif suche a tale-tellere were,

To a kyng apayre a mannys name,

The kyng shulde bothe partyes here,

And punysche the fals for defame.

Than fals men wolde ases for blame;

For falshed, body and soule it sles.

Falshed endes ay in shame,

And trouthe, in worschipe and in pes.

Whanne lawe is put fro right assise,

And domes man made by mede,

For fawte of lawe yif comouns rise,

Than is a kyngdom most in drede.

For whanne vengeaunce a comouns lede,

Thei do gret harm er they asses.

There no man other doth mysbede,

That kyngdom shal have reste and pes.

Whan craft riseth agens craft

In burgh, toun, or citée,

They go to lordes whan lawe is laft,

Whoche party may strengere be.

But wyse men the sonere se

By witles wille they gedre pres,

Or lordis medle in foly degré,

Let lawe have cours in reste and pes.

Yit there is the thridde distaunce

Bryngeth a kyngdom in moche noyghe:

Ofte chaunge of governaunce

Of all degré, lowe and hyghe.

A kyng may not al aspie,

Summe telle hym soth, summe telle hym les.

The whete fro the chaff ye tryghe,

So mowe ye leve in reste and pes.

I speke not in specyale

Of oo kyngdom the lawe to telle;

I speke hool in generale

In eche kyngdom the lawe to telle.

Also is writen in the Gospelle

A word that God Hym-selven ches:

Rathere than fighte, a man go selle

On of his clothes, and bighe hym pes.

A worthi knyght wol worchip wynne;

He wil not yelde hym though me thret,

But rathere as Malice doth begynne,

Quenche hit at the firste het.

For, and ye lete it growe gret,

Hit brenneth breme as fyre in gres.

Laweles novellerye loke ye lete,

So mowe ye lyve in reste and pes.

Old speche is spoken yore:

What is a kyngdom tresory?

Bestayle, corn stuffed in store,

Riche comouns, and wyse clergy;

Marchaundes, squyers, chivalry

That wol be redy at a res,

And chevalrous kyng in wittes hyghe,

To lede in were and governe in pes.

Among philosofres wyse

In here bokes men writen fynde

That synne is cause of cowardyse;

Wel lyvyng man, hardy of kynde;

Wikked lyvere, graceles, blynde,

He dredeth deth, the laste mes.

The good lyvere hath God in mynde,

That mannys counseil maketh pes.

What kyng that wol have good name,

He wol be lad by wys counsayle

That love worschip and dreden shame,

And boldely dar fende and assayle.

There wit is, corage may not fayle,

For wysdom nevere worschip les.

Corage in querell doth batayle,

And ende of batayle bygynneth pes.

Defaute of wit maketh long counsayle;

For witteles wordes in ydel spoken.

The more cost, the lesse avayle;

For fawte of wyt, purpos broken.

In evyl soule no grace is stoken,

For wikked soule is graceles.

In good lyvere Goddis wille is loken,

That mannys counsell maketh pes.

To wete yif parlement be wys,

The comoun profit wel it preves.

A kyngdom in comouns lys,

Alle profytes, and alle myscheves.

Lordis wet nevere what comouns greves

Til here rentis bigynne to ses.

There lordis ere, pore comons releves,

And mayntene hem in werre and pes.

Make God youre ful frend;

Do the comaundement that He bede.

Though all the world agen yow wend,

Be God youre frend, ye thar not drede:

For there as God His frendis lede,

He saveth hem bothe on lond and sees.

Who-so fighteth, God doth the dede,

For God is victorie and pes.

What kyngdom werreth hym-self with-ynne

Distroyeth hym-self, and no mo.

With-oute here enemys bygynne

On eche a syde assayle hem so.

The comouns, they wil robbe and slo,

Make fyere, and kyndel stres.

Whan ryches and manhode is wastede and go,

Than drede dryveth to trete pes.

The world is like a fals lemman:

Fayre semblaunt and moche gyle.

Withouten heire dyeth no man,

God is chief Lord of toun and pyle.

God maketh mony heire in a whyle,

For God ressayveth eche reles;

God kan breke hegge and style,

And make an hey wey to pes.

God made lordis governoures

To governe puple in unyté.

The puple, ne ryches, nys not youres:

Al is Goddis, and so be ye.

Eche day ye may youre myrrour se:

Eche man after other deses.

Youre auncetres arn gon, after shal ye,

To endeles werre or endeless pes.

Eche kyng is sworn to governaunce

To governe Goddis puple in right.

Eche kyng bereth swerd of Goddis vengeaunce

To felle Goddis foon in fight.

And so doth everons honest knyght

That bereth the ordre as it wes;

The plough, the chirche, to mayntene ryght

Are Goddis champyons to kepe the pes.

The world is like a chery fayre,

Ofte chaungeth all his thynges.

Riche, pore, foul, and fayre,

Popes, prelates, and lordynges,

Alle are dedly, and so ben kynges.

Or deth lede yow in his les,

Arraye by tyme youre rekenynges,

And trete with God to gete yow pes.

What bryngeth a kyngdom al above?

Wys counseil and good governaunce.

Eche lord wil other love,

And rule wel labourers sustynaunce.

God maketh for His frendis no destaunce,

For God kan skatre the grete pres.

God for His frendis math ordynaunce,

And governeth hem in werre and pes.

Good lyf is cause of good name;

Good name is worthi to have reveraunce.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Synne is cause of grevaunce.

Eche kyngdom hongeth in Goddis balaunce;

With hym that holdeth, with hym that fles.

Ye have fre wille, chese youre chaunce

To have with God werre or pes.

keep shut(see note)requires

fearful; is not

dais

equal justice

goes

If; will not rebel

harm; man’s

hear

cease

slays

always

When law is deprived of true justice

judgments; bribery

lack

governs

before; cease

injure

abandoned

Which; stronger

more quickly see

gather [a] crowd

crime

take [its]

third dissension

great distress

observe; (see note)

lies

wheat; sift

may; live

specially

a single

wholly

(see note)

chose

(see note)

purchase

gain honor; (see note)

yield; someone threaten

Stop; blow; (see note)

It burns as fiercely as fire in grease

innovation see that you prevent

kingdom’s

Cattle; wheat; reserve

Merchants, squires

attack

with keen wits

war

find written

(see note)

mass (extreme unction); (see note)

man’s

led

honor

ward off

lost

quarrel

Lack

in vain

lack

put

without grace; (see note)

behavior; locked up

know whether

(see note)

lies

misfortunes

know; oppresses

Until their incomes; cease

show mercy

bade

turn against you

If God is; need not fear

when; leads

seas

wars with itself

itself; no other

each side

kill

fires; ignite straws

gone

fear impels

sweetheart

appearance; guile

heir dies

stronghold

many heirs

receives; release

hedge; stile

highway

people

Neither people nor riches are

mirror see

dies

ancestors are

bears [a] sword

slay; foes; (see note)

always

upholds; was

I.e., the commons

(see note)

its

mortal

Before; untruth

quickly; accounts

deal

i.e., into peace

dissension

scatter; mob; (see note)

makes [an] ordinance

(see note)

hangs

runs away

fortune

July 13, 2015July 13, 2015

Court Barony Scroll for Lucie Lovegood of Ramisgate

Lucie's Scroll by Master Ed MacGuyver, photo by Mistress Brita — Lucie’s Scroll by Master Ed MacGuyver, photo by Mistress Brita

All dere East kin, be what you may,
to Rex and Regina lean touward
as not to lack in this display –
of goodnesse above reward
to one whose labors never stored,
is yeve frely even yet
by Ramesgate’s lady, muchel adored.
One selden isei3e and not for3ete.

Here manner of joy alle can see,
A smile ever on hire lips doth dwell.
None but Our Lucie may this be.
How gretly Lovegood fits her well,
All unquiet doeth she cwellen,
with alle in ease as quire well sete,
work wol soun withe harmonie of a belle
A gift selden isei3e and not for3ete.

King Darius Aurelius Serpentius
and Queen Etheldreda Ivelchyld,
on the feaste day of St. Amabilis
at the Malagentiaes Greate War wild
wolde decre in newe ink styled
In the societies fiftith year We set
our honor on sheo which all beguiled
She who oft isei3e and not for3ete.

Thus we Grant Arms to seo who liht girt,
Who lessens burdens oft, without relent,
Per bend sinister azure and vert,
a stag springing within a bordure argent.
By Our full right and Our intent
We sete on heo head fyne coronet
& with this title we cement
Lucie Baroness, selden isei3e and never for3ete.

*3 = yogh which can be transcribed “gh” or “y,” and is printed ȝ / ȝ

Illumination and calligraphy were done by Master Ed MagGuyver.
About this piece:

NOTE: Bodleian MS. Vernon (about 1400), f. 4106
From A Middle English Reader and Vocabulary, Editors Kenneth Sisam and J.R.R. Tolkien
See also: A Concise Dictionary of Middle English- From A.D. 1150 to 1580
By A.L. (Anthony Lawson) Mayhew

This poem is based on the poem from 1377 “The Death of Edward III” which was somewhat period appropriate for Lucie’s persona period, the political situation in 14th century England, and her location of Ramsgate in Thanet. I have to thank Master Angus Pembridge (Ian Stewart) for directing me toward this work when I was in a fit about what to do, having been not as successful as I had hoped in identifying a poem with my desired time period and geolocation for Lucie’s piece. He suggested this as a good compromise and it was a good place to aim.

The rhyme scheme is ABABBCBC with a repeated end line with some variance in tense and structure but constant theme and word style (the C is the same rhyme throughout the poem.) The original does not have a particular cadence and that has followed in this poem. The original has many stanzas but this one only four.

Special challenges were working the heraldry in – which will not be included in the actual scroll as it has not yet passed – and finding appropriate rhyme for “Serpentius” which proved an odd challenge (I looked for appropriate Latin phrases and words to use but came up short). I always try to make “the necessary” information part of the whole work. The Great Northeastern War is merged with the location of the event, Malagentia, and the day is listed only as the Saint Day it references (July 11 is the feast day of St. Amabilis) which may give some herald fits, but it’s all in there.

(St. Amabilis died in 634 and is also known as St. Mabel. Traditionally identified as the daughter of an Anglo-Saxon king, she became a nun at Saint-Amand in Rouen, France. Selected for both her feast day and her connection to England, I also thought Lucie might just like her. A second saint, a male, from an earlier time, shares the name. He, like me, was a church cantor and I liked the connection. Worth noting – she’s listed in the 600+ page tome about saints that was published by the Monks of Ramsgate. There are no coincidences!)

I reached out to the King and Queen and got statements from each of them as to why they wished to give Lucie this award. I incorporated their sentiments, if not their direct quotes, into the piece.

The result is a custom poem in a persona-appropriate verse style in which all the information is woven in the form.

I used http://www.etymonline.com/index.php to help me check the words to see if they existed before 1500 and made alterations when I could use an earlier word.

http://lollardsociety.org/pdfs/Wright_PoliticalPoems_vol1.pdf page 217https://www.sfsu.edu/~medieval/complaintlit/death_edward3.html

Some of the original:

A ! dere God, what may this be,
That alle thing weres and wasteth away?
Frendschyp is but a vanyte’
Unnethe hit dures al a day.
Thei beo so cliper at assay,
So Leof to hand, and loth to lete,
And so fikel in heore fay,
That selden isei3e is sone for3ete

I sei hit not withouten a cause
and therfore takes hiht god here
For 3if ye construwe wel this clause
I puit 3you holly out of drede
That puire schame 3or herd wold blede
and 3 this matere wysly trets
He that was ur most spede
is selden seye and sone for3ete

Sum tyme and Englis schip we had
Nobel hit was, and heih of tour ;
Throw al Christendam hit was drad,
And stif wold stonde in uch a stour,
And best dorst byde a scharp schour,
And other stormes smale and grete ‘
Nou is that schip , that bar the flour,
Selden sei3e and sone for3ete.

Into that schip there longeth a roothur,
That steered the schip, and governed hot ;
In al this world nis such another,
As me thenketh in my wit.
Whil schip and rothur togeder was knit,
Thei dredde nother tempest, druy3e nor wete ;
Nou be thei bothe in synder flit ;
That selden sei3e is sone for3ete.

These are the various end lines in the poem:
And non rigt sone hit is for3ete
And now riht clene hit is for3ete
That selden sei3e is sone for3ete.
That selden sei3e is sone for3ete.
And money gode dedes ben clene for3ete.
That selden sei3e is sone for3ete.
That selden sei3e be never for3ete.

Sources and relevant links:

3 = yogh which can be transcribed “gh” or “y,” and is printed ȝ / ȝ
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scribal_abbreviation

http://isites.harvard.edu/fs/docs/icb.topic453618.files/Central/editions/paleo.html

https://www.sfsu.edu/~medieval/complaintlit/death_edward3.html

Using the 1377 “On the death of Edward III” as the rhyme and form basis of this piece. The original documents are from the British Museum collection. The version in print I used as a reference was http://lollardsociety.org/pdfs/Wright_PoliticalPoems_vol1.pdf

http://www.archive.org/stream/modernlangrevi16modeuoft/modernlangrevi16modeuoft_djvu.txt

October 13, 2014July 13, 2015

AoA – Admiranda Howard

A

Pearl of goodnesse, Ishoot of Admirinda,

That al hire bountee telle can

Heo so blithe, so bright, Admirinda

In world nis noon so witer,

semlokest of alle things, Merye sing,

Hire limb pullth true the string,

With lossum cheere heo mak the mark

And wunderliche heo mak the feaste,

that we mak merie with drinche and an meat

Sevant trewe, of wise virtue

Herkne to our roun, To Alle sweetness sae

That Lady Adminanda Howard be.

Ymende. þet þis boc is uolueld ine þe Hunt in þe Barony of Endewearde on þe day of Saint Comgan of Iona in ane Kenric Cyng and Avelina Quene of þe East, ine þe yeare of oure Society beringe 48.

MODERN ENGLISH

Pearl of goodness,
I speak of Admiranda, Muse of Aranmor

That all her excellence can tell

She so blithe, so bright, Admiranda

In the world is none so witty

Seemliest of all things, we merry sing

Her arm pulleth true the string

With lovely cheer she makes the mark

And wonderfully she makes the feast

That we make merry with drink and meat

Servant true, of wise virtue

Hark to our song,

To all sweetness see

That Lady Admiranda Howard be

And give her arms for her alone
_____________

___________

_____________

Let it be known that this work was fulfilled in the Hunt in the Barony of Endewearde on the day of Saint Comgan* of Iona by Kenric King and Avelina Queen of the East, in the year of the society 48.

Words based on the earliest English I could manage (a mix of 13^th/14^th c inspired by period lyric verses in praise of women, for example, “Alesone”) with a finishing phrase from the English translation by Michael of Northgate from 1340, from the French “Somme le Roi” to the English “Ayenbite of Inwyt” (or ‘the again-biting of inner wit’, Remorse (or Prick) of Conscience. 12^th Century English is actually Anglo-Saxon, and it’s beyond my ability without major reading and research. I tried to read some and …it looks like I should be able to read it but I can’t. It made me feel like I was going sort of insane.

*October 13th is the feast day