Tag: Scrolls

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Scroll for EK Queen’s Rapier Champion AS 45

Sir Edward Grey of Lochleven
wreathed with greatest honor is revealed,
and with the most esteem, picked from the field.

Forbearance and Honor noted our queen,
Beloved lady of bliss, Aikaterine.
The rapier swift has its song to sing
And dances as swallows dance in spring
Through the field’s rite,
Bright glinting light
This blade did supply
You being near
We shall not fear,
Though Death stand by.

With you the swords take edge, the heart grows bold;
From you in fee their lives your liegemen hold.
Our lady Queen smiles on this one’s goodwill
Thus now the Champion’s role thou must fulfill.
Bless then the hour
That gives the power
In which you may,
At bed and board,
Embrace your sword
Both night and day.

From Bergental through all the East ring true
Thus mark we January twenty-two
Anno Societis forty-five
When the Queen’s Rapier Champion did arrive
Bless then the one
Whose duty done
With skill and grace,
and courtesy
we honor thee,
Signed in this place…

Honor, great honor, from our noble queen,
Beloved lady of bliss, Aikaterine.

 

Notes on the piece:

This poem is based on The Forest’s Queen by Philip Massinger, <span>originally published in The Guardian in 1633.  Below is the original, from which the central part of the poem is hugely based (because it was sooooo perfect!)  The scan works better on paper than out loud in parts because our lovely Queen of Love and Beauty is sounds the “e” at the end of </span>Aikaterine (Aikaterine-ah.)  I didn’t want to mar the beautiful look of the piece’s symmetry with the original by mucking about too much, so I decided to live with it even though it’s an extra syllable here and there.  Consider it a bonus!

THE ORIGINAL WORK: THE FOREST’S QUEEN by: Philip Massinger

Welcome, thrice welcome to this shady green,

Our long-wished Cynthia, the forest’s queen!

The trees begin to bud, the glad birds sing

In winter, changed by her into the spring.

We know no night,

Perpetual light

Dawns from your eye:

You being near,

We cannot fear,

Though death stood by.

From you our swords take edge, our hearts grow bold;

From you in fee their lives your liegemen hold.

These groves your kingdom, and our laws your will;

Smile, and we spare; but if you frown, we kill.

Bless then the hour

That gives the power

In which you may,

At bed and board,

Embrace your lord

Both night and day.

 

Welcome, thrice welcome to this shady green,

Our long-wished Cynthia, the forest’s queen!

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Scroll text for King’s Rapier Champion AS 45

For fame one does not hoist the mighty sword
Nor take up as his art the rapier keen,
But for our Griffyth King, our Eastern Lord,
They thrust and parry, feint and fight as seen.
Thick has the field of noble challenge been
Yet one became distinct amongst the crowd.
Now sing we all as one this joyful pean
Unto the one who makes our King thus proud.
Ring out ye wintry bells of Bergantal
This twenty second day of the new year,
Proclaim this fencer’s prowess in your halls
Defender of the Eastern Realm all hear,
What Honor, Grace, Finesse and Chivalry –
The Champion of our King this one must be.

Signed King Griffith Fitzwilliam this day

That Gryffith d’Avingon
for pleasant art amid the lists is named
King’s Rapier Champion for this fine display

In anno societis forty-five
the year this noble one is thus acclaimed.

 

Notes on this piece:

Sonnet rhyme scheme based on a verse by Sir Philip Sidney written in 1581.

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Constancia de Vienne, Troubadour

Melisaunde's Troubadour. Calligraphy by Mickel. Gilding by Max. August, 2010

wot ys that sund that calls us to war?
ys þe horn ðat lady blaws to roar.

Rosa rubicundior

wot ys that sund wot maks myn herte ache?
ys þe swet sound this same lady mak.

wot ys the laugh ich can now here?
ys a tale from the lady just finished near.

lilio candidior

wot ys that tune that make vs go round?
ys her song ðat bringeþ daunce to ground.

wot ys that note that ringeþ so cleir?
ys þe lady herself a-fluting ther.

omnibus formosior

wot is that brigþ and merrie sound?
ys þe lady who singeþ there unbaundoun.

semper in te glorior

wot can we do for one so fayr
to laud hire gift ðat give us cheer?

dulcis musica

a silver cup, a pretty thynge,
granted by our virtuous King,

ys very good and fitting fine
to grant this kynde lady sign

her herte doþ mak us synge and more,
thus we name hire Troubador.

Ai! With sound of horn, voice and recorder,
Constancia comes to the Order.

by our hand this finest day
while at the Castle Knox we play

signed here by King Edward and Queen Marguerite,
this lauding songe is now complete.

Latin Translation: Rosa rubicundior, lilio candidior, omnibus formosior, semper in te glorior dulcis musica – Redder than the rose, whiter than the lilies, fairer than everything, I will always glory in thee, sweet music.)

Notes on the piece:

I was reading a lot of very early English verse at the time this was written, and so it was created with that in my mind.  I used all the period writing bits too,  ð (eth) the (th) þ are the sounds.  They look neat at least!  She plays the straight horn and trumpet, and is really great on recorder, and sings beautifully.  So all that was incorporated into the images in the song.  It’s supposed to be a bit of a love song to her.

Right, so Lady Constancia de Vienne was previously Lady Melisunde d’Ione, and was of this writing and of the initial award long before.  This was a backlogged scroll, and a joy to write for a friend!  In this version, I updated it to use her current SCA name.

Also, I forgot that it would actually have been King Kelson and Queen Geneviere. That would have changed the scheme.
It should have read, I suppose:

“Signed here by Kelson von Heidelberg, King and
Geneviere d’Alsace, Queen
we at long last rest serene.”

Or something like that.

But nobody reminded me, and so it’s not.  *lol*

LATIN TRANSLATION:

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Lord Micah of Brighton Hall, Order of the Tygers Combatant

We bring forth Lord Micah of Brighton Hall, to join as brother those who are as enchanted by the fields of war as he, the Companions of the Order of the Tygers Combatant.  Here we laud his prowess and delight of all that one embraces in the fight. But hear, assembled ones of this fine court, the history of this man whom we exhort:

A farmboy once, as all good
heroes are,
He’d run across the
Northshield fields afar,

A lanky lad then, lean and
fair and tall
With large sticks he would
make the straw man fall.
A sapling bow he used to
keep at bay
The spurred cock whose beak
would ankles flay.
He frightened tinkers
who would tread the land
And helped his family’s
influence expand.

As he grew up, his weapons
did as well
From humble stick to staff,
from straw to pell.
From charging through the
fields of wheat and hay
To charging through the
fields of foes to slay.

He took to hand the axe, the
sword, the pike,
The bow, the mace, the
spear, the brutal spike,
Each one to play and see
what was its art
For each one had its wisdom
to impart.

This noble lad, and brave
and good, but wild,
Was skilled by Eastern men,
whose tempers styled
The man before you here, who
you now see
Into the very tale of
chivalry.

This vibrant one whose joy
upon the field
Has all support within this
order sealed,
Combattant Tygers of
the noble East,
Rejoice today as your ranks
do increase.

You have heard this tale
today, in Birka’s marketplace in the January cold, on the twenty-ninth
day, Anno Societatis
forty-five
in the Barony of Stonemarche.

With pleasure do our brave King Griffith and beauteous Queen Aikaterine sign this writ to
history.

Notes on the piece:

Well, this is what comes of having someone who’s known you a while write your scroll text.  It was the fourth rewrite, I just couldn’t get the tale short enough!  At some point, I will just tell the tale in full and feel like I’ve done my job!

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Lord Gwillim Kynith Maunche

Y gwaith a ganmol y gweithiwr.  Cyfoeth pob crefft.*

Fine tokens come from this one’s hand,
His graceful talents in demand.
Bursting from within,
Joyful is our din
Lauds begin through the land.

Now gather Maunche Companions here
for Gwillim Kynith, whose career
brings forth attention
and with contention
ascension with much cheer.

Steady his hand paints glass so red
A hundred men have ate his bread,
Delights us to sing
As sounds soft lute string.
Dancers spring at his tread.

Many find his most pleasant brew
Inspires fine tales both old and new
Which he could transcribe.
But dance and imbibe
and ascribe him his due.

There is no greater thing than art
to wound or soothe, its gifts impart.
One who can so ply
May on art rely
to comply from the start.

By his work the worker is praised;
Every craft is wealth, it is phrased
So beyond measure,
Art, precious treasure,
our pleasure is thus raised.

Granted by the the Companions of the Order of the Maunche, writ by the noble hands of Gryffith King of the Mighty East, and Aiketerine glorious Queen, this January the twenty-ninth anno societatis forty-five, at the Marketplace at Birka in the Barony of Stonemarch.

Notes on the piece:

Y gwaith a ganmol y gweithiwr.
(By his work the worker is praised.)

Uh GWAITH uh GAHN-mole uh GWAY-thyur.
(The AI as I in “might”, the O not *quite* as long as in “mole”, the AY as in “way”).

Cyfoeth pob crefft.
(Every craft is wealth.)

kuh-VOYTH pobe KREFT.
(The “kuh” pretty much as in “k’BOOM”, “pobe” as in “robe” but a bit shorter, the “VOYTH” like “voice” with a lisp).

About the style of the poem:
The clogyrnach [clog-ir-nach] is a Welsh quantitative verse form. It contains 32 syllables in a 6-line stanza. The first couplet contains eight syllables in each line; the second, five; the third, three. (The last couplet may be written as a single, 6-syllable line.) The rhyme scheme is aabbba.

x x x x x x x a  (8)
x x x x x x x a
x x x x b (5)
x x x x b
x x b  x x a (3)

(Thanks to Steven Mesnick for the help with the Welsh selection and pronunciation!)