Monday, May 25, 2015

For Quilliam III and Domhnail II

Upon his victory at Crown Tournament

By THLaird Colyne Stewart, May AS 50 (2015)

A wolfen duke he was, a countess bold was she,
Down Rising Waters way, they went with sword and shield,
Her favour bore he well upon contested field,
His arm was strong and true, the foe-blood flowed so free,
All who came before him, were forced to take a knee,
Tormot for raven won the northlands golden crown,
Put it where she glad sat, well clad in silken gown,
And made his lady proud, princess for all to see.

Written as a non-strict copla de arte mayor.

Arte mayor is a line of nine or more syllables, though it is also the name of a strophe made up of such lines. The basic pattern was 12-beat verse divided into two hemistichs of six beats each and having triple rhyme. The primary and secondary stress beats of each hemistich are supplied by accented syllables while the unstressed beats between them are supplied by two unaccented syllables. The remaining unstressed beats may each be supplied by one or two unaccented syllables or a rest beat. However, this pattern was not always strictly followed.

They were normally collected into groups of 8 lines (called copla de arte mayor) and rhymed abbaacca.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Poems for Feast at Septentrian Investiture AS 50 (2015)

By THLaird Colyne Stewart


When blossoms blow upon sweet breeze
The bear awakes from slumber’s ease
To walk upon the grass now grown
And gambols where the sparrow’s flown
Past bees about their busy work
Approaches wary to the hive
And smears sweet honey on its smirk
So happy just to be alive


Hot, bright, the sun of summer tide
As bear in ocean’s water slides
Past sea behemoth’s massive grin
And swims around the great fish fins
To scoop up prey within its paws
Bright sunlight glinting on the shell
So pink and hard with stalks and claws
In ursine stomach sent to dwell


Some men and women work the field
To gather up the ripened yield
While bear goes chasing after game
Through branch and bramble, both the same,
To feast on meat, to put on fat
For lo the wheel of time still turns
And sun approaches hilltop flat
Swift setting on the gourds and kerns


The snow lays quiet on the land
And covers lake and field and sand
Like icing on a lordling’s cake
The snow grows deeper, flake by flake
And through this scene dances the bear
With both its kin, and white-black birds
Like sugar breath puffs in the air

But feast now, no more time for words! 

Poem for Grom Meinfretr's Barony Scroll

Weather of wolves      winter-spear dying
Elf-glory rises              enlightening thegn
Heavy the arm-ring     hardy his sinew
Ring-giver rightly        roaring his blood-worm
Honour-fed honey-claw          hero of clan-kin
Blood-ember burier     Bold spear-dancer
Head-ring adorns him             hanged-god’s favoured
Faces now future        following uncut thread

With kennings footnoted:

Weather of wolves[1]     winter-spear[2] dying
Elf-glory[3] rises                        enlightening thegn
Heavy the arm-ring     hardy his sinew
Ring-giver rightly        roaring his blood-worm[4]
Honour-fed honey-claw[5]        hero of clan-kin
Blood-ember[6] burier    Bold spear-dancer[7]
Head-ring[8] adorns him                        hanged-god’s[9] favoured
Faces now future        following uncut thread[10]

[1] Harsh winter
[2] Icicle
[3] The sun
[4] Sword
[5] Bear, referring to Grom as being Septentrian
[6] Axe
[7] Warrior
[8] His baronial coronet
[9] Odin
[10] Unfilled destiny, meaning there is more in store for Grom to accomplish