Wednesday 30 October 2013

Our Homeland, Beloved Ealdormere: Music and Poetry of Ealdormere's Early Years

Music and Poetry of Ealdormere's Early Years

Lament for Ealdormere
The Hunting Of The Wolf
A Song For The Place That Cannot Say Its Name
The Polestar: A Song For Ealdormere
A Tale Of The Collars
Ealdormere Battle Song
The "E" Song
The Field Battle, Pennsic XVII

Lament for Ealdormere
Words and music by Mistress Rhiannon of Wye, O.L.

Well may you weep, you maidens merry.
Well may you weep, you warriors bold.
Men by the fire and mothers nursing,
Sad news I tell: Ealdormere is dead.

She was not born of man or woman.
She was not sent by gods above.
She was the sum of all our hearts' yearning.
Bitter words: Ealdormere is dead.

Blessed by beasts of field and forest,
Blessed by all but destiny.
Fates are not kind to those who defy them,
Black their gifts. Ealdormere is dead.

Wondrous her works, but none might outlast her.
Sure her shafts, too many the foe.
Countless her friends, yet none might stand by her.
Lone she fell. Ealdormere is dead.

 Tell your sons and tell your daughters,
Tell your babes this tale of woe.
A hero was born when the world was not ready.
Brief her song, Ealdormere is dead.

 ©1986 Menya Wolfe

(This song was written to accompany the story written by Master Aedan O'Kincorra about the "Doom of Ealdormere". Mistress Rhiannon says that everyone liked it BUT Aedan, who felt it was too bleak. Her intention was to capture the moment of grief", and leave the hope and renewal to others. Clearly she was successful. Ed.)

The Hunting of the Wolf

Words and music by Baroness TSivia bas Tamara v'Amberview, O.L.
10 May XXl A.S. (1986), dedicated to "When Calontir Stands Alone"

Listen at night while the farmer lies sleeping
The horses they stamp and the cows they do low.
The trees bow their heads as the Earth is heard weeping,
All mourn the brave Timber Wolf dead in the snow.

Once proud as a symbol of people united,
How loyal her heart and how keen was her eye.
To Dragon and Crown was her loyalty plighted:
Why then did the Fates order that she must die?

No other could rival her strength or her beauty,
Beloved by all, even Ursus and Hare.
She strove to protect all who lived by the "Old Sea",
And none could find reason for her to beware.

One night as the moon lit the Timber Wolfs forest
The King and his Council did ride all for sport.
They spied the fair Wolf and did name her a fine Quest:
A pox on that King and his unthinking Court!

Fast did the fleet Wolf run, o'er hedgerow and barrow
But faster still ran the foam-flecked Royal steed.
The King himself shot off a fair feathered arrow –
No animal living could beat that shaft's speed.

The arrow struck true and the Wolf fell down dying.
No sound could be heard but the hunter's harsh breath.
Then down fell the snow as the Earth started crying,
Then all within mourned for the noble Wolfs death.

Too la te did the noble ones rue their decision,
Too late for the King to mend what was cast down.
How much was then changed by that single omission:
Forgetting humility best serves the Crown.

The bards of the "Old Sea", both rabbit and bruin
Did honour her mem'ry with smile and with tear.
And so from her ashes rose vict'ry, NOT ruin:
Waes Hael to the folk who still love (Ealdormere)!"*

* During the period when people could not speak the name of Ealdormere, this last word was mouthed by the singer, and usually screamed by the populace.

© 1986 S. Rabinovitch

A Song for the Place that Cannot Say Its Very Name

Words and music by Master Hector of the Black Height, O.L., O.P.

Look to the Northlands and follow their wand'ring,
Through forest and glen to the lakes big as seas;
Deride them or curse them, it makes little matter,
For wolves there remain, and those wolves remain free.

They look to the North, some in awe, some in anger,
They claim it as prize in their noble array:
While Southron takes broadland and thinks it a bauble,
Up North, in our forests, there's wolf cubs at play.

You cannot ignore the wild cries in the darkness,
A flickering candle or smoke from a fire;
You may turn your back, and then curse what's behind you
But we've patience aplenty - the North does not tire.

Some wolves hunt in packs; some hold ground and menace;
Some slip dark and stealthy 'twixt towering trees.
You may hunt and trap one, or even a dozen,
But hunter, think not that the pack's on its knees.

Deny us a name, ye deny us our right arm;
Like tracks in the snow, hope they'll all blow away,
But memory's long, and our wounds we are licking;
So don't tread in our forest, lest you feel fangs at play.

We look from the North, some in pain, some in pity,
From hearth-fire and household, in sword and in song;
The wolf cubs are nipping the heels of the old wolves:
The pack will be feeding down South before long.

© A.H. Mclean

This was written just after receipt of the decree that "outlawed" the region of Ealdormere and its Champion. The first verse is inscribed in runic on the Champions' Collars of Ealdormere. It was first published in The Book of the Reign of David and Tangwystl.

The Polestar: A Song for Ealdormere

Words and music by Baroness TSivia bas Tamara v'Amberview, O.L.

Retrain:
(SO) Follow the Polestar and follow the snowfall
And follow the wolf to the North,
For where silver flowers grow
'Neath a blanket of snow,
Is our homeland, beloved Ealdormere.

Argent's our land in the cold of the winter;
Clear silver the ice on the lake,
And the trillium white
Is our heart's true delight
For our homeland, beloved Ealdormere.

(Refrain)

Crimson the blood we will shed to defend her
And scarlet the fair Northern Lights
And our red twilight sky
Fills my heart and my eye
For our homeland, beloved Ealdormere.

(Refrain)

Wolven kin blest with both brav'ry and beauty,
Wolf-children howl to the wind
Telling glorious tales
Over strong mead and ale
Of our homeland, beloved Ealdormere,

(Refrain)

So sing of our dear ones and tell of our lost ones.
Remember with voice and with deed,
Tis our honour and right
To bear scarlet and white
For our homeland, beloved Ealdormere!

Final Retrain:
Follow the Polestar and follow the snowfall, A
nd follow the wolf to the North,
For where sil ver flowers grow
'Neath a blanket of snow
Is our homeland, beloved Ealdorrnere
-- Is MY Homeland, Beloved Ealdormere!

1 March XXXI A.S. (1997 C.E.), inspired by a dream

© 1997 S. Rabinovitch

A Tale of the Collars

Words and music by Master Hector of the Black Height. O.L., O.F.

Colwyn's vision, cymru lady
Gorgets gorgeous, blaze of bonfires
Done from dreaming into waking
Sparkle 'neath the seven stars

Now to Northman came new vision
Conn's own craftsman, of the eagles
Melded metals with fair jewels
Flash of Ealdormeran fire

Finely honed by house of eagles
Wildfire words it whispered far
In the glow of great North wak'ning
Sulphur blast from Sylard's forge

Cast the coals forth for a champion
Northman known to spread the fire
Granite-cleft with flames set soaring
And the moon -gilt girl beside

Came the dark times, deep and frigid
Cool turves roof the coals for now
Damp the North-forge, fan the smoke-wisp
Let the land now nurse its own

Cold concealment cast far from us
Bank the blaze and marvel more
Fast and present now united
In proud Trillium's torchlit court

Take again the brand before us
Smite the foe like flames of fire
Now as then the Northern champions
Join fair jewels in treasured times

© A. H. MacLean
The Champions' Collars of Ealdormere are the oldest pieces of Principality regalia, dating from the earliest days of hope of a Principality, and were awarded to Lord Yog Rhys Mordwyn and his consort, Lady Hanora O'Neill, and later to Lord John of Slaughterfield and Lady Dea of Carlysle. The collars were designed by Mistress Mortraeth Llanelli Colwyn, who was assisted in their design by Master Sylard of Eagleshaven. Master Sylard assisted in the manufacture of the collars.

The collars have graven on them in runic:

"Look to the Northlands and follow their wand'ring,
Through forest and glen to the lakes big as seas,
Deride them or curse them, it makes little matter,
For wolves there remain, and those wolves remain free.

After a long hiatus, the Collars of Ealdormere were presented to the Prince's and Princess' Champions in court on 23 June, A.S. XXV, and are still worn by their successors. Hector believes this was the first court a Prince and Princess of Ealdormere conducted separate from a Midrealm court. Published in The Book of the Reign of David and Tangwvstl.

Ealdormere Battle Song

Words and music by Baroness TSiviu bas Tamara v'Amberview, O.L.

Heark! In the distance the bodhrans are rumbling,
The music of war stirs the air.
The bowstrings are waxed and the broadswords are glinting:
The wolven folk ready their lair.

Chorus:

And it's hi! Ho! Hey! Cry Ealdormere!
Shoulder to shoulder we stand,
And it's hi! Ho! Hey! Cry Ealdorrnere!
Guarding our Prince and our Land.

Look overhead at the wolf standard snapping,
She's baring her teeth at the foe.
We offer our strength and our blood to protect her,
Defending our hearth and our home.

Chorus:

And it's hi! Ho! Hey! Cry Ealdormere!
Shoulder to shoulder we stand,
And it's hi! Ho! Hey! Cry Ealdormere!
Guarding our Prince and our Land.

So throw a last kiss to the one who inspires you
Then march forth for what we hold dear,
And think on the loves and the lands you're protecting:
Our homeland we call Ealdormere!

Chorus:

And it's hi! Ho! Hey! Cry Ealdormere!
Shoulder to shoulder we stand,
And it's hi! Ho! Hey! Cry Ealdormere!
Guarding our Frince and our Land.

Summer A.S. XXIII (1988 C.E.)

© 1988 S. Rabinovitch

The "E"Song

Words by Master Hector of the Black Height, O.L., O.P.
Tune of "Green Grow the Rushes-O"

1) The original version as sung until Ealdormere’s first Coronet:

I'll sing you one-a;
Hey, hey, the wolves will bay.
What is your one-a?
One for the land of Ealdorrnere and evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you two-a;
Hey, hey, the wolves will bay.
What is your two-a?
Two, two, myself and you, we wear the scarlet proudly;
And one for the land of Ealdorrnere and evermore shall be so.

<continue the pattern until the final verse>

I'll sing you ten-o
Hey, hey, the wolves will bay.
What is your ten-a?
Ten, ten, let's do it again;
Nine for Kaffa in the ditch;
Eight for the bastard Viking;
Seven for the Northern households;
Six for the Northern baronies;
Five for His Grace, Tadashi;
Four for the Lord Lieutenant;
Three, three for His Majesty;
Two, two, myself and you, we wear the scarlet proudly;
And one for the land of Ealdorrnere and evermore shall be so.

2) Subsequently it became:

Ten, ten, let's do it again;
Nine for the hundred archers;
Eight for the bastard Viking;
Seven for the Northern households;
Six for the Northern baronies;
Five for His Grace, Tadashi;
Four for His Lupine Highness;
Three, three for His Majesty;
Two, two, myself and you, we wear the scarlet proudly;
And one for the land of Ealdormere and evermore shall be so.

References to royalty are "His" or "Her" depending on who was present when we were singing. Ten is a matter of expediency. I've sung "Ten, ten, let's do it again", "Ten for vict'ry in the South", "Ten for a worthy foe and true" or anything else that seemed apropos given the setting.

Words © A.H. McLean

The Field Battle, Pennsic XVII

Words and music by Master Hector of the Black Height, O.L., O.F.

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow
Wave on rocks, wash and falter
Wave of honour, wave of tears
Fell for friends far lost and gone

Like the waves they lined that day
Wave and wave, steel and sinew
Coursed to crash on rocks and crags
That lined the breach they hoped to lop

Like the waves they laughed that day
Sea-dew sparkle on sunlit steel
Stood they, waves in serried ranks
Like the tide, turned east to roar

Carthage's son stood firm the first
Seaman, soldier, wave-point aimed
With marines and soldiers many
Poised to pounce, lines flowing free

Followed Aeden, long-armed fighter
Gray-beard girt in steel and arms
Cap of waves, the warrior captain
Waiting walk on blooded foam

Came the morning, forth the many
Waves all tumbling towards the east
Wave on wave behind fair Freemen
Signed to spend themselves full well

Came the tide surge, came cruel battle
Waves and troughs, rude crash and roar
Forward Carthage! On Kincora!
On to Eastrealm's point and edge

Towering wave cap, poised to tumble
But the broken rhythm
Ruined the symmetry of the tide race
Pierced on points of Eastern shore

Vain the struggle, and yet valiant
Wave on wave enfold, not free
Elandris fallen, foemen facing
Wounds before him, marines close by

Wave on wave, then waves fell on them
Trident seas of spears unchallenged
Lost was Grimwulf, then Alasdair
Keening Shinan standing o'er him

Roared Rhys Mordwyn, well-spring warrior
Roared o'er crashing sword and spear
"On Trimarans, On Merkfalans
"Come and race the tide today!"

Surged the east, scourged the coast
Glandydd fell, his steel still singing
As he fell 'midst many comrades
Northern waves lapped eastern legs

Forward Aeden, laughing graybeard
Saw his time come, met the moment
Gleeful captain, wave at full course
Meeting fate his wounds in front

Eastrealm circle all around them
Fate washed o'er them, fore and back
Cast was Edward far like flotsam
Lone and lanced, to fight and fall

Cast on rocks was Northern mettle
Rocks of iron, rocks of gold
Shoni's fate fell with King's guardsmen
Tide pool caught 'midst towering crags

Slain from Skraeling was their finest
Cry, for Cordigan sings no more
Shed your tears in distant Steinbach
For Northern foemen felled and still

There fell all who came campaigning
Surged in file to meet their fate
Ruddy ripples reached for succour
Distant wavelets skirt the shore

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow
Waves on rocks, wash and falter
Waves of honour, wave of tears
Fallen for the drear day gone

© A.H. McLean

HISTORICAL NOTE: The Field Battle at Pennsic XVII saw the Ealdormeran forces advancing behind the Free Militia. The plan was that the Militia would spend itself on the Eastern line, allowing the Ealdormerans, deployed in close column of two companies in line, to break through Trimaris and the Merkfalans, taking the enemy from the rear. Unfortunately, injuries on the field caused a re-start,just as the Militia met the Eastern shieldwall.

The two waves of Northmen had to return to their exposed start point; the East had seen the plan. On the second start, the Militia bogged down in a slugging match with the Eastern shieldwall. The two companies surged forward again, but had nowhere to go with the Militia checked in front of them, and had to stop, cramming the two companies together. Completely exposed on the flanks, the lines of Ealdormerans were enveloped and annihilated, in our worst defeat in recent memory. No Midrealm reserves came to the aid of the Ealdormerans, Incidentally, the Midrealm won the battle.


Among the many local heroes listed in this poem arc our commanders of that day, the legendary Baron Master Aedan o Kincora - unfortunately now inactive - and the equally famous Duke Sir Hasdrubal (the Carthaginian Marine), who led the two waves forward. Hector wrote this poem to show how the heroic traditions of Roland and Malden can be translated into the doings of the SCA. This was first published in Ursus. Also published in The Book of the Reign of David and Tanswystl.

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