[Bards] Englyn Resources

Catrin ferch Maelgwn ladycatrin at gmail.com
Thu Jul 19 13:33:21 PDT 2007


Gwenllian's Poetry Primer, online at
http://home.comcast.net/~bryant.katherine/primer.html has a nice
rundown of the various forms, along with a good explanation of
cynghanedd (eek!) and a bibliography under "sources" to get you
started.  Sadly, I haven't yet been able to find or acquire any of
those books myself, but I'm told they're excellent sources.

The first englyn form I learned, and the one I seem to go back to most
often, is the englyn penfyr.  It's got a nice, subtle rhyme scheme
that lends itself well to poetic storytelling.  Just for kicks, I'll
include a couple of examples of my own amateurish attempts for you to
peruse.  If you have any questions about anything, do feel free to
contact me, and I will try my best to help.  I'll do anything I can to
encourage more Welsh poetry. :)

In service,
Catrin ferch Maelgwn
(examples below, and a few more englynion and cywyddau can be found at
my outdated web page: http://greathousesterling.com/kat-welshness.htm)

Brithwyr du - englyn penfyr
(please note that in this piece, I've employed iambic stresses--this
is my own addition and not a common or required aspect of Welsh
poetry, which concerns itself more with rhyme scheme and syllable
count than with meter.)


Caer Arianrhod, silver-white, is brushed
Like dust upon the blue night
Shining--there, in stately light,
Her starry throne o'erlooks the sighing sea.

Three days past, the morning shook
With distant drums; I rose to look
Beyond our halls, where clouds sped from the North
Ashore, and swiftly.  Some dread
Battle-song below was bred,
And scaled the towered stones to meet my ears.

Fear cast off, I armed to greet
My duty, though it may be
Death; a chieftain's daughter wants no finer fate.
Straight I sought to answer,
Then, the voice that climbed the ramparts
And issued its brash challenge from the shore.

Lorn and low and wild it called,
A heathen hymn of battle-skalds
Like those in tales we speak by winter's fire.
Higher rose the fevered cry
Til, dark against a scarlet sky,
The warrior-singer crossed my sight at last.

He grasped, with terrible might,
Both mace and shield, and he plied
His warfare with an ice-bitten fury.
Wreathed in pale sky-flame, his eyes
Outshone the song that would rise
To deafening roar as I neared the fight.

Might is no match for the spear-
maiden's heart, who knows no fear
>From any foe, nor lives to give her ground.
Proud, then, I faced him.  He turned
His eyes, that flashed as mine burned.

Might is no match for the spear-maiden's heart!
Sharp wounds cannot stay her, blades
Cannot halt her--unafraid,
She faces death, and every mortal pain.
What strange magics, then, were born
Between my eyes and his, that tore
My breath from out my lungs with bloodless blow?
Low and lorn, he singing stood,
Spellcraft twisting what it would
>From one lost moment in the grip of time.
Then rhyme and all to darkness slipped--
The song died there upon his lips
As I went falling to the field of war.

Now morning nears, and day will yield
A foreign tongue, and foreign shields,
And home is many leagues of blue behind.
Shining Arianrhod, too,
Is pale, and as a world removed,
>From where I lie awake beneath the wind.
In her fashion, she will speak
As wood and rigging softly creak,
But I am lonely for a warmer sound.

Then, around me, two strong arms
Come carefully, and no harm
Lurks behind the eyes that shine a deeper blue
By moonlight's hand.  Singing sleep-
Songs beside my ear, he keeps
Me close, through morning's chill and graying dawn.

Longships cut the churning waves
Where clouds and sails all billow brave,
And courage falters, and prepares to flee,
Then he is at my side, and there
He catches me, with steady stare,
And I am lost and found and lost again.
Endlessly, my heart is tossed
Upon the sea that I have crossed,
Contained within the stare that captured me.

I see the answer waiting there--
I know not what, but only where.

* * *

And for an example of another englyn form, here's an "englyn unodl union"-

To Wake The Stars

Go with me into the far field tonight;
Help me to wake the stars.
When first you sang in my arms,
They raised their heads from the dark
To listen.  Lay with me, now, in the twilight,
Close to the whispering bough,
To give the night her harp and crown,
And her silver plough.
Then pray let me sigh on your shoulder,
And sleep to the hush of your words,
Then I will have my songbird
And the night will shine for hers.


On 7/19/07, Quill <gray.quill at gmail.com> wrote:
> Greetings fellow Bards,
> Is there anyone about who has access to - or has in his or her possession -
> some resources for information and samples on the *period* use of the Welsh
> englyn poetic forms. Preferably I would have information in English, or at
> least with decent (and thorough) English translations.
>
> I don't hold out much hope for English examples, although if anyone is
> proficient in the execution of this form and could provide me with their own
> englynion I'd be honoured.
>
> Links to good websites are welcome, but even better would be if there are
> people with books on or including the subject.
>
> --
> In service to The Dream,
> Cuillioc "Quill"  /|\
>
> _______________________________________________
> Bards mailing list
> Bards at lists.ansteorra.org
> http://lists.ansteorra.org/listinfo.cgi/bards-ansteorra.org
>



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