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[Poem 1] [Documentation 1]
[Poem 2] [Documentation 2] [Bio]
The Young Boy
Being a ballad written in traditional form, based on an encounter between a very young Aiden Wystle and a Duke
The young boy he took up his sword
From wood it had been made-o
And his wee targe of good leather
And battle then he played-o.
"Mother wield thy cooking spoon,
That you and I might battle,
For though I am a young boy yet
I still would prove my mettle."
"My son, my spoon is for the soup,
And is not meant for battle,
Go find your father in the hall,
And 'gainst him test your mettle."
"Father, bravely hold they flute,
That you and i might battle,
For though I am a young boy yet,
I still would test my mettle."
"My son, this flute's for music made,
And is not meant for battle,
I must play music for our guests,
Go, elsewhere prove your mettle."
"Cousin, take some kindling there,
That you and I may battle,
For though I am a young boy yet,
I still would test my mettle."
"Cousin, the kindling's for the fire,
And is not meant for battle
I must chop more before the night,
I cannot test your mettle."
Then down the young boy threw his sword
And his good shield together.
Saying, "No one here will fight with me,"
He sat down in the heather.
Then up there spoke an honored guest,
A Duke of many battles,
"Take up your sword and shield, young boy,
And 'gainst me test your mettle."
The wooden sword and leather shield
With an oak cane made battle,
And with advice from the kind duke,
The young boy proved his mettle.
[Poem 1] [Documentation 1]
[Poem 2] [Documentation 2] [Bio]
Documentation
"The Young Boy" is written in the form of a ballad, a story-telling verse form consisting of stanzas of four lines alternating eight and six syllables per line. In a ballad the story is generally furthered either through action or dialogue. Although I grew up listening to ballads, I learned the specifics of the form from Master Ruaidhri an Cu. This particular ballad was written in the space of a week, as an assignment set me by Master an Cu, to whom I am apprenticed.
The story of this ballad is rather loosely based on something which happened at Pennsic XXXI. I was passing an afternoon with my friends, and we were joined by the founder of their House, a Duke. My friends' son was less than 18 months old at the time, and very busy. He had a stuffed cloth toy sword and shield, and he got these out of his toy box and then walked into the center of the circle of seated adults, looking for someone to play with. When he spotted the Duke, he immediately headed over to him and presented him with the toys, clearly indicating that this was the person he wanted to play with him. We all thought it was hilarious, and the boy was well satisfied because the gentle he chose as his opponent is both a father and grandfather and so knew exactly how to play. This is one of my favourite moments from that Pennsic; I decided that with a little tweaking of the situation and the child's age, it would make a passable ballad.
[Poem 1] [Documentation 1]
[Poem 2] [Documentation 2] [Bio]
A Race in Ponte Alto
Being a sestina written at Ponte Alto’s Day at the Races
It being autumn in Altantia,
And peaceful people seeking cheer,
The Barony Ponte Alto held a race,
Inviting every rider and his steed
To come and show their prowess on the track,
And all to come enjoy a festive day.
Bright shone the sun on the appointed day.
Folk traveled there from all Atlantia.
Her HIghness led a parade upon the track,
And from the crowd there rose a mighty cheer
As every rider waved from top his steed
Processing in for to begin the race.
The crowd watched as race came after race,
Passing quickly as passed the day.
Every rider urged on his noble steed,
To win the race, win glory in Atlantia.
The gathered people raised up a cheer
Each time the horses passsed by on the track.
At last it came to two upon the track,
Time had come for a semi-final race.
The sight of these competitors gave all cheer;
Dressed find in gold and green upon that day,
Conor and Seamus raced there in Atlantia,
Each noble man upon a fine, strong, steed.
The trumpets cried, forward surged the steeds,
But joy turned quick to fear upon the track.
For Conor's charger, a fine horse of Atlantia,
Stumbled and fell while bounding in the race.
Nervously watched those gathered on that day,
A silent crowd, lost all thoughts of cheer.
Then from the crowd there came a sudden cheer!
Beside Conor did Seamus halt his steed.
Chivalry was in bloom that autumn day,
As two men on one horse circled the track,
And Conor, riding first, thus won the race.
Truly the finest race e'er held in Atlantia!
For courtesy this day then raise a cheer,
Shown in Atlantia by noble men and steeds,
Upon the track in Ponte Alto's race.
[Poem 1] [Documentation 1]
[Poem 2] [Documentation 2] [Bio]
Documentation
This poem is a sestina, a form developed by French poets in the 12th century but used by Italian poets in the period leading up to the Renaissance. A sestina consists of six stanzas of six lines followed by an envoi of three lines. Each line of the six stanzas, and each half-line of the envoi, ends with one of six non-rhyming words. The order of these words changes with each stanza.
Traditionally, the topic of a sestina was love or romance; unsurprising as those who developed it were troubadours. Clearly, this is not the theme of my sestina. I had intended to write one focusing on a traditional topic for the bardic competition at Ponte Alto's Day at the Races, but had found myself uninspired. I took a break from attempting to catch a muse and went to watch the very exciting horse races. It was there that I witnessed the events which I set down in verse. Although the sestina is not generally used as a narrative form, the combination of the praise-worthy actions I had just witnessed and the structure of a sestina being fresh in my mind drove me to write a story-sestina.
[Poem 1] [Documentation 1]
[Poem 2] [Documentation 2] [Bio]
Medieval Bio
Lady Ana Bek is a young woman from the eastern part of Scotland. She desires to live in Edinburgh, but at the moment finds herself in this kingdom of Atlantia, where she has had the good fortune to find a fellow Scot who has taken her as his apprentice.
Mundane Bio
Megan Brett has lived up and down the East Coast. She is currently in-between college degrees, living and working in Northern Virginia, but she hopes soon to go to Scotland to become even more over-educated.
[Poem 1] [Documentation 1]
[Poem 2] [Documentation 2] [Bio] |
