Lament for the Golden Rapiers
Mar. 9th, 2014 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lumineauxThe Order of the Golden Rapier (that's the East's White Scarf equivalent for those who are not Eastern) has suffered the loss of a number of members in the last few years. Most recently, last weekend, Jehan Fitzalan passed away far too soon.
King's and Queen's Bardic Championships happened yesterday. One of the components of the competition is to do a piece on an "SCA theme." I had originally planned to take a period musical piece and write some modern English SCA-themed lyrics. I did this, and one day it will be performed.
However, during my insomnia on the Monday after news of Jehan's death had circulated, while searching for something else, I found "Lament for the Makers," a poem written by the Scottish poet William Dunbar c. 1505. The poem is a tribute to dead Scottish poets as well as a meditation on the transitory nature of life. It's in 16th cen. Scots. It is beautiful. You can find the original poem here: http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poems/lament-makers
The phrase "Timor mortis conturbat me" means "Fear of death confounds/disturbs me." It is a line from the Catholic (and Anglican and Episcopalian) Office for the Dead. This line was frequently found in English and Scots poetry of the late 15th and early 16th centuries.
In honor of the OGRs who have passed, I have re-worked Dunbar's poem, still in 16th cen. Scots (thank you Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue (http://www.dsl.ac.uk/)), to honor my fallen brothers. This is what I performed yesterday.
Lest anyone think I am a better poet than I actually am, the parts actually written by me are bolded.
LAMENT FOR THE GOLDEN RAPIERS
Our plesance heir is all vane glory,
This fals warld is bot transitory,
The flesche is brukle[1], the Fend is sle[2];
Timor mortis conturbat me.[3]
The stait of man dois change and vary,
Now sound, now seik, now blith, now sary[4],
Now dansand[5] mery, now like to dee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
No stait in erd heir standis sickir[6];
As with the wynd wavis the wickir,
Wavis this warldis vanite.
Timor mortis conturbat me.
On to the ded gois all estatis,
Princis, prelotis, and potenttatis[7],
Baith riche and pur of all degre;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He takis the knychtis in to feild,
Anarmit[8] under helme and scheild;
Victour he is at all mellie[9];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
That strang unmercifull tyrand
Takis, on the moderis[10] breist sowkand,
The bab[11] full of benignite[12];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He takis the campion[13] in the stour[14],
The capitane closit in the tour,
The lady in bour[15] full of bewte;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He sparis no lord for his piscence[16],
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awfull strak may no man fle;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Art-magicianis, and astrologgis,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle[17];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
In medicyne the most practicianis,
Lechis, surrigianis, and phisicianis,
Thame self fra ded may not supple[18];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Death he hes my brethers tane,[19]
Allace! they nocht with us remane,
So schort, so quyk, our lyvys be:
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Death hes done petuously devour,
The nobell Morgunn, Aethelmearc’s flour,[20]
Of goldin ordour our prymarie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Gud Maister Patris du Chat Gris
In sepulture[21] rests lamentablie,
Gret reuth[22] it wer that so suld be;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He hes the honoured Don Michel
Slaine with his schour[23] of mortall ills;
A bettir fallow did no man se;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
In Endeweard Death hes done roune[24];
A swerds-man of great renoune,
Don Gregory enbrast hes he;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
And he hes now tane, last of aw,
Capteyne Jehan gud gentill saull,[25]
Of quham all wichtis[26] hes pete[27]:
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Sen for the deid remeid is none[28],
Best is that we for dede dispone[29],
Eftir our deid that lif may we;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
King's and Queen's Bardic Championships happened yesterday. One of the components of the competition is to do a piece on an "SCA theme." I had originally planned to take a period musical piece and write some modern English SCA-themed lyrics. I did this, and one day it will be performed.
However, during my insomnia on the Monday after news of Jehan's death had circulated, while searching for something else, I found "Lament for the Makers," a poem written by the Scottish poet William Dunbar c. 1505. The poem is a tribute to dead Scottish poets as well as a meditation on the transitory nature of life. It's in 16th cen. Scots. It is beautiful. You can find the original poem here: http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poems/lament-makers
The phrase "Timor mortis conturbat me" means "Fear of death confounds/disturbs me." It is a line from the Catholic (and Anglican and Episcopalian) Office for the Dead. This line was frequently found in English and Scots poetry of the late 15th and early 16th centuries.
In honor of the OGRs who have passed, I have re-worked Dunbar's poem, still in 16th cen. Scots (thank you Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue (http://www.dsl.ac.uk/)), to honor my fallen brothers. This is what I performed yesterday.
Lest anyone think I am a better poet than I actually am, the parts actually written by me are bolded.
LAMENT FOR THE GOLDEN RAPIERS
Our plesance heir is all vane glory,
This fals warld is bot transitory,
The flesche is brukle[1], the Fend is sle[2];
Timor mortis conturbat me.[3]
The stait of man dois change and vary,
Now sound, now seik, now blith, now sary[4],
Now dansand[5] mery, now like to dee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
No stait in erd heir standis sickir[6];
As with the wynd wavis the wickir,
Wavis this warldis vanite.
Timor mortis conturbat me.
On to the ded gois all estatis,
Princis, prelotis, and potenttatis[7],
Baith riche and pur of all degre;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He takis the knychtis in to feild,
Anarmit[8] under helme and scheild;
Victour he is at all mellie[9];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
That strang unmercifull tyrand
Takis, on the moderis[10] breist sowkand,
The bab[11] full of benignite[12];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He takis the campion[13] in the stour[14],
The capitane closit in the tour,
The lady in bour[15] full of bewte;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He sparis no lord for his piscence[16],
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awfull strak may no man fle;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Art-magicianis, and astrologgis,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle[17];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
In medicyne the most practicianis,
Lechis, surrigianis, and phisicianis,
Thame self fra ded may not supple[18];
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Death he hes my brethers tane,[19]
Allace! they nocht with us remane,
So schort, so quyk, our lyvys be:
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Death hes done petuously devour,
The nobell Morgunn, Aethelmearc’s flour,[20]
Of goldin ordour our prymarie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Gud Maister Patris du Chat Gris
In sepulture[21] rests lamentablie,
Gret reuth[22] it wer that so suld be;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
He hes the honoured Don Michel
Slaine with his schour[23] of mortall ills;
A bettir fallow did no man se;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
In Endeweard Death hes done roune[24];
A swerds-man of great renoune,
Don Gregory enbrast hes he;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
And he hes now tane, last of aw,
Capteyne Jehan gud gentill saull,[25]
Of quham all wichtis[26] hes pete[27]:
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Sen for the deid remeid is none[28],
Best is that we for dede dispone[29],
Eftir our deid that lif may we;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
[1] “brukle” = brittle, frail
[2] “the Fend is sle” = the Devil is sly
[3] “Timor mortis conturbat me” = fear of death confounds/disturbs me; a line from the Holy Office for the Dead
[4] “sary” = full of distress or sorrow; distressed, vexed, unhappy; regretful; sorrowful, sad
[5] “dansand” = dancing
[6] “No stait in erd heir standis sickir” = No rank in earth here stands secure.
[7] “potenttatis” = potentates
[8] “Anarmit” = armored, clad in armor
[9] “mellie” = melee, combat
[10] “moderis” = mother’s
[11] “bab” = babe, baby
[12] “benignite” = kindness, graciousness
[13] “campion” = champion
[14] “stour” = battle
[15] “bour” = bower
[16] “piscence” = puissance, power
[17] “Thame helpis no conclusionis sle” = skillful reasonings will not help/avail them
[18] “Thame self fra ded may not supple” = cannot save themselves from death
[19] “tane” = taken
[20] “flour” = flower
[21] “sepultre” = grave, tomb
[22] “reuth” = pity
[23] “schour” = shower
[24] “done roune” = whispered
[25] “saull” = soul
[26] “wichtis” = persons
[27] “pete” = pity
[28] “Sen for the deid remeid is none” = Since there is no remedy for death
[29] “dispone” = to prepare, make ready
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Date: 2014-03-10 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-11 11:36 am (UTC)