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Thanks, friends. I'm afraid I flunk the Silmarillion quiz. But I have a nephew in law who has read it 20 times!
Happy trails, Janice. Birka shows up in histories as a great trading depot, including for the trade in captured Frankish and English people carried down the Volga and on to Baghdad. |
Sadly that is true, though in the Swedish histories it is ignored and they are called tradesmen and merchants. People get very upset at the mention of slave trade and human sacrifice and deny it vehemently. All countries whitewash their histories and their religions.
In fact the word "slave" comes from "Slav" because so many Slavic people were enslaved by the Vikings and carried off to the Muslim countries where, (we shall suppose) their descendants are faithful practitioners of Islam today. They should not be romanticized, the Vikings. Mr. Putin might well have some of their less desirable genes. What's more, (as I'm, sure you also know, Bill) Russia was founded by the fierce Rus who were none other than another strain of Vikings. Via the Norman branch not only England was conquered but also Italy conquered and united. If the colony on Newfoundland had survived who knows what world politics would have looked like today. Maybe not much different. The human race isn't a very nice success story. (Can someone please gag that woman who just goes on and on?) |
Thanks, Janice. (What lightweights, those guilty Swedes.)
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Thank you, Angela, for commenting. I found a copy of this book close to home at a decent price and have ordered it. If you liked it, I'm sure I will too.
I don't know if there is a connection between the two books. The Herbert book is titled "Looking for the Lost Gods of England" and the Branston book is titled simply "The Lost Gods of England". I'll let you know how they compare when the Branston book arrives. Should be sometime this week. |
I will be interested to know how they compare. Branston is a scholar and there are academic papers of his that I've seen online but his writing style is easy to read. I found 'The Lost Gods of England' very interesting as he makes a case for a split between the norse and english gods, and their mythology going in different directions, informed by environment.
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I would be interested to know more about this too. Easter is famously named for a pagan goddess of whom we know practically nothing.
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I have two items I'd like to document in this thread, items I stumbled over in the course of my haphazard reading.
The first is from a little dictionary I took with me on my recent Viking sighting expedition: "Vikingatidens ABC", which might be rendered in English to somthing like "ABC of the Viking Age". (The observant will note the "tidens" in the title which is (tid) the same root that appears in the -tide of Yuletide and Eastertide--I digress.) With reference to my musings and Tim's (post 18) Quote:
Allfader, ett av Odens epitet. Förekommer i isländsk skaldediktning och bl a i eddadikten "Grimnismål". I "Snorres Edda" är A. den främste och äldste av gudarna. This entry is authored by CO Carin Orrling, antiquary at the Swedish History Museum. Quick translation: All-father, one of the epithets applied to Odin. It occurs in court poetry and (among other places) in the Eddaic poem "Grimnismål". In "Snorres Edda" Allfather is the foremost and eldest of the gods. Note: The translation of "skadediktning" to "court poetry" follows "A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture", edited by Rory McTurk. The second item I'd like to document is from "Women in Medieval English Society" by Mavis E. Mate. Quote: (...) During the second half of the twelfth century literate women turned from Latin to French and command of the Latin language and grammar disappeared, even from the nunneries (Orme, 1984: 158-60). The court of Eleanor of Aquitaine, as she moved from Poitiers to England and back, played a dominant role in the promotion and diffusion of the ideals of troubador lyric poetry and became the catalysing factor in the integration of Celtic myths into continental literature (Lazar 1976). By the end of the fourteenth century, however, French was ceasing to be the spoken and literary language of gentility and writers such as Chaucer and Langland had shown the power and flexibility of the native tongue. (...) This seems pertinent because one can extrapolate that in a similar way, in an earlier age, the oral Beowulf was transported from court to court by entertaining bards and when it finally came to be written down the religion of the original stories had been changed--in keeping with the times. Again I want to stress that I am not declaring a scholarly breakthrough :), but simply re-stating my suspicions that Beowulf, though transcribed in English, is an old oral poem that retains relicts of its Scandinavian and pagan origins: Allfather Odin morphed to the Christian Allfather, Loki morphed to Cain, and that damnably joyful raven is a typo. :rolleyes: I haven't yet delved "The Lost Gods" so I may be back. :eek: |
I finally worked my way down the stack to "The Lost Gods of England" and it is exactly the reference I needed. I recommend it to anyone interested in the subject and send my eternal gratitude to Angela France.
Among other helpful items it mentions that the Allfather attribution is not to Odin but to the god Tiwaz who preceded him and usurped him (Tuesday and Wednesday, Tiwaz and Odinn/Odin/Woden but that's an off-track note). Tiwaz (under his many Indo-European names) was the original Sky-God who fertilized the Earth Mother. Our Indo-European heritage is always with us. On the original topic of this thread I can say I got grist for my mill re the theory that Beowulf (the version we know) was a Christianized poem that had its roots in the pagan Sweden--this was perhaps not done by monk scribes as I suspected, but by time and devout converts. Quote:
Anyway, I'm having a great time. Including being made more steadfast in my belief that religion fulfills a primitive need and it's all superstitious bunkum. How sad for those lads who martyred themselves in Syria, how sad for the Christians et up by the lions, how sad for all the evangelists backing Israel because they hope for the Apocalypse, how sad for all of mankind who has endured death and destruction down the ages from altar sacrifices (there is a link between Iphigenia and the Aztec prisoners) to placate the gods and warred throughout the ages. Quote:
There are many translation of Cesar Vallejo's poem below, but the one I like best is (of course) the one I first read which was by Michael Hamburger. Los dados eternos / The Eternal Dice God of mine, I am weeping for the life that I live; I am sorry to have stolen your bread; but this wretched, thinking piece of clay is not a crust formed in your side: you have no Marys that abandon you! My God, if you had been man, today you would know how to be God, but you always lived so well, that now you feel nothing of your own creation. And the man who suffers you: he is God! Today, when there are candles in my witchlike eyes, as in the eyes of a condemned man, God of mine, you will light all your lamps, and we will play with the old dice … Gambler, when the whole universe, perhaps, is thrown down, the circled eyes of Death will turn up, like two final aces of clay. My God, in this muffled, dark night, you can’t play anymore, because the Earth is already a die nicked and rounded from rolling by chance; and it can stop only in a hollow place, in the hollow of the enormous grave. This was a long thread, but hopefully it is completed now. Even though I didn't find compelling proof that the "joyful raven" is a corruption. Thanks all who took part. Adding in: the original magnificent poem. Dios mío, estoy llorando el ser que vivo; me pesa haber tomádote tu pan; pero este pobre barro pensativo no es costra fermentada en tu costado: ¡tú no tienes Marías que se van! Dios mío, si tú hubieras sido hombre, hoy supieras ser Dios; pero tú, que estuviste siempre bien, no sientes nada de tu creación. ¡Y el hombre sí te sufre: el Dios es él! Hoy que en mis ojos brujos hay candelas, como en un condenado, Dios mío, prenderás todas tus velas, y jugaremos con el viejo dado. Tal vez ¡oh jugador! al dar la suerte del universo todo, surgirán las ojeras de la Muerte, como dos ases fúnebres de lodo. Dios míos, y esta noche sorda, obscura, ya no podrás jugar, porque la Tierra es un dado roído y ya redondo a fuerza de rodar a la aventura, que no puede parar sino en un hueco, en el hueco de inmensa sepultura. - Cesar Vallejo |
It's the Branston book you're recommending, I take it? Thanks for scouting this trail!
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