THE ROWAN CANTICLES - Canticle II - Canto VII - Birthplace
A Tale Told in the Ancient Manner
The Rowan Canticles is an epic poem written in doggerel tetrameter. In other words, although each line contains eight syllables and rhymes with other lines nearby, like Shakespeare, I’ve used enjambment (one line spilling over into the next) here and there, especially in dialog sections. Mostly, though, I’ve striven for iambic tetrameter, which makes for a nice rhythm. You’ll notice that couplets, quatrains and other rhyme schemes refresh with each long Canticle. The old school language of The Rowan Canticles can be dense, but hey, it’s fun and it fits the fantasy.
Each week I will post a fresh Canto here at Substack, adding to the story. You’ll find ninety-nine Cantos in all contained in the three Canticles. The work is 13,000 lines long, about the length of Homer’s The Odyssey.
I hope you enjoy it!
Odds Bodkin
Don’t forget to download the companion Glossary below for definitions of archaic words to smooth your read!
CANTO VII
BIRTHPLACE
"Around all things a spirit waits,
A weave so soft, mere thoughts impress
Their weightless meaning on its plaits.
Actions, too--all their force and stress--
Perturb this substance all the more."
So mused Gudrunlod, wise and young,
As she surveyed the moldered floor
And marveled that some pots still hung
Above a bowl blown full of leaves
Where beetles prayed with crisscrossed legs,
Lifeless and crisp. "True, when one grieves,
One of that spirit gently begs
Its all-remem'bring synchrony.
I guess ‘tis here their spirits dwell,
In these old nets and pottery."
She walked out to the shallow well.
Beside it spread a grassless scar,
A perfect circle made of sand.
"I swear by all things near and far
And by the magic of my hand,
You, poisoned ground, shall bloom again.
For I will purge you of your curse."
She felt its edge, recoiled and then
Sighed: "’Tis so deep. Yes, far, far worse
Than those blood-spells my father wrought.
Disgusting, that it here should squat
In view of what I've so long sought."
She faced the hut, its fence and plot,
And listed tasks across her mind:
"First, fix the floors and then the doors.
The gardens, weeded and refined.
Dig up rootstock for winter's stores.
Replace some thatch. A ladder build.
Oh, find the boat if it still floats.
An ox pen build. Buy bagged wheat, milled.
I'd do well, too, to buy some goats
For cheese and whatnot. Stuff the bed.
Search soon to gather up some plants,
Duckflax, p'raps even some Crone's Head,
If that herb grows here'bouts, by chance.
Then you I'll find, my lovely man,
Who stole that gold from those two swine,
If that you did. And, if I can
Your stubborn heart I'll soon entwine."
As she felt thrills down in her womb,
She spied a grease spot on her blouse
And thought, “Yes, better fix the loom,"
Then walked into her parents’ house.
Next Week: CANTO VIII
Talking with Big Gald, Devlin learns that a strange girl has arrived in town and is now out at the Marshes.