Thought this might be of interest.

[Thrudheim]

Taken from "Initiation Rituals in Old Norse Texts and their Relationship to Finno-Karelian Bear Cult Rituals. a comparative approach."

 

 

Poems from Honko, Timonen and Branch, The Great Bear A Thematic Anthology of Oral Poetry in the Finno-Ugrian Languages (Oxford, 1994) pp. 183-189

 

 

43 Setting Out to Hunt

Where was the Bruin born
did the thin-haired grow
was the blue-tailed begotten?
In the dark Northland
in careful Tapiola
beside a green wood
beneath a rough branch
and the root of a dwarf spruce.
There the bear was born
the thin-haired grew up
the blue-tailed was begotten.
Guide the skier by the sleeve
direct him by the coat-skirt
lead him towards that headland
move him towards that hillock
where the quarry may be caught
and the game brought home!
Our men are children
our fellows sleepy
our dogs are mere pups.

 

44 Where Was Bruin Given Birth

Where was Bruin given birth
the bear's cub brought up?
In a little woollen box
in a little iron box.
Where was Bruin given birth
the bear's cub brought up?
On the peg of a small cloud.
How was he let down to earth?
On a nameless, quite
untouchable string.

 

45 At the Bear's Lair

Get up, sooty maid
away from the sooty fire
from the beds of evergreen:
those who take are at the doors
at the gates those who bear off.
Sift the mist now with a sieve
wave away the gloom
before the beast's brow
as I get my bow ready
and as we prepare to shoot!
The men are young, the bolts stick
up, the shooters are clumsy.
I did not intend to shoot
nor did I stalk with a gun:
you yourself strayed from the brush
you tumbled out of a tree
split your darling maw
your belly full of berries

in my hunting-days
in my game-seeking times.

 

 

46 Off You Go, Gold One

Off you go, gold one
silver one, make yourself scarce
precious one, trample a path!
Which way shall I take my guest
which way convey my darling?
I've a shed made long ago
with feet of silver
and with spurs of gold.
Beware, poor women
when I convey my darling
that no beast may disappear
none of the mistress's stock
as Bruin comes to the fire
the honey-thing to the farm.

 

47 Welcome Home, Bruin

As they come home:

Listen to this noise
this racket, shouting:
pipes shrill back from the forest
the horns of Tapio blow!
Are the old awake
those at life's end sitting up?
Will someone receive a man
and ask after a fellow?
The folk answer:
Welcome home, Bruin
come in, honeypaws!
I've been hoping all my life
all my days I've been longing
and the next generation
for my guest to come
the visitor to arrive.
Evenings at the windows I've
sat, mornings on the shed steps
stood till snow became hard ground
until the hard ground softened.
Here liquor has long been put
down, for ages barley beer
the benches washed with honey
and the floorboards swept with mead
for the coming guest
the arriving visitor.
I've been hoping all my life
all my days I've been longing
and the next generation
yes, waiting for you
like a maid for a young man
a red-cheeked one for a mate
or like a ski for fresh snow
a right ski for a firm crust
a left ski for a smooth slide.
As it is brought indoors:
Lower the threshold
and raise the door-beam
that his cap may not fall off!

Now, where shall I take my guest
whither guide my famous one?
Under the fair roof
under the famous rooftree
to the top of the pine bench.

 

48 The Bear Feast

O God! The one you gave shall
not be eaten without song
and its head borne to the tree!
Out of the Forestland we come
that is, from Tapiola;
the forest gave us a sign
that is, your spell Tapio
when I went to Forestland.

This is sung as the head and paws are taken to
the fire:

Let us be off, let us go
to the great woodpecker's fire
the beak-bird's bonfire.
There are three hooks in the hut:
one hook is an iron hook
one hook is a copper hook
and the third is a silver hook.
Go straight to the third
the good silver one
to hang from the beam
to rest on the crook.
We have the wood grouse boiling
the forest bird simmering
the capercaillie bubbling.

When it is cooked it is taken in a dish to the
house from the hut:

The cook is dead in the hut
and the cook's son in the porch
meat in mouth and bone in hand
still grasping a little knife.
Bruin, my dear bird
my fair honeypaw
come here in light shoes
in black stockings strut!
You have long been in the cold
for ages in a dim place:
come into the warm
step under the roof!

This is asked at the door:

 

Have the planks been scrubbed
have the floors been swept
and the benches wiped
and the lintels raised
and the tables laid with gold
for the Good One to come in
for the Great Man to step in?

The answer from within; the door is opened:

The floors have been swept
the planks have been scrubbed
and the benches wiped
and the lintels raised
and the tables laid with gold
for the Good One to come in
for the Great Man to step in.
The one who brings in the meat:
Don't beware of the women
and don't fear the bonnet-heads
for the women are shining
and the sons in their half-boots
the daughters adorned with tin
for the Good One to come in
for the Great Man to step in.

The meat on the table:

I put him upon clean wood
lay him down on a good board:
the boards all began to sing
and the windows to rejoice
that the Good One has come in
for the Great Man has stepped in.

When the head is removed and the meat taken
off:

Now the time has come
to crunch bones, to crack
heads and to break teeth!
The skill is carried out to be hung on the tree:
Let us be off, let us go
up the golden lane

up the silver road
where the planks are laid with silk
planks with silk, swamps with velvet
and the gates with a black rim.
The skull is fastened to the tree:
I'll not put him on a willow
nor on a sallow set him up:
I'll put him on a clean tree
on a good fir tree
on a fair pine tree
sit him facing east
tilting to the north.

When everything has been done, this is said:

There I left my handsome one
left the one I keep in mind
left to watch the moon
to admire the sun
sat him facing east
tilting to the north.
 

[hiking]

I think you posted this on the wrong site?????

[Thrudheim]

I think you posted this on the wrong site?????

 

 

What makes you say that.

[Haskell_Hunter]

What makes you say that.

 

 

There are only so many bright people on this site who have the intellectual capacity to appreciate wonderfully written historical prose.

 

I may not be one of them, but I did enjoy reading what you posted.  I hope others take the time to read all of it.

[smoking gun]

It's very touching but I'm going o be honest I have a hard time deciphering poetry and stuff yes I admit I'm a idiot

[3Blade]

I also have no problem admitting that  I too am a dolt.   I only got about 3 sentences in and my brain started to shut down! Heck, I had to google the word "prose", never heard of it till about 2 minutes ago.

[Axiom]

 

Oral Poetry

 

In layman's words.. Loon talk...

[Thunderhawk]

Sorry....but I punched out at "Tapiola"

[Haskell_Hunter]

Sorry....but I punched out at "Tapiola"

 

 

Isn't that a pudding flavor?

[Bucksnbows]

A bit of poetry right now is fitting given that yesterday was Robbie Burns' birthday.

 

 

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Thrudheim]

Humans, hunters in particular, are ritualistic creatures, always have been always will be and hunters maybe even more than normal people.

 

I thought this might be of interest some here, particularly the bear hunters considering what this paper addressed. I have the paper and have read it, some might appreciate it, others not.

 

The poems themselves are from the 18th and 19th centuries with sources going back as far as the 16th century.

[Thrudheim]

Sorry....but I punched out at "Tapiola"

 

 

Tapiola is a district of Espoo on the south coast of Finland,The name Tapiola comes from Tapio, who is the forest god of Finnish mythology.

Edited January 27, 2016 by Thrudheim

[Nomad]

I cant make it past the first paragraph, sorry.

[bwd172]

"Where was Bruin given birth

the bear's cub brought up?"

 

With the double ear tags in my bear, I'm waiting to hear just that. As for the rest, some just don't understand Norse thinking.