Text Note: Richard Holland's alliterative poem, The Book of the Owl (c.1450) paints a surreal and satirical dreamscape in which a bestiary of birds enjoy anthropomorphic adventures of a maniacally-Medieval kind (mocking birds less than the humans they parrot). One of the strangest scenes is the parody of an imperially-Papal banquet accompanied by an equally-indulgent hymn — following which, a more than musical fight breaks out between a pair of Scots jesters and a cartoon-Gaelic bard of barbarically bare-faced boasts. Of course, our Scots-speaking poet lets his own colleagues win the day, but in passing, mentions an intriguing litany of both traditions' musical tools.
"Blessed Birdsong vs. Bardic Babble"
— excerpt from The Buke of the Howlat ed. David Laing (Edinburgh: Bannatyne, 1823), §§55-65
(Translation Copyright © 2010 by Steve Sweeney-Turner)
In crafts of the kitchen, costly of epicures.
Many savoury sauces with servers he sent,
And confections in force that physic forth fares.
Many men [eat] meats, if I should make end,
That needs not to renew all their natures;
Where such stately [men] will steer, their style to display,
You want all worth 'though wealth daily endures.
So, in the midst of the meal, in came the minstrels,
The Mavis and the Merle sing,
Ousels, and Starlings,
The blythe Lark that begins,And the Nightingales.
Jn craftis of the ketchyne, costlyk of curis.
Many sawouris sals with sewaris he send,
And confectionis on force that phisik furth furis.
Mony man metis, gif J suld mak end,
Jt neidis nocht to renewe all thar naturis;
Quhar sic statis will steir, thar stylis till ostend,
Ye wait all worschip and welth dayly induris.
Syne, at the myddis of the meit, in come the menstralis,
The Mavis and the Merle syngis,
Osillis, and Stirlingis,
The blyth Lark that begynnis,And the Nychtingales.
Were of Mary the mild; [in] this manner I vow;
"Holy temple of the Trinity, crowned in heaven!
Holy mother of our maker, and medicine of misery!
Holy succour and salve for the sins seven!
Holy aid in our agony, and base of our bliss!
Holy grain full of grace that grows so even!
Farm our seed to the site where thy son is.
Holy lady of all ladies, lightest of gleam!
Holy chamber of chastity!
Holy good-luck-charm of charity!
Holy! blessed mote thou beFor thy bairns teem.
War of Mary the myld; this maner J wis;
Haile temple of the Trinite, crovnit in hevin!
Haile moder of our maker, and medicyn of mys!
Haile succour and salf for the synnis sevyne!
Haile bute of our baret, and beld of our blis!
Haile grane full of grace that growis so ewyn!
Ferme our seid to the set quhar thi son is.
Haile lady of all ladyis, lichtest of leme!
Haile chalmer of chastite!
Haile charbunkle of cherite!
Haile! blissit mot thow beFor thi barne teme.
Holy princes that complete all prophecies pure!
Holy fulfiller of the Baptist, within thy bowels,
With Elizabeth thy aunt, against nature!
Holy splendour, most specified with the spiritual!
Holy ordained before Adam, and e'er to endure!
Holy our hope, and our help, when any harm ails us!
Holy improver of Eve in one without ire!
Holy well of our welfare! we wait for naught else;
But all commit to thee,
Soul and life, lady!
Now for thy fruit make us free,From fiends that foul are.
Haile princes that completis all prophecis pur!
Haile blythar of the Baptist, within thi bowallis,
Off Elizebeth thi ant, aganis natur!
Haile speciose, most specifyit with the spiritualis!
Haile ordanit or Adam, and ay till indur!
Haile our hope, and our helpe, quhen that harme alis!
Haile alterar of Eua in ane but vre!
Haile well of our weilfair! we wait nocht of ellis;
Bot all committis to the,
Saull and lyf, ladye!
Now for thi frute make ws fre,Fro fendis that fell is.
As thou art granter thereof, and the giver;
Now sovereign where thou sit, by thy son's side,
Send some succour down soon to the sinner!
The fiend is our felonious foe, in thee we confide,
Thou mother of all mercy, and the medium.
For us wrapped in woe in this world wide,
With thy son make thy moan to thy maker.
Now lady look to the land that thee so loyal loveth,
Thou secure throne of Solomon,
Thou worthy wand of Aaron,
Thou joyous flesh of Gideon,Us help thee behooves."
As thow art grantar tharof, and the gevar;
Now souerane quhar thow sittis, be thi sonis syd,
Send sum succour dovne sone to the synnir!
The fende is our felloune fa, in the we confide,
Thow moder of all mercy, and the menar.
For ws wappit in wo in this warld wyde,
To thi son mak thi mane and thi maker.
Now lady luke to the leid that the so leile lufis,
Thow seker trone of Salamon,
Thow worthy wand of Aaron,
Thow joyus fleis of Gedion,Ws help the behufis.
Minstrels, and musicians, more than I mention may.
The psaltery, the citoles, the soft citharist,
The cruit, and the monochords, the githorns gay;
The rotte, and the recorder, the rebec, the rist [?],
The trump, and the tambour, the tympan but three;
The lilt-pipe, and the lute, the fiddle in fist,
The dulcian, the dulcimer, the shawm of assay;
The amiable organs [?instruments] used so oft;
Clarions loud knell,
Portatives, and bells,
Cymbalums in the cells,That soundeth so soft.
Menstralis, and musicianis, mo than J mene may.
The psaltery, the sytholis, the soft sytharist,
The crovde, and the monycordis, the gittyrnis gay;
The rote, and the recordour, the ribupe, the rist,
The trumpe, and the talburn, the tympane but tray;
The lilt pype, and the lute, the fydill in fist,
The dulset, the dulsacordis, the schalme of assay;
The amyable organis vsit full oft;
Claryonis lowde knellis,
Portatiuis, and bellis,
Cymbaclauis in the cellis,That soundis so soft.
And played, as of paradise, it a point was;
In came japing the Jay, as a juggler,
With chucks, and with craftiness, a clever carrier:
He made them see, as it seemed, in the same hour,
Hunting for deer-herds, in woodlands so wild;
Sound sailing on the sea ships with towers;
Bairns [warriors] battling on board, brave as a bear;
He could carry the cup off the king's table,
While leaving it in place
Or a black bun-weed [ragwort];
He could of a hen's headMake a main meal.
And playit, as of paradys, it a poynt war;
Jn com japand the Ja, as a juglour,
With castis, and with cawtelis, a quaynt caryar:
He gart thaim se, as it semyt, in the samyn hour,
Hunting at herdis, in holtis so hair;
Sound saland on the se schippis of towr;
Bernes batalland on burde, brym as a bair;
He couth cary the cowpe of the kingis des,
Syne leve in the sted
Bot a blak bunwed;
He couth of a hennis hedMake a mane mes.
That the Corncrake, the poinder at hand,
Had poinded all his prize horses in a compound,
Because they ate of the corn in the church-land.
He could work wonders what way that he would:
Make of a grey goose a gold garland;
A long spear of a beetle for a bairn bold;
Nobles of nut shells, and silver of sand.
Thus joked with jeopardy the jingling Jay:
Fair ladies in rings,
Knights in carollings,
Both dancing and singing;It seemed as so.
That the Corne Crake, the pundar at hand,
Had pyndit all his prys hors in a pundfald,
For caus thai ete of the corne in the kirkland.
He couth wirk wounderis quhat way that he wald:
Mak of a gray gus a gold garland;
A lang sper of a betill for a berne bald;
Nobillis of nut schellis, and siluer of sand.
Thus jowkit with juperdys the jangland Ja:
Fair ladyis in ryngis,
Knychtis in caralyngis,
Boith dansis and syngis;Jt semyt as sa.
A bard out of Ireland with "Banachadee"!
Said, "Gluntow guk dynyd dach hala mischy doch;
Reach me a piece of the roast, or I shall rip thee.
Mich macmory ach mach mometir moch loch;
Set me down, give me drink; what Devil ails thee?
O' Deremyne, O' Donnall, O' Dochardy droch";
These are his Ireland kings of the Irishry:
"O' Knewlyn, O' Conochor, O' Gregre Makgrane;
The Schenachy, the Clarschach,
The Ben schene, the Ballach,
The Crekery, the Corach,I know them each one."
A bard owt of Jrland with Banachadee!
Said, Gluntow guk dynyd dach hala mischy doch;
Raike hir a rug of the rost, or scho sall ryiue the.
Mich macmory ach mach mometir moch loch;
Set hir dovne, gif hir drink; quhat Dele alis the?
O Deremyne, O Donnall, O Dochardy droch;
Thir ar his Jrland kingis of the Jrischerye:
O Knewlyn, O Conochor, O Gregre Makgrane;
The Schenachy, the Clarschach,
The Ben schene, the Ballach,
The Crekery, the Corach,Scho kennis thaim ilkane.
To speak while he spoken had, sparing no things.
The dean-rural, the Raven, reproved him then,
Bade him his lyings leave before those lordings.
The bard became brain-mad, and bitterly could swear,
"How Crow messinger", quoth he, "with sorrow now sings;
Thou issued out of Noah's ark, and to the earth waned,
Tarried as a traitor, and brought no tidings;
I sall rip thee, Raven, both guts and gall."
The dean-rural went red,
Stole for shame from the place.
The bard made a great pleaIn the high hall.
To speik quhill he spokin had, sparit no thingis.
The dene rurale, the Ravyn, reprovit him than,
Bad him his lesingis leif befor thai lordingis.
The barde worth brane wod, and bitterly couth ban,
How Corby messinger, quoth he, with sorowe now syngis;
Thow ischit out of Noyes ark, and to the erd wan,
Taryit as a tratour, and brocht na tythingis;
J sall ryiue the, Ravyne, baith guttis and gall.
The dene rurale worthit reid,
Stawe for schame of the steid.
The barde held a grete pleidJn the hie hall.
The Peewit, and the crazy Cuckoo, and made hiddy-giddy;
Rushed both to the bard, and tugged at his hair;
Called him thrice thief's-neck, to throttle in a noose.
They defiled [him] from the forehead to the foot there:
The bard, stained like a sneak smeared in a smithy,
Ran fast to the door, and gave a great roar;
Sought water to wash him there out in an eddy.
The lords laughed up-aloft, and liking they had,
That the bard was so beat;
The fools fooled in the room,
And much mockery as was meteOn the floor made.
The Tuchet, and the gukkit Golk, and yeid hiddy giddy;
Ruschit baith to the bard, and ruggit his hair;
Callit him thrys thevisnek, to thrawe in a widdy.
Thai fylit fra the fortope to the fut thar:
The barde, smaddit lyke a smaik smorit in a smedy,
Ran fast to the dure, and gaif a gret rair;
Socht wattir to wesche him thar out in ane ydy.
The lordis leuch apon loft, and lyking thai had,
That the barde was so bet;
The fulis fonde in the flet,
And mony mowis at meteOn the flure maid.
Notes on this 2010 Edition: My source for the Scots text was David Laing's edition of The Buke of the Howlat (Edinburgh: Bannatyne, 1823: §§55-65), which I also checked against the standard Scottish Texts Society's edition by F.J. Amours in Alliterative Scottish Poems (Edinburgh: Blackwood, 1897: 71-75), along with that in Bawcutt & Riddy's Longer Scots Poems Vol.1 (Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1987: 73-77). Turns out that Laing's pretty-much spot on. My preference for following his edition was that he seems to follow his source's original layout and fuller medieval orthography than most other editions, such as using the archaic " J " for capital " I ". However, I've modernised all other Medieval characters per se, not least the "long-S" ( ſ ) as "s", and "yogh" ( ȝ ) as "y" rather than the misleading "z" that so many folks seem to prefer. Laing's two sources for his edition were the similar versions recorded in the Asloan Manuscript (c.1515) and the legendary Bannatyne Manuscript (c.1568), both now in the National Library of Scotland (MS.16500 and Adv.MS.1.1.6, respectively).
The translation given above is my own, and is not intended as a stand-alone version, but as a reading guide. My two main objectives here were to retain etymologies where possible and also to reproduce as much of Holland's original alliteration as I could. Unavoidably, this has meant sacrificing the beat in a fair few places, but I think the end result justifies my decision. If you want to ignore my translation, you might find the online Dictionary of the Scots Language a handy companion.
Holland's lists of musical instruments (and types of musicians) present a few problems of interpretation. This has given rise to a right old pile of flabby mince spread by non-musicologists and non-Scots-speakers alike. For now, I've left Holland's terms pretty much as they are for the Lowland terms in verse 59, and entirely as they are for the mock-Gaelic terms in verse 62. But the interpretational issue derives from a double problem of translation and philology — so far as I can tell, I'm the first eejit to attempt translating even a short passage of The Book of the Owl, let alone the musical section. And most previous editions and commentaries merely cherry-pick the easier words for explanation, leaving the reader totally baffled over the rest. So, at some point soon, I'll try and do the full job that most folks seem to have given such a wide (although perhaps also wise!) body-swerve. Until then, I'm afraid you're on your own with the mince. ;-)