"Not even not wrong" Email to: michaelpeverett@live.co.uk
Sunday, June 11, 2023
A butterfly in Haga
Gustav III's summer pavilion. Hagaparken, 16 August 2023.
Om Haga, dedicerat till herr kaptenen Kirstein
On Haga
Dedication: to Captain Kirstein
1.
C G7 C Fjäriln vingad syns på Haga
Dm7 G7 C
mellan dimmors frost och dun
C G7 C sig sitt gröna skjul tillaga
Dm G7 C och i blomman sin paulun.
Am Dm Minsta kräk i kärr och syra,
G7 C nyss av solens värma väckt,
C G7 C till en ny högtidlig yra
Dm G7 C eldas vid sefirens fläkt.
(Singable translation:)
Wingèd butterfly in Haga
through the fogs and flurries sped,
making in the green its harbour
and within the bloom its bed.
Smallest flies of marsh and mire
new awakened by the sun
come full-charged with high desire
by the gentle Zephyr won.
(Literal translation:)
The wingèd butterfly is seen at Haga
between the mists' frost and snow-flurries (SAOB dun 2b = snöfjun, light snowflakes)
to prepare itself its green refuge
and in the flower its bed. (SAOB paulun 3, the word (related to "pavilion") most often meant tent but was often extended to the hangings of four-poster bed. )
The least insect in marsh and mire (SAOB syra 3)
just awoken by the sun's warmth
to a new festal enthusiasm
is fired by Zephyr's breath (i.e. the west wind. SAOB fläkt II.1, a gentle breath of wind)
2.
Haga i ditt sköte röjes gräsets brodd och gula plan. Stolt i dina rännlar höjes gungande den vita svan. Längst ur skogens glesa kamrar höras täta återskall än från den graniten hamrar, än från yx i björk och tall.
(Singable translation:)
Haga now within your precincts
green grass shoots in yellowed fields.
Proudly on your waters streaming
to and fro the white swan wheels.
From the distant wood's thin chambers
are repeated echoes heard,
now the granite rung by hammers,
now the axe on birch and fir.
Literal translation:
Haga, in your lap is revealed
the grass's new shoots and yellow field. (SAOB brodd II, the young shoot of a plant esp from seed. NB brodd I means a sharp spike or point i.e. on a tool. The Swedish word plan is related to both "plain" and "plan". The normal word for a football or cricket pitch. Also a level area in front of a building, such as a lawn. Presumably yellow after winter snow cover? "gula plan" is definitive. In modern Swedish it would be "gula planen", and likewise, in the fourth line, "den vita svanen".)
Proudly in your rills is raised (i.e. its neck)
rocking (back and forth) the white swan.
From afar out of the wood's thin chambers (i.e. glades)
are heard repeated echoes
now the granite rung with hammers,
now from axe in birch and pine. (Referring to the king's construction projects at Haga.)
3.
Se Brunnsvikens små najader höja sina gyllne horn, och de frusande kaskader sprutas över Solna torn. Under skygd av välvda stammar på den väg man städad ser, fålen yvs och hjulen dammar — bonden milt åt Haga ler.
(Singable translation:)
See Brunnsviken's little naiads
lifting up their golden horns,
and the fountain cascades higher
than the tower of Solna borne.
Underneath the tall trees' arches
on the road so smooth and clean,
striding colt and dust from cartwheels,
Haga makes the farmer beam.
(Literal translation:)
See Brunnsviken's little naiads (Brunnsviken, lake forming the eastern border of Haga park)
raise their golden horns
and the spouting cascades
flung higher than Solna tower. (i.e the impressive round tower of Solna church, just to the SW of Haga park)
Under shade of vaulted stems (i.e. tree canopy)
on the neat road one sees
the young horse frolic and the wheels' dust, (SAOB fåle is from the same root as föl (foal), but it means something different: a young horse (up to three years old), as opposed to a fully working horse. The male gender is often implied, so maybe "colt" is a near equivalent in English).
the farmer mildly smiles at Haga.
4.
Vad gudomlig lust att röna inom en så ljuvlig park, då man hälsad av sin sköna ögnas av en mild monark! Varje blick hans öga skickar, lockar tacksamhetens tår — rörd och tjust av dessa blickar, själv den trumpne glättig går.
(Singable translation:)
What a joy it is that meets me
entered in this lovely place
when my fair one comes to greet me
'neath a kindly monarch's gaze!
Every glance the royal eye sends
draws a tear of gratitude;
moved and charmed by such enticements
even sorrow walks renewed.
(Literal translation:)
What heavenly happiness to experience
within such a lovely park
when one greeted by his beloved
is overseen by a mild monarch!
Every glance his eye sends
draws gratitude's tear --
moved and charmed by those glances
even the joyless walk with a spring. (SAOB trumpen, glädtig)
(Fredmans sånger, n:o 64)
Haga Park, location of the never-completed summer palace of Gustaf III (1746 - 1792), in northern Stockholm on the western shore of Brunnsviken. Designed as an "English" landscape park.
Carl Michael Bellman (1740 - 1795), Swedish songwriter. This song is from 1791.
How great it is that the SAOB (Svenska Akademiens Ordbok) is freely accessible to all!(https://www.saob.se/). (Not so the OED. And I discovered this week that Somerset libraries have now "pruned" their subscription to the OED, which I've depended on for years.)
The chords are just for guidance. I sing it in Eb, so chords as above but with the capo at the third fret.
One of Bellman's best-known songs. Here's how it goes, in a beautiful rendition by Elina:
I think this was the version played on Radio 3 Breakfast on 6 June 2023, in celebration of Sweden's National Day (and 500 years of independence). Elina sings all four verses, but the last verse is often left out, e.g. in the popular songbook Sjung Svenska Folk! (In this last verse the original purpose of the song shows through: royal flattery aimed at procuring a job at Haga for Bellman's wife.)
Here's my own rendition. Not as beautiful as Elina's, but I was pleased to have managed it at all!
Stora pelousen (The Great Lawn) at Hagaparken. An English-style gently sloping lawn that required a lot of re-engineering of the natural landscape. 16 August 2023.
Small Balsam (Impatiens parviflora, Sw: Blekbalsamin). Hagaparken, 16 August 2023.
A sometimes troublesome weed in Sweden, this is about as far north as it gets.
Stinkhorns (Phallus impudicus). Hagaparken, 16 August 2023.
Dancing in the Temple of the Echo. Hagaparken, 16 August 2023.
The temple of the echo (Ekotemplet), built in 1790. Our voices boomed back and forth, but even more impressive was the machine-gun rattle when we stamped sharply on the floor. I wonder if it suggested the "täta återskall" in Verse 2 of Bellman's song.
Black Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia). Frome, 3 June 2023.
In early June, the miracles come along so thick and fast we easily miss them. Here's two.
In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judaea,
And saying, Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
For this is he that was spoken of by the prophet Esaias, saying, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
And the same John had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins; and his meat was locusts and wild honey.
(Matthew 3:1-4)
Most likely John the Baptist was living off insects, perhaps the Desert Locust (Schistocerca gregaria). (They are still a popular food, considered halal and kosher in the Middle East; you just need to avoid them if the swarms have been sprayed, or you'll get a nice dose of organophosphates and pyrethroids.)
ipse autem Iohannes habebat vestimentum de pilis camelorum et zonam pelliciam circa lumbos suos esca autem eius erat lucustae et mel silvestre
(Vulgate version of Matthew 3:4)
St Jerome, himself a desert dweller at one time, would have known all about eating locusts. Nevertheless, some time in the Middle Ages the idea arose that "lucustae" actually meant the pods of the carob tree (another useful survival food). Consequently, the name "locust" became attached to other pods and other pod-bearing trees, and that's how the beautiful tree in these photos acquired the name Black Locust (I haven't seen any explanation for what's black about it, though). It's native to two regions in the eastern USA, but is widely planted throughout temperate parts of the whole world, including the British Isles. I must admit I just call it "Robinia" (the Latin name is Robinia pseudoacacia).
It's a tree with many aspects to it, as you can read on Wikipedia, but I just wanted to record its breathtaking beauty, especially in a good flowering year like 2023: the extended wet and gloomy spring must have helped. (In 2022, by contrast, we were in full-on drought conditions by June and the trees produced very few flowers).
Black Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia). Frome, 3 June 2023.
Black Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia). Frome, 7 June 2023.
Ox-eye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare). Chippenham, 2 June 2023.
My second miracle is even more commonplace: Ox-eye Daisies on a bank.
If you were a newcomer to this uplifting sight, I think you'd be surprised that the rest of us make so little of it.
Leucanthemum vulgare is native throughout the British Isles, also most of Europe including nearly all of Sweden, where it is called Prästkrage ("priest's collar", referring to the white ruff once worn by clerics). You would think that so showy and common a plant might have left more of a mark on our older literature, but so far I'm having trouble locating any references. Chaucer might have been referring to them -- but no, his daisies are "whyte and rede", so he must mean Bellis perennis, the lawn daisy. There is never any red in the rays of an ox-eye daisy.
"Day's eye" refers to the habit of Bellis perennis (and many other Asteraceae species) of opening their flowers only during the day and closing them at night.
However Ox-eye Daisies don't do this, and hence one of their other vernacular names is Moon Daisy. A field of them, fully open in the dusk and gazing at the moon, is one of the sights of our "white nights".
One problem with looking for traces in older literature is that there is no settled name. John Gerard (1597) gives a good description, in Ch 203, "Of the great Daisy, or Maudlin-Wort". He supplies the Latin name Consolida media vulnerariorum. (Another of his plants, the "White Oxe-eie", is described as looking similar but with compound leaves. -- That must be why, by the 18th century, the term "Ox-eye Daisy" had become established.)
I haven't found any Middle English references to "Maudlin-wort". "Marguerite" or similar is mentioned in Lydgate, supposed to mean Leucanthemum vulgare. Likewise Middle English herbal references to "Whit bothen" or "Whit bothel"; "boþen" is an Anglo-Saxon herbal word, e.g. for Rosemary and similar herbs. "Orval" (usually meaning Orpine) seems to have also been applied to L. vulgare, at least once. I have only moderate confidence in these identifications.
Generally (based mostly on the University of Michigan's entry for "daies-ie") you can derive a Latin herbalist scheme in which Consolida minor meant the "little daisy" (Bellis perennis), Consolida media or mediana meant the "great daisy" (Leucanthemum vulgare), while Consolida maior meant comfrey (Symphytum spp). But it's the last of these which is the normal meaning of consolida in Latin sources, and the extension to daisies may have been just local and sporadic.
Ox-eye Daisy does have a herbalist tradition: Gerard witnesses to that, and Mrs Grieve , as ever, is helpful. The Ox-eye Daisy has an acrid taste and, according to Linnaeus, is avoided by cows and pigs, but eaten by horses, goats and sheep.
Ox-eye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare). Chippenham, 2 June 2023.