the Saxons oor Kornies
the Saxons
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Chellery, Duke of the Saxons
Yma marth dhyn.langbot langbot
the Saxons
My a dhybris an kig.langbot langbot
Before the Saxons came.
Yth esov vy ow koslowes.langbot langbot
And no one knows from which this loss first came, from the Romans mixed with the Britons, or after that from the Saxons, perhaps from both. But I am seeking in this writing (as much as I can), to put aside those words that show our language beholden to others;
Yth esa nown dhodho.langbot langbot
Our Cornish language is so far weakened that we can hardly hope to see it strengthen again, for as did the Saxons first send it to this narrow land, thus it is still pressing against it without allowing it any place at all, but around the coast and the sea. All it is spoken now is almost from Land's End to St Michael's Mount, and towards St Ives and Redruth, and again from the Lizard towards Helston and Falmouth:
Lowen ov vy.langbot langbot
Cornish was spoken throughout Cornwall, The Isles of Scilly and to some extent in West Devon and Exeter until, following the battle of Hingston Down in 936, the Saxon king Athelstan drove the Cornish out of Exeter and declared the east bank of the river Tamar to be the border of his kingdom - a border which is of course still current today. Despite keeping his kingdom of Wessex separate from Cornwall, Athelstan still interfered with the Celtic monastic system. As the monasteries tended to be the originators and repositories of manuscripts it may be that this is responsible for the lack of extant texts from this early period of Cornish. It is not until around the time of the Norman conquest that a small number of documents start to appear, including the Bodmin Manumissions of the ninth/tenth century, giving the Cornish names of freed slaves, a Cornish-Latin vocabulary list called the Vocabulum Cornicum, and a short piece of advice about marriage dating from about 1400, which was found on the back of a charter dated 1340.
A Frynk yth ov devedhys.langbot langbot
Cornish is one of six Celtic languages, the others being Breton, Welsh, Manx, Irish Gaelic and Scots Gaelic. It is thought that the Celts migrated across to Britain and Ireland from mainland Europe bringing their languages which became predominant in the islands. Two different but closely related groups formed the base for the development of modern Gaelic Celtic languages of Scotland, Ireland and Man in the north (known as 'q' Celtic), and the modern Brythonic Celtic languages of Wales, Cornwall and Brittany in the south (known as 'p' Celtic). The geographical division between the two was reinforced by the invasion and settlement patterns of first the Romans and then, from the fifth century AD, the Saxons. The Saxon settlement also resulted in large numbers of Brythonic speaking Celts migrating across the sea to the peninsula of Armorica, already a known trading route, taking their name with them and thus founding Brittany. As a result of the now geographical separation of the languages, they began to diverge and grow independently from each other, and became the six Celtic languages that we are familiar with today.
Nyns yw Tom tas Maria.langbot langbot
In AD 930 the Saxon King Athelstan arrived in St Buryan on his way to fight the Danes on the Isles of Scilly. Finding a well organised Christian community he took communion and vowed that, if he won his battle on the islands, he would build a church in thanks on the site of Buriana’s oratory. He was successful, and the church was built. This King’s free church consisted of Canons Augustine or regular priests, and three prebendaries who might enjoy the revenues but must not marry. The Romanesque arches on the north side of the sanctuary are all that remains of Athelstan’s church. Nothing remains of St Buriana’s small 5th Century Prayer Oratory, but the Churchyard Cross was probably erected to mark this enclosure as consecrated ground. It consists of a 10th century cross head set in a monolithic granite base, mounted on to an 18th century medieval stepped pedestal. One side of the cross shows the crucifixion and the other side five hemispheres, a common symbol for the five wounds of our Lord. Restoration of the Cross was entirely funded by a grant from Historic England. The church has a very fine four-stage granite Tower which, at 28m high, is visible for miles across the Cornish landscape. It was used for centuries by seamen and shipping as a major landmark. Four-stage towers are rare in Cornwall and found in only five places: the others are in Fowey, St Columb, St Ives and Linkinhorne. The beacon turret was used to warn of impending invasions such as the Spanish Armada. The Tower was completed in 1501 after taking 21 years to build using local Lamorna cut granite. Some stones weigh over two tons each and give the tower massive strength. Even with all our heavy bells swinging in the same direction the tower only moves 0.127mm. There are six heavy bells hanging in our church tower. The four middle-weight bells are on the top floor, with the Tenor and Treble bells resting below. The ringing chamber is on the floor directly below them. The smallest bell, the Treble, has a diameter of 91.4cm and weighs over 457 kilos, making it the fifth heaviest treble bell in the world. The largest bell, the Tenor, has a diameter of 1.49m, and weighs over 1880 kilos. Together, they form the heaviest ring of six bells in the world. St Buryan’s church has approximately 3,000 visitors annually. It is also used daily by the village community as a place of worship and a meeting point in the heart of the community. Here people gather for weekly worship, baptisms, weddings, funerals, and festivals. There are less usual events such as tower tours, cream teas and a monthly book and jig-saw exchange.
Yma va ow skollya termyn.langbot langbot
Did you ever see a logan stone The spirit's guard, a throne above Standing on the moor below The bloody flag of grief? Can you smell the angry breath Rising up high over the world In this plain of pain and misery For the bloody flag of grief? Did you hear the powerless children? There is nothing for them but sorrow There is no refuge for them under The bloody flag of grief Can you feel the cold breath Clawing and ripping your back? All are defenceless Below the flag of grief So you stand on very holy land The winds of a storm through the valley To cover the sounds of hell under The bloody flag of grief It wasn't like this before Then came those whelps of a Saxon whore And now the old river flows At the foot of the flag of grief Smell the blood, hear the noise! Smell the blood and the misery!
Nyns yw da genev an gewer ma.langbot langbot
Cornish (Standard Written Form: Kernewek or Kernowek;[8] [kəɾˈnuːək]) is a Southwestern Brittonic language of the Celtic language family. It is a revived language, having become extinct as a living community language in Cornwall at the end of the 18th century. However, knowledge of Cornish, including speaking ability to a certain extent, continued to be passed on within families and by individuals,[9] and a revival began in the early 20th century. The language has a growing number of second-language speakers,[10] and a very small number of families now raise children to speak revived Cornish as a first language.[11][12] Cornish is currently recognised under the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages,[13] and the language is often described as an important part of Cornish identity, culture and heritage.[14][15] Along with Welsh and Breton, Cornish is descended from the Common Brittonic language spoken throughout much of Great Britain before the English language came to dominate. For centuries, until it was pushed westwards by English, it was the main language of Cornwall, maintaining close links with its sister language Breton, with which it was mutually intelligible, perhaps even as long as Cornish continued to be spoken as a vernacular.[16][17] Cornish continued to function as a common community language in parts of Cornwall until the mid 18th century. There is some evidence of knowledge of the language persisting into the 19th century, possibly almost overlapping the beginning of revival efforts.[18] A process to revive the language began in the early 20th century, and in 2010, UNESCO announced that its former classification of the language as "extinct" was "no longer accurate."[19] Since the revival of the language, some Cornish textbooks and works of literature have been published, and an increasing number of people are studying the language.[10] Recent developments include Cornish music,[20] independent films,[21] and children's books. A small number of people in Cornwall have been brought up to be bilingual native speakers,[22][23] and the language is taught in schools and appears on road signs.[24][25] The first Cornish-language day care opened in 2010.[26] Classification[edit] Cornish is a Southwestern Brittonic language,[27] a branch of the Insular Celtic section of the Celtic language family, which is a sub-family of the Indo-European language family.[28] Brittonic also includes Welsh, Breton, Cumbric and possibly Pictish, the last two of which are extinct. Scottish Gaelic, Irish and Manx are part of the separate Goidelic branch of Insular Celtic. Joseph Loth viewed Cornish and Breton as being two dialects of the same language, claiming that "Middle Cornish is without doubt closer to Breton as a whole than the modern Breton dialect of Quiberon [Kiberen] is to that of Saint-Pol-de-Léon [Kastell-Paol]."[29] Also, Kenneth Jackson argued that it is almost certain that Cornish and Breton would have been mutually intelligible as long as Cornish was a living language, and that Cornish and Breton are especially closely related to each other and less closely related to Welsh.[30] History[edit] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cornish_language_shift.svg A map showing the westward decline of Cornish, 1300–1750 Cornish evolved from the Common Brittonic spoken throughout Britain south of the Firth of Forth during the British Iron Age and Roman period. As a result of westward Anglo-Saxon expansion, the Britons of the southwest were separated from those in modern-day Wales and Cumbria, which Jackson links to the defeat of the Britons at the Battle of Deorham in about 577.[31] The western dialects eventually evolved into modern Welsh and the now extinct Cumbric, while Southwestern Brittonic developed into Cornish and Breton, the latter as a result of emigration to parts of the continent, known as Brittany over the following centuries.[32] Old Cornish[edit] The area controlled by the southwestern Britons was progressively reduced by the expansion of Wessex over the next few centuries. During the Old Cornish (Kernewek Koth)[33] period (800–1200), the Cornish-speaking area was largely coterminous with modern-day Cornwall, after the Saxons had taken over Devon in their south-westward advance, which probably was facilitated by a second migration wave to Brittany that resulted in the partial depopulation of Devon.[34] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Vocabularium_Cornicum_BL_MS_Cotton_Vespasian_A_xiv_7r.jpg The first page of Vocabularium Cornicum, a 12th-century Latin-Cornish glossary The earliest written record of the Cornish language comes from this period: a 9th-century gloss in a Latin manuscript of De Consolatione Philosophiae by Boethius, which used the words ud rocashaas. The phrase may mean "it [the mind] hated the gloomy places",[35][36] or alternatively, as Andrew Breeze suggests, "she hated the land".[37] Other sources from this period include the Saints' List, a list of almost fifty Cornish saints,[38] the Bodmin manumissions, which is a list of manumittors and slaves, the latter with mostly Cornish names,[39] and, more substantially, a Latin-Cornish glossary (the Vocabularium Cornicum or Cottonian Vocabulary), a Cornish translation of Ælfric of Eynsham's Latin-Old English Glossary,[40] which is thematically arranged into several groups, such as the Genesis creation narrative, anatomy, church hierarchy, the family, names for various kinds of artisans and their tools, flora, fauna, and household items.[41][42] The manuscript was widely thought to be in Old Welsh until the 18th century when it was identified as Cornish by Edward Lhuyd.[43] Some Brittonic glosses in the 9th-century colloquy De raris fabulis were once identified as Old Cornish, but they are more likely Old Welsh, possibly influenced by a Cornish scribe.[44] No single phonological feature distinguishes Cornish from both Welsh and Breton until the beginning of the assibilation of dental stops in Cornish, which is not found before the second half of the eleventh century,[45] and it is not always possible to distinguish Old Cornish, Old Breton, and Old Welsh orthographically.[46] Middle Cornish[edit] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Origo_Mundi_kynsa_gwersow.jpg The opening verses of Origo Mundi, the first play of the Ordinalia (the magnum opus of medieval Cornish literature), written by an unknown monk in the late 14th century https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Beunans_Meriasek_(The_life_of_St_Meriasek)_(f.56v.)_Middle_Cornish_Saint%27s_Play.jpg Beunans Meriasek (The life of St. Meriasek) (f.56v.) Middle Cornish Saint's Play The Cornish language continued to flourish well through the Middle Cornish (Kernewek Kres)[33] period (1200–1600), reaching a peak of about 39,000 speakers in the 13th century, after which the number started to decline.[47][48] This period provided the bulk of traditional Cornish literature, and was used to reconstruct the language during its revival. Most important is the Ordinalia, a cycle of three mystery plays, Origo Mundi, Passio Christi and Resurrexio Domini. Together these provide about 8,734 lines of text. The three plays exhibit a mixture of English and Brittonic influences, and, like other Cornish literature, may have been written at Glasney College near Penryn.[49] From this period also are the hagiographical dramas Beunans Meriasek (The Life of Meriasek) and Bewnans Ke (The Life of Ke), both of which feature as an antagonist the villainous and tyrannical King Tewdar (or Teudar), a historical medieval king in Armorica and Cornwall, who, in these plays, has been interpreted as a lampoon of either of the Tudor kings Henry VII or Henry VIII.[50] Others are the Charter Fragment, the earliest known continuous text in the Cornish language, apparently part of a play about a medieval marriage,[51] and Pascon agan Arluth (The Passion of Our Lord), a poem probably intended for personal worship, were written during this period, probably in the second half of the 14th century.[52] Another important text, the Tregear Homilies, was realized to be Cornish in 1949, having previously been incorrectly classified as Welsh. It is the longest text in the traditional Cornish language, consisting of around 30,000 words of continuous prose. This text is a late 16th century translation of twelve of Bishop Bonner's thirteen homilies by a certain John Tregear, tentatively identified as a vicar of St Allen from Crowan,[53] and has an additional catena, Sacrament an Alter, added later by his fellow priest, Thomas Stephyn.[54] In the reign of Henry VIII, an account was given by Andrew Boorde in his 1542 Boke of the Introduction of Knowledge. He states, "In Cornwall is two speches, the one is naughty Englysshe, and the other is Cornysshe speche. And there be many men and women the which cannot speake one worde of Englysshe, but all Cornyshe."[55] When Parliament passed the Act of Uniformity 1549, which established the 1549 edition of the English Book of Common Prayer as the sole legal form of worship in England, including Cornwall, people in many areas of Cornwall did not speak or understand English. The passing of this Act was one of the causes of the Prayer Book Rebellion (which may also have been influenced by the retaliation of the English after the failed Cornish Rebellion of 1497), with "the commoners of Devonshyre and Cornwall" producing a manifesto demanding a return to the old religious services and included an article that concluded, "and so we the Cornyshe men (whereof certen of us understande no Englysh) utterly refuse thys newe Englysh."[56] In response to their articles, the government spokesman (either Philip Nichols or Nicholas Udall) wondered why they did not just ask the king for a version of the liturgy in their own language.[57] Archbishop Thomas Cranmer asked why the Cornishmen should be offended by holding the service in English, when they had before held it in Latin, which even fewer of them could understand.[58] Anthony Fletcher points out that this rebellion was primarily motivated by religious and economic, rather than linguistic, concerns.[59] The rebellion prompted a heavy-handed response from the government, and 5,500 people died during the fighting and the rebellion's aftermath. Government officials then directed troops under the command of Sir Anthony Kingston to carry out pacification operations throughout the West Country. Kingston subsequently ordered the executions of numerous individuals suspected of involvement with the rebellion as part of the post-rebellion reprisals.[60] The rebellion eventually proved a turning-point for the Cornish language, as the authorities came to associate it with sedition and "backwardness". This proved to be one of the reasons why the Book of Common Prayer was never translated into Cornish (unlike Welsh), as proposals to do so were suppressed in the rebellion's aftermath. The failure to translate the Book of Common Prayer into Cornish led to the language's rapid decline during the 16th and 17th centuries.[61][62] Peter Berresford Ellis cites the years 1550–1650 as a century of immense damage for the language, and its decline can be traced to this period. In 1680 William Scawen wrote an essay describing 16 reasons for the decline of Cornish, among them the lack of a distinctive Cornish alphabet, the loss of contact between Cornwall and Brittany, the cessation of the miracle plays, loss of records in the Civil War, lack of a Cornish Bible and immigration to Cornwall.[63] Mark Stoyle, however, has argued that the 'glotticide' of the Cornish language was mainly a result of the Cornish gentry adopting English to dissociate themselves from the reputation for disloyalty and rebellion associated with the Cornish language since the 1497 uprising.[64] Late Cornish[edit] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Lether_Bodinar.jpg William Bodinar's letter, dated 3 July 1776 By the middle of the 17th century, the language had retreated to Penwith and Kerrier, and transmission of the language to new generations had almost entirely ceased. In his Survey of Cornwall, published in 1602, Richard Carew writes: [M]ost of the inhabitants can speak no word of Cornish, but very few are ignorant of the English; and yet some so affect their own, as to a stranger they will not speak it; for if meeting them by chance, you inquire the way, or any such matter, your answer shall be, "Meea navidna caw zasawzneck," "I [will] speak no Saxonage."[65] The Late Cornish (Kernewek Diwedhes)[33] period from 1600 to about 1800 has a less substantial body of literature than the Middle Cornish period, but the sources are more varied in nature, including songs, poems about fishing and curing pilchards, and various translations of verses from the Bible, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer and the Creed.[66] Edward Lhuyd's Archaeologia Britannica, which was mainly recorded in the field from native speakers in the early 1700s, and his unpublished field notebook are seen as important sources of Cornish vocabulary, some of which are not found in any other source.[67] Archaeologia Britannica also features a complete version of a traditional folk tale, John of Chyanhor, a short story about a man from St Levan who goes far to the east seeking work, eventually returning home after three years to find that his wife has borne him a child during his absence.[68] In 1776, William Bodinar, who describes himself as having learned Cornish from old fishermen when he was a boy, wrote a letter to Daines Barrington in Cornish, with an English translation, which was probably the last prose written in the traditional language. In his letter, he describes the sociolinguistics of the Cornish language at the time, stating that there are no more than four or five old people in his village who can still speak Cornish, concluding with the remark that Cornish is no longer known by young people.[69] However, the last recorded traditional Cornish literature may have been the Cranken Rhyme,[70][71] a corrupted version of a verse or song published in the late 19th century by John Hobson Matthews, recorded orally by John Davey (or Davy) of Boswednack, of uncertain date but probably originally composed during the last years of the traditional language. Davey had traditional knowledge of at least some Cornish.[72] John Kelynack (1796–1885), a fisherman of Newlyn, was sought by philologists for old Cornish words and technical phrases in the 19th century.[73] Decline of Cornish speakers between 1300 and 1800[edit] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Dorothy_Pentreath.jpg Dolly Pentreath (died 1777), said to be the last monolingual speaker of Cornish, in an engraved portrait published in 1781 It is difficult to state with certainty when Cornish ceased to be spoken, due to the fact that its last speakers were of relatively low social class and that the definition of what constitutes "a living language" is not clear cut. Peter Pool argues that by 1800 nobody was using Cornish as a daily language and no evidence exists of anyone capable of conversing in the language at that date.[74] However, passive speakers, semi-speakers and rememberers, who retain some competence in the language despite not being fluent nor using the language in daily life, generally survive even longer. The traditional view that Dolly Pentreath (1692–1777) was the last native speaker of Cornish has been challenged,[18] and in the 18th and 19th centuries there was academic interest in the language and in attempting to find the last speaker of Cornish. It has been suggested that, whereas Pentreath was probably the last monolingual speaker, the last native speaker may have been John Davey of Zennor, who died in 1891.[75] However, although it is clear Davey possessed some traditional knowledge in addition to having read books on Cornish, accounts differ of his competence in the language. Some contemporaries stated he was able to converse on certain topics in Cornish whereas others affirmed they had never heard him claim to be able to do so.[74] Robert Morton Nance, who reworked and translated Davey's Cranken Rhyme, remarked, "There can be no doubt, after the evidence of this rhyme, of what there was to lose by neglecting John Davey."[76] The search for the last speaker is hampered by a lack of transcriptions or audio recordings, so that it is impossible to tell from this distance whether the language these people were reported to be speaking was Cornish, or English with a heavy Cornish substratum, nor what their level of fluency was. Nevertheless this academic interest, along with the beginning of the Celtic Revival in the late 19th century, provided the groundwork for a Cornish language revival movement. Notwithstanding the uncertainty over who was the last speaker of Cornish, researchers have posited the following numbers for the prevalence of the language between 1050 and 1800.[48][47]
Piw a dhysk dhis?langbot langbot
**I write this on a warm February afternoon, overlooking Gwithian beach, watching the sea gently stroke the sand. I recognize and honour the wisdom and knowledge of indigenous and aboriginal peoples, who have been stewards of the land for generations and have much to teach us about regenerative practices, and I acknowledge the contribution of lineage holders in Cornish, indigenous and aboriginal cultures that help us connect with the spirit of Kernow** For thousands of years, Mama Kernow and Cornish people have lived in a loving, reciprocal relationship. She rose up out of the sea to give us respite from the endless waves of the vast ocean and has sheltered us from the Atlantic storms. She has fed us and the animals by feeding the plants, who have given themselves to us to sustain us. She has allowed us to dig deep into her for metals that we need, and that we can trade. She has cared for Cornish people, and all life here, like a mother cares for her children. She has given all of herself to us. And without her, we cannot do anything. And for thousands of years, we also played a role in returning the love and care that she shows us. We did our bit to care for our brothers and sisters: the fish, the forests, the animals, the plants, each other. We returned nutrients to her soil for our microbial siblings. We made sure to keep the waters clean and gave her space to breathe. Humans have always been the youngest of the natural family, and so, like rebellious teenagers, we recently have set out on our own, determined to prove our independence. We have liked to think that with materialism and science we could prove that we could do by ourselves. However, that journey, which starts with dependence, and then independence, always ends with coming home, with a waking up to the interdependence that sustains us. That has always sustained us. Even when we disappeared and neglected our role, Mama Kernow carried on feeding and sheltering us. However, this time now represents our homecoming. We are waking up and Mama Kernow is welcoming us back with a warm embrace. She smiles because she always knew we’d come back. She knows that, in fact, with our new found skills and knowledge, we can step up to play a different, more mature role in the household. She is calling on us, both those born here and those drawn here, to regenerate and enhance life. To breathe life back into Kernow, it’s children and places. To honour the spirit of Mama Kernow. So how can we do this, how can we reconnect with Mama Kernow? There are many ways and each is valid. But we could begin by calling her by her right name. “Cornwall” is the name that others have called her behind her back. The suffix, meaning “foreigners” in Anglo-Saxon, is a “wall” that prevents our reaching home. When we call her by her correct name, Kernow, she hears us. We can also speak to her in her language, Kernewek. Sure, she understands English, but that’s not the language of her heart. Mama Kernow gifted us with Kernewek names reflecting the essence of the spirit of each place, and without our connection to the language, we are unable to receive her gift or connect to each place. Thankfully, lineage holders kept this language alive through the generations. Without it, our connection to Mama Kernow might have been lost forever. Our language is just one of many doorways into our cultural heritage, though perhaps a key to unlocking many of them. Our stories, our songs and dances, our celebrations, our history, our buildings and our food, amongst many other things, are also rich seams of connection back to Mama Kernow. By caring for each of these manifestations of our culture, we take care for our paths of connection. We also must play our part in regenerating the soil so that our brothers and sisters, the trees and the plants, can play their role in caring for our mother, and for our other siblings, like the birds and the animals. We must be wary to not tell them how to do their job. They are receiving instructions from Mama Kernow we are not aware of. So, instead, we can simply create the space for them to regenerate, rewild and care for us. We should be careful to not take more land than she gives us. Where we are given land to feed ourselves, we should honour our mother for her gift to us, showing up with gratitude and reciprocity. We should honour the gift of each plant we harvest to eat, and ensure we are gifting nutrients back to the soil in return. And we must also regenerate our community soil. We must recognise we are all children of Mama Kernow, whether born here or drawn here, and we all playing our role, whether we understand it or not, or love it or not, just like the trees. We care for our community soil when we weave connections between us, seek to uncover each other’s unique gifts and find a way for them to be received by the community. We regenerate our communities when we listen to and value what our brothers and sisters are already doing to make where they live a better place, rather than imposing the whims of funders, charities or institutions. We honour our mother when we show up from a place of love that lifts up our fellow family members, rather than from a place of fear, anger and judgement. And the final step in connection is to realise that we are not just children of Mama Kernow, but we are Mama Kernow herself. We are all manifestations of this spirit that is bigger than us. To call ourselves her children is just a manner of speaking, half way between the scientific and the spiritual. How does it change how we show up with each other, and with all the manifestations of Mama Kernow around us, if we recognise our shared nature? What does it mean to come back home?
Pes bloodh os ta?langbot langbot
11 sinne gevind in 3 ms. Hulle kom uit baie bronne en word nie nagegaan nie.