Early translation into English from Kernowec (Cornish) of The Tale Of Ivan - part 2

St Levan Church (Llanlavan is probably Saint Levan - My poor knowledge of Cwmraeg (Welsh) would suggest so anyway, Llan in Welsh being roughly equivalent to a parish area) - image © Copyright Tim Heaton and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

[cont...] "...5 And when the end of the year came, his master shewed him the three pounds. Look Ivan, said his master : here are thy wages. But if thou wilt give them me again, I will teach thee a point of doctrine.

6 Give them to me, said Ivan. No, I will not, replied his master, I will explain it to thee. Keep you them, said Ivan. Then, said his master," Take care not to leave the old road, for the sake of a new road."

7 Then they agreed for another year for the same wages : and when the end of the year was come (the same conversation takes place as in Nos. 5 and 6, till the master delivers his second aphorism, which " is), Take care not to lodge where a young woman is married to an old man."

9 10 (The same conversation, &c. takes place for the third year, and the master delivers his third aphorism), " Suffer thyself to be struck twice before thou strikest once, for that is the most prudent quality of all."

11 Then Ivan would not serve any longer, but he would go home to his wife. Not to-day, replied his master ; my wife bakes to-morrow, and she shall make thee a cake to take home to thy wife.

12 And they put the nine pounds in the cake. And when Ivan was about to take his leave, Here, said his master, is a cake for thee to take home to thy wife; and when thou and thy wife are most joyous together, then break the cake and not sooner..." [cont...]

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 1818

Proverb from Somerset on a capable person

"Old head and young hands" - Somerset

Ray 1768


 

Glastonbury Tor proverb

Glastonbury Tor - by By Tony Grist (Photographer's own files) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

"As old as Glaston-bury torre". - Somerset.

This torre, i.e. tower, so called from the Latin Turris stands upon a round hill in the midst of a level, and may be seen far off. It seemed to me to have been the steeple of a church that had formerly flood upon that hill, though now scarce any footsteps of it remain. "

Ray 1768

Map - Glastonbury Tor

[I do not think that the tor is the steeple on the hill, it is the hill itself. On Dartmoor and in Cornwall we have plenty of other Tors, very few of which have a building on them. However most of our tors (but not all) are natural piles of rock, and not necessarily the hill they stand on. The word is found in Old English and Old Welsh, as well as in Latin, though the Old Welsh and Gaelic meanings are similar to the most common modern uses in the West Country - i.e. a heap, pile or lofty hill. Given that all these languages are ultimately related supposed Latin roots could simply come from that this is the oldest recorded version, rather than a direct root for our West Country Tor.]

The King of Prussia and the "Fairy"

Betsy's Cove in the Prussia Cove area - © Copyright Mari Buckley and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

"Of these smuggers there was, during the close of the last century, a native of Breage named Carter, who was called the King of Prussia from some fancied resemblance to the Great Frederick, whose name at one time was a household word in England. This man became the leader of the Cornish smugglers. He chose for his home and his smuggler's hold a rocky cove about two miles east of Marazion, which still bears the name of Prussia Cove, where his gang cut deep channels in the hard rock, which are still visible, to allow of the near approach of their boats.

The "King of Prussia" was exceedingly clever at avoiding the excise officers, always removing his stores in time. Amongst them were some old cannon, the possession of which probably induced Carter to run the risk that might have brought him to destruction. From the cliffs one moonlight night he watched his boats approaching the landing-place laden with a rich booty of smuggled goods, but at the same moment appeared the revenue cutter Fairy under all sail in swift pursuit, for her crew had also distinguished them. The king's vessel gained rapidly on the boats. The old smuggler stood gazing anxiously at the chase. Then with sudden determination he bade the men with him "fire the guns." They had been placed at the edge of the cliff, loaded, and were discharged at the cutter, which could not elevate her guns high enough to reply, and was obliged to sheer of; the boats meanwhile landing. Of course early dawn saw the white sails of the cutter again off the cliffs, and the captain and his crew landed, and mounted the hill. There was no sign of cannon there now! The officer went to Carter's house for an explanation, and was met by the smuggler, who at once attacked him about "practising the cutter's guns at midnight, and disturbing the neighbourhood," utterly denying all knowledge of the firing himself. No evidence of who had fired the cannon on the cliff could be obtained, though the smuggler was well known, and the matter was let drop.

Carter, however, did not prosper to the end of his career, and was at last detected and punished. He died at a great old age, a very poor man."

Valentine (undated)

Map - Prussia Cove

A Rhyme of the women of Saint Nectan's Keeve

Old Woman - By Hamed Saber (originally posted to Flickr as Sad Old Woman) [CC-BY-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Glen Nectan
IT is from Nectan's mossy steep
The foamy waters flash and leap;
It is where shrinking wild flowers grow,
They lave the nymph that dwells below. But wherefore in this far-off dell
The relics of a human cell,
Where the sad stream and lonely wind
Bring man no tidings of his kind? "Long years agone," the odd man said -
'Twas told him by his grandsire dead -
One day two ancient sisters came,
None there could tell their race or name. Their speech was not in Cornish phrase,
Their garb had signs of loftier days;
Slight food they took from hands of men,
They withered slowly in that glen. One died, - the other's sunken eye
Gushed till the fount of tears was dry;
A wild and withering thought had she, "
I shall have none to weep for me." They found her silent at the last,
Bent in the shape wherein she passed,
Where her lone seat long used to stand,
Her head upon her shrivelled hand! Did fancy give this legend birth
The granddam's tale for winter hearth?
Or some dead bard by Nectan's stream
People these banks with such a dream? We know not; but it suits the scene
To think such wild thing; here have been;
What spot more meet could grief or sin
Choose at the last to wither in?
-THE REV. ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER"Valentine (undated)Map - Saint Nectan's Keeve

Meavy Oak

'Meavy... ...notable... ...for an oak that claims to be the oldest in England'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

The Demon Tregeagle - part 2

'..When midnight is on the moor or on the mountains, and the night winds whistle amidst the rugged cairns, the shrieks of Tregeagle are distinctly heard. We know, then, that he is pursued by the demon dogs, and that till daybreak he must fly with all speed before them. The voice of Tregeagle is everywhere, and yet he is unseen by human eye. Every reader will at once perceive that Tregeagle belongs to the mythologies of the oldest nations, and that the traditions of this wandering spirit in Cornwall, which centre upon one tyrannical magistrate, are but the appropriation of stories which belong to every age and country. Tradition thus tells Tregeagle's tale.


There are some men who appear to be from their births given over to the will of tormenting demons. Such a man was Tregeagle. He is as old as the hills, yet there are many circumstances in the story of his life which appear to remove him from this remote antiquity. Modern legends assert him to belong to comparatively modern times, and say that, without doubt, he was one of the Tregeagles who once owned Trevorder near Bodmin. We have not, however, much occasion to trouble ourselves with the man or his life; it is with the death and the subsequent existence of a myth that we are concerned.

Certain it is that the man Tregeagle was diabolically wicked. He seems to have been urged on from one crime to another until the cup of sin was overflowing.

Tregeagle was wealthy beyond most men of his time, and his wealth purchased for him that immunity, which the Church, in her degenerate days, too often accorded to those who could aid, with their gold or power, the sensual priesthood. As a magistrate, he was tyrannical and unjust, and many an innocent man was wantonly sacrificed by him for the purpose of hiding his own dark deeds. As a landlord, he was rapacious and unscrupulous, and frequently so involved his tenants in his toils, that they could not escape his grasp...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Piskie Treshers

'MANY an industrious farmer can speak of the assistance which he has received from the piskies. Mr T. Q. Couch tells a story of this kind so well that no other is required.  Long, long ago, before threshing-machines were thought of, the farmer who resided at C --, in going to his barn one day, was surprised at the extraordinary quantity of corn that had been threshed the previous night, as well as to discover the mysterious agency by which it was effected. His curiosity led him to inquire into the matter; so at night, when the moon was up, he crept stealthily to the barn door, and looking through a chink, saw a little fellow, clad in a tattered suit of green, wielding the "dreshel" (flail) with astonishing vigour, and beating the floor with blows so rapid that the eye could not follow the motion of the implement. The farmer slunk away unperceived, and went to bed, where he lay a long while awake, thinking in what way he could best show his gratitude to the piskie for such an important service. He came to the conclusion at length, that, as the little fellow's clothes were getting very old and ragged, the gift of a new suit would be a proper way to lessen the obligation; and, accordingly, on the morrow he had a suit of green made, of what was supposed to be the proper size, which he carried early in the evening to the barn, and left for the piskie's acceptance. At night the farmer stole to the door again to see how the gift was taken. He was just in time to see the elf put on the suit, which was no sooner accomplished than, looking down on himself admiringly, he sung --

"Piskie fine, and piskie gay,

Piskie now will fly away."'

Hunt 1903

The adventure of Cherry of Zennor - part 1

 'THIS may be regarded as another version of the story of the Fairy Widower:-- Old Honey lived with his wife and family in a little hut of two rooms and a "talfat," [Talfat is a half-floor at one end of a cottage on which a bed is placed] on the cliff side of Trereen in Zennor. The old couple had half-a-score of children, who were all reared in this place. They lived as they best could on the produce of a few acres of ground, which were too poor to keep even a goat in good heart. The heaps of crogans (limpet-shells) about the hut, led one to believe that their chief food was limpets and gweans (periwinkles). They had, however, fish and potatoes most days, and pork and broth now and then of a Sunday. At Christmas and the Feast they had white bread. There was not a healthier nor a handsomer family in the parish than Old Honey's...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Fairy Widower - part 6

'...Jenny entered on her duties, and gave, and continued to give, satisfaction. She loved the darling little boy, and he appeared to love her, and the time passed away with astonishing rapidity.

Somehow or other she had never thought of her mother. She had never thought of her home at all. She was happy and in luxury, and never reckoned the passing of time.

Howsoever happiness may blind us to the fact, the hours and days move onward. The period for which Jenny had bound herself was gone, and one morning she awoke and all was changed. She was sleeping in her own bed in her mother's cottage. Every thing was strange to her, and she appeared strange to everybody. Numerous old gossips were called in to see Jenny, and to all Jenny told her strange tale alike. One day, old Mary Calineck of Zennor came, and she heard, as all the others had done, the story of the widower, and the baby, and the beautiful country. Some of the old crones who were there at the time said the girl was "gone clean daft." Mary looked very wise--" Crook your arm, Jenny," said she...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

How Joan lost the sight in her eye - part 4

'..."The work of the world" had Joan to find her way out of Penzance. She couldn't keep the road, she was always tumbling into the ditch on her blind side. When near the Fawgan, poor Joan, who was so weary that she could scarcely drag one leg after the other, prayed that she might find a quiet old horse on which she might ride home.

Her desire was instantly granted. There, by the roadside, stood an old, bony white horse, spanned with its halter.
Joan untied the halter from the legs and placed it on the head of the horse; she got on the hedge, and seated herself on the horse's back.

There she was mounted, "Gee wup, gee wisp; k'up, k'up, k'up." The horse would not budge. Busy were Joan's heels rattling against the ribs of the poor horse, and thwack, thwack went a thorn-stick over his tail, and by and by the old blind brute began to walk. Joan beat, and kicked, and k'uped, and coaxed, the horse went but little faster until it got to the top of the hill.

Then away, away, like the wind it went through Toldava Lanes, and it swelled out until the horse became as high as the tower. Over hedges and ditches, across all the corners that came into the road, on went the horse. Joan held on by the mane with both hands, and shouted, "Woa! woa! woey!" until she could shout no longer.
At length they came to Toldava Moor; the "ugly brute" took right away down towards the fowling-pool, when Joan, fearing he might plunge in and drown her, let go her hold...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Fairy Revel on teh Gump at St Just - part 5

'...Well, thought the old man, now is my time; if I could only crawl up to the prince's table, I should have a catch sure enough, and become a rich man for life. With his greedy mind fixed on this one object, and unobservant of everything else, he crouched down, as though by, so doing he could escape observation, and very slowly and stealthily advanced amongst the revellers. He never saw that thousands of spriggans had thrown little strings about him, and that they still held the ends of the threads. The presence of this selfish old mortal did not in any way discompose the assembly; they ate and drank and were as merry as though no human eye was looking on them. The old man was wondrous cautious lest he should disturb the feasters, consequently a long time was spent in getting, as he desired, to the back of the mound. At length he reached the desired spot, and, to his surprise, all was dark and gloomy behind him, but in front of the mound all was a blaze of light. Crawling like a serpent on his belly, trembling with anxiety, the old man advanced close to the prince and princess. He was somewhat startled to find, as he looked out over the mound, that every one of the thousands of eyes in that multitude was fixed on his. He gazed a while, all the time screwing his courage up; then, as a boy who would catch a butterfly, he took off his hat and carefully raised it, so as to cover the prince, the princess, and their costly table, and, when about to close it upon them, a shrill whistle was heard, the old man's hand was fixed powerless in the air, and everything became dark around him....' [cont.]

Hunt 1903