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The Wihtwara on Sound-Cloud

Our Ancestors the Wihtwara facing The Religious war

If we could take our lives back to the time of the Wihtwara, shed the tarmac roads, the fast cars, and (Oh my days!) the internet!.

With our spirits lighter we would be living a purer, simplified, yet sometimes hard life. We would be living more intimately, and closer to our Nature spirits, the wood Dryads, the water Sprites. Mother Earth, Nerthus would be intertwined with our daily lives and our Gods Wōden, Thunōr, Sunni and Mōn would be close and all-embracing.

Imagine, then, the inexorable march of a one-god religion, demanding fealty to this exclusive god, and forsaking all the natural spiritual life close to Nerthus, our Earth Mother. Imagine the tools of this religious war were not fought with seax and swords, but with Tongue Science, rhetoric, the clever use of words to undermine the wisdom of ages past.

Imagine then, that our Ancestors are finding that this new religion as unfulfilling and deficient. Searching their souls, they found it impossible to recant. They simply could not imagine a life without their beloved Gods and Goddesses.

And so, in 686 C.E, they gave their lives for the purity of their spiritual life on Wihtland.

May we never forget: That Wihtland means the Isle of Spirits and the Wihtwara are people of the Spirit.

Bletsunga Beorhte

Jan Harper-Whale.

(Isle of Wight)

Tell me, where does Arwald lie?
Is he in the Bloodstone Wood,
Bending bluebells with a sigh,
Buried in blackthorn and monks hood?

In bosky dells and gathered gloom -
A whisper through the silent shade,
Amongst the harts horn for his tomb,
In the oak woods peaceful glade.

Or does he ride to gabrel hounds,
High above the Shalcombe Downs,
On thunderclouds upon the storm,
By power of oak and ash and thorn.

When squirrels shiver in their fur
Comes Arwald to Wihtgarasburgh.

Tell me, where does King Arwald lie,
Was it on the beach of Silver Sand,
Where he swore to fight and die?

Where the wind answers with a sigh
As it blows gently across the land,
Tell me where does King Arwald lie?

When the winds blow and the leaves fly,
His battle-worn sword hard in his hand,
Where he swore to fight and die.

The storm clouds gather and sea gulls cry,
Wheeling, screeching on the strand,

Tell me where does King Arwald lie?

His thunderous footfalls stalk the land,
His allies cheer and his foes will fly,
A lightning flash crashing from his hand.
Where he swore to fight


adig Cyng Arwald
t last hǽen Cyng
Fram Wihtland

Wsian m, hwǽr drh Arwald licgan?
Is h in t Blōdstn Bearu,
Bgendic hǽwebelles wi a seofian
Byrged in blcorn und cugele?

In bosky dlls und gaderian ostre -
n hwisprian urh t swgian beam sceadu
Betwonum t deōrs horn for his beren
In t c bearus gewǽre gld.

Oe drh h ridan t gabrel hunds,
Hah bufanh t Shalcombe dun
On unorwolcen uppan t styrman
urh onweald fram c und sce und orn.

sciurus sprengan in heora furra
Becuman Arwald t Wihtgarasburgh.

Wsian m, hwǽr drh Cyng Arwald licgan?
Wscan hit on t strand fram Seolfor Sond
Hwr h gesworc t gefeohtan und cwellan?

Wisian t blǽst ondwyrdan wi a seofian
Ealsw hit blwan clementer geond t eard
Wsian m, hwǽr drh Cyng Arwald licgan?

t blsts blwan und ǽt lafs floge
His beadu weorn sweord, st in his folm,
Hwr h gesworc t gefeohtan und cwellan.

t wederwolcen gaderian und sǽfugol cirm,
Windan giellan on t strand,

Wsian m, hwr drh Cyng Arwald licgan?

His unorrd fōtsws stalcung t eard,
His gesi myrgan und hs feonds willan flogary,
A lgrsc gebrc fram hs hand.
Hwǽr h gesworc t gefeohtan

Translation to Old English
Jan Harper Whale