Pais Dinogad, fraith fraith,
O grwyn balaod ban wraith.
‘Chwid, chwid, chwidogaith!’
Gochanwn, gochenyn wythgaith.
Pan elai dy dad di i helia,
Llath ar ei ysgwydd, llory yn ei law,
Ef gelwi gwn gogyhwg:
‘Giff, Gaff; daly, daly, dwg, dwg!’
Ef lleddi bysg yng nghorwg
Mal ban lladd llew llywiwg.
Pan elai dy dad di i fynydd
Dyddygai ef pen i wrch, pen gwythwch, pen hydd,
Pen grugiar fraith o fynydd,
Pen pysg o Rhaeadr Derwennydd.
O’r sawl yd gyrhaeddai dy dad di â’i gigwain,
O wythwch a llewyn a llynain,
Nid angai oll ni fai oradain. 

Dinogad’s smock, pied, pied,
It was from marten’s skins that I made it.
‘Wheed, wheed, a whistling!’
I would sing, eight slaves sang.
When thy father went a-hunting,
A spear on his shoulder, a club in his hand,
He would call the nimble hounds,
‘Giff, Gaff; catch, catch, fetch, fetch!’
He would kill a fish in his coracle
As a lion kills its prey.
When thy father went to the mountain
He would bring back a roe-buck, a wild boar, a stag,
A speckled grouse from the mountain,
A fish from Rhaeadr Derwennydd.
Of all those that thy father reached with his lance,
Wild boar and lynx and fox,
None escaped which was not winged.

I share with you this fine article as previously published on the partner blog “Esmeralda’s Cumbrian History & Folklore“ and written by Diane McIlmoyle. Re-posted under her kind permission. All rights reserved by the author.

So our baby boy is wrapped in pine marten furs; perhaps he was born on a cold, wintry day like today. The poem goes on to describe how Dinogad’s daddy went out with his dogs, Giff and Gaff, to catch fish, deer, boar and grouse, presumably to provide a very rich dinner for a very large household.

The poem, known as Dinogad’s Smock, could easily have been lost to history. It’s found scribbled in the middle of a rather serious and dramatic work known as Y Gododdin, which is a series of elegies mourning a whole generation of eastern Scottish warriors lost in a battle some time between c.570 and 600CE. Scholars can tell by the way it’s written that it’s not meant to be part of the Gododdin story. It seems that Dinogad’s Smock was a popular rhyme probably scrawled in the margin of a very old manuscript of Y Gododdin, and it found its way into the body text by accident when the whole thing was copied years later.

There’s a lot of debate about the exact date of Y Gododdin, and hence Dinogad’s Smock, but the general opinion is that Y Gododdin was composed by the bard, Aneirin, at about the time of the disastrous battle in c. 570-600CE. They were probably originally sung rather than read, because few people could read, and the music helped people commit it to memory. As literacy spread in the following centuries, these old songs were written down and the popular ones were updated each time someone made a copy. But some old-fashioned phrases and words were kept as they were part of the character of the piece – think about the Temptations’ My Girl and The Drifters’ Sweets for my Sweet. Now, if any modern girl was called any of those things we’d laugh our way into next week, but they date the composition of these songs firmly to the 1960s. In a similar way, scholars have decided that Dinogad’s Smock probably really is 1400 years old².

The Derwent’s waterfall is now famous to tourists worldwide as the Lodore Falls, which still crash picturesquely through woodland just south of the lake of Derwentwater, at the head of Borrowdale. Up the slope from the Lodore Falls is a wooded area known as Hogs’ Earth – is this the place that Dinogad’s daddy went hunting for boar? – and above that, a hill called Castle Crag.

This part of the central Lake District is thinly populated now with barely a tea room or country pub to interrupt the view, but it has always been inhabited. The Lodore Falls are at the foot of Ashness Fell, which is next door to Castlerigg fell, site of a very famous and very beautiful neolithic stone circle. Castle Crag’s name isn’t just a romantic fancy, either – there is archaeological evidence of settlement from the iron age and post Roman period. That’s Dinogad’s time, and it’s not entirely bonkers to suggest that this is where Dinogad, his singing mother and his hunting father, looked after a significant part of the centre of Rheged.

The final irony of Dinogad’s lullaby ending up in Y Gododdin is that recent opinion⁴ suggests that the Scottish Gododdin people were fighting not the north-eastern Angles, as was thought for years, but an alliance of their fellow Britons led by Urien of Rheged. That would mean that Dinogad’s daddy was, in fact, one of the warriors on the winning side of the slaughter of the Gododdin in that dreadful 6^th century battle.

Special note: My thanks to Tim Clarkson, author of The Men of the North, a book on this period and area, for drawing my attention to Dinogad’s Smock. Tim is kind enough to take an interest in this blog and thought my Cumbrian readers would like to hear about baby Dinogad; he provided many of the sources for background and analysis. Tim remains undecided as to whether Rheged really is Cumbria, but supports the identification of the Derwent waterfall with the Lodore in Cumbria. He points out that, given the ongoing uncertainty about the identification of Rheged as Cumbria (and hence of Taliesin’s work with Cumbria), Dinogad’s Smock is the earliest certain Cumbrian poem. That’s quite grand for that 6^th century baby, isn’t it?

The legend relates that a farmer in the parish of Myddfai, Carmarthenshire, having bought some lambs in a neighbouring fair, led them to graze near Llyn y Fan Fach, on the Black Mountains. Whenever he visited these lambs three beautiful damsels appeared to him from the lake, on whose shores they often made excursions. 

Sometimes he pursued and tried to catch them, but always failed; the enchanting nymphs ran before him and on reaching the lake taunted him in these words:

Cras dy fara,
Anhawdd ein dala;

which, if one must render it literally, means:

Bake your bread,
‘Twill be hard to catch us;

but which, more poetically treated, might signify

Mortall, who eatest baken bread,
Not for thee is the fairy’s bed!

One day some moist bread from the lake came floating ashore. The farmer seized it, and devoured it with avidity. The following day, to his great delight, be was successful in his chase, and caught the nymphs on the shore. After talking a long time with them, he mustered up the courage to propose marriage to one of them. She consented to accept him on condition that he would distinguish her from her sisters the next day. This was a new and great difficulty to the young farmer, for the damsels were so similar in form and features, that he could scarcely see any difference between them. 

He noted, however, a trifling singularity in the strapping of the chosen one’s sandal, by which he recognized her on the following day. As good as her word, the gwraig immediately left the lake and went with him to his farm. Before she quitted the lake she summoned therefrom to attend her, seven cows, two oxen, and one bull. She stipulated that she should remain with the farmer only until such time as he should strike her thrice without cause. 

For some years they dwelt peaceably together, and she bore him three sons, who were the celebrated Meddygon Myddfai. One day, when preparing for a fair in the neighbourhood) the farmer desired her to go to the held for his horse. She said she would, but being rather dilatory, he said to her humorously Dos, dos, dos,’ i.e., ‘Go, go, go,’ and at the same time slightly tapped her arm three times with his glove.

… The blows were slight–but they were blows. The terms of the marriage contract were broken, and the dame departed, summoning with her her seven cows, her two oxen, and the bull. The oxen were at that moment ploughing in the field, but they immediately obeyed her call and dragged the plough after them to the lake. 

The furrow, from the field in which they were ploughing to the margin of the lake, is still to be seen–in several parts of that country–at the present day. After her departure, the gwraig annwn once met her three sons in the valley now called Cwm Meddygon, and gave them a magic box containing remedies of wonderful power, through whose use they became celebrated. Their names were Cadogan, Gruffydd and Emion, and the farmer’s name was Rhiwallon. Rhiwallon and his sons, named as above, were physicians to Rhys Gryg, Lord of Dynevor, and son of the last native prince of Wales. They lived about 1230, and dying, left behind them a compendium of their medical practice. ‘A copy of their works is in the Welsh School Library in Gray’s Inn Lane.’ ['Cambro Briton,' ii., 315]

This is a time for Stillness

This is the deep silence of Winter earth still in slumber after the Solstice celebration, but just beginning to feel the re-birth of energy, and the return of ever lengthening daylight.

You can see it in the slow drip of the icicles clinging to the bare branched forest.

You can hear it in the rustle of woodland creatures lumbering back to the first signs of activity after the deep sleep of Winter.

You can feel it in the morning kiss of sunrise and the lingering caress of sunset.

Magic is awake… and soon will rise.

You are rising too, and so this is a time to cleanse past actions and regrets so that you can shift your attention to future growth. In history this has been seen as a most appropriate time for settling (or forgiving) past debts, to reconcile past differences, and to put aside old disputes.

The Roman festival of the goddess Concordia is known as the Charista and is generally accepted to be held in the final week of February. The Charista… (can you see the beginnings of the word “charity” here?)… is a time for the living to make peace and reconcile differences among one another. This particular festival generally culminates in a feast with family and friends at which all disagreements are put to rest.

The quality of this moons’ energy is therefore one of purification and new growth made possible by “wiping the slate clean” of any bad or negative influences left from the past.

Much as the awakening sleeper may silently reflect upon all that may unfold with the coming of the dawn before actually stretching and moving to begin the day, so does this moon invite you to reflect upon all that you intend to accomplish in the coming year. And, in this reflection, you may free yourself of past worries and doubts.

You may cleanse and purify yourself from old fears and uncertainties.

You may “wipe the slate clean” of the past in order to begin anew.

Whether you know this as the Wolf Moon, the Silent Moon, the Disting Moon, the Cold Moon, or the Snow Moon, you can best use the slow-to-awaken energy of this time to work on the kind of personal, private matters that need to be put to rest before you can concentrate your fullest efforts into forward momentum. You wouldn’t set sail without lifting anchor now would you? Of course not, so… you know… don’t launch your future while things from your past still act to drag you down.

 The Wheel of the Year continually turns and with each revolution all is renewed and opportunities abound fresh with the fullness of everything the universe has to offer. I just want you to be in the best possible position for your grab at the golden ring.

So… While you clear out whatever bilge is left in the holds of the good ship “Future Happiness”, I’m gonna scan the skies for horary hints that will help us chart the very best course for this moonphase… ok? 

This is a time for Protection.

In the calendar system we have provided as an example, this moon is typically named the Silent Moon, and is a reference to the break in the stillness of winter that is indicative of a gathering of energy. Like the silence before the storm, the Silent Moon offers an opportunity to cleanse past regret so that we might better shift our attentions through this purification to future growth.

In many other belief systems there are already time-honored traditions for the establishment of a calendar. We have encluded a few examples here for you to consider.

In the Celtic Tree Calendar the name of this moon is Beth (Birch) which runs from December 24th to January 20th.

The Runic Calendar of Nordic traditions, (which is governed by half months rather than full months), divides this moon of the year by Peorth (Dice Cup) from January 13th through January 27th, and Elhaz (Elk) from January 28th through February 11th.

The Goddess Calendar names this moon of the year after the goddess Hestia and runs from December 26th through January 22nd.

This is a time for stillness. This is the deep silence of winter earth after the solstice celebration heralding the birth of energy and the return of ever lengthening daylight.

In history this has been seen as the most appropriate time for settling (or forgiving) past debts to mark the beginning of a new solar year. The quality of this moons’ energy is thus one of new possibilities guided by that which came before.

This concept is depicted through certain double-visaged gods and goddesses such as Janus, who looks simultaneously backward at the past and forward to the future.

Whether you know this as the Silent Moon, Disting Moon, or Snow Moon, you can best use the slow-to-awaken energy of this time to work on the kind of personal, private matters that need to be put to rest before you can concentrate your fullest efforts into forward momentum.

Just as you wouldn’t set sail without lifting anchor you will also be well advised not to launch your future while things from your past still act to drag you down.

So, with all that information to guide you, think of this moon as the perfect opportunity to cleanse and purify yourself of past debts and through this purification, shift your attention toward future growth.

If you select a personal name for this moon, this name too, should correspond to whatever reflects the theme of purification and inner cleansing to you.