An interesting Divine Name appearing in Długosz’s Pantheon is Dzidzilela (a mispronounciation of a Baltic Didis Lela?). Indeed, in addition to Yassa, Lado and Nia, we frequently see in the earliest sources the Name Lela or Leli. Długosz characterized Dzidzilela as the Polish Venus. And indeed, it appears that Venus in its function as the Moon’s (Jasień’s) companion may be connected with Lela. As discussed, the Polish Leliwa coat of arms features the crescent moon and what appears to be a star but is likely Venus. More broadly, in European (and not only) languages, the leli sound is frequently associated with the night (for example, think of a lullaby).  Curiously, layl in Arabic and layla in Hebrew each mean “night”.

Of course, the Alcis are the Lugian Castor and Pollux as per Tacitus (the alleged Polish Lel and Polel) while elkas in Latvian and alkas in Lithuanian may refer to an idol. Then, we have the Polish lalki for puppets/dolls (though lala may also mean a young, attractive woman). All these have been connected with the supposed IE Horse Twins.

We’ve discussed some of this before.

Who is Lela? In Suavic vocabulary the name most frequently refers to an aunt or an older female relation.  Although Lada has been identified as the mother of Lel and Polel (supposedly being the same with the Greek Leda) a question arises: could the Horse Twins be the children of Lela instead in her function as the, well, Mother of the Gods (meaning the Horse Twins)?

Plenty of ink may be happily spilled answering that question (likely to no avail) but, in the meantime, let us note something strange. A curious refrain from a 13th century Galician poem by Pedro Eanes Solaz speaks these very same names in much the same way as the words Leli, Leli or Lado, Lado were sang by Suavic peasant farmers.

The poem has been preserved in three copies written down sometime in the 16th century as part of a compendium of other early Portuguese poetic works.

The Portuguese text is as follows (generally following Cohen and Corriente) in eight strophes:

Eu velida non dormia
lelia doura
e meu amigo venia
edoy lelia doura.

Non dormia e cuidava
lelia doura
e meu amigo chegava
edoy lelia doura.

O meu amigo venia
lelia doura
e d’amor tan ben dizia
edoy lelia doura.

O meu amigo chegava
lelia doura
e d’amor tan ben cantava
edoi lelia doura.

Muito desejei, amigo,
lelia doura
que vos tevesse comigo
edoy lelia doura.

Muito desejei, amado,
lelia doura
que vos tevess’a meu lado
edoy lelia doura.

Leli, leli, par Deus, lely
Lelia doura
Ben sei eu que<n> non diz leli
Edoy lelia doura

Ben sei eu qu<n> non diz lely
Lelia doura
Demo x’ é quen non diz leli
Edoy lelia doura

Here is a copy from the Cancioneiro da Biblioteca Nacional aka the Cancioneiro Colocci-Brancuti (codex 10991, number 829).

An English translation of the text is as follows (from 2005’s Songs of a Friend: Love Lyrics of Medieval Portugal: Selections from Cantigas de Amigo):

I the lovely one, didn’t sleep,
lelia doura,
but my friend was wont to come to me,
e doi lelia doura.

I didn’t sleep and was always grieved,
lelia doura,
but my friend was wont to arrive for me,
e doi lelia doura.

My friend was wont to come to me,
lelia doura,
and he’d speak so beautifully of love,
e doi lelia doura.

And my friend was wont to arrive for me,
lelia doura,
and he’d sing so beautifully of love,
e doi lelia doura.

I ardently desired, my friend,
lelia doura,
that you would be together with me,
e doi lelia doura.

I ardently desired, my love,
lelia doura,
that you would be close at my side,
e doi lelia doura.

Leli, leli, by God, leli,
lelia doura,
I know very well who doesn’t say leli,
e doi lelia doura.

I know very well who doesn’t say leli,
lelia doura.
A demon is he who doesn’t say leli,
e doi lelia doura.

And here is the same in the Cancionerio Vaticano (codex Latinus 4803, number 415).

 

The refrain was not intelligible to those who discovered these manuscripts in the 19th centuries and so much has been written about its meaning. Two theories  prevail. First, that the refrain is onomatopeic or, in this case, basically meaningless singalong gibberish. However, more recently, a theory has been put forward that it is of Arabic origin. This was suggested in 1964 by Brian Dutton (“Lelia Doura, Edo y Lelia Doura, An Arabic Refrain in a Thirteenth-Century Galician Poem?”) and reproposed in 2002 by Rip Cohen and Federico Corriente (“Lelia Doura Revisited”). Lelia Doura would mean something like the “night turns”. Why Arabic? Well, as mentioned above, layl refers to night or nighttime and we know that Muslims had conquered portions of the Iberian peninsula at some point.

But this is rather strange. The poet in question is Galician and Galicia had never been conquered by the Muslims. The local Muslim population was nonexistent save for Muslim serfs captured by Galician rulers raiding parts of Al-Andalus to the south (serfs who may well have been Christian in any event). Perhaps most well-known was Alfonso II who more or less successfully fought off both Muslim marauders only to succumb for a time to Charlemagne.

It is safe to say that of all parts of the Iberian Peninsula the Asturian Kingdom of Galicia seems the oddest choice for preserving fragments of the Arabic language. And this is even more so if we are talking about the 13th century when the poem was composed by Pedro.

Galicia, however, had been, the home of:

• Celtic Luggones
• briefly of the Hasdingi Vandals (of whom the Lugii are suspected to have been a part), and
• Suevi 

In the south Al-Andalus was also a major site of Suavic slave trade and, later, integrated many of the imported Suavic slaves into the local polity.

So a Central European connection seems better suited as an explanation of this refrain. Leli may not refer to “my night” but rather to either the Great Lela or, perhaps, Her Divine Twins.

Why Great Lela? Well, Didis Lado was supposed to mean Great Lado in Lithuanian but we also have Dzidzilela, perhaps a rendition of Didis Lela. It is interesting that the Polish word for “large” , “great” or “big” is durzy or, feminine, durza (see here, for example). This might be an explanation for the word doura. An alternative may be dobra meaning the “good”. And, frankly, these words may themselves bear a mutual relation.

Curiously, Cohen and Corriente use another poem by Pedro Eanes Solaz to conclude that the whole song has to do with a competition between two different women for the affections of a man. The other poem reads as follows:

Dizia la ben talhada:
“Agor’ a viss’ eu penada
Ond’ eu amor ei!”

A ben talhada dizia:
“Penad’ a ciss’ eu un dia
Ond’ eu amor ei!”

Ca, se a viss’ eu penada,
Non seria tan coitada
Ond’ eu amor ei!

Penada se a eu visse,
non á mal que eu sentisse
Ond’ eu amor ei!

Quen lh’ oje por mi dissesse
Que non tardass’ e veesse
Ond’ eu amor ei!

Quen lh’ oje por mi rogasse
Que non tardass’ e chegasse
Ond’ eu amor ei!

Thus, they render the following translation of both of these poems:

So sang the lovely girl:
“Now may I see her tormented
Whence I feel love!”

The lovely girl was singing:
“May I see her tormented one day
Whence I feel love!

For if I saw he tormented
I wouldn’t be so saddened
Whence I feel love.

If I saw her tormented
I wouldn’t be so saddened
Whence I feel love.

I wish someone would tell him for me
Not to tarry but to come
Whence I feel love.

I wish someone would beg him for me
Not to tarry but to arrive
Whence I feel love.”

Then the object of our discussion is translated thusly:

I, lovely girl, was not sleeping
(It’s my turn)
And my boyfriend was coming
(And today it’s my turn).

I wasn’t sleeping and was longing
(It’s my turn)
And my boyfriend was arriving
(And today it’s my turn).

My boyfriend was coming
(It’s my turn)
Any my boyfriend was arriving
(And today’s my turn).

My boyfriend was arriving
(It’s my turn)
And chanting so well of love
(And today’s my turn).

I really wanted, friend,
(It’s my turn)
To have you with me
(And today’s my turn).

I really wanted, beloved,
(It’s my turn)
To have you at my side
(And today’s my turn).

My night! My night! Bt God, my night!
(It’s my turn)
I know well who won’t say “my night!”
(And today’s my turn).

I know well who won’t say “my night!”
(It’s my turn)
She’s the devil who won’t say “my night!”
(And today’s my turn).

No this is curious because this love story (triangle?) is very similar to folk songs of Suavic lands where the name Leli as well as the word Lado come up. There is Queen Lela in Croatian and Serbian songs (see for example Vuk Stefanović Karadžić’s “Serbian National Songs” in Milan Milićević’s ethnological writings). We have “leliy, leliy, my lado” in Russian songs as per Karol Potkański. Or “Łado, my Lelu” (Chronicle of Stryjkowski). Similar songs were sung in Ukraine. Finally Leliwa may have been a reference to the planet Venus itself (the Star of Leli, as per Kazimierz Perkowski).

Beyond Suavic lands we have the Hittite Lelwani (eventually a female) whose name features the suffix -vani which may mean “desire” (comparable with Venus) and which was like Persephone/Proserpina connected with the underworld (Stanisław of Skalbmierz mentions the cults of Venus and Proserpina in Poland). Or, for that matter, we may also mention the Hindu Lalita.

In fact, a recent work on the Polish Dzidzilela concludes that the whole story of Lado and Leli may be summarized as a love affair whereby a God arrives (often a Moon God) and falls in love with a Goddess, betrays her with another and then is punished (either by the brothers of his love or by someone else). He is later reborn. While this myth has a clear connection to the vegetation cycle, it is also reminiscent of the myth of Jason and Medea (miedza?) or Iasion and Demeter that we have written so often about here. Did the Moon God betray his love with another celestial? If so was it Lela? Or was Lela, as the Name itself indicates perhaps an older sister or an aunt? Did the God of the Moon tarry on Earth as Łado/Mars and seduce Marzanna? Only then to return to His true love, the celestial Łada/Lela?

As an aside, it is worth noting that the word lada in Spanish also refers to a side. It is tempting to speculate that that meaning arose from the function (my dear) of one of the Divine Twins in relation to the latter, especially, since Lada and Jasień may have been responsible for different “sides” of the Year divided in two by Midsummer’s Eve. Lela may then have been the Mother of Both (and they, the Lelki or, in Lithuanian, Alcis).

For other discussions of pottential Suavic connections to the Iberian Peninsula see here, here, here, here, here and here.

And if you want a real mindtwister, recall that wyspa – earlier yspa – is the Polish word for an island. The etymology of Hispania is not fully understood so throw this possibility into the mix as well.

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