Part 3

This fragment belongs to the epic story of Finn which is alluded to at some length in _Beowulf_ (vv. 1068-1159). The saga can be reconstructed in its broad outlines, though it is impossible to be sure of details. One of the most puzzling of these details is the position in which the "Fight" occurs. In the story are two fights, either one of which may be the one described in the fragment. The weight of opinion seems to favor the first conflict, that in which Hnæf is killed. As summarized by Möller, the Finn story is briefly as follows:

"Finn, king of the Frisians, had carried off Hildeburh, daughter of Hoc (_Beowulf_, v. 1076), probably with her consent. Her father Hoc seems to have pursued the fugitives, and to have been slain in the fight which ensued on his overtaking them. After the lapse of some twenty years, Hoc's sons Hnæf and Hengest, were old enough to undertake the duty of avenging their father's death. They make an inroad into Finn's country and a battle takes place in which many warriors, among them Hnæf and a son of Finn (1074, 1079, 1115), are killed. Peace is therefore solemnly concluded, and the slain warriors are burnt (1068-1124).

"As the year is too far advanced for Hengest to return home (1130 ff.), he and those of his men who survive remain for the winter in the Frisian country with Finn. But Hengest's thoughts dwell constantly on the death of his brother Hnæf, and he would gladly welcome any excuse to break the peace which had been sworn by both parties. His ill concealed desire for revenge is noticed by the Frisians, who anticipate it by themselves taking the initiative and attacking Hengest and his men whilst they are sleeping in the hall. This is the night attack described in the "Fight." It would seem that after a brave and desperate resistance Hengest himself falls in this fight at the hands of Hunlafing (1143), but two of his retainers, Guthlaf and Oslaf, succeed in cutting their way through their enemies and in escaping to their own land. They return with fresh troops, attack and slay Finn, and carry his queen, Hildeburh, off with them (1125-1159)."--Wyatt, _Beowulf_, (1901), p. 145.

Professor Gummere finds in the fragment an example bearing out his theory of the development of the epic. "The qualities which difference it from _Beowulf_," he says, "are mainly negative; it lacks sentiment, moralizing, the leisure of the writer; it did not attempt probably to cover more than a single event; and one will not err in finding it a fair type of the epic songs which roving singers were wont to sing before lord and liegeman in hall and which were used with more or less fidelity by makers of complete epic poems."]

". . . . . . . . Are the gables not burning?" Boldly replied then the battle-young king: "The day is not dawning; no dragon is flying, And the high gable-horns of the hall are not burning, 5 But the brave men are bearing the battle line forward, While bloodthirsty sing the birds of slaughter. Now clangs the gray corselet, clashes the war-wood, Shield answers shaft. Now shineth the moon, Through its cover of clouds. Now cruel days press us 10 That will drive this folk to deadly fight. But wake at once, my warriors bold, Stand now to your armor and strive for honor; Fight at the front unafraid and undaunted." Then arose from their rest, ready and valiant, 15 Gold-bedecked soldiers, and girded their swords. The noble knights went now to the door And seized their swords, Sigeferth and Eaha, And to the other door Ordlaf and Guthlaf, And Hengest who followed to help the defense. 20 Now Guthere restrained Garulf from strife, Lest fearless at the first of the fight he rush To the door and daringly endanger his life, Since now it was stormed by so stalwart a hero. But unchecked by these words a challenge he shouted, 25 Boldly demanding what man held the door. "I am Sigferth," he said, "the Secgan's prince; Wide have I wandered; many woes have I known And bitter battles. Be it bad or good Thou shalt surely receive what thou seekest from me." 30 At the wall by the door rose the din of battle; In the hands of heroes the hollow bucklers Shattered the shields. Shook then the hall floor Till there fell in the fight the faithful Garulf, Most daring and doughty of the dwellers on earth, 35 The son of Guthlaf; and scores fell with him. O'er the corpses hovered the hungry raven, Swarthy and sallow-brown. A sword-gleam blazed As though all Finnsburg in flames were burning. Never heard I of heroes more hardy in war, 40 Of sixty who strove more strongly or bravely, Of swains who repaid their sweet mead better Than his loyal liegemen to their loved Hnæf. Five days they fought, but there fell not a one Of the daring band, though the doors they held always. 45 Now went from the warfare a wounded chief. He said that his burnie was broken asunder, His precious war-gear, and pierced was his helmet. Then questioned their chief and inquired of him How the warriors recovered from the wounds they received, 50 Or which of the youths . . . . . . .

1. The fragment begins in the middle of a word.

2. The "battle-young king" is probably the Hengest of v. 19. Possibly he is to be identified with Hengest, the conqueror of Kent.

5, 6. In the original these lines seem to be incomplete. The translation attempts to keep the intended meaning.

14, 15. In the original these appear as a single greatly expanded line, which was probably at one time two lines.

17. _Sigeferth_ (see also line 26), prince of the Secgans is probably identical with Sæferth who ruled the Secgans in _Widsith_, v. 31.

18. _Ordlaf and Guthlaf_ appear in the account in _Beowulf_ (vv. 1148, ff.) as Oslaf and Guthlaf. They are the avengers of Hnæf.

20. From the construction it is impossible to tell who is the speaker and who is being restrained. But from line 33 it is seen to be Garulf who neglects the advice and is killed. Garulf and Guthere are, of course, of the attacking band.

26. _Sigferth_, one of the defenders. See v. 17, above.

28, 29. These lines are obscure. Probably they mean that Garulf may have as good as he sends in the way of a fight.

35. Guthlaf, the father of Garulf (the assailant) was probably not the Guthalf of line 18, who was a defender. If we have here a conflict between father and son, very little is made of it.

45. It is impossible to tell who the wounded warrior was or which chief is referred to in line 48.

2. GNOMIC GROUP

CHARMS

[Edition used: Kluge, _Angelsächsisches Lesebuch_.

Critical edition and discussion of most of the charms: Felix Grendon, _Journal of American Folk-lore_, xxii, 105 ff. See that article for bibliography.

Grendon divides the charms into five classes:

1. Exorcisms of diseases and disease spirits. 2. Herbal charms. 3. Charms for transferring disease. 4. Amulet charms. 5. Charm remedies.

These charms contain some of the most interesting relics of the old heathen religion of the Anglo-Saxons incongruously mingled with Christian practices. They were probably written down at so late a time that the churchmen felt they could no longer do harm.]

I. For Bewitched Land

_Here is the remedy by which thou mayst improve thy fields if they will not produce well or if any evil thing is done to them by means of sorcery or witchcraft:_

_5_ _Take at night, before daybreak, four pieces of turf from the four corners of the land and mark the places where they have stood. Take then oil and honey and yeast and the milk of every kind of cattle that is on that land and a piece of every kind of tree that is grown _10_ on that land, except hard wood, and a piece of every kind of herb known by name, except burdock alone. Then put holy water on these and dip it thrice in the base of the turfs and say these words:_ Crescite, _grow_, et multiplicamini, _and multiply_, et replete, _and fill_, terram, _15_ _this earth_, in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti sint benedicti; _and_ Pater Noster _as often as anything else_.

_Then carry the turfs to the church and have the priest sing four masses over them and have the green sides _20_ turned toward the altar. Then bring them back before sunset to the place where they were at first. Now make four crosses of aspen and write on the end of each_ Matheus _and_ Marcus _and_ Lucas _and_ Johannes. _Lay the crosses on the bottom of each hole and then say_: _25_ Crux Matheus, crux Marcus, crux Lucas, crux Sanctus Johannes. _Then take the sods and lay them on top and say nine times the word_ Crescite, _and the_ Pater Noster _as often. Turn then to the east and bow humbly nine times and say these words:_

30 Eastward I stand, for honors I pray; I pray to the God of glory; I pray to the gracious Lord; I pray to the high and holy Heavenly Father; I pray to the earth and all of the heavens, And to the true and virtuous virgin Saint Mary, 35 And to the high hall of Heaven and its power, That with God's blessing I may unbind this spell With my open teeth, and through trusty thought May awaken the growth for our worldly advantage, May fill these fields by fast belief, 40 May improve this planting, for the prophet saith That he hath honors on earth whose alms are free, Who wisely gives, by the will of God.

_Then turn three times following the course of the sun, stretch thyself prostrate, and chant the litanies. _45_ Then say_ Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus _through to the end. Then chant_ Benedicte _with outstretched arms, and the_ Magnificat _and_ Pater Noster _three times and commend thy prayer to the praise and glory of Christ and Saint Mary and the Holy Rood, and to the honor _50_ of him who owns the land and to all those that are subject to him. When all this is done, get some unknown seed from beggars, and give them twice as much as thou takest from them. Then gather all thy plowing gear together and bore a hole in the beam and put in _55_ it incense and fennel and consecrated soap and consecrated salt. Take the seed and put it on the body of the plow, and then say:_

Erce, Erce, Erce, of earth the mother, May he graciously grant thee, God Eternal, 60 To have fertile fields and fruitful harvests, Growing in profit and gaining in power; A host of products and harvests in plenty, Bright with the broad barley harvest; And heavy with the white harvest of wheat, 65 And all the harvest of the earth. May the Almighty Lord grant And all his saints who are seated in heaven, That against all of the enemies this earth may be guarded, Protected and made proof against the powers of evil, Against sorceries and spells dispersed through the land. 70 Now I pray to the Power who planned the creation That no woman of witchcraft, no worker of magic, May change or unspell the charm I have spoken.

_Then drive forth the plow and turn the first furrow and say:_

75 Hail to thee, Earth, of all men the mother, Be goodly thy growth in God's embrace, Filled with food as a favor to men.

_Then take meal of every kind and bake a loaf as broad as it will lie between the two hands, kneading _80_ it with milk and with holy water, and lay it under the first furrow. Say then:_

Full be the field with food for mankind, Blossoming brightly. Blessed by thou By the holy name of Heaven's Creator, 85 And the maker of Earth, which men inhabit. May God who created the ground grant us growing gifts, That each kernel of corn may come to use.

_Say then three times_, Crescite in nomine patris, sint benedicti. Amen _and_ Pater Noster _three times_.

30. Irregularities in the meter in the translations are imitations of similar irregularities in the original.

58. _Erce:_ probably the name of an old Teutonic deity, the Mother of Earth. This reference is all we have to preserve the name.

75. The conception of a goddess as Mother of Earth and of Earth as Mother of Men is entirely pagan. This charm is a peculiar complex of Christian and pagan ideas.

II. Against a Sudden Stitch

_Against a sudden stitch take feverfew, and the red nettle that grows through the house, and plantain. Boil in butter._

Loud were they, lo loud, as over the lea they rode; 5 Resolute they were when they rode over the land. Protect thyself that thy trouble become cured and healed. Out, little stick, if it still is I stood under the linden, under the light shield, Where the mighty women their magic prepared, 10 And they sent their spears spinning and whistling. But I will send them a spear in return, Unerringly aim an arrow against them. Out, little stick, if it still is within! There sat a smith and a small knife forged 15 . . . . . . . sharply with a stroke of iron. Out little stick if it still is within! Six smiths sat and worked their war-spears. Out, spear! be not in, spear! If it still is there, the stick of iron, 20 The work of the witches, away it shall melt. If thou wert shot in the skin, or sore wounded in the flesh, If in the blood thou wert shot, or in the bone thou wert shot, If in the joint thou wert shot, there will be no jeopardy to your life. If some deity shot it, or some devil shot it, 25 Or if some witch has shot it, now I am willing to help thee. This is a remedy for a deity's shot; this is a remedy for a devil's shot; This is a remedy for a witch's shot. I am willing to help thee. Flee there into the forests . . . . . . . Be thou wholly healed. Thy help be from God.

_30_ _Then take the knife and put it into the liquid._

1. The sudden stitch in the side (or rheumatic pain) is here thought of as coming from the arrows shot by the "mighty women"--the witches.

21-28. These irregular lines are imitated from the original.

RIDDLES

[Critical editions: Wyatt, Tupper, and Trautmann. Wyatt (Boston, 1912, Belles Lettres edition) used as a basis for these translations. His numbering is always one lower than the other editions, since he rejects one riddle.

Date: Probably eighth century for most of them.

For translations of other riddles than those here given see Brooke, _English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest_, Pancoast and Spaeth, _Early English Poems_, and Cook and Tinker, _Selections from Old English Poetry_.

There is no proof as to the authorship. There were probably one hundred of them in the original collection though only about ninety are left. Many of them are translations from the Latin. Some are true folk-riddles and some are learned.

In the riddles we find particulars of Anglo-Saxon life that we cannot find elsewhere. The _Cambridge History of English Literature_ sums their effect up in the following sentence: "Furthermore, the author or authors of the Old English riddles borrow themes from native folk-songs and saga; in their hands inanimate objects become endowed with life and personality; the powers of nature become objects of worship such as they were in olden times; they describe the scenery of their own country, the fen, the river, and the sea, the horror of the untrodden forest, sun and moon engaged in perpetual pursuit of each other, the nightingale and the swan, the plow guided by the 'gray-haired enemy of the wood,' the bull breaking up clods left unturned by the plow, the falcon, the arm-companion of æthelings--scenes, events, characters familiar in the England of that day."]

I. A Storm

What man is so clever, so crafty of mind, As to say for a truth who sends me a-traveling? When I rise in my wrath, raging at times, Savage is my sound. Sometimes I travel, 5 Go forth among the folk, set fire to their homes And ravage and rob them; then rolls the smoke Gray over the gables; great is the noise, The death-struggle of the stricken. Then I stir up the woods And the fruitful forests; I fell the trees, 10 I, roofed over with rain, on my reckless journey, Wandering widely at the will of heaven. I bear on my back the bodily raiment, The fortunes of folk, their flesh and their spirits, Together to sea. Say who may cover me, 15 Or what I am called, who carry this burden?

1. Some scholars feel that the first three riddles, all of which describe storms, are in reality one, with three divisions. There is little to indicate whether the scribe thought of them as separate or not.

II. A Storm

At times I travel in tracks undreamed of, In vasty wave-depths to visit the earth, The floor of the ocean. Fierce is the sea . . . . . . . the foam rolls high; 5 The whale-pool roars and rages loudly; The streams beat the shores, and they sling at times Great stones and sand on the steep cliffs, With weeds and waves, while wildly striving Under the burden of billows on the bottom of ocean 10 The sea-ground I shake. My shield of waters I leave not ere he lets me who leads me always In all my travels. Tell me, wise man, Who was it that drew me from the depth of the ocean When the streams again became still and quiet, 15 Who before had forced me in fury to rage?

III. A Storm

At times I am fast confined by my Master, Who sendeth forth under the fertile plain My broad bosom, but bridles me in. He drives in the dark a dangerous power 5 To a narrow cave, where crushing my back Sits the weight of the world. No way of escape Can I find from the torment; so I tumble about The homes of heroes. The halls with their gables, The tribe-dwellings tremble; the trusty walls shake, 10 Steep over the head. Still seems the air Over all the country and calm the waters, Till I press in my fury from my prison below, Obeying His bidding who bound me fast In fetters at first when he fashioned the world, 15 In bonds and in chains, with no chance of escape From his power who points out the paths I must follow. Downward at times I drive the waves, Stir up the streams; to the strand I press The flint-gray flood: the foamy wave 20 Lashes the wall. A lurid mountain Rises on the deep; dark in its trail Stirred up with the sea a second one comes, And close to the coast it clashes and strikes On the lofty hills. Loud soundeth the boat, 25 The shouting of shipmen. Unshaken abide The stone cliffs steep through the strife of the waters, The dashing of waves, when the deadly tumult Crowds to the coast. Of cruel strife The sailors are certain if the sea drive their craft 30 With its terrified guests on the grim rolling tide; They are sure that the ship will be shorn of its power, Be deprived of its rule, and will ride foam-covered On the ridge of the waves. Then ariseth a panic, Fear among folk of the force that commands me, 35 Strong on my storm-track. Who shall still that power? At times I drive through the dark wave-vessels That ride on my back, and wrench them asunder And lash them with sea-streams; or I let them again Glide back together. It is the greatest of noises, 40 Of clamoring crowds, of crashes the loudest, When clouds as they strive in their courses shall strike Edge against edge; inky of hue In flight o'er the folk bright fire they sweat, A stream of flame; destruction they carry 45 Dark over men with a mighty din. Fighting they fare. They let fall from their bosom A deafening rain of rattling liquid, Of storm from their bellies. In battle they strive, The awful army; anguish arises, 50 Terror of mind to the tribes of men, Distress in the strongholds, when the stalking goblins, The pale ghosts shoot with their sharp weapons. The fool alone fears not their fatal spears; But he perishes too if the true God send 55 Straight from above in streams of rain, Whizzing and whistling the whirlwind's arrows, The flying death. Few shall survive Whom that violent guest in his grimness shall visit. I always stir up that strife and commotion; 60 Then I bear my course to the battle of clouds, Powerfully strive and press through the tumult, Over the bosom of the billows; bursteth loudly The gathering of elements. Then again I descend In my helmet of air and hover near the land, 65 And lift on my back the load I must bear, Minding the mandates of the mighty Lord. So I, a tried servant, sometimes contend: Now under the earth; now from over the waves I drive to the depths; now dropping from heaven, 70 I stir up the streams, or strive to the skies, Where I war with the welkin. Wide do I travel, Swift and noisily. Say now my name, Or who raises me up when rest is denied me, Or who stays my course when stillness comes to me?

V. A Shield

A lonely warrior, I am wounded with iron, Scarred with sword-points, sated with battle-play, Weary of weapons. I have witnessed much fighting, Much stubborn strife. From the strokes of war 5 I have no hope for help or release Ere I pass from the world with the proud warrior band. With brands and billies they beat upon me; The hard edges hack me; the handwork of smiths In crowds I encounter; with courage I endure 10 Ever bitterer battles. No balm may I find, And no doctor to heal me in the whole field of battle, To bind me with ointments and bring me to health, But my grievous gashes grow ever sorer Through death-dealing strokes by day and night.

VII. A Swan

My robe is noiseless when I roam the earth, Or stay in my home, or stir up the water. At times I am lifted o'er the lodgings of men By the aid of my trappings and the air above. 5 The strength of the clouds then carries me far, Bears me on its bosom. My beautiful ornament, My raiment rustles and raises a song, Sings without tiring. I touch not the earth But wander a stranger over stream and wood.

VIII. A Nightingale

With my mouth I am master of many a language; Cunningly I carol; I discourse full oft In melodious lays; loud do I call, Ever mindful of melody, undiminished in voice. 5 An old evening-scop, to earls I bring Solace in cities; when, skillful in music, My voice I raise, restful at home They sit in silence. Say what is my name, That call so clearly and cleverly imitate 10 The song of the scop, and sing unto men Words full welcome with my wonderful voice.

XIV. A Horn