Part 5
"If we discard these theories," he says, "the simplest view of the poem is that it is the monologue of an old sailor who first describes the hardships of the seafaring life, and then confesses its irresistible attraction, which he justifies, as it were, by drawing a parallel between the seafarer's contempt for the luxuries of the life on land on the one hand and the aspirations of a spiritual nature on the other, of which the sea bird is to him the type. In dwelling on these ideals the poet loses sight of the seafarer and his half-heathen associations, and as inevitably rises to a contemplation of the cheering hopes of a future life afforded by Christianity."
The dullness and obscurity of the last part of the poem, however, and the obvious similarity to the homilies of the time make it very unlikely that the whole poem was written by one author.]
I will sing of myself a song that is true, Tell of my travels and troublesome days, How often I endured days of hardship; Bitter breast-care I have borne as my portion, 5 Have seen from my ship sorrowful shores, Awful welling of waves; oft on watch I have been On the narrow night-wakes at the neck of the ship, When it crashed into cliffs; with cold often pinched Were my freezing feet, by frost bound tight 10 In its blighting clutch; cares then burned me, Hot around my heart. Hunger tore within My sea-weary soul. To conceive this is hard For the landsman who lives on the lonely shore-- How, sorrowful and sad on a sea ice-cold, 15 I eked out my exile through the awful winter . . . . . . . . deprived of my kinsmen, Hung about by icicles; hail flew in showers. There I heard naught but the howl of the sea, The ice-cold surge with a swan-song at times; 20 The note of the gannet for gayety served me, The sea-bird's song for sayings of people, For the mead-drink of men the mew's sad note. Storms beat on the cliffs, 'mid the cry of gulls, Icy of feather; and the eagle screamed, 25 The dewy-winged bird. No dear friend comes With merciful kindness my misery to conquer. Of this little can he judge who has joy in his life, And, settled in the city, is sated with wine, And proud and prosperous-- how painful it is 30 When I wearily wander on the waves full oft! Night shadows descended; it snowed from the north; The world was fettered with frost; hail fell to the earth, The coldest of corns. Yet course now desires Which surge in my heart for the high seas, 35 That I test the terrors of the tossing waves; My soul constantly kindles in keenest impatience To fare itself forth and far off hence To seek the strands of stranger tribes. There is no one in this world so o'erweening in power, 40 So good in his giving, so gallant in his youth, So daring in his deeds, so dear to his lord, But that he leaves the land and longs for the sea. By the grace of God he will gain or lose; Nor hearkens he to harp nor has heart for gift-treasures, 45 Nor in the wiles of a wife nor in the world rejoices. Save in the welling of waves no whit takes he pleasure; But he ever has longing who is lured by the sea. The forests are in flower and fair are the hamlets; The woods are in bloom, the world is astir: 50 Everything urges one eager to travel, Sends the seeker of seas afar To try his fortune on the terrible foam. The cuckoo warns in its woeful call; The summer-ward sings, sorrow foretelling, 55 Heavy to the heart. Hard is it to know For the man of pleasure, what many with patience Endure who dare the dangers of exile! In my bursting breast now burns my heart, My spirit sallies over the sea-floods wide, 60 Sails o'er the waves, wanders afar To the bounds of the world and back at once, Eagerly, longingly; the lone flyer beckons My soul unceasingly to sail o'er the whale-path, Over the waves of the sea.
64. At this point the dull homiletic passage begins. Much of it is quite untranslatable. A free paraphrase may be seen in Cook and Tinker, _Translations from Old English Poetry_, p. 47.
THE WIFE'S LAMENT
[Text used: Kluge, _Angelsächsisches Lesebuch_, p. 146.
The meaning of some parts of this poem is very obscure--especially lines 18-21 and 42-47. No satisfactory explanation of them has been given. There is probably no relation except in general theme between it and _The Husband's Message_.]
Sorrowfully I sing my song of woe, My tale of trials. In truth I may say That the buffets I have borne since my birth in the world Were never more than now, either new or old. 5 Ever the evils of exile I endure! Long since went my lord from the land of his birth, Over the welling waves. Woeful at dawn I asked Where lingers my lord, in what land does he dwell? Then I fared into far lands and faithfully sought him, 10 A weary wanderer in want of comfort. His treacherous tribesmen contrived a plot, Dark and dastardly, to drive us apart The width of a world, where with weary hearts We live in loneliness, and longing consumes me. 15 My master commanded me to make my home here. Alas, in this land my loved ones are few, My faithful friends! Hence I feel great sorrow That the man well-matched with me I have found To be sad in soul and sorrowful in mind, 20 Concealing his thoughts and thinking of murder, Though blithe in his bearing. Oft we bound us by oath That the day of our death should draw us apart, Nothing less end our love. Alas, all is changed! Now is as naught, as if never it were, 25 Our faith and our friendship. Far and near I shall Endure the hate of one dear to my heart! He condemned me to dwell in a darksome wood, Under an oak-tree in an earth-cave drear. Old is the earth-hall. I am anxious with longing. 30 Dim are the dales, dark the hills tower, Bleak the tribe-dwellings, with briars entangled, Unblessed abodes. Here bitterly I have suffered The faring of my lord afar. Friends there are on earth Living in love, in lasting bliss, 35 While, wakeful at dawn, I wander alone Under the oak-tree the earth-cave near. Sadly I sit there the summer-long day, Wearily weeping my woeful exile, My many miseries. Hence I may not ever 40 Cease my sorrowing, my sad bewailing, Nor all the longings of my life of woe. Always may the young man be mournful of spirit, Unhappy of heart, and have as his portion Many sorrows of soul, unceasing breast-cares, 45 Though now blithe of behavior. Unbearable likewise Be his joys in the world. Wide be his exile To far-away folk-lands where my friend sits alone, A stranger under stone-cliffs, by storm made hoary, A weary-souled wanderer, by waters encompassed, 50 In his lonely lodging. My lover endures Unmeasured mind-care: he remembers too oft A happier home. To him is fate cruel Who lingers and longs for the loved one's return!
THE HUSBAND'S MESSAGE
[Text used: Kluge, _Angelsächsisches Lesebuch_.
The piece of wood on which the message is written speaks throughout the poem. It is impossible to tell whether the sender of the message is husband or lover of the woman addressed.
Some scholars consider the riddle on "The Reed," number LX, as the true beginning of this poem. It precedes the "Message" in the manuscript. Hicketeir (_Anglia_, xi, 363) thinks that it does not belong with that riddle, but that it is itself a riddle. He cites the Runes, in lines 51-2, especially as evidence. Trautmann (_Anglia_ xvi, 207) thinks that it is part of a longer poem, in which the puzzling relation would be straightened out.]
First I shall freely confide to you The tale of this tablet of wood. As a tree I grew up On the coast of Mecealde, close by the sea. Frequently thence to foreign lands 5 I set forth in travel, the salt streams tried In the keel of the ship at a king's behest. Full oft on the bosom of a boat I have dwelt, Fared over the foam a friend to see, Wherever my master on a mission sent me, 10 Over the crest of the wave. I am come here to you On the deck of a ship and in duty inquire How now in your heart you hold and cherish The love of my lord. Loyalty unwavering I affirm without fear you will find in his heart. 15 The maker of this message commands me to bid thee, O bracelet-adorned one, to bring to thy mind And impress on thy heart the promises of love That ye two in the old days often exchanged While at home in your halls unharmed you might still 20 Live in the land, love one another, Dwell in the same country. He was driven by feud From the powerful people. He prays now, most earnestly That you learn with delight you may launch on the sea-stream When from the height of the hill you hear from afar 25 The melancholy call of the cuckoo in the wood. Let not thereafter any living man Prevent thy voyage or prevail against it. Seek now the shore, the sea-mew's home! Embark on the boat that bears thee south, 30 Where far over the foam thou shalt find thy lord,-- Where lingers thy lover in longing and hope. In the width of the world not a wish or desire More strongly stirs him (he instructs me to say) Than that gracious God should grant you to live 35 Ever after at ease together, To distribute treasures to retainers and friends, To give rings of gold. Of gilded cups And of proud possessions a plenty he has, And holds his home far hence with strangers, 40 His fertile fields, where follow him many High-spirited heroes-- though here my liege-lord, Forced by the fates, took flight on a ship And on the watery waves went forth alone To fare on the flood-way: fain would he escape, 45 Stir up the sea-streams. By strife thy lord hath Won the fight against woe. No wish will he have For horses or jewels or the joys of mead-drinking, Nor any earl's treasures on earth to be found, O gentle lord's daughter, if he have joy in thee, 50 As by solemn vows ye have sworn to each other. I set as a sign S and R together, E, A, W, and D, as an oath to assure you That he stays for thee still and stands by his troth; And as long as he lives it shall last unbroken,-- 55 Which often of old with oaths ye have plighted.
1-6. The text here is so corrupt that an almost complete reconstruction has been necessary.
51. In the manuscript these letters appear as runes. For illustrations of the appearance of runes, see the introductory note to "Cynewulf and his School," p. 95, below. What these runes stood for, or whether they were supposed to possess unusual or magic power is purely a matter of conjecture.
THE RUIN
[Text used: Kluge, _Angelsächsisches Lesebuch_.
This description of a ruin with hot baths is generally assumed to be of the Roman city of Bath. The fact that the poet uses unusual words and unconventional lines seems to indicate that he wrote with his eye on the object.]
Wondrous is its wall-stone laid waste by the fates. The burg-steads are burst, broken the work of the giants. The roofs are in ruins, rotted away the towers, The fortress-gate fallen, with frost on the mortar. 5 Broken are the battlements, low bowed and decaying, Eaten under by age. The earth holds fast The master masons: low mouldering they lie In the hard grip of the grave, till shall grow up and perish A hundred generations. Hoary and stained with red, 10 Through conquest of kingdoms, unconquered this wall endured, Stood up under storm. The high structure has fallen. Still remains its wall-stone, struck down by weapons. They have fallen . . . . . . . . . Ground down by grim fate . . . . . . . . 15 Splendidly it shone . . . . . . . . The cunning creation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . from its clay covering is bent; Mind . . . . . . the swift one drawn. The bold ones in counsel bound in rings 19 The wall-foundations with wires, wondrously together. 20 Bright were the burgher's homes, the bath halls many, Gay with high gables --a great martial sound, Many mead-halls, where men took their pleasure, Till an end came to all, through inexorable fate. The people all have perished; pestilence came on them: 25 Death stole them all, the staunch band of warriors. Their proud works of war now lie waste and deserted; This fortress has fallen. Its defenders lie low, Its repairmen perished. Thus the palace stands dreary, And its purple expanse; despoiled of its tiles 30 Is the roof of the dome. The ruin sank to earth, Broken in heaps --there where heroes of yore, Glad-hearted and gold-bedecked, in gorgeous array, Wanton with wine-drink in war-trappings shone: They took joy in jewels and gems of great price, 35 In treasure untold and in topaz-stones, In the firm-built fortress of a far-stretching realm. The stone courts stood; hot streams poured forth, Wondrously welled out. The wall encompassed all In its bright embrace. Baths were there then, 40 Hot all within --a healthful convenience. They let then pour . . . . . . . . . . Over the hoary stones the heated streams, Such as never were seen by our sires till then. Hringmere was its name . . . . . . . . . . 45 The baths were there then; then is . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That is a royal thing In a house . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
14-18. The text is too corrupt to permit of reconstruction. A literal translation of the fragmentary lines has been given in order to show the student something of the loss we have suffered in not having the whole of this finely conceived lament for fallen grandeur. The line numbers are those of Kluge's text.
II. CHRISTIAN POETRY
1. CÆDMONIAN SCHOOL
[Concerning the man Cædmon, we have nothing but Bede's account in his _Ecclesiastical History_ (see p. 179 below) and Cædmon's Hymn.
_Genesis_ was first published in Amsterdam 1655, next in 1752. The first editions brought _Genesis_ under Cædmon's name, because of Bede's account. There is, however, no such clue in the manuscript. The assignment of _Genesis_ to Cædmon was questioned by Hicks as early as 1689. The Cædmonian authorship was defended in the early part of the nineteenth century by Conybeare and Thorpe. It is now agreed that all the Cædmonian Paraphrases are probably by different authors.
Cf. A. S. Cook, "The Name Cædmon," _Publications of the Modern Language Association of America_, vi, 9, and "Cædmon and the Ruthwell Cross," _Modern Language Notes_, v, 153.]
CÆDMON'S HYMN
[Text used: Kluge, _Angelsächsisches Lesebuch_.
Prose translation: Kennedy, _The Cædmon Poems_, p. xvii.
The poem is interesting in that it is found in two texts, the Northumbrian and the West Saxon. It is the only thing we have that was undoubtedly written by Cædmon.]
Now shall we praise the Prince of heaven, The might of the Maker and his manifold thought, The work of the Father: of what wonders he wrought The Lord everlasting, when he laid out the worlds. 5 He first raised up for the race of men The heaven as a roof, the holy Ruler. Then the world below, the Ward of mankind, The Lord everlasting, at last established As a home for man, the Almighty Lord. _Primo cantavit_ Cædmon _istud carmen_.
6. The many synonyms (known as "kennings") make this passage impossible to translate into smooth English. This fact is true in a measure of all old English poetry, but it is especially the case with this hymn.
BEDE'S DEATH SONG
[Text used: Kluge, _Angelsächsisches Lesebuch_.
This poem was attributed to Bede, who died in 735, by his pupil, Cuthbert, who translated it into Latin. The Northumbrian version is in a manuscript at St. Gall.
These verses are examples of gnomic poetry, which was very popular in Old English literature. Miss Williams, in her _Gnomic Poetry in Anglo-Saxon_ (Columbia University Press, 1914), p. 67, says that this is the earliest gnomic expression in Old English for which a definite date may be set.
Text criticism: Charlotte D'Evelyn, "Bede's Death Song," _Modern Language Notes_, xxx, 31.]
Before leaving this life there lives no one Of men of wisdom who will not need To consider and judge, ere he sets on his journey, What his soul shall be granted of good or evil-- 5 After his day of death what doom he shall meet.
1. Bede, the author of the _Ecclesiastical History of England_, was the greatest figure in the English church of the seventh and eighth centuries.
SELECTIONS FROM GENESIS
[The poem readily divides itself into two parts: _Genesis A_, the bulk of the poem, and _Genesis B_, lines 235-853. The latter is a translation from the Old Saxon. The passage here translated is from _Genesis A_.
GENESIS A
Critical edition of _Genesis A_: F. Holthausen, _Die ältere Genesis_, Heidelberg, 1914.
Translation: C. W. Kennedy, _The Cædmon Poems_, New York, 1916, p. 7.
## Partial translation: W. F. H. Bosanquet, _The Fall of Man or Paradise
Lost of Cædmon_, London, 1869.
Date and place: Early eighth century; Northern England. The author was obviously acquainted with _Beowulf_.
Source: Vulgate Bible; first twenty-two chapters.]
The Offering of Isaac
2845 Then the powerful King put to the test His trusted servant; tried him sorely To learn if his love was lasting and certain. With strongest words he sternly said to him: "Hear me and hasten hence, O Abraham. 2850 As thou leavest, lead along with thee Thy own child Isaac! As an offering to me Thyself shalt sacrifice thy son with thy hands. When thy steps have struggled up the steep hill-side, To the height of the land which from here I shall show you-- 2855 When thine own feet have climbed, there an altar erect me, Build a fire for thy son; and thyself shalt kill him With the edge of the sword as a sacrifice to me; Let the black flame burn the body of that dear one." He delayed not his going, but began at once 2860 To prepare for departure: he was compelled to obey The angel of the Lord, and he loved his God. And then the faultless father Abraham Gave up his night's rest; he by no means failed To obey the Lord's bidding, but the blessed man 2865 Girded his gray sword, God's spirit he showed That he bore in his breast. His beasts then he fed, This aged giver of gold. To go on the journey Two young men he summoned: his son made the third; He himself was the fourth. He set forward eagerly 2870 From his own home and Isaac with him, The child ungrown, as charged by his God. Then he hurried ahead and hastened forth Along the paths that the Lord had pointed, The way through the waste; till the wondrous bright 2875 Dawn of the third day over the deep water Arose in radiance. Then the righteous man Saw the hill-tops rise high around him, As the holy Ruler of heaven had shown him. Then Abraham said to his serving-men: 2880 "O men of mine, remain here now Quietly in this place! We shall quickly return When we two have performed the task before us Which the Sovereign of souls has assigned us to do." The old man ascended with his own son 2885 To the place which the Lord had appointed for them, Went through the wealds; the wood Isaac carried-- His father the fire and the sword. Then first inquired The boy young in winters, in these words of Abraham: "Fire and sword, my father, we find here ready: 2890 Where is the glorious offering which to God on the altar Thou thinkest to bring and burn as a sacrifice?" Abraham answered (he had only one thing That he wished to perform, the will of the Father): "The Sovereign of all himself shall find it, 2895 As the Lord of men shall believe to be meet." Up the steep hill struggled the stout-hearted man, Leading the child as the Lord had charged, Till climbing he came to the crest of the height, To the place appointed by the powerful Lord, 2900 Following the commands of his faithful Master. He loaded the altar and lighted the fire, And fettered fast the feet and hands Of his beloved son and lifted upon it The youthful Isaac, and instantly grasped 2905 The sword by the hilt; his son he would kill With his hands as he promised and pour on the fire The gore of his kinsman. --Then God's servant, An angel of the Lord, to Abraham loudly Spoke with words. He awaited in quiet 2910 The behests from on high and he hailed the angel. Then forthwith spoke from the spacious heavens The messenger of God, with gracious words: "Burn not thy boy, O blessed Abraham, Lift up the lad alive from the altar; 2915 The God of Glory grants him his life! O man of the Hebrews, as meed for thy obedience, Through the holy hand of heaven's King, Thyself shall receive a sacred reward, A liberal gift: the Lord of Glory 2920 Shall favor thee with fortune; his friendship shall be More sacred than thy son himself to thee." The altar still burned. Abraham was blessed By the King of mankind, the kinsman of Lot, With the grace of God, since he gave his son, 2925 Isaac, alive. Then the aged man looked Around over his shoulder, and a ram he saw Not far away fastened alone In a bramble bush-- Haran's brother saw it. Then Abraham seized it and set it on the altar 2930 In eager haste for his own son. With his sword he smote it; as a sacrifice he adorned The reeking altar with the ram's hot blood, Gave to his God this gift and thanked him For all of the favors that before and after 2935 The Lord had allowed him in his loving grace.
1. This selection is based directly on the biblical account of the offering of Isaac. The clearness with which the picture is visualized by the poet, and the fine restraint in the telling of the dramatic incident make this passage a fitting close for the paraphrase of Genesis.
2928. _Haran_, the brother of Abraham, is mentioned in Genesis, 11:26, ff.
SELECTIONS FROM EXODUS
[Critical edition: Francis A. Blackburn, _Exodus and Daniel_, Boston and London, 1907, Belles-Lettres Series.
Translation: Kennedy, _The Cædmon Poems_, p. 99.
There can be no doubt that both _Exodus_ and _Daniel_ are by different hands from _Genesis A_ or _Genesis B_, and they are themselves by different authors.]
The Crossing of the Red Sea