His soul’s liberation. His rich reward 85
Was eternal life with the King of glory.
Two warriors were not slow to the battle-strife,
The game of swords, the play of shields.
Simeon and Thaddeus, God’s steadfast soldiers,
Served keenly in the Persian conflict 90
Until life’s last day descended on both.
Those noble men suffered pain and slaughter
From the hatred of spears, the hostility of swords,
And left vain life to seek a truer victory,
The reward of glory instead of battle-gifts— 95
The joy of heaven, the generous grace of God.
Their living was separated from the body’s being
In this world, and they gave up earthly wealth
For the holy joy of a heavenly home.
So these twelve holy heroes met their end, 100
Glory-thanes who served their eternal Lord,
Their heavenly Father, whose power is imperishable.
Now I pray that the person who has read this poem
And finds these words spiritually sustaining
Should humbly pray to this holy host 105
To grant me aid, shield me from sin,
Support me in my faith, and send me mercy.
I will need kind friends, caring and compassionate,
When I must travel the long, last road
Into that unknown and wondrous land, 110
Leaving my body behind, a bag of dust,
An armful of earth, a feast for worms.
Let the person who loves such sacred stories,
Who can read runes and understand riddles,
Solve this puzzle and say my name: 115
Wealth (Feoh) shall stand briefly at the end
For earls to enjoy on earth, but a fool and his gold
Are soon separated on a man’s death-day.
Worldly joy (Wynn) shall soon pass away;
The body’s animal strength (Ur) will decay, 120
Flesh disappear just as water (Lagu) glides away.
Torch (Cen) may burn and bow (Yr) may slay,
But the need (Nyd) of night, the dying day,
Will stop the string and quench the blaze.
All worldly powers are held in the hand 125
Of heaven’s King. Now you can see
Who sings this song, writes this riddle,
Recites this story. Say who I am.
If you love this poem and are mindful of its meaning,
Please pray for my comfort and consolation, 130
My sustenance and solace. I have to leave home now,
Let my soul fly free from the bone-house
As I travel somewhere wondrous out of this world
To another country, the heart’s homeland.
That sacred place is unknown to everyone 135
Except those who possess a godlike soul.
We should all eagerly seek our Lord,
Pray to the power that shields and sustains us,
Send our poems and prayers to the King of creation,
So that we might find favor and finally enter 140
The kingdom of heaven, the place of peace,
Where the King of angels offers to each
The richest reward, a gather of glory,
The radiance of heaven, both now and forever,
Eternally ours, eternally renewing, 145
An endless energy shaping creation.
Finit.
SOUL AND BODY I
This is one of two Soul and Body poems in Old English; the other, shorter version, which contains only the lament of the damned soul, occurs in the Exeter Book. The common portions of the poems are alike in most ways, though there are subtle differences in usage and spelling (see Moffat’s 1990 edition for comparative versions). Fulk and Cain note that “the soul’s address to the body and the horrors of the rotting corpse are standard homiletic themes … [and] though the Exeter version lacks the less colorful speech of the saved soul, the two versions must stem from a common written tradition” (138). The soul and body are separated at death so that each suffers a different fate: the damned soul laments the sins of its body, which has now become a decomposed bone-house, food for worms. On Judgment Day, the soul and body are reunited to be judged and suffer together. The saved soul here is reunited with its virtuous body to await judgment and presumably to go united again to heaven with the righteous. Shippey points out that “the poet addresses himself firmly to [each of] the wise, modsnotra gehwam … convinced that good and evil are total opposites, without intermediate states, being on the whole more stimulated by the side of evil and danger,” adding that the poet “believes in the value of realising this total opposition before decisions are taken, and even more firmly in the uselessness of realisation and repentance afterwards” (36). Fragments of another poem, The Soul’s Address to the Body, are also found in the Worcester Fragments (see the “Additional Poems” section). Similar themes are found in The Grave, Judgment Day I, Judgment Day II, and Christ III: Judgment.
Soul and Body I
Truly every man needs to see and understand
The state of his soul, the fate of its journey,
How dark it will be when grim death comes
To separate those kinsmen, body and soul,
Who were so long together, joined as one. 5
Long afterwards the soul shall receive
God’s just reward, either grief or glory,
Torment or true bliss, depending on what
The body has earned for it, the world-walker,
Dust-dweller, in their days on earth. 10
The soul shall come every seventh night
For three hundred years, moaning in misery,
Seeking the body, that carrion coat
It wore before, that unthriving flesh,
Unless almighty God, the Lord of hosts, 15
Determines the world’s doom sooner than that.
Then the soul shall speak, discourse with dust,
Crying out its cares in the coldest words:
“You cruel, bloody clod, what have you done?
Why did you torment me, filth of flesh, 20
Wasting world-rot, food for worms,
Effigy of earth? You gave little thought
To the state of your soul and how it might suffer
After leaving your clutch, lifted from flesh,
Or how long you might molder and spoil. 25
Are you blaming me, you wicked wretch?
Little did you think that lusting for pleasure
Might be craving for terror, that gorging on life
Might leave you lifeless, a banquet for worms.
God in his goodness gave you a spirit. 30
The Lord in his great power and glory
Sent you by an angel from his home in heaven
The gift of a soul from his own hand.
Then he redeemed you with his holy blood,
His sacred suffering, his blessed sacrifice. 35
Yet you bound me with hard hunger
And cruel thirst. You tied me to torments
In hell’s dark home, made me a slave.
I lived inside you, encompassed by flesh,
Trapped in my torment, your sinful desires, 40
Your lusty pleasures. I couldn’t escape.
Your evil pressed upon me so strongly
That it sometimes seemed that I might have to wait
Thirty thousand years till the day you died.
So I waited in misery for our moment of parting— 45
But the end of this waiting is not so good!
You were puffed up with pride, gorging on food,
Drunk with wine, feasting on pleasure
Like some wild beast, while I felt a thirst
For the body of God, a soulful drink. 50
You never considered in your long life here
&nbs
p; While I had to live with you in the wretched world,
That you were conceived in lust, born in flesh,
Bound by sin, yet steadied and strengthened
By the gift of a soul sent by God. 55
You never guarded me against hell’s torments
Because of the lusts of your sinful heart.
Now you will suffer shame for my undoing,
Guilt for my grieving, on that great day,
When the only-begotten Son gathers up mankind. 60
Now you are no more loved as a faithful companion,
No more important to anyone alive,
Mother or father, kith or kin,
Than the darkest of birds, the black raven,
The carrion crow—not since I left you, 65
Sent on a journey by the same holy hand
That brought me down to the flesh-house before.
Now comes the day of God’s hard reckoning.
You can’t buy any easy way out of the journey
Toward final judgment—not with crimson jewels, 70
Not with silly trinkets, with silver or gold,
Not with worldly goods, with your bridal ring,
Or your palace of pleasure. Now you must abide
In the earth’s embrace. What remains, my body,
Will be stripped to the bone, its sinews shredded, 75
Its ligaments ripped away, while I, your soul,
Must seek you out, unwilling yet undaunted,
Revile you with words as you reviled me with deeds.
You are deaf and dumb to the living world,
But not to me. Your pleasures are past. 80
Still I must visit you at night with my need,
Driven by sorrow, afflicted by sin,
Only to flee at cockcrow, when holy men
Sing praise-songs to the living God.
I must leave for the lands appointed to me 85
By your dark deeds, a home for the homeless,
A house of shame. Mold-worms and maggots
Will feed on your flesh, chew up your sinews,
Dark greedy creatures, gluttons munching you,
Moment by moment, back to the bone. 90
The extravagances you offered, the possessions you paraded
Here on earth before people, finally mean nothing.
Better for you than the accumulated wealth of the world—
Unless you’d given your riches to God as a gift—
Would be to have been conceived from the beginning 95
As a bird in the air, a fish in the flood,
Or an animal on the earth, grazing along,
A dumb ox in the field without wit,
Or the fiercest animal wandering in the wild,
If God had willed it, or even the worst of worms, 100
Than ever to have been born a man to take baptism.
You will have to answer for both of us
On that day of reckoning when all the wounds
Wrought by men in this world are revealed,
The sores of sin, the marks of misery. 105
Then the Lord himself, the Shaper of heaven,
Will hear the past deeds of each person
And ask the recompense for Christ’s wounds.
What will you say to God on Doomsday?
You will have to pay for each sin separately, 110
With each small joint in your hand or limb—
A severe judgment from a stern judge.
But what are we going to do together?
In the end we will endure the multitude of miseries,
The gathering of griefs, you allotted for us earlier.” 115
Then the soul will revile the flesh-hold,
Condemn the body, the cold corpse,
As it hastens away to the depths of hell,
Tormented by sinful deeds, and not to the holy
Delights of heaven. The dust will lie still— 120
It cannot respond, offer the sad soul
Some argument or answer, some ease for the spirit,
Some support or peace. A corpse cannot speak.
Its head is split open, its hands torn apart,
Dismembered in the dust. Its jaw is gaping, 125
Its palate cracked, its throat ripped out,
Its sinews sucked away, its neck gnawed apart,
Its gums shredded into a handful of dust.
Savage worms now ravage its ribs
Drink down the corpse, thirsty for blood. 130
Its tongue is ripped into ten pieces,
A delightful feast for the little devourers,
So it cannot speak to the soul, trade talk
With the wretched spirit. The name of the worm
Is Ravenous Greedy-Mouth, whose hard jaws 135
Are sharp as needles. It is the first visitor
To desire the grave, crunching through ground.
It rips up the tongue, bores through the teeth,
Eats down through the eyes into the head,
Inviting the other gobblers to a great feast, 140
When the wretched body has cooled down
That once wore clothes against the cold.
Then it becomes the feast for worms,
Cold carrion, a banquet for maggots.
Wise men should remember this. 145
It’s more hopeful when the holy and blessed soul
Comes back to the body, encompassed in joy.
Its mission and message bring hope to the heart.
This soul seeks willingly the body it bore,
The flesh-robe it wore for a long lifetime. 150
Then gathering souls speak as one to the body
With wise words, truthful and triumphant,
Greeting the good one with sincere welcome:
“Dearest friend, beloved companion,
Even though worms are attacking you, 155
Greedy ones eager for a feast of flesh,
I have come back from my Father’s kingdom,
Wrapped in blessing, robed in grace,
Clothed in joy. Alas, my lord, if only
I could lead you away to see the angels 160
And the splendor of heaven, as you appointed for me
Through your good deeds. You fasted here,
Filling me up with the body of God,
Quenching my thirst with the soul’s drink.
You lived in poverty, offering me an abundance 165
Of spiritual pleasures and soulful treasures.
You need not feel shame for the holy gifts
You gave me on earth on that great day
When the sinful and righteous are divided.
Nor should you need to mourn at the meeting 170
Of men and angels over all you’ve given.
Here you were humble, bowing before men,
Raising me up to eternal bliss.
I mourn for you here, dearest of men,
For a body turned into a banquet for worms, 175
But God’s will was always that your share
Should be this hateful home, this loathsome grave.
But I tell you this truly: Do not be troubled
By this earthly torment—we will be united again
Gathered together for God’s judgment 180
On Doomsday. Then we shall enjoy together,
A precious pair, the honor and grace
You appointed for us while we were living,
And we will be exalted as one in heaven.
We have no need for care at God’s coming, 185
No reason to flee or fear his judgment,
No grief for guilt, no sorrow for sin.
Then in God’s presence we will speak as one,
Recounting all the good deeds we have done,
And celebrate the rewards we have won together. 190
I know that you were great in worldly endeavors
* * *
HOMILETIC FRAGMENT I: ON HUM
AN DECEIT
Randle points out that although this fragmentary poem has often been neglected by scholars, “it sits squarely within the homiletic context of the Vercelli Book as a whole,” and notes that “its theme, namely, the deceitfulness of men in the present age, is a relatively commonplace homiletic motif” (185). Both Isaacs and Pulsiano (1987) note that the central metaphor of the poem is that of the bees that produce both sweet honey for the tongue and an unexpected sting in the flesh. The theme of double-dealing and betrayal is a common one in OE poetry, from Beowulf to The Battle of Maldon. The theme is also evident in Charm for a Swarm of Bees, where the charmist exhorts the earth he is throwing to take power over not only the bees but “over grudges, over malice, over evil rites, / Over even the mighty, slanderous tongue of man.” The beginning of the homily is lost because of a missing folio between this and the previous poem.
Homiletic Fragment I: On Human Deceit
* * *
So many sorrows of different sorts,
A myriad of woes, steal furtively
Into the halls of men, subverting their joy.
One man insults or abuses another
With secret slander or malicious words, 5
Blames a good man behind his back
While speaking fairly before his face.
His heart holds deceit like a dark treasure—
He gathers guilt with his gift of guile.
In that moment the Lord of hosts 10
Will be the witness of that wicked deed.
Therefore the prophet has said, “Lord of hosts,
Do not give me up to suffer with the sinful
Or lead me to live with smooth-tongued liars
Doomed to destruction. Their hearts hold 15
Bitter thoughts and devious desires.
What they promise with their lips, they pervert
With their lying words and evil intentions.”
Misery lurks in the malicious mind,
The sinful heart, though a man’s words 20
May seem faithful and fair, true and trustworthy.
Goodness and guile are strange travelers together,
Like delight and danger, pain and pleasure—
Just as bees bear both the sweetest honey
And the sharpest sting, a treat for the mouth 25
And a torment for the flesh, a tiny spear
Holding poison, hiding in the tail,
To wound their prey when they have a chance.
These bees are just like dishonest people
Who promise honey with their sweet tongues 30
And deliver pain when they betray their friends
With their cunning deceit and the devil’s art.
So now middle-earth is corrupted with crime,
The Complete Old English Poems Page 34