The manuscript is moderately damaged in a variety of ways. As Muir points out, this damage may be related to its very survival in later times when Old English manuscripts were considered of little value:
The condition of the manuscript suggests that it has survived only because it could be put to practical use in the scriptorium: it was used as a cutting board (as the slashes on its front leaves show); a messy pot (perhaps of glue) was placed on its exposed first folio on at least one occasion; a fiery brand was placed on its exposed back with apparent indifference; and the sheets of gold leaf were often stored between its folios, leaving a sparkling residue of gold on many of its leaves. (2)
The manuscript has, like one of the creatures in the Exeter Book riddles, shifted shapes and survived by means of its transformations.
Whether the Exeter Book is a consciously crafted anthology of related poems or an arbitrary miscellany of unrelated poems is a matter of continuing debate. N. F. Blake, for example, says that “the Exeter Book differs from the other three poetic codices in that it is a poetic miscellany in which there does not appear to have been a recognisable principle of selection” (1990, 2). Muir believes that the anthology is arranged in a meaningful manner, contending that the first eight poems are “related thematically in their concern with different models for Christian living” and arguing that there is “a strong thematic link in the series of poems from Judgement Day I to Homiletic Fragment II, all of which are concerned with aspects of the Easter liturgical season” (23).
There are elements of both order and arbitrariness to the collection. The book opens with a series of long religious poems, and these share certain themes with some of the later, shorter poems such as Vainglory and The Descent into Hell, but not with the more secular poems such as the down-to-earth, and sometimes bawdy, riddles. The poems we now call elegies occur reasonably close together and share certain religious and philosophical themes with the opening poems—yet they are also quite different in their use of a developed narrative persona. The poems with refrains, Deor and Wulf and Eadwacer, occur together. The riddles are not randomly placed throughout the book but collected in three sections, though two are substantial and one is mysteriously short. In the short section, Riddle 58, the reed-pen or rune-stave riddle, has probably been placed next to The Husband’s Message because both poems mention runes or letters or may have been considered riddles. Some poems that seem thematically connected, such as The Wife’s Lament and The Husband’s Message, are separated by other poems. Finally, it is not possible to see order everywhere in the Exeter compilation, just as it is not possible to view the collection as a random miscellany.
This juxtaposition of order and arbitrariness is often an element in the poems themselves. Gnomic poems or maxims, for example, are usually a catalogue of characteristics, traits, or ideals that sometimes follow a connected sequence of meaning and sometimes leap rather arbitrarily from one context to another. Howe calls this pattern a “strangeness of taxonomy,” whose apparent disjunctions force us to see beyond our ordinary categories of perception, and whose apparent absurdity “is also deeply disconcerting, for it challenges our fundamental ways of ordering experience” (10). The play between ordered perceptions and apparently arbitrary surprises is reminiscent of the formal play of the riddles, which are always teasing us with strange connections and disguises and challenging us to “Say who I am” or “Say what I mean.” The heart of the riddlic game lies in the metaphoric or metamorphic connection between apparently unlike things. A moon is described as a thief of light. A rake is a stiff-tailed dog. A penis is like an onion in a sexual stew. A vellum page was once a cow’s hide. A drinking horn was a noble head-rider in an earlier life. Riddles are built on connections that appear arbitrary and incomprehensible, which means it takes time to solve them and make sense of their world.
The progression of poems in the Exeter Book may be like the progression of gnomic kernel statements in the Maxims or like the balance between ordered understanding and arbitrary surprise in the riddles. We can easily understand the relation between Christ and the Guthlac poems or The Wanderer and The Seafarer. We might even argue that the mystery of Christ’s life and death is like a divine riddle. It is harder to discern a connection between an Advent lyric and a bawdy riddle or between Deor and Pharaoh. It has been difficult over time for scholars to decide whether poems like Deor and Wulf and Eadwacer are elegies, riddles, or some other genre. We must finally accept the fact that there is sometimes an ordered connection between individual Exeter Book poems and sometimes an unexpected leap from one poem to another or an arbitrary inclusion of an apparently unrelated poem. Some of the pleasure of poetry, whether medieval or modern, lies in the exploration of ambiguity and of the relation between order and disorder.
CHRIST I: ADVENT LYRICS
The three Christ poems which open the Exeter Book were once taken to be a single poem but are now regarded as three separate but related poems similar to “the separate panels of a triptych” (Shippey, 158), each focusing on an important aspect of Christ’s life and mission and geared to the events of the liturgical year. The poems also emphasize mankind’s fallen nature and its need for the enlightenment and redemption made possible by Christ’s coming. Albert Cook (1909) was the first to recognize that the Advent lyrics are poetic elaborations of the antiphons or anthems used in the liturgy of the medieval church, known as the Greater Os and Monastic Os. Fulk and Cain explain that these are “the antiphons (responses) that were sung during the final days of Advent at the hour of Vespers before and after the Magnificat, the canticle of Mary,” noting that “each begins with a direct address, usually to Christ, such as O Adonai or O Rex gentium—hence the name ‘Os,’ each Old English equivalent beginning Eala” (123). As is typically the case, the OE poets have taken some creative freedom in their treatment of the biblical and liturgical sources. Burlin, in his edition, sees the composition of the lyrics as analogous to a musical symphony with repeated themes and variations and says that “the poem is a composite of many themes or motifs related to the Advent, its mysteries, its historical reality, its figures, and its theological significance” (49). Greenfield notes the following binding forces among the twelve lyrics: “Mary’s ‘progress’ … various architectural and light/darkness figures … such motifs as the coexistence of Father and son, man’s inability to understand God’s mysteries, man’s misery and need of grace, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the call to praise God” (Greenfield and Calder, 188). For the sources and analogues of the lyrics, see Muir, 396 ff.
ADVENT LYRIC I
The opening Advent lyric draws upon a biblical tradition of Christ as the cornerstone of the great building of creation and the foundation of faith. The opening of the poem is missing, but Campbell, in his edition, notes that “the decapitation … does not obscure the fact that the poet was working with an extended metaphor concerned with architecture, building, and creation” (11). He points to Kennedy’s earlier remarks that the poet “here extends the image of the building to symbolize not only the Christian Church, but the individual Christian as well, and sets forth the world’s need that the Craftsman come to repair this structure which now lies decayed under its roof” (Kennedy, 1943, 238). Clayton notes that “the idea of the stone rejected by the builders goes back to Psalm 117.22 (‘The stone which the builders rejected; the same is become the head of the corner’) and was applied to Christ in the new Testament” (365). The antiphon for this lyric, translated from the Latin, is as follows: “O King of the people and their hearts’ desire; O Cornerstone, who make both things one: come and save humanity whom you have fashioned from clay” (Muir, 43).
Advent Lyric I
* * *
to the king.
You are the wall-stone the workers rejected,
The rock of strength they once cast away.
Now you are the fitting and firm foundation,
Cornerstone of the great and glorious hall, 5
Unbroken flint s
ecurely joined,
So that those with eyes to see your glory
Throughout the cities may marvel forever
And know the miracle of your mighty work.
Lord of victory and truth triumphant, 10
Let everyone gaze on the beautiful form,
The breadth and binding, of your great work,
The brawn of standing wall against wall,
Strength and support, buttress and beauty.
But we live in a world of rubble and wreckage. 15
Now we need our Creator, our Craftsman and King,
To reshape the structure and restore the hall,
Rebuild the ruin and reclaim the rooms
Beneath the roof. He built the first man,
Created the body, the limbs of clay. 20
Now may the Lord of life rescue the weary,
Release the multitude from life’s misery,
Free the wretched from torment and woe,
Redeem the ruin as he has so often done.
ADVENT LYRIC II
This lyric deals with the theme of the Lord of light leading the living, who are imprisoned in the darkness of the post-lapsarian world, and also the dead patriarchs and prophets, who are locked in the darkness of hell, into the bright world of truth revealed by Christ’s coming. Campbell points out that “instead of following the antiphon in putting stress on the dark imprisonment of our present state, the poet … shifts his focus to the bright future (sunnan wenað) [we yearn for the sun]” (14). There may be a subtle wordplay here in Old English, as we yearn not only for the sun (sunne/sunnu) but also for the Son (sunu) of God. The antiphon for this lyric, translated from the Latin, is as follows: “O Key of David and Sceptre of the House of Israel; you who open and no one closes; who close and no one opens: come and lead the captive sitting in darkness and the shadow of death from his prison-house” (Muir, 44).
Advent Lyric II
O Lord and Ruler, our righteous King,
True teacher, custodian of the key
That unlocks life, guardian of heaven’s gate—
You open to some the path to paradise;
To others you deny that welcome passage 5
If their works are unworthy. We speak these words
Out of deep need, entreating our Creator,
Who gracefully shaped us, body and soul,
Bone-house and breath-spirit, frame and form,
To watch over us. Never let us be lost, 10
Tied in torment, trapped in despair,
Bound in the prison of worldly care,
Sitting in sorrow. We long for the sun
When the Lord of life may reveal the light,
Strengthen our spirits, redeem us from ignorance, 15
Unlock our understanding, surround us with grace,
And make us worthy of the glorious gift
Offered to us when he allowed us into heaven,
After we had to turn into this troubled world,
Bereft by loss, deprived of our homeland. 20
So one would say who speaks the truth
That he rescued and redeemed the race of men
When it was perversely twisted. He chose a maiden
Free from sin, a spotless virgin, to be a mother
Untouched by man’s embrace, conceiving in grace, 25
Pregnant and pure, bearing God’s son.
That woman’s worth is unmatched in the world.
This was an unknown happening in our history,
A wonder in our world, a glorified riddle,
Revealing to us the might and mystery of the Lord. 30
This gift of grace spread over the earth,
So that life’s deepest secrets were soon revealed
By the Lord of life, the Giver of glory—
Old knowledge which had been buried before,
Proverbs and prophecies, songs and wise sayings, 35
Lasting doctrines and lore, lost in darkness,
Now brought to light, when the King came
To reveal the secret meaning of every word,
The untouched truth of the sacred story
Told by all those who deeply desire 40
To honor and praise the name of the Creator.
ADVENT LYRIC III
This lyric celebrates the city of Jerusalem in several of its medieval allegorical forms. Campbell explains: “Besides the heavenly Jerusalem, which is apparently the subject of the opening address, and the earthly Jerusalem of the Church and the body of human believers which is manifestly referred to in the closing lines, the central portion of the poem seems also to use the Virgin Mary as one of the significations of the term” (16–17). Christ is coming not only to his earthly homeland of Jerusalem but also to his physical home in the womb of the Virgin. Thus the city of Jerusalem and Mary herself are spotless and “without any sign of sin,” næfre wommes tacn. This theme ties the architectural images of the early Advent lyrics to the Marianic themes that follow. The antiphon for this lyric, translated from Latin, is as follows: “O Jerusalem, city of God most High: raise up your eyes to heaven and behold your Lord, who comes now to release you from your shackles” (Muir, 46).
Advent Lyric III
O vision of peace, holy Jerusalem,
Highest of thrones, finest of cities,
Fortress of Christ, homeland of angels,
Where the souls of the righteous rest forever,
Gathered in glory, surrounded by bliss— 5
You are a city with no sign of sin,
No touch of torment, no glimpse of crime.
All evil is exiled beyond your borders.
You are a vision of peace, a place of hope,
Holiness and joy, as your name promises. 10
Look around you now at the wide world,
The roof of heaven, the catch of creation.
See how the King of heaven seeks for you,
Walks away from his high home, comes down
To his worldly cradle to be born a man. 15
You are the home where his heart wakes,
As the wise prophets predicted his coming,
Proclaiming this joyful promise, the birth of Christ,
Bearing comfort to you, the best and brightest
Of cities forever. Now the Christ-child is come 20
To ease the torment of Hebrew suffering,
Unmake your misery, unlock your chains,
Loosen your bonds, and bring you a blessing,
Knowing the hapless heart needs the gift of grace.
ADVENT LYRIC IV
Here the narrative form of the Advent lyrics begins to move from prayer and petition, from lament and longing, to “direct address and dramatic dialogue” (Burlin, 92). The speakers in this lyric are a melding of medieval Christians and the children of Jerusalem who are contemporaries of Mary and Joseph. They question Mary about the miracle of her virginal pregnancy. Mary responds, explaining the wonder of how she “kept [her] virtue, pregnant and pure,” becoming the “exalted mother of the Son of God.” Kennedy notes that in Christ’s birth “the sin of Eve is done away, the curse revoked, the lowlier sex exalted [and] new hope is come for man and maid” (1943, 240). The antiphon for this lyric, translated from Latin, is as follows: “O Virgin of virgins, how shall this come about? For one like you has never been seen before, nor will there be a successor. O daughters of Jerusalem, why are you amazed by my situation? The mystery which you perceive is divine in nature” (Muir, 47).
Advent Lyric IV
O joy of all women, expectant, unending,
Bountiful blessing beyond glory,
Fairest of maidens over all the earth
Encircled by waves—unveil that mystery,
Tell us how delight descended from heaven, 5
Bearing God’s gift in an untouched womb.
We can’t understand how this miracle was made.
No such story was told in the past,
Nor is any expected in the days to come.
Yours is a gift that sets you apart, 10
A grace unsurpassed—a promise, a privilege.
The favor and faith abiding in you,
Both truth and trust, were steadfast and strong,
Worthy of worship, since you alone among women
Bore the glory of heaven, its might and majesty, 15
In your blessed womb, and your maidenhood
Remained unbroken, your virtue unblemished.
Yet as the children of men must sow in sorrow,
Conceive in care, so shall they reap,
Bearing pain in passion, braving death in delivery. 20
Then the Blessed Virgin, victorious mother,
Holy Mary began to speak:
“What is this mystery that moves beyond knowing,
This unsolved riddle that leaves you lamenting?
Why should you sorrow, O sons and daughters, 25
Children of Jerusalem? You cannot conceive
How I kept my virtue, pregnant and pure,
Exalted mother of the Son of God.
This riddle remains a mystery to mankind,
But Christ revealed his truth embodied 30
In the dear kinswoman of David—
That the guilt of Eve is gathered back,
The sin absolved, the curse cast off,
And the humbler sex, gifted and glorified.
Hope is conceived that this endless blessing 35
Will be shared by men and women together,
Now and forever in the harmony of heaven
With the exaltation of angels, under the eyes
The Complete Old English Poems Page 40