Resignation B: The Exile’s Lament
* * *
I will take courage, laugh and look forward,
Hope and rejoice, dress for the journey,
Make my soul ready for the last road,
A pilgrim’s promise to himself and his Lord,
And suffer gladly in the sight of God, 5
Now that my heart is bound, my soul secured.
The Lord surely assigns blame to me
For some sins I’ve committed unknowingly,
Some deeds I’ve done without understanding.
I have offended God, angered my Lord, 10
And have been cruelly chastised for my choices,
Punished for my pleasures in the world’s eyes.
So now I endure an endless martyrdom.
I am not wise with words or shrewd in judgment—
I could never speak before a crowd. 15
Alone, I can sing out my heart’s sorrow,
Since I have met misery, suffered poverty,
Bearing earth’s hardships—thank God—
More misery and dread than others have known.
So the solitary wanderer enters into exile, 20
Driven far from his home, friendless,
Finding unfathomed sorrow, set apart
From his dear Lord. Deprived of joy,
He cannot live long. His Lord is angry with him.
He mourns his lost youth. He goes hungry 25
Even with handouts—his misery grows heavy.
He endures suffering, bitter reproach,
The word-wounds of men. His heart sorrows,
His mind is sick as he wakes each morning,
His soul suffers in the unhallowed dawn. 30
I speak this story about myself, weave this woe,
A tale of longing across the seas.
My mind does not know
* * *
I can barely fathom how to buy a boat,
A wave-wanderer. I have little gold 35
And no friend to help me set sail
Across the ocean. Poverty plagues me,
Denies me my deepest desires. Trees
Wax tall, the wood may flourish,
Embrace its fate, find its destiny, 40
But I, bearing slander and censure,
Cold calumny of character, can never
Find anyone to love among mankind,
Anyone to cherish in my native land.
My Lord and Guardian, I am sick at heart. 45
My rest and cure, my respite and remedy,
Must come from you in another life.
I cannot live, unhappy as I am,
Without hardship and heartache in this life.
When I kept peace with people around me 50
With the kindness of kinship, surrounded by strangers,
Their care was always a lovely reward
Laced with anxiety, for I never knew
When affection might end. What I sowed in love
I reaped in misgiving. Still it seems best, 55
When a man cannot finally transform his fate,
To accept his lot and simply endure.
THE DESCENT INTO HELL
This is a complex poem that has sometimes been underappreciated. Some critics have found it confusing or incoherent; others have praised its ambiguities and multiple meanings. Muir notes that the poem is “inextricably linked to the Easter liturgy in theme, tone and structure” (676). It combines heroic and religious language and themes to shape an Anglo-Saxon version of the Harrowing of Hell. Fulk and Cain explain that it begins with the two Marys visiting the tomb of Christ, then “shifts abruptly to the Harrowing—Christ’s rescue of the patriarchs and the righteous from hell, where they were obliged to remain until Christ’s sacrifice made it possible for humankind to enter heaven,” noting that “the Harrowing is presented in the heroic terms of battle, describing how Christ, reðust ealra cyninga, ‘harshest of all kings,’ destroyed the walls of hell without the aid of armed warriors” (118). The major portion of the poem consists of a speech welcoming Christ and imploring him for mercy. The identity of the speaker or speakers in the poem is much debated, but the most likely reading is that the speaker is John the Baptist, who first speaks at the tomb and later at the gates of hell. Citing Burlin, Shippey argues that “in his final appeal for mercy, then, John the Baptist, the burgwarena ord [leader of citizens], speaks more for us than for himself; behind the actual, once-and-for-all event of the Harrowing, the poet is describing also the future salvation of Christians, even ‘the operation of redemptive grace within the individual soul’” (Shippey, 42; Burlin, 72).
The Descent into Hell
Before day-break, the noble women
Prepared to go. The assembled people
Knew the Lord’s body was enclosed in earth,
Shut up in a sepulcher, a corpse in a cave.
The grieving women, sad and suffering, 5
Meant to lament their Lord’s death.
His bed had grown cold, the old earth-grave.
His journey was both hard and harrowing,
But his band of men, exultant as angels,
Brave by his tomb, held hope in their hearts. 10
Mary in mourning came down at dawn,
Directing another noble-born woman
To walk with her. The sorrowful women
Hoped to find the victorious Son of God
In the grave-house, where the Jewish men 15
Had hidden him, secure in the sepulcher.
They thought that he would have to remain alone
On Easter eve. They surely had other ideas
When they turned back from the tomb!
A host of angels assembled just before dawn, 20
Surrounding the sepulcher, the Savior’s stronghold.
The earth-door was open, the vault was vacant,
The Lord’s body had received the breath of life.
The earth trembled, the ground quaked—
The inhabitants of hell laughed and rejoiced. 25
The young Lord awoke and rose up in majesty.
The mighty Warrior walked out of the earth,
Wise and victorious, gathered in glory.
Then a man named John came forward
To explain to all the inhabitants of hell 30
The great miracle of his kinsman’s coming:
“When he had to send me on this hard journey,
Our Savior promised he would come for me,
Seeking me out after six long months,
Arriving as Prince of all peoples. The time is past— 35
The promise is kept. The Redeemer will return.
The Son of God will proclaim his victory.
He comes to harrow hell and ungrieve the grave.”
Then the Lord of mankind, the Protector of heaven
Hastened on his journey, the greatest of kings. 40
He wanted to batter and lay waste
To the walls of hell, unfasten that fortress
And free the prisoners from that hateful place.
In that battle-rush he needed no helmeted men,
No warriors in mail-coats, no earthly armor— 45
His great power was unlimited and adamant.
At the gates of hell, the bolts were broken,
The bars were lifted, the locks undone.
The King rode in, the Lord of hosts,
The Savior of mankind. The exiles pressed forward 50
To see the glory of the victorious Son—
Adam and Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
Many bold men, Moses and David,
Isaiah and Zachariah, proud patriarchs,
A host of heroes, a gathering of prophets, 55
A multitude of women, many maidens,
Uncounted crowds, an endless troop.
Then John saw the victorious Son of God
Hastening toward hell in might and majesty.
In a somber
mood, he saw God’s momentum, 60
A miracle on the way. The hell-gates were ablaze
With a glorious light, the doors that were so long
Locked and barred, engulfed in darkness.
God’s servant was filled with gladness.
The leader of those who had languished in hell, 65
People and patriarchs, seized courage,
Spoke boldly before that expectant crowd,
Called out to his kinsman, weaving words
Of joyous welcome to the victorious visitor:
“We thank you Lord for seeking us out here, 70
Bound in sorrow and suffering for so long.
Although that fallen fiend, the traitorous devil,
Enemy of all, ensnares many a brotherless exile,
No one can be so tightly bound, so inexorably locked,
So cruelly constrained, that he cannot take courage, 75
Hold hope in his heart, if he trusts in God’s grace
To ransom and redeem him from this pernicious prison.
So we all believe in your power, my Prince,
My beloved Lord. I’ve endured so much
Since your last visit when you brought me sword, 80
Mail-coat, helmet, and hard war-gear,
Which I’ve held ever since. Then you revealed
To me your promise of protection for my people.
O Gabriel, how wise and wondrous you are,
How shrewd and skillful, how gracious and gentle, 85
In the words you speak, in the deeds you do—
That you brought us the boy in Bethlehem.
We waited so long, sitting in sorrow,
Longing for peace, hoping for the heart’s healing,
Yearning for the day when we might at last hear 90
The words of God from his own glorious mouth.
O Mary, how brave a king you bore
When you brought us the babe in Bethlehem.
We waited in torment, trembling in bondage
Behind hell’s gates, the darkest of doorways. 95
Our savage slayer, that demon destroyer,
Rejoiced in his work, his devious deeds.
Our ancient enemies exulted endlessly
When they heard us mourning, gathered in grief,
Lamenting the fall of our entire race, 100
Until you bore us the Son and Savior—
Until, O Lord, you arrived on earth,
Incarnate among us, our only Redeemer,
Lord God of victory, the King of glory.
* * *
You were God’s gift and a child’s grace. 105
Our hearts were rapacious—we betrayed ourselves,
Selling our souls, bearing the sins
Of our own hearts into the hands of the slayer,
Forced to beg for peace from our enemies.
O Jerusalem in Judea, O holy city, 110
You have remained steadfast in that sacred place.
Not everyone on earth who sings your praise
Is allowed to pass through your holy gates.
O Jordan in Judea, O holy river,
You have remained steadfast in that sacred place. 115
Not everyone on earth can enter your waters,
Yet the blessed can feel God’s flowing grace.
Now I implore you, my Lord and Savior,
To grant us mercy, release us from torment.
You are Christ the Lord. Help us O Healer, 120
Creator of mankind. Out of your abiding love
You descended into your mother’s womb
Not from your own need but from ours,
Victorious Lord, Ruler of nations,
Extending your mercy to all of mankind. 125
We are fallen and feel the need for grace.
You can encompass everything, grasp the wonder
Of the world, its homelands, its races of men,
Just as you can reckon the grains of sand
In the sea’s bed and along the shore. 130
And so I implore you, Blessed Savior,
Best of kings, Lord of hosts,
By your childhood and by your wounding,
And by your resurrection, Joy of mankind,
And by your mother whose name is Mary, 135
Whom all here in hell extol and praise,
And by the angels who stand about you,
Whom you gathered in greatness at your right hand
When by your will you began to seek us out
To follow us here into wretched exile 140
Away from home at the farthest end
Of our harrowing and heartbreaking journey—
And by Jerusalem in Judea, the holy city,
That once again must await your return,
And by the Jordan in Judea, the holy river, 145
Where we bathed together in that sacred stream—
O Lord sprinkle its holy water, the blessing of baptism,
On all who inhabit this savage city
Behind the blasted gates of hell,
Just as you and I, Christ and John, 150
Two kinsmen together in the waters of the Jordan,
Inspired all of middle-earth in baptism,
Bringing mercy and hope to the children of men,
For which grace thanks be forever to God.
ALMSGIVING
Almsgiving begins with an exhortation to give alms in the spirit of charity to combat greed or cupidity and then moves on to an extended simile “drawn from Ecclesiasticus 3.33, comparing almsgiving’s effect upon the wounds of sin to water’s efficacy against fire” (Fulk and Cain, 136). By thus healing the soul, man grows in the image of God. Anderson says, “The righteous man, who sawla lacnað, ‘heals souls,’ by increasing the yield of Christian virtue through almsgiving, is the proper image of the just God who rescues men through baptism from the death sentence of their sinful human nature” (127).
Almsgiving
It is good for a man who is generous and just
To offer alms. An unselfish spirit
Combats greed, the clutch of wealth,
With the gift of gold. Alms-giving
Is an act of honor in the eyes of the world 5
And a sign of glory in the sight of God.
Just as one quenches a fierce flame,
A seething blaze, with the gift of water
So the firestorm cannot destroy the cities,
So with alms-giving one can soothe worldly wounds 10
Inflicted by sin, saving souls through healing.
PHARAOH
Pharaoh draws upon a medieval dialogic tradition of question and answer that is also found in the two Solomon and Saturn poems. Anderson notes that the tradition is “used in ancient and medieval schools for such diverse purposes as instruction in literacy, philosophical disputation, dramatized or fictionalized argument modeled largely on the Socratic dialogues of Plato, catechisms in rhetoric and rudimentary theology, and (to judge from the number of riddlic questions and answers in medieval dialogue collections) entertainment” (129). The dialogue here is about the destruction of Pharaoh and his army as they try to pursue the Israelites across the Red Sea (Exodus 14).
Pharaoh
“Tell me, if you can, how many men
Were in Pharaoh’s army, its size and strength,
The thrust and force of that hostile host,
When the army of Egypt began to harass,
Pursue and plague, the people of God.” 5
“I can’t say for sure, hand you a head-count,
But I know there was a grim chase of chariots,
Six hundred strong and armed with warriors—
Fierce soldiers that the sudden waves of destruction
Sent home to oblivion in a furious fate.” 10
THE LORD’S PRAYER I
This is the shortest of three poetic versions of The Lord’s Prayer in Old English (for the other two, see “The Minor Poems”)
. All three poems paraphrase and expand upon the Latin texts from which they are translated. Muir notes that this poem “emphasizes God’s continual watching over his people when they humble themselves and request his help (he is called helpend wera [helper of men], an epithet without equivalent in the Pater Noster); it also mentions the continuing threat of evil in the world, which Christians must gird themselves against” (24).
The Lord’s Prayer I
Our Holy Father who dwells in heaven,
Abiding in glory, abounding in bliss,
May your name be hallowed by each of your works,
The wonders of creation and the children of men.
Surest of shapers, Savior of mankind, 5
Let your kingdom come far and wide,
Your will and wisdom be established, exalted
Under heaven’s roof and across the land.
Holy Father, Helper of men,
Give us this day a gift of grain, 10
A blessing of bread, a glorious abundance.
O steadfast Savior, do not let temptation
Batter us down, but deliver us, Lord
From every evil, both now and forever.
HOMILETIC FRAGMENT II: TURN TOWARD THE LIGHT
This is one of two poetic homilies or homiletic fragments in the Exeter Book. There is no internal manuscript evidence of any significant loss in the homily, but some editors argue that the development seems seriously curtailed. There are also poetic homiletic fragments in the Vercelli Book (see both “The Vercelli Book” and “Additional Poems” in this collection), and there are homiletic passages in many other OE poems, such as the elegies and Beowulf. The speaker here offers religious wisdom and consolation to one in need of advice and comfort. Greenfield says that the implied listener in the poem is “gnomically adjured in the beginning to bind fast the thoughts of his heart, to guard his hordlocan, ‘treasure-chamber,’” noting that “the end of the poem refers to the Nativity, to the dwelling of the Holy Spirit in the hordfate, ‘treasure chest’ of the Virgin” (Greenfield and Calder, 267).
Homiletic Fragment II: Turn Toward the Light
Rejoice now in spirit, thrive in the solace
Of the Savior, take comfort in Christ.
The Complete Old English Poems Page 67