The poem treats the Old Testament story with a New Testament perspective. The Hebrew maiden Judith constantly refers to, and relies upon, a Christian god. Griffith, in his edition, points out that “the Christianization of Judith allows the voices of the Christian narrator and the heroine to echo each other…. They seem to speak of the same God—both use the phrase, swegles ealdor [Lord of heaven] for him—and to possess the same knowledge, though his is merely historical, where hers shows a prescience that is divinely inspired” (1997, 75). The praise-song to God at the end of the poem seems to blend both narrator’s and heroine’s voices in their tribute to the creative power of the Lord who shapes the universe.
The poem also makes use of traditional battlefield elements and motifs from the heroic poems. Griffith notes the “bearing of banners, noise of shields, beasts of battle, an initial shower of arrows and spears, warriors’ rage, unsheathing of swords, ceaseless pursuit of the fleeing enemy, an interruption by the narrator in the first person, splitting of the shield-wall, and the small number of foes who return home alive” (1997, 63). Donoghue points out that “although their feasting takes pace in a tent, Holofernes’ men become hall-retainers (flet-sittende, benc-sittende) [hall-sitters, bench-sitters], who wear coats of mail and other Germanic armor,” adding that “Holofernes is a gold-friend of men (gold-wine gumena), but these heroic terms drip with irony because the Assyrians are the antitypes of traditional heroes from legends like that of Beowulf” (40).
Judith
* * *
Judith distrusted all earthly goods,
But she never doubted God’s gift of grace,
The power and protection of her glorious Prince
To shield her from harm in this wide world,
Defend her against the greatest dread, 5
The deepest terror, when she needed help most.
The Lord of creation granted her aid,
The fullness of favor because of her strong,
Unyielding faith in her Heavenly Father,
The highest Judge, her Ruler and refuge. 10
I’ve heard that Holofernes ordered a feast,
Sent out invitations, as the story is told,
Summoning the elders, his noble retainers.
He ordered a banquet of food and wine,
Sweet delicacies and sumptuous delights. 15
The shield-warriors rushed to his hall in haste,
Local leaders eager to obey the proud prince.
That was four days after Judith arrived,
Elf-bright and beautiful as a young nymph,
But also deeply wise in the ways of her mind— 20
The war-woman came seeking the Assyrian lord.
In the hall of Holofernes, the grim guests arrived.
His imperious warriors occupied the benches,
Mail-coated men guzzling strong wine,
Grief-givers, guardians of evil, wielders of woe. 25
Deep bowls and vessels like bottomless cups
Were borne to the boards, served to the hall-guests,
The company of fierce fighters carousing together.
The bold shield-warriors drank it all down,
Doomed by their own debauchery, fated to fall. 30
Their leader was oblivious in his blind lust
To the twist of fate, his unexpected end.
Holofernes the gift-giver, gold-lord of men,
Poured out the wine, roared and shouted,
Laughed up a storm, stumbled about, 35
Bellowing like a bull, bawling and brawling,
So that far from the feast, people could hear
Their fearsome general mad with mead
In a beastly passion, drunk with pride,
Urging the revelers to rage on together, 40
Guzzling like soldiers before the battle-storm.
So the arrogant deceiver, the devious destroyer,
The bearer of spirits, benefactor of oblivion,
Drenched his retainers in wine and revelry,
Until they collapsed as a company, dead drunk, 45
Emptied of purpose, drained of resolve.
The lord commanded them all to be looked to,
Until night descended on the children of men.
Then gorged on sin, engulfed in lust,
The general ordered the blessed maiden Judith 50
Brought to his bed, wrapped in riches,
Adorned with rings. His soldiers obeyed,
Quick as lightning, striding to the guest-hall
To bring back the gift the prince desired,
The living jewel. They greeted and grabbed her, 55
Proud shield-warriors bearing the beautiful
But subtle-minded maiden to the opulent tent
And into the chamber of the heathen Holofernes
Where he rested at night, hateful to our Savior.
His bed was bordered by a veiling fly-net 60
Fashioned in gold with transparent filaments,
So the baleful leader, the dread lord,
Could spy on anyone who entered the room
While remaining invisible as an evil wraith,
Unless he ordered the intruder to approach, 65
Secretly, stealthily, for a private conversation.
When they brought in the wise woman Judith,
Telling their lord that the holy maiden,
The ring-adorned treasure, had been brought to bed
For his private pleasure, then the famous lord 70
Shuddered with joy, dreaming of debauchery—
He intended to ravish the virgin, savage her beauty,
Defile her with filth, defame her with sin.
He twisted this pernicious plot in his fiendish mind,
But the Guardian of glory, the Lord of hosts, 75
The heavenly Judge, denied this dark deed.
Then the vicious fiend, driven by lust,
Led by lechery, strode to the ravaging bed,
Where his worldly glory would ungather
And hurtle into oblivion that very night: 80
He would meet the end he had been heading for—
Not delight but death, not joy but judgment.
By now the great ruler was drained of desire;
In his drunken stupor, his savagery was spent.
He fell on the bed, his wisdom wasted, 85
His mind in exile, his desire undelivered.
His wine-drunk warriors and retainers departed,
Once they had brought their bold general,
Their lord of lechery, to his last bed.
The truth-breaking tyrant was alone, undone. 90
Then the Lord’s grim and glorious handmaiden,
The Savior’s servant, thought about how
She might murder the monster, ravage his heart
Before he woke up from his ravenous sleep.
The bold-hearted woman with the braided hair 95
Unsheathed her sword, a bright blade hardened
In battle-storms, raising it in her right hand.
The Lord’s maiden warrior summoned her Shaper,
The Savior of all the inhabitants of earth,
The Defender of heaven, speaking these words: 100
“I beseech you, blessed Lord of creation,
Holy Spirit of comfort and consolation,
Savior and Son of the almighty God,
Glory and power of the great Trinity,
Grant me the gift of your unalloyed grace, 105
Your infinite mercy in my hour of need.
My heart is inflamed, my soul inflicted
With fierce sorrow. This is my moment,
O heavenly Lord, to escape from torment—
Let me triumph today through the one true faith, 110
So I can cut down this dark dealer of death,
This wielder of wickedness, this pernicious lord.
Grant me deliverance in this dangerous mission,
My stern,
strong Lord, my giver of glory.
This is my hour of greatest need. I pray for grace, 115
The might of my sword, and the mercy of my Savior—
Give me vengeance for the vice that sleeps in this bed,
Loosen the grief that is burning my breast,
Harrowing my heart.” Then God, the great Judge,
Gave her the gift of courage, strengthened her heart, 120
Just as he does with everyone on this earth
Who seeks him in wisdom and true faith,
Who asks him for aid, protection and power.
Then Judith’s heart opened and hope returned.
The holy woman clutched that heathen warrior 125
Firmly by his hair, cunningly caught him,
Dragged him in disgrace with hard hands
Across the bed, seized the shameless one
With deep scorn, dropping the wretch down
Where she could manage him more easily. 130
The woven-haired woman, the braided beauty,
Slew the fierce fiend with her gleaming sword,
Staining the blade with his savage blood,
Hacked off his head half-way through the neck,
So he lay in a swoon, weary of wine and war-play, 135
Not quite drained of life. The bold woman-warrior
Struck the heathen hound a second time
So that his head leapt off, bounding on the floor.
His foul body lay lifeless, his corpse unquickened.
His soul flew off under the cliffs into the abyss, 140
To be lashed in torment, lost in torture,
Surrounded by serpents, venomous worms,
Wracked by endless punishment and pain,
Engulfed in darkness, incarcerated in fire.
He had no hope in hell of returning home 145
From that hall of serpents but was bound to dwell
In unrelenting despair for an endless time
In the hopeless house of the homeless heart.
Judith had gathered glory, found fame,
In that battle-victory granted by God, 150
The Lord of heaven. Then the wise woman
Lifted the bloody head of the battle-warrior
Into the bag that her pale handmaiden
Had secretly brought to carry it home—
The sack they used before to bear food. 155
Then the fearless maidens, bold-hearted
War-women, bore home the gory battle-gift,
Escaping swiftly through the enemy lines,
Exulting as they left, till they could see clearly
The shimmering walls of the bright city, 160
Their own beautiful and blessed Bethulia.
The ring-adorned women-warriors
Picked up their pace, hastening home,
Until they came glad-hearted to the city gate.
The warriors were waiting there at the wall, 165
Holding watch faithfully inside the fortress,
As the cunning, courageous maiden had commanded
Before she set off so soberly on her quest.
The boldly beautiful, beloved warrior
Had proudly come back home to her people. 170
The wise woman ordered the guarded gate
Opened up then to offer her passage
Inside the great wall of the spacious city,
Speaking these words to the victorious people:
“Let me weave for you a story of wonder, 175
Spin out a web of words worth remembering—
A tale to give thanks for, to let the grieving
Soul forget its sorrow and find comfort.
Our God of glory is gracious to you.
The reward for your torment is now revealed— 180
A grim triumph over that terrible tyrant.”
The city-dwellers rejoiced when they heard the speech
Of the holy woman at the edge of the wall.
The army exulted, the hosts gathered at the gate,
Men and women together, a great multitude, 185
Raising their voices, praising God’s maiden,
Surging forward to see their leader
In throngs of thousands, both young and old.
Hearts were lifted in joy in that city of meadhalls
When people heard that Judith had returned victorious, 190
And with humble zeal, people welcomed her home.
Then the wise warrior, adorned with gold,
Ordered her handmaiden to unwrap the head
Of the savage hunter, the stalker of men,
Unbag the blood-stained brain-house, 195
To show the troops her victory-token,
The holy sign of her heady success.
Then the warrior-woman spoke to the host:
“Victorious lords, leaders of our people,
See here the head of that loathsome horror, 200
The heathen Holofernes. His evil thoughts
No longer thrive—his mind is blank,
His speech is dead. He murdered many
Of our best men—now he walks with the unliving.
He always sought to sow sorrow, plotting pain, 205
But God would not grant the wicked wretch
Any longer life to plague us with affliction,
So he has reaped his own mindless murder
With a sharp battle-blade and God’s aid.
Now I command each citizen, each shield-bearer, 210
To prepare for combat. When the great Shaper,
The Lord of beginnings, creation’s King,
Sends us the first gleam of sunlight from the east,
Bear your linden shields before your breasts
And bright mail-coats under shining helmets 215
Into the enemy lines, harrowing their hosts,
Felling their fated lords and leaders
With sword-flash and blade-bite, a bitter greeting.
Death’s doom is allotted to the fierce foes,
The heathen hordes. Your destiny is battle-glory 220
As God himself, the Lord Almighty,
Has made manifest here in my hand.”
Then the bold battle-ranks were quickly prepared.
Brave warriors and courageous comrades
Went forth with flags, great victory-banners, 225
Heroic soldiers marching from the holy city
Under hard helmets with a clatter and crash,
The din of shields at the crack of dawn.
The lean wolf rejoiced in the wood
Along with the dark raven, the carrion crow— 230
Both beasts knew that war would provide them
With a battle-feast of fallen flesh.
And the dark-feathered eagle flew in their wake
On dew-covered wings in pursuit of prey,
His hooked beak singing a savage war-song. 235
The warriors marched out, men seeking battle
Behind their boards, the curved protection
Of their linden shields—those who had suffered
Not so long ago the scorn of foreigners,
The hostility of heathens, the taunts of a tyrant. 240
The Hebrew people paid back the Assyrians
In bold courage and war-blades for their contempt,
A shower of death-spears and fierce fighting.
Out of their horned bows flew a slew of arrows,
Battle-snakes biting like angry adders. 245
The Hebrew heroes stormed the enemy ranks
With their death-spears. They hated the heathens
Who had invaded their homeland. The proud peoples
Indigenous to the land were the strongest of warriors.
Stout-hearted and stern-minded men, 250
Resolute and enraged against their enemy,
They roused the drunken Assyrians ungently,
Made them regret their mead-minded stupor.
With ha
rd hands the Hebrews drew death-blades,
Shining swords from the sheaths at their sides, 255
Damascened with death’s serpentine designs,
Their sharp edges keen to strike and slay
The Assyrian foes. Filled with anger
And grim hostility against the heathens,
They spared no one in the enemy ranks, 260
Left no man living among the invaders,
High or low, noble or nameless.
All morning long the Hebrews harried
The enemy until the Assyrian army heads
Recognized the wrath of the angry Israelites, 265
The righteous rage and deliberate danger
Of sudden sword-swing and death-stroke,
And carried word to the senior leaders,
Soldiers and standard-bearers, warning them all,
The mead-weary warriors, of the morning menace, 270
With wild tales of Hebrew sword-play
And terrible slaughter. Then I heard that the doomed
Warriors shook off sleep. Waking their weary hearts,
The fierce ones fled to the tyrant’s tent.
They wanted to warn Holofernes of the wrath 275
Of the Hebrews before that terror took them.
They all imagined that their lecherous lord
Lay with Judith, the ravished maiden—
Two lusty warriors between the sheets.
Still no one dared to enter the sanctum 280
To wake the war-general or seek to know
How the night had passed between them both,
Their powerful prince and the pious woman,
Their hard-fisted lord and the handmaid of God.
The armed might of the Israelites approached. 285
They fought passionately and repaid promptly
The old grudges and grievances, scorn and slander,
With grim swords and gripping spears.
The haughty Assyrians on that fateful day
Were roundly humbled—their fame faded away. 290
The troops huddled round their lord’s tent,
Their spirits broken, their fierce hearts spent.
They began to cough and gnash their teeth,
Wailing like grim, wounded animals,
Their war-pride turned into savage grief. 295
Their glory was gone, their reputation unraveled.
They wanted to wake their beloved prince,
The Complete Old English Poems Page 80