The gray-haired hero, wise with words,
Shrewd in counsel, traveled wearily 30
Across the long unrest of ocean waves,
The whale’s domain, deprived of his homeland.
Then suddenly in the sky, a star appeared,
A harbinger in heaven that sages and scholars,
Confident in science-craft, call a comet. 35
Then the vengeance of the Lord was made manifest
When hunger and famine ravaged the land.
Later the holy Lord of heaven,
The high Ruler of angels remedied
That rack and ruin, restoring joy 40
With his generous gift of a fruitful earth.
5. THE DEATH OF ALFRED (1036)
This Chronicle entry describes the arrival at Guildford of the atheling Alfred, son of Æthelred, from his exile in Flanders and his terrible fate, possibly the result of political intrigue. His company was then slaughtered, and he was imprisoned, blinded, and taken to Ely to live out his days with the monks. The poem contains elements of both alliterative verse and rhymed verse, sometimes alternating back and forth, sometimes combined in the same line. In the rhyming lines, the rhymes occur at the end of each half-line. In the translation, I have modified the scheme to include perfect and half-rhymes in a wider variety of places.
ASPR prints the opening lines as prose, but I have followed the suggestions of Robinson and Bergman that these lines are poetry (noted in Bergman, 16).
The Death of Alfred (1036)
In this year Alfred, the innocent atheling,
Son of King Æthelred, came traveling here,
Wanting to visit his mother in Winchester,
But those in power would not permit this.
Earl Godwine and other great men 5
Refused his request because of strong sentiment
In favor of Harold, though this was not right.
So Godwine stopped him, dropping him in prison,
Driving off his companions, thriving in his misery.
He killed some, spilling their blood in various ways, 10
Sold some for evil money, slew some quite cruelly,
Bound and blinded some, mutilated and scalped some.
This was the darkest deed, the most egregious evil,
Done in this country since the Danes came
And brought their painful peace-making power. 15
Now we must trust to our beloved God
That those who were blameless and shamelessly destroyed
May rejoice happily in the company of Christ
With their just reward, a home in heaven.
The atheling still lived, loved by many. 20
He was derided and chained until someone decided
To drag him to Ely. On board the ship,
He was blinded—his poor eyes undone.
There he lived the rest of his life without strife
In the company of monks, thanks to their care. 25
In the end he was carried by those who loved him
To the west end of the south chapel and buried
In the best fashion, humbly and honorably,
Near the tall steeple where all faithful people
Could congregate, contemplate his fate, 30
And hear the bells declare and ring:
“Alfred’s soul is with Christ the King.”
6. THE DEATH OF EDWARD (1065)
The Chronicle entry for 1065 contains a poetic eulogy for King Edward the Confessor, praising his wise leadership, great generosity, and political skill. The poet also refers to Edward’s difficult early years in exile, when he wunode wræclastum wide geond eorðan, “lived in exile-paths widely over the earth.” Before he died, Edward nominated Harold to succeed him.
The Death of Edward (1065)
King Edward came to Westminster toward midwinter and had consecrated there the minster which he had built to the glory of God, Saint Peter, and all God’s saints. The consecration was on Holy Innocents’ Day, and he died on the evening of Twelfth Night and was buried in that minster, as it is said: 5
Here King Edward, lord of England,
Sent his righteous soul to Christ,
A holy spirit into God’s safe keeping.
He lived his life in kingly splendor,
Giving skilled advice and shrewd counsel, 10
Ruling in a prosperous time for twenty-four years.
A glorious lord, he gave out great riches
And rewards to his people. This son of Æthelred
Ruled over Angles and Saxons, the best warriors
In the world—Britons, Scots, and Welshmen too. 15
The cold seas surround all the loyal young men
Who eagerly obeyed Edward, their noble king.
His heart was generous, his spirit gracious,
His mood joyful, his manner blameless,
Even though he had endured exile, 20
The life of a wanderer long ago,
Deprived of his homeland when Cnut conquered
The race of Æthelred and the Danes ruled
This dear England, controlling its wealth,
Distributing its treasures for twenty-eight years. 25
Afterwards he arrived in noble arms and array,
Honorable, innocent, merciful, and mild—
A good king with a great and virtuous heart.
The lordly Edward defended his homeland,
His nation and its people until suddenly 30
Bitter death snatched him, seizing his dear life,
Stealing him away. The proud prince
Left this world, his body broken,
His spirit saved. Angels lifted the soul
Of our righteous ruler into heaven’s radiant 35
And welcoming light. The wise king
Had committed the kingdom to Harold himself,
A noble earl who had faithfully followed
His lord’s commands in words and deeds,
Neglecting nothing and meeting every need 40
Required of a great nation’s king.
DURHAM
This poem is based on two sources, one MS Ff.i.27 of the University Library, Cambridge, and the other a transcription by Hickes from Cotton Vitellius D.xx, which was burned in the 1731 Cottonian fire (Dobbie, 1942, xliii). The poem was written for a famous occasion in 1104, “the Translation of the incorrupt body of St. Cuthbert into the shrine prepared for it in the apse of the great Norman cathedral which was at that moment under construction on the high bluff above the river Wear” (Kendall, 507). The poet here sings the praises of the city, its surrounding woods and water, full of wildlife, and its noble kings and holy saints, who sleep in endless repose in the city, waiting for the Judgment Day. Fulk and Cain note that “this is the only vernacular specimen of a type called ‘encomium urbis’ ‘praise for a city,’ of which there are numerous Latin examples from late antiquity and the early Middle Ages” (188). Kendall points out a number of enigmatic elements in the poem and argues that one of the spellings of Cuthbert, “Cuthberch,” might well hide in riddlic fashion the elements, cuð, “famous,” plus burch, “city,” so that the saint and the city seem one at the end, both awaiting the Judgment Day (520).
Durham
This city is celebrated throughout Britain,
Its buildings constructed on a high bluff,
Surrounded by stones wondrously grown.
The River Wear runs around it, wave-strong,
And in that flood-house, fish-families swim, 5
A cold catch of kin. A forest-stronghold
Rises there, a great growth of wild wood
Where animals dwell, beasts and birds,
And in the deep hollows and dark dales,
Countless creatures make their homes. 10
In this same city, known to men
And the sons of God who carried the coffin,
Lies the body of the blessed Cuthbert,
Also the head of
Oswald the innocent king,
Protector of the English, lion of the Angles; 15
Also Bishop Aidan, Eadbert and Eadfrith,
Noble comrades, faithful companions.
Inside also sleeps Bishop Æthelwold
And the scholar Bede, a man of books
Known everywhere, and Abbot Boisil, 20
Who keenly taught the saintly Cuthbert
As a young boy: the lad loved his lessons
And learned them well. Beside the blessed one,
Inside the sacred minster many relics dwell
Where miracles are made, wonders worked, 25
As writings say. They lie there waiting
With the man of God for Judgment Day.
THE RUNE POEM
This poem has led a charmed if precarious life. Its original home, Cotton MS B10, was largely destroyed by fire. The poem had been copied early in the eighteenth century by Henry Wanley for the Thesaurus of George Hickes, and the poem in modern editions is based on this transcription, which in several places is suspect (Page, 63). Shippey notes that the poem’s purpose is “to provide a list of rune-names in a memorable and recitable form,” but admits that “the length and complexity of its definitions seems too much for perfect mnemonic efficiency” (19). The poem is a kind of alphabet poem for the Anglo-Saxon runic fuþorc, similar to other such poems in Icelandic and Norwegian. The OE word run has a variety of meanings, including “runic character, secret, counsel, mystery, advice, whispering, letter, writing.” Halsall explains the central theme of the poem as follows: “The author of The Rune Poem recognized in the futhorc an opportunity to compose a poem about the temporal world in which he lived and its relationship to the eternal world in which he hoped and believed” (56). The runes in this translation are represented by bold capital letters followed by their OE names in italics; for the runes themselves in their original shapes, see Halsell or Shippey. The meanings of most of the OE names for the runes are well understood, but some are not. Peorð has been read as “chess pawn, dice-box, throat, apple-tree, dance, penis, pipe or flute, and nothing” (Halsall, 128; Shippey, 135; Niles, 2006, 26 ff.), and I have tried to capture some of this ambiguity in the translation. The B-rune is normally read as Beorc, “beech,” but as Niles points out, the description does not fit that tree, and he argues for another B-word, Boc, which means both “beech” and “book,” though this involves a complex and enigmatic shift of meanings in the verse (2006, 268 ff.). The meaning of the war-weapon Yr is also debated; I’ve included both “Bow” and “Battle-ax” as the most likely meanings. The ambiguity of some runes begins to approach that of the Exeter Book riddles. Since the meaning of the rune Ior is so much debated, and guesses include “eel, newt, beaver, serpent, and ocean” (see Halsell, 159, and Niles, 271 ff., who also suggests the possibility of Ig, “island”), I have left this verse as a miniature riddle. The last rune, Ear, is generally taken to mean “earth, grave,” though the evidence for this name is much debated (see Niles, 274 ff., who argues for Ea, “alas!”). For more on the relation between riddles and The Rune Poem, see Sorrell and also Niles, 251 ff.
The Rune Poem
F is for Feoh, a wealth of goods
In cash or cattle, a comfort to each man
Who should give it generously, not gather it in,
If he wants God’s glory on Judgment Day.
U is for Ur, aurochs or wild ox, 5
Fierce and fearless with savage horns,
Moorland-stepper, wild-wanderer,
A bold attacker, a headlong harrower.
Þ is for Þorn, a sliver of sharpness,
A piercing of pain, a threat of thistle. 10
Don’t lay a hand on nature’s needle
Or lie down to sleep in a lap of thorns.
O is for Os, mouth and speech-maker,
Song-shaper, word-weaver,
Keeper of wisdom, comfort to man, 15
Hope and happiness to everyone on earth.
R is for Rad, riding the hard road.
In the meadhall everyone is an easy rider—
It’s all talk and beer. It takes a brave man
To ride a powerful horse on mile-stoned paths. 20
C is for Cen, a torch of flame,
A blaze of brightness, a branch of fire.
This creature lights up the hall of heros
Where princes rest in its welcome warmth.
G is for Gyfu, generosity and gift-giving, 25
Which bring a man honor, glory, and grace.
Praise comes to a man who gives to the poor
A chance for hope from a helping hand.
W is for Wynn, the joy a man knows
From wonder and wealth, not sorrow and woe— 30
He stores up for himself an abundance of bliss,
Prosperity and pleasure in the city stronghold.
H is for Hægl, hail from the storm-skies,
The hardest of grains, the whitest of seeds.
It descends in the air and strikes in the wind— 35
In the end a riddle: the water-stone.
N is for Nyd, the need that binds
The human heart, a heavy burden—
But sometimes it heals the harried soul
If a man makes out its meaning in time. 40
I is for Is, ice clear as glass,
The slippery cold that escapes the clutch,
The morning gem that melts at noon,
The floor of frost, the glittering ground.
J is for Ger, the year’s time of planting, 45
The hope of harvest, when God’s glory
Arrives in the earth, the goodness of grain,
The fulness of fruit for rich and poor.
EO is for Eoh, the unsmooth yew,
Wrinkled and rough, rooted and firm, 50
Hard and hale, a wind-break by the house,
A feast for the fire, a joy for the home.
P is for Peorð—play and laughter,
Dice or chess pawn or power in the pants.
It brings pleasure to proud men 55
Who make their moves in the meadhall.
X is for Eolhx- secg, a rush or reed
Which grows in the fen with sharp strength
To wound men. It brings burning blood
To any foolish hand that would hold it. 60
S is for Sigel, the sun that sustains us,
The hope of travelers from dawn to dusk.
The seafarer follows the sun’s road
On a sea-stallion in his lookout for land.
T is for Tir, a star-sign, a token, 65
Something for princes to trust in the sky—
A clear constellation above the night-clouds.
Keeping faith for its followers, it never fails.
B is for Beorc, birch, (beech or poplar),
A fruitless tree which sends out suckers 70
And shoots, becoming a canopy of branches,
A bright crown of leaves under the curve of heaven.
E is for Eh, a hoof-proud horse
Prancing on the road, a prince’s joy.
Rich riders mix words as they amble along; 75
The restless at heart find comfort in a horse.
M is for Mann, mirth-maker, word-weaver,
Dear to his loved ones, kith and kin,
But death can break any human bond
When God calls the bone-house back to the ground. 80
L is for Lagu where the seafarer sails—
The ocean looks endless to the long-wave-rider.
The unsteady sea-horse chafes at his bridle
And suddenly the sailor is a friend of fear.
NG is for Ing, first king of the East-Danes, 85
A legendary hero everyone has heard about.
He ruled well till he rode across the waves
With a wagon that walked on water behind him.
Œ is for Œþel, the family homeland,
The precious ground, t
he place of fathers 90
And grandfathers before them, where a man
Can enjoy peace and prosperity in his own house.
D is for Dæg, the day dear to men,
The gift of God, the dawn and daylight
Lent by the Lord, the radiance of the sun, 95
Bringing hope and happiness to rich and poor.
A is for Ac, the oak tree rising from earth,
A precious sustainer as it feeds mast to pigs,
Who are food for our flesh. As a wave-walker
It rides the sea-road, testing itself on water. 100
Æ is for Æsc, a tall tree, a terrible weapon,
Prized by men. It holds its ground
In a battle-hand or walking the wave,
Resisting attack or attacking resisters.
Y is for Yr, some dangerous war-weapon, 105
Battle-ax or bow, slayer or shooter,
Bringer of blood. It rides hand and horse,
Flies straight to the enemy’s head or heart.
IO is for Ior, the riddle of a river-fish
That kills its food fiercely and drags 110
Its dinner up on the land. It lives happily
In a home surrounded by water. Say what it is!
EA is for Ear, earth-grave, ground-home,
A horror to man when flesh falters,
Corpse cools, the bone-house breaks down, 115
Death comes calling, no time for counsel,
The richness of life turns to rot—man is mulched.
SOLOMON AND SATURN I
Two versions of the Solomon and Saturn poetic dialogues are found in separate manuscripts: Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 41 and 422. The second manuscript also contains Solomon and Saturn II (see below), a fragment from the same poem, and a prose Pater Noster dialogue (see Anlezark, 2009, for a complete edition of these separate texts). Fulk and Cain note that the texts “are fragmentary, metrically irregular, and textually corrupt, and thus difficult to interpret” (168). In these dialogues Saturn represents the knowledge of the ancient world, while Solomon represents the wisdom of the Judeo-Christian world. Solomon is an Old Testament figure well known for his dialogic wisdom and is also conceived in early Christian writings as an allegorical prefiguration of Christ. The possible sources for these poems are much debated and include biblical passages, Rabbinic legend, and a Greek version (see Menner, 21 ff., and Anlezark, 2009, 12 ff.). In Solomon and Saturn I, Saturn is curious about the “palm-twigged Pater Noster,” so-called because, as Greenfield notes, “the palm [is] a traditional medieval symbol for victory over the devil” (Greenfield and Calder, 274). Saturn wants to go beyond the wisdom of the ancient books, and he “desires not simply to know the power of the Pater Noster, but beyond that, to experience it” (O’Keeffe, 49). Solomon details the nature and power of the prayer in a variety of ways from its healing the lame to its harrowing demons. Near the end of the poem, Solomon anatomizes the Latin letters of the Pater Noster, which each act to combat and overcome the devil. The letters are represented by runes in the poem (and by boldface capital letters in the translation) and point to the biblical or liturgical form of the prayer (see Anlezark, 2009, 28–31, and Menner, 36–37, for a discussion of this). The succession of letters follows roughly that of the prayer, but once a letter is introduced in the poem, it is not repeated. Thus after the letters PATER NOS, the TER of NOSTER is not repeated. Several of the letters are missing, and the order of the letters is not properly followed, probably because of textual corruptions. As the poem moves forward, the Pater Noster as the canticle of Christ takes on the power and presence of the Word of God in its capacity to destroy devils no matter what their particular disguise. The person who commits the prayer to memory and can speak or chant it partakes of this power so that “the Word of God through the mouth of man / Can put each and every fiend to flight.”
The Complete Old English Poems Page 106