Full text of "English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest: From the ..."

See other formats

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.

We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http : //books . google . com/

)ogle

i^J \l ^3iv:

^X1

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

A HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE

Crown Svo. 8s. 6d, each volunu,

ENGLISH LITERATURE FROM THE BEGINNING
TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST. By Stopford A.
Brooke, M.A.

.ENGLISH LITERATURE FROM THE NORMAN
CONQUEST TO CHAUCER. By William Henry Schofield,
Ph.D., Assistant Professor of English in Harvard University.

THE AGE OF CHAUCER. By Professor W. H.
Schofield. [/» preparation*

ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE (1560-1665). By
George Saintsbury.

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE (1660-
1780). By Edmund Gosse, CB., M.A.

NINETEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE (1780-
1900). By George Saintsbury.

MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd., LONDON.

Digitized by

Googk

ENGLISH LITERATURE

FROM THE

BEGINNING TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST

Digitized by

Googk

MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA • MADRAS
MELBOURNB

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO
DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.

TORONTO

Digitized by

Googk

ENGLISH LITERATURE

FROM THE BEGINNING '
TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST

STOPFORD A. BROOKE

f. 7

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON

192 I

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

^/-C/ yi^'-'^'^^^-^^iJ*^ ^ / » * *^ «•

607

First Edition 1898
Reprinted 1899, 1908, 1912, 1919, 1921

Digitized by

Googk

PREFACE

This book is necessarily, as far as the chapter on King
iElfred, a recast of my previous book on Early English
Literature up to the Days of Alfred, That book, in two
volumes, was too expensive and too long for students
in schools. I chose to write it at that length, and I am
glad I did so. I was enabled to introduce a great deal
of correlative matters which I thought were needed to
bring the literature into touch with the history of the
country ; and in order to give life, colour, and reality to
a time so far away, and in which so little interest is
taken by the English public But having tried to do this,
I have now left out these correlative matters ; shortened
the whole of the history up to iElfred ; rewritten it, and
rearranged it Of course, some of the older book remains
mixed up with the new ; — those parts of it especially
which give an account of the poems. The translations,
though carefully revised, are the same ; but many of them
have been omitted. • I have written about King iElfred
at a length somewhat out of proportion with the rest of •
the book, but the freshly awakened interest of the public
in his life and character induced me to give a full account
of all that was personal in his literary work. The chapters

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

vl PREFACE

from " iElfred " to the end of the book carry the history

of Anglo-Saxon or Old English Literature up to the

Conquest. A concluding chapter sketches the tale of

Old English as far as the beginning of the thirteenth

century. The Appendix consists of translations of some

remarkable Anglo-Saxon poems ; and I have to thank

Miss Kate Warren for her excellent translation in full of

the " Battle of Maldon," as well as for the Index and the

Bibliography, which, to my pleasure, she undertook. My

gratitude is also due to Professor John Rhys and to

Professor Ker for their kind answers to a number of

questions.

STOPFORD A. BROOKE.

SCHAFFHAUSEN,

lyd August 1898.

Digitized by

Googk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAGE

The Relation of Early Britain to English Literature i

CHAPTER II
Old English Heathen Poetry . . . .36

CHAPTER m
Beowulf . . . . . . -58

CHAPTER IV

Beowulf — The Poem . . . - .68

CHAPTER V
Semi-heathen Poetry . . . . .84

CHAPTER VI
The Coming of Christianity . , , .98

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

viu CONTENTS

CHAPTER VII

PAGE

Latin Literature — From the Coming of Augustine

TO THE Accession of Alfred . . .106

CHAPTER VIII

CiEDMON [650-680] . .126

CHAPTER IX
Poems of the School of C^kdmon . . .134

CHAPTER X
The Elegies and the Riddles . . .152

CHAPTER XI

1
The Signed Poems of Cynewulf . . .163

CHAPTER XII
Poems attributed to Cynewulf or his School . 180

CHAPTER XIII
Other Poetry before Alfred .... 203

CHAPTER XIV .^

i^LFRED . . . . . . .212

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

CONTENTS

CHAPTER XV

PAGE

The Old English Poetry in and after Alfred's Time 242

CHAPTER XVI
Secular Poetry after Alfred to the Conquest

253

CHAPTER XVn

English Prose from ^^lfred to the Conquest

269

CHAPTER XVni
The Passing of Old English .

300

APPENDIX .
BIBLIOGRAPHY . *
INDEX

. 309
. 326
. 3Z7

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

ENGLISH LITERATURE

FROM THE

BEGINNING TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST

CHAPTER I

THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

The land in which English literature has grown into the mighty
tree which now spreads its branches over so many peoples was
for many centuries unconscious of any English footfall. Its first \
indwellers, at a time when it formed part of a continent stretching J
far into the Northern and Western seas, lived in caves or in trees
or in rude huts made of boughs, and saw the great glaciers of the
quaternary age push from the mountains into the plains, retreat,
advance again, and pass away. Their climate was cold and wet
A short warm summer was succeeded by a long winter. Heavy
and constant mist hung over the stagnant fens and woods and the
icy gorges of the hills, but the men enjoyed the hunting and
fishing by which they lived. They learned at last to smite the
flints and chert into axe, spear and arrow-heads ; they invented
the bow ; they made their knives of flakes of flint, and as time
went on fitted these weapons into rude handles of horn and bone.
Skins, roughly sewn together with sinews, clothed them ; they cbuld
make the fire by which they cooked the beasts they slew, but they
had no domestic animals. Nor were they, after some centuries had

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN

• gone:!^; ^/Apui pleasure in the work of their hands. They drew,
incising ,the l^tncHes of bone and horn, the figures of the beasts

U{ifey;hiii{t^fJ-A*be,«ftag, the reindeer, the hairy mammoth, and the
bison. These were the Falceolithic tribes of prehistoric Britain,
and they were contemporary at their beginning with the cave lion
and hyaena, with a sabre-toothed tiger, with the brown and the
grizzly bear, with a woolly rhinoceros and three kinds of elephant,
with the great urus, the elk, and the bison, and with other animals
existing at the present day.

No one can tell how long this people lasted, nor what space
of time separates them from the Neolithic tribes whose remains
we find in caves, in tombs, and in the lake-dwellings which, as

I their civilisation grew, they learnt how to build. It is possible

I that the people we call Neolithic were the direct and developed
descendants of the Palaeolithic folk. The glaciers had now gone ;
the land had risen and was divided from the continent by the
Channel The more ancient and the more savage animals had
disappeared. The urus, the brown bear, the great stags, the
reindeer remained among the mountain valleys and the northern
moors ; and the wild boar, the wolf, the fox, the wild cat, and a
host of the beasts of flood and field haunted in vast numbers the
thick, dark, monstrous woods. The climate was warmer and more
damp. The lowlands were half water, — out-spreading fens, and
swamps, and chains of lakes. The estuaries, like that of the
Thames, opened out into leagues of morass and sand. The ice-
carved mountains were bare and inaccessible, but all along the
coast where the fens did not encroach, in the hidden creeks and
reedy isles, on the edges of the lakes, on the knolls in the ,fens, by
the river-channels, and on the low dry downs and rocky plateaux,
lived and hunted a short, black-haired, dark-skinned, dark-eyed
race, with an oval face and a long and narrow skull, who had with
them domesticated animals. Their weapons were of bone and
flint, chert and greenstone, polished and carefully wrought, not
rough like those of their predecessors. Thej were hunters, but
they mingled the mere hunting life of the savage with pastoral

Digitized by

Googk

TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

employments. Living at first in caves, they finally settled into
hamlets or into lake-dwellings built on piles. They kept sheep
and cattle, wove a rude cloth for garments, and made pottery and
ornaments. Sometimes they buried their dead in caves, but they
came to bury them in large-chambered tombs, under long barrows
and mounds of earth, lined with stones ; and the greater number
of "standing stones,'' "stone circles," and the rude burial huts
built of great blocks of rock,^ which are the denuded remnants of
these tombs, attest their reverence for the dead, and their activity.
These barrows occur over our land from Dorset to the Yorkshire
Wolds, and from the Wolds to Caithness, and they prove that this
people occupied the whole country. They also lived over the
length and breadth of Ireland. Some think that they came from
North Africa across Spain, and the Basque people are certainly
their descendants ; others think that some of them came from
Spain to Ireland, and thence made their way to Britain, but it
is also maintained that they came across the north of Europe.
They were not an Aryan rac e, but they are of a very enduring
type! EveiTTiow, we meet^heir descendants in the west of
Ireland, and traces of their nature-myths, their religion, and their
customs, enter into the Irish mythology — sombre and grim
traditions, as of those who had come out of the " night-country."
Their Irish tribal names, so far as we have been able to isolate
them, have to do with gloom and mist, as dark as their eyes
and hair. In Wales, the main body of the Silures, small men,
dark, and of a courageous nature, belonged, as well as other scat-
tered folk in North Wales, to this Neolithic people. Men have
also traced strange qut-crops of this swarthy race in the midland
and south-western counties of England, even in the present day.
Beyond the English and Scottish border, and on it, they were less
got rid of by the Celtic invaders and more mingled with them. A
separate body of them, after much admixture, isolated themselves

* In French archaeology these are called menhirs^ cromlechs^ and dolmens ;
but in England we call the pile of three or four upstanding stones with a flat
rock resting on them, a cromlech^ not a dolmen.

Digitized by

Googk

4 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap

in Galloway. On the west coast and islands of Scotland, they
lasted, and kept up their tribal life alongside of the Scots from
Ireland, the Brythons, and afterwards the English. But the
larger number of them settled in the Northern Highlands ; and
the description which Scott gives in the Legend of Montrose of
the " Children of the Mist " may serve to paint what this fine
and steady -hearted race would become when, left to its wild
instinct for liberty, it was hunted like a beast of the field. The
Celtic races owed much to these predecessors, more perhaps than
we imagine, and through the Celt the English may have assimilated
some of the elements of the nature of the Neolithic race. | There are
certain weird, primaeval, unaccountable, dark, sometimes monstrous
conceptions in our nature-poetry which may have their far-off roots
in the dim world the Neolithic people made for their imagination!
The next race which invaded our island, and who, it is sup-
I posed, established settlements from Sweden to Spain, were tall
'men, round-faced, with short round skulls, stoiitly built, light-
haired, with probably gray eyes. It is still debated whether they
were or not an Aryan race. /Some scholars call them Celtic— the
earliest band of the Celtic migrations.* Others consider them
to be of a Finnish or Ugrian type. They were warriors and
hunters, and their weapons of battle and chase were at first
of stone, shaped with great skill and highly polished. But when
they came to our land they had learnt how to make bronze
weapons, and are the first men of the bronzeagp in this country.
But they were much more than warriors and hunters. They
established some kind of commerce with the continent, and they
kept flocks and herds. Their stone querns prove that they had
some knowledge of agriculture. Their persons were decorated
with gold and silver ornaments, with amber, jet and glass beads
and necklaces. They beat gold wire into their swords, wore a
woven cloth, and made good pottery, — vases, cups, food- dishes,
and incense-burners. They dwelt in communities and continued,
like the Neolithic folk, the building of large, underground,
chambered tombs. They set up temples, perhaps like Stone

Digitized by

Googk

TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

henge, to their gods. But their barrows, which are crowded round
Salisbury Plain, are not long but round and shaped like a bowl.
Lastly they mixed with, rather than conquered the Neolithic
people. This type may also be distinguished, it is said, in various
parts of England to the present day.^

History, save in the description by Latin writers of the rude
tribes in the interior of Britain, is silent of these two races, the
second of which, until more evidence is brought to prove it to be
Celtic, we may believe to be as pre-Celtic and non-Aryan as the
first. Though history is silent concerning them, they have left
traces behind them of their occupation of the country in the myth
and legend of the Celtic races which succeeded them, and
mingled with them. Old words, not Celtic, in the Celtic tongue,
some place-names, some personal names of Celtic heroes, some
sculptured stones with unknown designs and unknown alpha-
betical signs, some strange customs, chiefly of inheritance, are
found among the Celts and derive from their predecessors.

How long these races lived undisturbed from without cannot
be known, but they were at last broken into by the first great
Celtic migration, which, coming along the southern shores of the
Baltic between the forest and the sea, passed down the Rhine and
the Moselle, and a part of which crossed the narrow seas to our
land. This people established itself during some centuries over

^ It has been sought to mark out, with greater definition, these pre-Celtic
peoples. M. de Jubainville, speaking of France, arranges them in this
manner, (i) The quateftiary man. (2) A people who lived in caves, had
no knowledge of the metals, and hunted the reindeer. (3) A more civilised
folk who knew something of the metals, who could make drawings on horn
and bone, who built megalithic monuments, who buried their dead in cabanes
funiraires {dolmens = our cromlechs), (4) A still more civilised folk who burned
their dead, put the ashes into urns, and hid them under tumuli. (5) The
Celts or Gauls, an aristocratic race, who enslaved the conquered ; with long
iron swords and war chariots, who buried but did not burn their dead. For
a Celt to bum his dead was to do them dishonour. (6) The Roman period.
(7) The Frank. Such a division might do for Britain also, if we divide the
Celts into two related races, the Goidels and the Brythons (Gauls), and
read the English for the Frank,

Digitized by

Googk

5 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap

the habitable parts of England, Ireland, and Scotland, driving the
Neolithic folk before them to the remoter lands, but also absorb-
ing them in their progress. It may be that a number of them
landed first in Ireland, and afterwards crossed the Irish Channel
into Wales. Such Irish immigration has taken place in historic

\ times. It is probable it also took place in prehistoric times.

1 These are the Gaelic or Goidelic tribes.-^ Their occupation of the
country lasted for some centuries. Meanwhile a new migration
of the Celtic hordes had begun. This Second Wandering, as it
poured down towards Western Europe, took a more southward
direction than the first. When it reached the Alps, some of the
folk descended into Italy or went eastward by the Danube;
but others, crossing the mountains, made their way into the regions
we call Gaul and Spain. Those of them who finally settled on
the northern coasts of Gaul, either pushed from behind, or eager
for adventure and land, or lured by the shimmer of the white cliffs
in the morning sun and by the mysterious legends of a land of
the happy dead, which, in the elder days, gathered round our
islands, made their way over the straits, perhaps as early as
300 RC, and fell upon the Goidels of the south-eastern shores.
We call this s econd peo ple of the Celts Brythons. Like the
English afterwards, they first settled themselves in Kent and
round the mouths of the Thames. Like the English also, their
immigration was gradual. They came, one relay after another,
and the Goidels were only slowly driven back before them. The

\ last who arrived, about 100 b.c., if not earlier, were the BelgaeJ
When the Romans came first, 55 b.c., these tribes certainly
held all the south-eastern districts, and those along the east coast
as far as the Wash ; but they probably held also the land east
of the Trent, the Avon, the Parret and the Stour of Dorsetshire
— that is, nearly half of our England. During the ninety years
between the invasion of Julius Caesar and the fresh conquests
under Claudius, 43 ad., the Brythons pushed steadily on, and
the whole country, with a few exceptions, fell under their power.
These exceptions were the counties of Devon and Cornwall, all

Digitized by

Googk

TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

South Wales, west of the Severn and south of the Teme and
the Wyre, North Wales and Anglesea from the river Mawddach
to the Dee, Cumberland and Westmoreland and part of Lanca-
shire. In these lands the Goidels remained, mixed more or less
with the Neolithic races which preceded them. But even this rem-
nant of the Goidels became, as time went on, Brythonic in language,
manners, and customs, so that we may say that at last ro tribes
existed in England and Wales speaking- the Goidelic tongue.

North of the Solway and th^^weed the country was less
exclusively Brythonic. The Goidels in Scotland were even more
mixed with the Neolithic tribes than in Wales; and into this
admixture the Brythons drove their way, penetrating from the East
in wedges into the Goidels northwards and westwards, either sub-
duing them or intermingling with them, or living in alliance with
them. So it came to pass that the three races — the Neolithic folk
(who may be said to represent the Picts of history), the Goidels,
and the Brythons — ran in and out of one another over the southern
half of Scotland, like the changing patterns in a kaleidoscope made
by three differently coloured pieces of glass. The Brythons were
thickest in the east. The Neolithic people concentrated them-
selves in Galloway and the western isles, but the Goidels were so
dominant among them that their speech and traditions became
in time Goidelic. In the northern isles and Highlands the Neo-
lithic people were most numerous, but they also, partly influenced
by the invading Scots from Ireland, adopted, as the centuries
went on, the customs and speech of the Goidels. At last Scot-l
land broke into two main divisions. The Highlands became
Goidelicised. The Lowlands, with the exception of Galloway,
were rapidly becoming Brythonised, when the victory which
made Kenneth MacAlpin^44-86o) King of the Picts introduced
again the (joidel elements, and by the time of the Norman Con-
quest the Lowlands were probably Goidelicised again. But this
was after the time of which we speak. At present, we may sum
up the whole by saying that those who spoke Goidel, and be-
came at one with the Goidel strain, existed in the north of Scot-i

Digitized by

Googk

8 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

land, in Galloway, in the Isle of Man, and in Ireland. The rest
of England, Scotland, and Wales spoke the Brythonic tongue,
and, though largely mixed with Goidels and Neolithic folk, had
all become or were becoming Brythons in name and manners.

Into this heterogeneous mass of three or perhaps four races,
two pre-Celtic, two Celtic, and the last two infiltrated by the
Roman law, language, and custom, the English in the fifth cen-
tury began to push their plough. During the first hundred years
of their conquest their main policy was destruction,^ and they
almost blotted out the Roman and Brythonic civilisation from
Kent to Devonshire ; from the eastern counties to an east-curving
line drawn from Chester to Bristol ; from the Humber to the Forth,
I and thence westward oyer more than half of Northern England
I and the Lowlands to the borders of the kingdom of Strathclyde.
V Their policy of destruction was then followed by a policy of
\ amalgamation, whenever they took any new portions of the
1 Brythonic lands into their power. At last the pure Brythons were
usolated into three places — into Cornwall, into our Wales, and
unto Cumbria — and the name adoj^d by the Brythons of Wales
and Cumbria was Cymry, that is, "fellow-countrymen."

This general sketch of the localisation in Great Britain and
Ireland of the various races which occupied the country, and of
their intermingling, is of more use to a history of English litera-
ture than one would at first imagine.

f[ Questions of race are often questions of literature. • They
iannot, it is true, provide us with certainties, only with conjec-
tures; but good conjectures, subject to strict experiment, may
lead to certainties ; and problems — such as the fuller growth of
early English poetry in the North rather than in Wessex or Mercia ;
the remarkable developmenfof the ballad poetry of the sixteenth,

^ The Brythons were by no" means all destroyed. From the first years
of the Conquest, and for more than a century after, a large proportion of
them emigrated to Armorica. Moreover, as the Brythonic women were
kept for slaves, the English blood was from the beginning mixed with a Celtic
>train. The admixture increased to the west and north.

Digitized by

Googk

TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, chiefly in the wild march«
land of the Border ; why the English lyric poetry began, with few
exceptions, near the Welsh border ; how it happened that the later
poetry of natural description had a more original and earlier begin-
ning in Scotland than in England, and yet was only brought to its
finest form in England ; and many other problems belonging to the
introduction of fresh elements into our poetry, are, not completely,
but partly solved by the distribution of races in this country, and j
by our knowledge of the characteristics of these races. /

Four other subjects, on each of which a little book might be
written, remain to be briefly treated in this introduction, (i) The L-
first of these is the early condition of the country, and how far it
bore on literature. \ History, before the time of Caesar, is almost
silent with regard to Britain./ We know, however, that Timseus,
the Sicilian historian, who flourished 350-326 b.c., was aware
of the British tin trade; and Pytheas, his contemporary, whose
Travels were set forth shortly after 330 B.C., eight years after the
death of Aristotle, speaks, in the fragments which alone remain of
his book, of the Cornish miners bringing their tin eastward along
the coast, storing it in an island,^ and exchanging it for goods
with the Gauls of the continent. This intrepid voyager of Mar-
seilles, who seems to have sailed as far as the Northern seas until
he touched the ice, landed twice on the south-eastern coasts of our
island, and found the inhabitants fairly civilised by their trading.

Posidonius, who voyaged to Britain about 90 b.c, visited
Cornwall; and Diodorus Siculus, probably quoting Posidonius,
gives an account of the tin trade between Britain and Gaul, in
which the tin brought from Belerion (Cornwall) was carried to an
island called Ictis (Vectis ?), and from thence to Gaul and the
mouth of the Rhone. The inhabitants, he says, are fond of
strangers ; and, from their intercourse with foreign merchants, are
civilised in their manner of life. The nature of the other trades
we learn from Strabo, who wrote about 1-19 a.d. The Britons

* Some suppose this island to be Thanet, and others, more probably,
that if was the Isle of Wight. I daresay both islands were used.

Digitized by

Googk

10 THE RELATION Of EARLY BRITAIN chap.

exported corn, cattle, gold, silver, iron, skins, slaves, and dogs.
They imported, among other things, " ivory bracelets and neck-
laces, red amber beads, vessels of glass, and such-like trumpery."
Caesar mentions the tin of the interior, and speaks of copper as
one of the British imports.

/ South-eastern and south-western Britain had thus reached a
/somewhat civilised manner of life when Caesar came to Britairiij
*In fact, whatever civilisation the Gauls had gained in contact
with the Greek and the Roman they carried with them into
Britain, and we hear even of a rude luxury and splendour in the
dress and manners of the Brythons. | Inland, however, where
the Goidels yet roamed and fought, the men had not passed
beyond the pastoral stagei They were as wild as the Highland-
men of the seventeenth century, and lived in much the same way.
They grew no corn, were clad in skins, and painted themselves
for love and war. The farther men were from the coasts the
less was civilisation possible, not only from the absence of trade-
influences, but also from the condition of the country, t

Before the Romans came, far the greater portion of Britain
was uninhabitable, a desolation of vast woods full of sleepy
swamps into which the choked-up rivers spread ; huge tracts of
bleak moorland covered with low scrub and heather and dry grass ;
and in every hollow deep and treacherous bogs, while rugged
and pathless labyrinths of rocks led up to the higher mountains.
The interior was wholly unexplored. Over it the wolves ranged
in packs and ran down the stags ; the wild swine fed in thousands
on the acorns and mast of the oak and beech forests ; the white-
maned urus ran through the glades among the tangled under-
growth of yew and holly and wild briars, and the wild, small
black cattle, short-horned and with close-curled manes, herded
on the hills. The bear still lingered in the deepest recesses of
the forests, and in the caves of the northern mountains. The
reindeer was still to be found in Scotland. The beavers built
their dams across the rivers; hosts of the smaller wild beasts,
the fox, the weasel tribe, the badger, the otter, the wild cat,

Digitized by

Googk

TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

devoured one another ; and enormous flocks of land- and water-
birds hunted their prey in the woods and over the widespread
marshes. The forests in many places approached the coast, and
left only a narrow strip of land fit for the dwelling of man.
Elsewhere, the tides carried the sea, especially on the eastern
shores, far into the land, making waste leagues of reedy fen over
which the cold or clammy mists rose and fell in the sunless
summers, and where the winters settled down as grim as death.
Men lived only on the outskirts of these ragged solitudes of
forest and fen, on the fringe of coast, along the rivers, in sparse
glades of the woods, on the hills and downs, and on the ridges
and moors of chalk, granite, limestone and sandstone that rose
above the levels of the steaming forest land.

The Romans, under Agricola and after his time, wrought a
great change on this condition;] , Where they settled, the rivers
were embanked, the morasses bridged, the fens drained; the
trees felled along the roads, the woods cleared back from the
river-valleys, the valleys made fit for tillage and pasture. Agri-
culture increased, great corn-fleets carried the produce of Britain
to the provinces on the continent, the deep grass of the river-
valleys nourished vast herds of cattle, the hills were covered with
thousands of sheep, the export of wool was immense. Gold,
silver, and iron were sent out of the country, and the tall power-
ful hunting dogs of Britain were imported by the wealthy Romans.
Yet scarcely a sixth of the land was redeemed. When the English
came, the forest-land opposed their advance continually. The
fen-lands of the east and the wide marshes of Somerset remained
desolate. The great woods of Andred, of Arden, of Dean, and
of many others, were still huge wastes where only the outlaw lived.
Wales was one enormous woodland. Even in Elizabeth's time a
third of England was waste land.

/ The constant presence of this wild country has had a remark-
able influence on literature. That influence is strongest where
the Celtic element is strongest in our folk, and it appears among
such folk as a love of wild nature. The early English poetry of

Digitized by

Googk

THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN

Northumbria is full of the sentiment of the savage weather and
storm-lashed cliffs of the sea-coasts, and of the passion of the
furious sea. IThe poem of Layamon, written on the Welsh border,
is alive with the natural description of the wild scenery which the
poet loved The work of the Lancashire poet who wrote Sir
Gawayne and the Grene Knight is equally full of the love of the
rocks and hills and woodland of that Celtic country. When the
description of nature in the reigns of Henry VII. and VIII. is
conventional in England, it is passionate and done directly from
nature in Scottish poetry. Spenser's special pleasure in unin-
habited forests and lonely streams, swift rivers and rugged
mountains, came partly of his stay in I^ncashire and of his life in
Ireland. < Nor is it without significance that the love of nature for
its own sake in modern English poetry began in the eighteenth
century from " Scotland, and that the great nature-poetry of the

. nineteenth century was born and grew into strength in the heart

' of a Cumbrian poet /

I The wild country acted differently on the German side of the
English race/ /it was felt, not as a thing to be loved, but to be
feared / The solitary moors, the cruel woods, the fens where the
wild birds cried like demons, the black morass, are alive in
early English literature with the evil-bringing powers o^ nature.
Monsters like Grendel haunted the misty moors and the black
seapots where the waves boiled ; the dragon lurked in the fen or
in the caves of the rocks ; hateful phantoms rode on the storm-
clouds or lay in wait for the traveller when he crossed the swollen
stream or passed the gray stones on the heath. A whole world
of fearful imagination was bom which has never left our literature.

{ Out of both, out of the Celtic love and the German fear of
wild nature, has grown at last the modern poetry of nature, a
mingled web of love and awe. And between both, and also
mfiuencing modern poetry, was all the romance of the wildwood
which collected itself in story and ballad round the life of the
bold outlaw in the forests, and was mingled with the gaiety of the
fairy crew that danced by moonlight in the pleasant glades-

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 13

— ■ ^ ; a,

(2) The second subject of which a sketch is here to be given r- 1
is the Roman occupation, and how far it influenced our liter ature. J
On such a land as I have described the Romans came for the
first time with Julius Caesar in 55 B.C., and then again the year
after; and the noble defence of south-eastern England made
against them by Cassivelaunos in his stronghold of Verulam is
not unremembered in literature. Nor has Caraticos missed in
letters the tribute due to his courage and his patriotism. He,
leading the Silures, of a sturdier temper than the Celtic tribes,
defended the northern and midland parts of Britain against
the legions of the Emperor Claudius, when, ninety years after
Caesar's landing, the Romans made the south-east of the island
into a province of the empire. In Nero*s reign, Suetonius
Paulinus took and sacked the island of Mona,.slew the Druid
bands and cut down their sacred groves. But he had left the
east of Britain unprotected, and Boadicea (Boudicca), Queen of
the Iceni, raised the country to avenge her bitter wrongs,
and destroyed with terrible slaughter London, Verulam, and
Camalodunon, but was at last def^ted and died of poison.
I These two events have often been celebrated by English poetry.
Cowper sang, with his own melodious grace, the British Queen ^^
in her wrath and sorrow. \ One of Tennyson's daring experiments '
in metre sang of the Druids, the Brythonic gods, the yellow-
haired queen, the bloody vengeance which she took, and invented
her prophecy of the fall of Rome and the glory of England. I

The better government of Agricola, under Vespasian, redeemed
the cruelties of Paulinus and drew all the British chieftains below 1
the Forth and the Clyde into the Roman peace. The line of forts \
he set up between Glasgow and Edinburgh was made into a
wall by Antoninus in 140 a.d. ; and Hadrian, twenty years before,
had built another wall, whose ruins now stretch between Newcastle
and Carlisle. These huge walls with their forts and towers, the
fortifications with which the Romans encompassed their towns,
their white stone buildings, the temples, theatres, and public baths,
the rich country-houses and the magnificent roads with which they

Digitized by

Googk

14 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

quartered the land, were marvels to the Britons. They were still
more wonderful to the English, j Early English poetry is full of
allusions to these " works of giants " ; and one of its finest Elegies
describes the wondrous walls, the gates, the crumbling towers, the
heap of shattered houses, the pillars and pinnacles, the market-
place and the marble baths of Bath — or perhaps of Caerleon on
Usk, built by the second Augusta legion — a noble town which, in
literature, is "towered Camelot." In this way the Romans left
some trace on the letters of England, i ^

\ It was the Romans, also, who brought Christianity into Britain,
and British Christianity has faintly entered into English literature. \
It seems possible that some of the soldiers of the legion which
had served at Jerusalem, and which was sent to Britain in the
first century, may have been Christians, and have spread their
faith among the British folk ; and Wiilker conjectures that it is
owing to this that the Eastern elements were so strong in the
British Church. When Christianity came, it grew steadily. Ter-
tuUian speaks of the British Christians at the end of the second
century ; and at the end of the third and beginning of the fourth
century Britain had three martyrs of the faith — Alban of Verulam,
and two citizens of Caerleon, Aaron and Julius. After 386 a.d.
the Church of Christ was fully established.
/ It is in the legends of saints, as, for example, of Alban of
Verulam, handed down from the days of the Roman occupation,
that we find traces of the influence on English literature of the
Christianity Britain owed to Rome/ The chief story is that of
Helena and her "Invention of the true Cross." Constantine,
who was proclaimed emperor at York, was the son of Helena, the
daughter of a Dacian innkeeper, whom legend made into a British
princess. One of Cynewulf s noblest poems celebrates the dream
and victory of Constantine, the voyage of Helena to Jerusalem,
and her discovery of the Rood ; nor is );he story unrepresented
in the later literature of England. '^

/^ But, on the whole, the influence of British Christianity on
( English literature is all but imperceptible, ^x The slaughter the

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

r TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 15

English heathen made of the British, and the destruction of
their shrines in the first hot years of the Conquest, left only a
few traces of the Roman civilisation and Christianity. Canterbury
may have retained a remnant of Christian churches and schools.
Roman civilisation and Christianity remained alive in Wales,
but where the English heathen passed, ruin was on their right
hand and their left. When England became Christian, the
memory of those cruel days kept the British Church apart in
hatred from the English; and when in the later conquests
the Britons were absorbed into the English, they became children
of the Latin not of the British Church. There was one place,
however, where British Christianity and its traditions were handed
on without a break into English Christianity, and whence the
Celtic devotion and imagination flowed into English literature.
That place was Glastonbury. When Cenwealh, in 658, passing
over the great marshes, captured Glastonbury Tor, he found there
the British Church and monastery, which, since the overthrow of
Ambresbury, had been the centre of British Christianity. Unlike
Ambresbury, it was not destroyed by the English, for Cenwealh,
lately made a Christian and founder of the bishopric of Win-
chester, saw brethren, not enemies, in the monks of Glastonbury.
When Ine, some thirty years after, came to the throne of Wessex,
he too honoured the ancient site, added to the ancient Church
another of his own, and enriched the monastery. Hence Glaston-
bury was the only place in southern England where British
Christianity continued into English, where the religion, the tradi-
tions, the legends of saints, and a church of the Brythons mingled
in a happy marriage with those of the English. The Celtic
Christian legends, which carried the story of Glastonbury back to
Joseph of Arimathea, to the Apostles, even to the Last Supper
and the Cross, though they took their literary form much later,
had lived at Glastonbury in embryonic Celtic forms, some of them
heathen in origin./ The story of the Hply Grail, springing out of -
early Irish roots, grew, like a myth, by accretion, in Glastonbury,
and taking at last a literary form, not only brought the central

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

I6 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

doctrine of the Roman Church into those imaginative aflfections
of the common people which story-telling nourishes, but also went
from England all over Europe. But its origins were in the Celtic
Christianity which passed through Glastonbury into the English
Church. ^

It was not only Brythonic Christianity which had a centre
of dispersion at Glastonbury. The place had close connections
with Goidelic, with Irish Christianity. It is supposed that a
second Patrick refuged there. Columb and Bridget are both
brought to Avalon. We know that many pilgrims came yearly
from Ireland to worship at Glastonbury, and that many Irish
scholars studied in the monastery, added to its library, and brought
to its folk the legends of their saints, perhaps the stories of their
heroes. I Irish influence thus came into England/not only from
the nortn through lona, but from the south through Glastonbury.
In fact Goidelic, Brythonic, and English Christianity met and
mingled their powers in this ancient seat of learning. The spirit
of all these powers, though they had grievously dwindled when
he was young, concentrated itself in Dunstan, who, brought up
as a child in the sight of the monastery and taught by its Irish
pilgrims, became its abbot in manhood, and made it the source
from which the revival of monastic life and learning spread over
England. The literature which blossomed in iEthelwold, and
bore such copious fruitage in ^Ifric, was sown in the great school
of Glastonbury, and by the hand of Dunstan. And Dunstan was
perhaps as much the child of Celtic as of Engjish. Christianity.

To return from this necessary episode, not much now remains
to say of Roman Britain. Severus, in 210, drove back the tribes
beyond the walls with great slaughter. Seventy years afterwards
two other foes added to the troubles of the provincials. The
Scots from the north of Ireland began in 286 their constant raids
on the north and west of the island. The Saxons, as the Britons
called them, ravaged the eastern and south-eastern coasts for the
first time in 290 A.D., and so incessant was their piracy that the
whole coast from Southampton to the Wash was called by the

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 17

Romans the " Saxon shore." By the middle of the fourth century
these greedy enemies of Britain leaped from every side upon her
flanks. They were beaten back by Theodosius ; and returning,
were again routed by Maximus in 384. In 396 and 400 the north
and the south were again attacked, and Stilicho rescued the
provinces for the last time. " Me perishing by my neighbour's
hands," sang Britannia in Claudian's poem, " Stilicho defended,
when the Scot excited all lerne to arms, and the ocean was white,
beaten by the oars of the invaders." But Rome was now defend-
ing her heart against the German sword, and the invasion of the
Vandals drew the Romans away from Britain. Constantine, a
private soldier, made emperor of the west by the army, sent for
the Roman legions from Britain in 407. One of his generals,
Gerontius, a Brython, conceiving himself injured by Constantine,
invited the Germans to join him in a conquest of Britain. / The
" cities of Britain " rallied to their own defence, repulsed the in-
vaders, and declared their independence of Rome. | The Emperor
Honorius agreed to that which he was powerless to prevent, and
bid the cities take care of themselves. They replied by banishing
all the Roman officials, and setting up governments of their own.
Britain now, in 410, stood alone, but she was not able to support
her freedom. Her various governments had no bond of union ;
they fought with one another ; famine and pestilence followed on
civil war ; and then her three enemies, Picts, Irish, and Saxons,
closed in upon her. She fought with great courage for more than
thirty years against desperate odds, but she was at last worn out.
In 446 or 447 it is said that a piteous letter of appeal was
addressed by the Britons to Aetius. "We are driven by the
savages into the sea, and by the sea we are thrown among the
savages— we are either butchered or drowned." It is not likely
that this appeal, if it ever was written, was ever presented. At
any rate, no help came from Rome ; aijd in an evil hour for the
Britons, Gwerthigern (Vortigern), their most powerful king, called
on the English marauders for their help ; and Hengist and Horsa,
whose names also belong to Saga, landed in Thanet. They

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

i8 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN CHAP.

quarrelled with Vortigern ; the land pleased them better than their
Jutish flats ; they sent with fraternal pleasure for more of their
bands; and in 451 a.d. their conquest of Kent began the con-
quest of Britain by the English.

It may well be asked how it was that the civilised rule of
Rome for so long a period had no influence whatever on English
law and literature, and left so few traces on the British. With
regard to the British, the hatred between them and the Romans
was deep. The relation between them had grown into the
relation between cruel oppressors and their victims. The arrival
of the tax-gatherers in a British town was like the arrival of a band
of plundering and torturing Pindarees in an Indian village. The
Britons and their tyrants were two nations in one country.
When the Romans left, it was almost as if they had never come.
Even the Latin language only existed for a short time. It had
been spoken largely in the towns and their suburban country ;
thousands of Britons served in the Roman legions, and of course
spoke the tongue of Rome, but it did not get far into the interior
of Britain. It has been conjectured that a Romance language
arose. This is excessively improbable. I As in Wales and Ireland
when conquered by the English, so in Britain conquered by the
Romans, two languages were spoken ; and when the Romans left,
I^atin, as a popular tongue, except among the priests and upper
classes, died away./ The tribes also went back at once, each to
his own individuality, — to that jealous separate existence which is
so dear to all races in the earlier stages of their history, and
which Rome strove to destroy. It was suppressed in Britain but
not destroyed. The Roman unity had never taught the British
tribes to live, govern, or war as one people. Nor did the de-
nationalising Roman law and order penetrate into the British
nature, any more than English law and order has penetrated
into the nature of the Irish people. Britain hated the Romans
and their laws because they strove to turn the Britons into
Romans, to destroy their nationality. Ireland and Wales have hated
the English and their laws whenever they strove to turn them

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 19

into English ; and it is no wonder. The account which Gildas
gives of the condition of the British kingdoms, however exag-
gerated by personal feeling, shows how ineffective the Roman
order and obedience had been to root out each tribe's desire of
self-government. Rome left the land, and the land forgot her
with joy. What happened is what would happen now in India if
the English Raj were withdrawn. In a few generations an
invader would scarcely be aware, save by their public works,
that the English people had ever been in the provinces of India.

So when the English invaded Britain, they found, save among
the remnant who fought at the siege of Mount Badon, little of
the Roman goverijment or power, and the little that was left
they destroyed. Nothing, save the roads and the ruins, was left
of British -Roman civilisation from Canterbury to Bristol and
from London to York. This destruction seemed to educated men
of the time, like Gildas, to be an irreparable evil. All civilisation,
they said, was blotted out ; God Himself has forsaken mankind ;
the most cruel heathenism has destroyed Christianity in one of
its most sacred homes.

But these cultured people are the most often mistaken. It
was of first-rate importance for the progress of the world that the
steadfast and powerful individuality of the English people should
be unhampered by the decayed civilisation of Rome, or by the
reckless nature of the Celtic Gauls ; that England, when she
came to exist, should develop her Christianity in her own fashion,
and weave her literature out of the threads of her own nature.
The English tongue, the English spirit, and the English law were
secured to mankind by the merciless carnage of the early years
of the Conquest. The true influence of Rome came back again
with the Roman Christianity, and brought with it Rome's amal-
gamating an(% uniting power, not in the political, but in the
spiritual realm; and a mighty influence it had on the develop-
ment of a national literature. But by that time the special lan-
guage, character, customs, ways of thought and feeling of the
English people had so established themselves, that they remained,

Digitized by

Googk

«o THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

in spite of the large Celtic admixture, in spite of Rome, in spite of
the Danish invasions, in spite of all the French influences which
bore upon them, the foundation power, the most enduring note in
our literature from the songs of Caedmon to the poems of Tenny-
son, from the prose of iElfred to the prose of to-day. And this
has been more the case with England than with any other nation
which came under the influence of the Roman Church.

(3) The third question to ask is — What indirect influence, if
any, the Goidels had on the early literature of England. We
have seen that the Goidels only existed, as a race apart, i n Ire]a iid»
in Man, and in the western and northern parts of Scotland, where
they were largely mixed with a previous Neolithic people. They .
seemed from their remoteness to be very unlikely to touch
us with their spirit The Brythons, on the other hand, were
not remote from the English. They lay, side by side with them,
along the border of Devon and Cornwall, along the March in
Mercia, and along the edge of Cumbria, in the land of mountain
and moor which extended from the Ribble to the Clyde. Both
these Celtic races had each a literature of tales and songs, but
owing to strange circumstance it was the Goidels. the more dis-
tant of the two, which first influenced England. /Ireland in the
sixth century had a plentiful literature in her own tongue, and a
. great school of learning ; jRnd the learning and the literature were
; brought to the west coast of Scotland by Columba in 5 63./ There
he founded the monastery oC Jona^ a nd for twenty years evangel-
ised the mainland from his lonely island. He died in the very
year, 597, in which Augustine^nded at Thanet He was himself
an Irish poet, and we still possess some lyrics of his, of warm
devotion and of passionate regret for his exile from Erin. His
friend, Dalian Forgaill, who wrote his Praises^ was chief of the multi-
tudinous Irish bards. Frpm his monastery, where Irish poetry was
loved and honoured, Northumbria, after Paullinus*s flight, was
evangelised by Irish-speaking, Irish-hearted monks; and all the
elements of religion and devotion which move and pierce the soul

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 21

most deeply, and which through the soul develop the imagination,
came to the northern English, and indeed into a great part of
Mercia and Anglia, through the Irish spirit. It is scarcely
possible to deny that this had some effect, and perhaps not a
small one, on the growth in Northumbria, where the Irish in-
fluence was greatest, of a larger imagination and of a love of
natural description, such as we do not find elsewhere in early
English poetry. ' There is no direct connection between Irish
and Northumbrian poetry ; it is always plainly English poetry on
which we look, but it is English poetry with a difference, and we
may justly claim that difierence as due to the Celtic spirit And
this claim is supported by historical facts. There was evidently,
even before Aidan crossed the border, an educational relation
between lona and the court of Northumbria, I Oswald, with
twelve princely companions, six of whom were sons of iEthelfrith,
was trained at lona. He came to that monastic school when he
was thirteen years of age, about 616. He lived at lona for seven-
teen years. He and the rest of the .^thelings learned Irish and
spoke it fluently. He must have known the Irish poetry that
Columba knew, and the Irish monks had no religious objections
to their own sagas of war and love and sorrow. When he and his /
princes returned to Northumbria (and he came to the throne in /
633) they brought back with them the Irish learning charged wita
the Irish spirit He summoned lona monks to Christianise his
kingdom, and when Aidan brought to Northumbria "the milk
of the Gospel,*' Oswald travelled with him, interpreting his preach
ing to the nobles and the people, until Aidan had learned English.
Oswin in Deira, and Oswiu when he made Northumbria into one
kingdom, were both attached to Aidan and carried still further the
Irish influence. Oswiu had been baptized and educated at lona;
and after the battle of Winwaed, when Northumbria was freed
from the terror and paganism of Penda, the country was pervaded
by monasteries set up on the Irish model, and directed by monks
who had learnt all their religion and the spirit of their devotion
from Irish teachers. As Oswald had set up Lindisfame and its

Digitized by

Googk

22 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

subject monasteries, so Oswiu now set up Whitby on the same
Irish pattern. And Whitby became the educational centre of
more than half of Northumbria, and sent forth from its loins a
number of related monasteries, of bishops and missionaries to the
midland and south t)f England. The monasteries were founded
on the Irish model, the men had received an Irish training, and
knew at least some of the Irish literature. Later on, even after
the Synod of Whitby, 664, when the Roman Church established
its ascendancy over the Celtic, the Irish influence, though lessened
as an ecclesiastical, remained as an intellectual and literary power.
Shoals of Irish scholars came over to Northumbria, and numbers
of English went to Ireland to drink the wine of knowledge, to
read and love the Irish tales and songs. King Aldfrith also, who
died in 705, almost as fond of literature as Alfred, was educated
in Ireland and lona, as well as at Canterbury, and was recognised
as a scholar by Ealdhelm. It was only when Baeda had raised the
school of Jarrow into pre-eminence, and when, after his death, the
school of York became the centre of European learning, that

I the Latin influence entirely prevailed over the Celtic in North-

' umbria. This was the Goidelic invasion of England.

Its first indirect influence — I have said that its direct influence
was very small — has been already alluded to. It was the infiltration

-into the northern English character of a more emotional atmo-
sphere of feeling, of a more imaginative way of looking at man
and nature, of a more intense sense of life in all things, than the
German tribes possessed^ It was the creation in the English soul
of a direct love of nature for her own sake which the German
people did not at this time possess at all. j To this we owe Cyne-

. wulfs passion for the sea, for the changes of the sky, for the
storms and the wild scenery of the eastern coast. To this we

f owe the vivid personification and description of natural objects in
the Riddles of Cynewulf, fthe extraordinary fire of his religious
hymns, and the singular self- consciousness of his poetry. \ We
owe to this the fulness with which he conceives the varied and
rejoicing life of heaven, and the mythical elements with which he

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 23

has suffused his picture in the Phcsnix of the land of eternal youth. \
I believe that we also owe to it the delightsome elements in the
History Baeda wrote, its profound pleasure in mystic and romantic
legends, the charm of its story-telling, and the grace of its tender-
ness. It is certainly at these points that Bseda differs as a writer
from -Alfred or -^Ifric. Lastly, it is not improbable that the
eagerness of the Irish feeling for sagas had something to do with / /
the preservation of Beowulf h\ the North, and with the poetising / /^
of the saga stories of the Old Testament in the early Genesis^ in \
Exodus^ and in Judith^ all of which, as I think, took form inj
Northumbria.

The second influence the Goidelic invasion had on English —
literature was also indirect, and the assertion of it is open to
dispute., I believe that the steady tendency in Northumbria/
upwards the making of religious poetry in the vernacular rather I
than in Latin, was owing to the Irish influence, which, carrying I
with it the Irish passion for the use of the national tongue, bore y
upon the English poets. The Irish, always using their native \
language for war-tales, used it also for religious tales and songs ; |
and a people Christianised by the Irish would tend to do the j
same. It would not even occur to a Northumbrian poet trained [
by Aidan or his followers to write sacred poetry in Latin verse. \
It is the first thing which would occur to a poet trained in the I
Latin schools of Theodore, of Ealdhelm, of Baeda, of Egcberht of ,
York. Bseda, it is true, loved English verse, and wrote it ; but his
chief verse was in Latin, and his practice illustrates what would '
have happened in Northumbria had all the monasteries been,^
like Jarrow, linked to Rome. Ealdhelm, also a writer of English \
songs, wrote on all serious subjects in Latin. His English verses ^
were probably popular lays. Some say they were hymns, but the
only one which lasted to William of Malmesbury's time was a
carmen trtviale, fBut the Northumbrian poets, with the Irish
tradition behind them, wrote on the great subjects of the Old
Testament, on the mysteries ot^depption, on the lives of apostles
and martyrs, in their own tongue. / When Caedmon began to sing

Digitized by

Googk

24 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

in English, the heads of the monastery received his English verse
with joy, and urged him to go on writing on sacred subjects in
English. This would not have been the case at Canterbury
under Theodore, or at Malmesbury under Ealdhelm. And that
it was the case in the North was largely due to the Irish influence..
These were the good things which the Goidelic branch of the
Celts did for English literature and. learning. Its influence, how-
ever, soon lessened, and its direct force perished in the Danish
invasioa I believe, however, that it continued in Scotland when
it had faded in England, and that we owe to it not only the re-
markable love of nature for its own sake which we find in Dunbar,
Douglas, and even Lyndsay, but also the rough, satirical, rollicking
! humour of these and other Scottish poets. The " flytings '' of
j Dunbar may be said to be the direct descendants of the satirical
/ poems of the Irish bards. And Fergusson and Burns, both in
' their love of nature and their satire, share in the Irish spirit. But
the full Celtic spirit did not reassert itself until the prose poems
j published under the name of Ossian by Macpherson in the last
I century drew again the heroic imagination of Europe around the
adventures of the Feinne and the gests and sorrows of CucuUainn.
Macpherson found the skeletons of his tales in the Highlands, and
he filled them up with such literary flesh and blood as it was given
him to create. It was a pity he claimed them as true translations.
For their value lay in their not being translations, but original
transformations of old legends. Their power was derived partly
from their origin and partly from Macpherson*s own Celtic genius,
and they carried with them a great deal of the ancient passion of
the legends. They have been unduly depreciated, and we must
not forget that they were one of the most stirring and kindling
elements in the movement which reawakened romance and the

^ love of nature in the poetry not only of England but of Europe.

' But having done this, the Gaelic witch fell asleep again. She had
been clothed in false garments, and though her beauty shone
through them, she put them away and retired to hidden hills and
woods. Her influence is felt, but her direct voice is not heard in

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 25

the poetry of Wordsworth, Byron, Scott, Shelley, Keats, Browning \
or Tennyson. But of late she has again awakened, and clothed '
by scholars in her own garments, has once more unfolded, for the /
pleasure and pricking of poets, the sagas and the songs of the first /
Celtic immigrants into Great Britain and Ireland.

(

(4) The Brythonic Celts whose influence on our literature we
have now to indicate began almost immediately after the first English/
conquests a movement which had in the end a good deal to dol
with English literature^ They also produced about the same time 1
one writer, whose Lat^ book, De Excidio^ and his Epistola, have 1
come down to us. The movement was the emigration of many (
of the Britons to Armorica /the writer was Gildas. J

Gildas was the first national historian of the Britons, a man\
whose learning was recognised in Ireland, in Britain, and in Brit- '
tany; a saint, of whom two ancient lives exist, one of which is
based on the traditions and documents of the Abbaye. de Ruis,
an Abbey of which he was the founder. He was born in 493 (the
Annaies Ca mbriae make the date 516), and died in 570 ? He gives \
"an account of the landing of the Jutes in their " three keels." The {\
passage in which he describes the dreadful slaughter and cruel
destruction of the British towns is the vivid record of an eye- !
witness of the ruin, and the language in which he denounces the J
English " whelps of the barbarian lioness " is worthy of a priest !
It is strange to think that two hundred years after he wrote of I
the hopeless overthrow of all culture and religion by these heathen ]
butchers they were to become the instructors of all Europe in
learning and the most active supporters of Christianity at home
and abroad.

I^jjis Epistola addressed to the kings and priests of the Britons,
and written within and without with lamentation and mourning
and woe, is a bitter denunciation of the iniquities of the kings and '
a still more bitter attack on the false and immoral priesthood.^ j
Its denunciations are those natural to a man who lived apart from j
the stress of life in a cloister, and we gather from their violence \

Digitized by

Googk

26 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

that the Britons were bad, but not so bad as he represents. He
uses, to express his wrath, long strings of texts taken in order from
all the prophets and from the New Testament, and this unrelenting
accumulation of prophetic angers has a weight and menace in it
which at la§t affects the reader like the darkness and flashing of
a thunder-storm. But violent words in those days brought no
trouble to a priest, and he seems to have lived an honoured and a
safe life. He had many relations with the Irish, especially with
S. Brigit and S. Finnian of Clonard. When he was weary of the
troubles in Britain he fled to Gaul, built his Abbey, and died in
peace. British-Roman culture says its l ast word in jh is writer.

As to the~ movement now begun, it was the emigration ot the
I Britons to a new home in Armorica, and Gildas notices it in '
/a single sentence. It began after the battles of Aylesford and
Crayford, 455, 457. The English slew all the Britons they caught,
but a good number escaped over the Channel For we find that
the first band of hunted Britons, the source of the Breton people,
were numerous enough in 461 to have a church and a bishop of
their own. Mansuetus, Bishop of the Bretons, Metropolitan of
Armorica, represented them at the Council of Tours in 461. We
hear from Sidonius Apollinaris that in 468 there were Bretons
above the Loire {Britannos super Ligerinum sttos\ that is, north
of the Loire, in Armorica. This was the beginning of an emi-
gration which so steadily continued, as the English pushed their
conquests farther to the west, that, in the middle of the sixth
century, Armorica is altogether Brittany — name, language, manners
entirely changed. Cornwall and Devon sent their emigrants over
between 509 and 577, and the emigration did not lessen till the
beginning of the seventh century. It was " not an infiltration,
but an inundation." Nevertheless, it was slowly done, and with-
out violence. The people of Armorica were not slaughtered, they
settled down with the emigrants, and the isolated and successive
British bands that came over for a century and a half found plenty
of land and room for all their wants.

Here then, in a much more unmixed way than in England,

Digitized by

Googk

TO ENGLISH LITERATURE

tive\
ing,\

the old traditions, legends, myths, customs, and the imaginative
spirit of the Brythonic Celt, both in poetry and in tale-tellingj
were supported and developed : and even Wales was less purely
Brythonic than Brittany. Qf course, a certain amount of Goidel
blood and tradition went from Devon, Cornwall, and South
Wales into Brittany, but it was not a large amount, and the Bry-
thonic spirit dominated it. That spirit passed with the wandering
Breton bards into Normandy, and having mingled with French
romance was brought back by the Normans into England, and
added its power afterwards to the Uterature of England. Thcv
best illustration of this is the Arthur story. As a story it was not I
indigenous to Brittany. It had not developed in the seventh I
century. But when it came to Brittany from Wales it was rapidly \
assimilated : pure Brythonic-Breton myths were added to it ; it
was freshly developed and locally expanded ; and falling then into
the hands of the neighbouring Normans, was thrown out of scat-
tered legends into clearer form and so brought back to England,
where it first received its fuller development as a great tale at the
hands of Geoffrey of Monmouth. The emigration of the Briton to
Brittany was of high import to English literature. >. x

This seems the best place to say a word about ihtHistoria \
Britonum which goes under the name of Nennius, and which is a y
phantom-companion of the book of Gildas. Gildas has weight
as an historical authority. But we know nothing of Nennius, and
the book which goes under his name is a compilation from various
sources. Critical investigation has selected two pieces out of the
eight which compose this history as the kernel of the book — the
Historia Britonum and the Civitates Britanniae. The first of
these is judged firom internal evidence to have been written about
the year 822, and both are the only pieces which occur in all the
manuscripts. The compiler, says Guest, ^ "used fragments of
earlier works which are of great interest and value." But the
most interesting part to an historian of literature is that which
treats of the struggle of the Britons against the English under the
^ Origines CelticaCy vol, ii. p. 157.

Digitized by

Googk

a8 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

r. /it i

— leadership of Arthur. /It contains and secures for us the first and
most ancient record of those popular legends of Britain which
gave birth afterwards to the romances of the Brut, of Merlin, of
Arthur, and of the cycle of romance which goes under his name.
They are not the inventions of the writer; they are the
genuine record of popular stories, stories afterwards used by
(Geoffrey of Monmouth, and added to by him from ^Velsh and
Breton legends and from his own imagination. )
^ After Gildas there is silence, save for the cries of the conquered. ^
The emigration went on, but the Brythons who had remained at
home had, in the last quarter of the sixth century, been driven back
by the English to Devon and Cornwall and the south of Somerset-
shire, and to the lands on the west from the Severn to the Clyde.
In 577 Ceawlin, by the battle of Deorham, divided the Brythons
of the south-west from those who dwelt in our Wales, and the
influence of these south-western tribes on our literature is scarcely
appreciable. It is well, however, to reassert in this place three
considerations : first, that Glastonbury in the unconquered part of
Somerset held till 658 the Brythonic as well as Geidelic traditions
and legends, and handed them on unbroken to the English, so
that they stole into English thought ; secondly, that when Devon-
shire was conquered, the Brythons were not destroyed, but being
amalgamated with the English carried their thought and feeling
into the life of their conquerors ; thirdly, that the Brythons who,
mixed with the Goidels, had emigrated from West Wales into
Brittany, took with them their heroic tales and their imaginative
spirit, and in after-times sent both back to England through the
additions which the Norman versifiers made to the Breton versions
of the Arthurian legends.

The influence of the Cymry was much more important They
were the Brythons who dwelt from the Severn to the Dee in
Cambria as Wales came to be called, and in Cumbria from the *
Dee to the Clyde. Cambria and Cumbria axe two forms of the
same word — the land of the Cymry. At what date these Bry-
thonic tribes took the common name of Cymry is not known, but

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 29

as it means " fellow-countrymen " it points to a time when all the
tribes recognised their unity as against a common enemy. Some
great misfortune probably drove them into this unity of feeling,
and no greater misfortune befell the Cymry than the fatal battle
of Chester in 613 when ^Ethelfrith cut into two parts the
Cymric kingdoms, seized on the tract of land between the Dee
and the Derwent, and isolated the northern Cymry from the
Cymry of Wales.

It is possible that at this time the name of Cymry passed
into common out of casual use. At any rate, it was now that a
desperate struggle began on the part of all the Brythonic tribes to
recover the continuity of the country which had been lost; and
it seems that they were helped by their Celtic brethren in other
lands. The Brythons of Damnonia and Armorica, the Goidels
of Dublin and of Scotland, allied themselves with the Cymry
against the English, and the struggle carried on by Cadwallon and \
that of his son Cadwaladr, in alliance with Penda of Mercia,
against the Northumbrians, and during the reigns of Eadwine and
Oswald, only ended when Oswiu overthrew the Cymry and Penda
at the battle of Winwsed in 655. That is the date of the final
overthrow of the Cymry State as it was of old, when it stretched
unbroken from the Severn to the Solway, and from the Solway to
the Clyde.

During the whole of this time, from the middle of the sixth to /
the middle of the seventh century, the Cymry, who were a singing \ [
people, sang the fortunes of the strife, its battles and defeats, its l *
sieges and feasts. Four great bards are said to have flourished f
among them towards the end of the sixth century, and some \
of their work continued into the seventh. They were Aneurin,
Taliessin, Llywarch Hen, and Merddin. We cannot quite tell
whether the names represent real men. Merddin, who became
the Merlin of the Arthur tales, and Taliessin, seem to grow before
our eyes into mythical personages, but at least we have the poems
attributed to these names. They exist in manuscripts which
date from the twelfth to the fourteenth century. They have been

Digitized by

Googk

30 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

modernised, added to and mishandled, but the ancient body of
them is allowed to be historical and contemporary with the events
of which they sing. Though the poems have no direct influence
on English literature, yet they are the earliest records we possess
of English war. Poems attributed to Taliessin and to Llywarch
Hen record the wars of Urien, Rhydderch Hen, Gwallawg and
Morcant against the Angles of Bemicia under Hussa, King
*of Bernicia, 567-574. A well known Taliessin poem, the "Battle
of Argoed-Llwynfain," sings the struggle, 580-587, of Urien
and his son Owain against Deodric the Flamebearer, the son
of Ida of Bamborough. It is probable, as Dr. Guest believes,
that the old Marwnad or Elegy on the death of Kyndylan,
contained in the Red Book of Hergest and said to have been
written by Llywarch Hen in his old age, is an account of the
sacking of the town of Uriconium, the " White Town in the
Valley," by Ceawlin, King of Wessex, in 584, when the EngHsh
eagles, "eager for the flesh of Kyndylan," came down from
Shrewsbury and Eli, burnt the town and slew the chieftain. K
Gododin^ part of which seems to be by Aneurin, tells of the
fight at Cattraeth and Gododin, two districts near one another
and the sea, and probably in the north of Lothian. There the
Britons and the Scots fought about 596 with the Pagan English
and the Pagan Picts. For many years afterwards, until the death \
of Cadwallon in 659, the poets chanted the great patriotic
struggle of Cadwallon and Cadwaladr against the Angles in
poems, some of which remain in modernised versions to the
present day. The poems then, if we follow Mr. Skene, arose
among the northern Cymry, and at first drifted loosely from
mouth to mouth, but were thrown into some ordered form in
the seventh century. After the battle of Winwaed, the northern
Cymry remained under English rule, till Ecgfrith fell on the fatal
day of Nechtansmere. The Cymry north of the Solway were
then independent till 946, when the Scots' kingdom, established
at Alclyde, was subdued by Eadmund, who bestowed all Cumbria
from the Derwent to the Clyde on Malcolm the Scottish king

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 31

Meanwhile a great migration of the northern Cymry took place
to Wales, and the heroic history of Cumbria was transferred to
Cambria. This is Mr. Skene's explanation, and I give in what
follows his theory of what now took place. ^ He holds that the
bards of the migration carried with them the north-Cymric poems
(the first period poems) to the dwellings which the migratory
tribes were given in South Wales, and, as time went on devouring
the memories of the past, " the recollection of the kingdom they
had left passed away from them," but the poems remained.
These "poems, obscurely reflecting the history of the North,"
were now applied to the present in which they lived. The
names, battles, and exploits of old Cumbrian warriors were fitted
to the history of North and South Wales, and to the new land the
northern Cymry now inhabited. This transference was chiefly
made in and about the time of Howel the Good, who reigned
over the whole of Wales from 940 to 948, and its poetry makes
the second period of old Cymric poetry. About the same time
the older Mabinogi took their finished form.

Not long afterwards a third " school of Welsh poetry, which
speedily assumed large dimensions and exercised a powerful
influence, arose in North Wales ; while the literary spirit of South
Wales manifested itself more in prose composition," that is, in
the creation of new mythical and romantic tales.

Still later, and growing gradually, a fourth school of poetry
grew up in South Wales. It imitated the old poetry of the North,
and wrote in the names of Taliessin, of Llywarch Hen and the
rest of the ancients, striving with varying success to reproduce the
spirit and the style of the men it imitated. This " spurious poetry "
belongs, for the most part, to the time of Rhy5 ap Tewdwr, who
was slain in 1090. At his death the Normans occupied Glamorgan-
shire, and the kingdom of South Wales came to an end. But the
production of this imitative poetry, under forged names, continued
through the Norman-Welsh rule, until, in the time of Henry II.,

^ See for a full account of this theory, Skene's Four Ancient Books of
Wales^ pp. 244, etc.

Digitized by

Googk

$2 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap.

some of the ancient poems were first transcribed in a manuscript
of the twelfth century — the B/ack Book of Carmarthen, Three
other books, containing the old and the spurious -old poetry,
appeared in the following centuries — the Book of Aneurin, the
Book of Taliessin^ and the Red Book of Hergest ; the last is a
manuscript of the fourteenth century.

Of the poems contained in these books I have only alluded
to those which bear on English history. The rest of them, arid
they are many, ranging from the sixth to the twelfth century, are
employed only on subjects belonging to the Cjnnry, on their early
traditions, their cities, legendary heroes, sieges, battles, defeats,
and on the personal feelings of the bards who sang these fates
of men. Along with these war-poems there is a crowd of miscel-
laneous poems on religion, on the lives of the writers, on philo-
sophic subjects, on the natural scenery and animal life of the
seasons of the year; and some of these last appear to have had an
influence on the rise of the lyric poetry of England. Such an
influence was certainly exercised by the Welsh poetry of a fifth
period, which, growing more copious after the twelfth century,
unfolded itself into impassioned lyrics of love and of nature;
lovelier but weaker than the older work, and exceedingly per-
sonal both in love and in sorrow. As time went on this poetry
grew more feeble and, at last, merely sentimental. This further
development, however, lies outside of the limits of this book.

Looking back, then, over the six centuries on which we write,
we find that a great mass of poetry and legendary tales, differing
from that of the English, and full of a different spirit, existed
among the Cymry, and were sung and told along the marches of
the Cymry and the English. These two people came to act fre-
quently together in war, and to communicate in peace. In such
border relations a bilingual community grows up, and the songs
and stories of each people become common property, and mix
together their imaginative elements.

The legends, tales, and poems of the Brythons, and the manner
in which they felt about man and nature, could not fail to have

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 33

some influence on their English conquerors. And for this there
was plenty of opportunity. We hear so much of the annihilat-
ing slaughter done on the Brythons, that we forget how closely,
in after-times, they were bound up with the English. Even in
the first fifty years of the Conquest a number of the non-fighting
Brythonic population must have been kept by the English as slaves
and concubines. The Britons of West Wales, of Devon, Corn-
wall, and part of Somerset, and perhaps of certain parts of Wilt-
shire, were received into the English peace in the seventh century,
and Ealdhelm, to take one example, was in courteous communica-
tion with the King of Damnonia. After the Conquest we find,
fi-om Domesday Book, that almost all the landed proprietors of
Cornwall have English names — farmers who lived, harmoniously
enough, among a population which was Brythonic in language
and manner.

The intercourse which thus prevailed between the dwellers
in West Wales and the English existed also on the borders be-
tween the English and the Cymry of Cambria and Cumbria ; but
after the migration of the Cumbrians to South Wales, it was
greatest on the borders of Cambria. In the seventh century, to
begin with an early example, Penda was in full alliance with
Cadwallon, the King of the Cymry, and helped him for a whole
year in his mortal attack upon Northumbria. Mercians and
Cymry fought together, camped and sang together. When Offa
pushed forwards the border of Mercia, the land he took in had
more Brythonic than English indwellers, and the two races inter-
mingled all along the new strip from Chester to Bristol. The
border inhabitants of north-west Yorkshire, Durham, and North-
umberland were in constant touch with the Cymrj^of Lancashire,
Westmoreland, and Cumberland, with Dumfries, Roxburgh, and
Berwick; and, when Westmoreland and Cuml^erland were con-
quered by the Danes and afterwards taken into England, the
Cymry infused their spirit into their Danish and English con-
querors. In iElfred's time Wessex was in full relation with
Wales. The storv pf Asser and iElfred shows how close and

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

34 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap

frequent was this inter-communication. Many of the Welsh kings
took iElfred for their overlord. Many charters of iEthelstan are
signed by chieftains (reguli) of Wales ; and there are traces in
the Welsh legends of English names and English stories. The
genius of the Celt, and perhaps as much of the Goidel as of the
Brython, stole in with more or less influence across the northern
and western borders of England, from Berwick to Carlisle, from
Carlisle to Chester, from Chester to Bristol, and from Bristol to
Glastonbury and Exeter.

After the Conquest, this mingling of the English and Cymric
spirit along the border went on with greater sp€ed, but a third
element, the Norman element, was now added to it . The French,
the English, and the Welsh spirit were woven together in the
doings of poetry and of story-telling all over Hereford, Mont-
gomery, Radnor, and Monmouth. " In Powys, at the end of the
eleventh century, the English element was considerable. Bleddyn,
King of Powys, at the battle of Mechain in 1068, had under his
orders a large body of English troops. From the end of the
eleventh century, when the Normans took possession of a good
part of South Wales, the relations between them and the Welsh
chieftains are continuous ; and at the end of the twelfth century
the two aristocracies are entirely mingled together.'*^ In like
manner the Norman and Welsh mingled and interchanged their
literature of tales and poetry. We can trace in the Arthurian
stories of Wales elements which have come over from Normandy,
and, in the Norman stories, elements from Wales.

It remains only to mention the rise of that great Brythonic
subject which passed from the Brythons, whether in Wales or
Brittany, into England and into Europe. This is the subject of
Arthur, who has been so mighty a king in English literature, from
the days of Henry II. to the days of Victoria. I might trace in
the close of this chapter the upgrowth of the myth of Arthur, from
the time when the Brythons were still on the Continent to the
time when the Normans crossed the channel, but it will be bettei;
* J. Loth, ** Les Romans Arthuriens," Revue CeltiqiiCy vol. xiii.

Digitized by

Googk

I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 35

to keep the whole story together, and to tell it in a history of
Middle English. It appears first in English in the Brut of Lay-
amon. In that poem, English poetry having been, like Arthur,
almost wounded to the death by foes ; having, like him, lain hid
in Avalon watched by weeping queens; returned again, as was
prophesied of Arthur, to life and war, to singing and to love.
It returned hand -in -hand with Arthur; and, as the centuries
moved on, bound into one fair unity of story-telling the ima-
gination of the Celt, the romance of France, and the strength of
England

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER II

OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY

The Teutonic tribes who came to our island, and from their name
of Engle called it England, dwelt in the peninsula of Denmark
and around the mouths of the Elbe. The most northern of
these tribes lived in South Sweden and the upper part of Den-
mark, and the men of it were called the Jutes. Their southern
boundary was the river Sley near Schleswig. Below them were
the Angles, in a little country "about as large as Middlesex,"
and its capital town was named, said Ethelweard in his Chronicle^
" in Saxon Sleswic, but in Danish Haithaby." The same town is
mentioned in Oh there's account to King Alfred of his second
voyage down the west of Norway to Sciringesheal, and thence to
Haithaby. " Two days before he came to Haithaby," wrote the
king, "he had on the right Jutland and Zealand and many
islands. In these lands dwelt the English before they came into
this land." Below the Angles, on the neck of the peninsula and
probably in the existing islands of Harde, Eiderstedt, and Nord-
strand were the settlements of the Saxons; but these islands
were at this time not islands, but spaces of higher ground in a
tract of marshy land which is now a great lagoon. This was the
homeland of the Saxons, but they were continually extending
themselves along the coast and inland, and Old Saxony finally
stretched westward from the mouth of the Elbe across the Low
Countries and into the lands of the Chauci and the Frisians.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 37

The Angles also were not confined to the small piece of land
between the Jutes and the Saxons. Widsith, the Travellet^s Song^
tells of Offa of Ongle " that he won the greatest of realms with his
single sword ; he advanced his boundaries towards the Myrgings
by Fifeldor, and the Angles and the Sueves henceforth stayed on
in the land as Offa had won it" Fifeldor, or the Monster's Gate,
probably means the mouth of the Eyder. The island of Angeln
was one of their colonies. We hear from Tacitus and Ptolemy
that Angles had settled along the Elbe, " between the river and the
forest," somewhere in the north of Hanover ; and Tacitus makes
them one of the tribes who had a right to worship "Mother
Earth" in the awful forest of the Holy Isle. As their original 1
country, like that of the Saxons, was chiefly marsh, and their »
life a continual battle with the encroaching sea, we are not sur-
prised when we hear from Baeda that the whole population
left it for Britain, and that, in his time, it remained a lonely
waste.

The land of the Jutes as it rose towards the north, and the
eastern coasts and islands of the peninsula, seem to have been
the most fitted for habitation. Hundreds of small settlements
were crowded together on the eastern side, where the sea did not,
as on the west, ceaselessly eat away the land. But on the west,
where rivers had laid down wide morasses, and the land lay level
or even lower than the sea, the dwellers — ^Jutes, Angles, and
Saxons — from the northern point of Jutland to the Rhine, had
to fight daily a fierce contest with the waves.) When a high tide,
driven by a storm, ran landwards, it overwhelmed their dwellings,
and it is told of them that when this took place, the warriors
seized their arms and, as they fled, shook sword and spear in
wrath against the gods of the sea who dared to disturb them.
Full of bold defiance, they returned and built their houses in the
same places when the sea retreated, "fearing," as was said of
them, "neither flood nor earthquake." Pytheas describes those
who lived about the Elbe in the middle of the third century before
Christ They dwelt in a great fen-land, over which the tide flowed

Digitized by

Googk

38 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap

and ebbed twice a day, traversed by a number of channels which
the river made for itself through the delta. Some of these, near
the lands of the Chauci and Frisians, Pytheas calls the Ostians.
Their dwellings were also in the fens. "In their huts on the
banks they looked like sailors aboard ship when the tide was in,
and like shipwrecked men at the ebb. They hunted the fish round
their hovels as they tried to escape with the tide ; they had no cattle,
made fishing-nets out of tangle and rushes, and were stiffened with
the cold." These, if they were Saxons, were the more miserable
folk, and though likely to make bold sailors under bold leaders,
would not be the owners of those pirate boats who made life so
difficult to the Gauls and the Roman provincials of the " Saxon
shore." The pirate bands lived probably higher up the rivers in
clusters of villages, or on the northern and eastern coasts of
Denmark among the fiords or in its archipelago of islands;
building their hall and town, as Heorot is built in Beowulf^ on
the fringe of land between the sea and those inland wastes of
moor which had no indwellers but the wild beasts and the black
elves. /It is said that Heligoland was the favourite assembling
place of these sea-rovers. Taught to build ships and sail them,
perhaps by Carausius about 287, they soon excelled their teachers
and became the terror of all the neighbouring coasts, " terrible
for courage and activity, vehemence and valour, strength and
warlike fortitude," equally famed for merciless cruelty and destruc-
tiveness, sudden as lightning in attack and in retreat, of an
incredible greed for plunder, laughing and joyous in danger.
They chose the tempest in which to sail, that they might find
their enemies unprepared, and wherever the wind and waves
drove them, there they ravaged. " Every oarsman among them
is a leader ; they all command, all obey, all teach and learn the
art of pillage. Fiercer than any other enemy, if you be unguarded
they attack ; if ready for them they slip away. Those who resist
them they despise ; those who are off their guard they destroy ;
when they pursue they overtake ; when they retreat they escape.
Shipwrecks do not frighten, but discipline them : they not only

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 39

know, but are familiar with the perils of the sea." These were
the dwellings, and this the character of the three tribes whom the
Britons called S^cons, but who called themselves by the common
name of English. /

They were, like other nations of the time, like even the savage
hordes of the Huns, a singing folk. Every chieftain had his bard,
his Scop, attached to his hall, who sang in the evening at the feast
the war- deeds of the day or the sagas of the past. Often the
chieftain, like H rothgarjn j^gz c/y//, was himself a singer. TEe
store of lays contained, and was, the history and the literature of
the tribe. The warrior went into the fight chanting as he smote
with the sword ; the pirate captain stood on his vessel's prow in
the tempest and sang defiance to the winds and waves ; the dying
hero versed his glory in war and his farewells to his people.
When the feast was over and the drinking began, the wandering
guest told his story to the harp and claimed hospitality. Lays
were sung in the chambers of the women. ^Elfred heard the
ballads of his people when he was a boy. At the feasts of the
commoner folk it was the same as in the nobles* hall. Freedmen,
peasants, even the serfs, sent round the harp to each in turn.
A man was ashamed who could not sing his tale, as Caedmon was
ashamed at the feast at Whitby.

Christians as well as heathen sang. Preachers like Ealdhelm
chanted old ballads to lure the people into the church. Dunstan
carried his harp with him from house to house and sang the
legends of Glastonbury, the stories of the hamlets near his birth-
place, or the battles of iElfred. A legend makes ^Elfred himself
a singer. We know from the Chronicle that great victories were
handed down to fame in verse. The very weapons when their
lord bore them into battle were thought to break into music.
The spear yells, the shield hums, the bow screams, the sword
shouts, the chariot wheels roar in the battle, and above the fight
the Shield Maidens sang aloud the joys of a warrior's death. The
raven, the wolf, the gray-winged eagle, lifted their " dreadful song,
hoping for the carrion."

Digitized by

Googk

40 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

^The^artitself^ thus widely spread, was greatly honoured. It
came from the godj Saga was Odin's daughter among the north-
men. There was a god of soAg, and when men sang well it was
by his inspiration. And the Christian singers did not change
the thought, though they changed the inspirer. Every one at
Whitby said that Caedmon's gift was from God Himself. " God
unlocked my heart," said Cynewulf, " and gave me the power of
song." The gift itself was a " gift of joy." Glee, delight, and
rapture are synonymous with music and singing. The lay in
Beowulf \% the "ravishment of the hall." The harp is the "wood
of delight." Playing and singing are the " awaking of glee," and
all the listeners " sit by in silence, thinking of the past," stirred
to joy or sorrow, as Ulysses was in the hall of Alcinous, when they
hear the poet sing,
j But we must not mix up the Christian poet with the Scop.
\ When Caedmon began to write, he changed the position of the
r poet. The Scop, that is, the shaper, had a fixed position. He
I received lands and rights from his lord. He was the equal of the
noble, often himself a noble. The Christian singer might be of
a lower class, a dependent of a monastery, as Caedmon was, a
monk as he chose to be ; a layman under monastic guidance, as
Cynewulf in all probability became. But he was no less noble in
men's eyes. His Master was Christ, and under that Master all
were great who served well. Sometimes the Scop who had sung
in youth at the chieftain's board changed into the poet who sang
at evening in the refectory, and this double career seems to have
been Cynewulfs. But whatever change was wrought in the lives of
the poets, whether they were Christian or not, they honoured their
own art. The Christian singer praised it no less than the heathen
bard, and lived for it with the same eagerness. Nor did he ever
forget the poetry out of which his own poetry sprang. He trans-
ferred its usages, its phrases, its motives to his own work, especially
when he sang of the great subjects of his predecessors, of battle
and of ships at ^ea. The Christian poets transfused their own I
matter with the spirit of the ancient song.

Digitized by

Googk

OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY

As far as we can go back with cejtainty we find the
Teutonic tribes harpists and singers. " A fair-haired folk," says
Tacitus, " blue-eyed, strongly built, who celebrate in ancient lays
Tuisco, their earth-born god, and Mannus his son *';... " who have
songs in honour of Arminius and others which they sing at their
feasts and in their bivouacs. " Religion, then, and war, were the fullest
sources of their poetry, and both flowed together when they went
into the fight, for, of all ceremonies, going into battle was the most
religious. At one special point, however, their religion and their
war (and this is common to all nations) were combined into song —
in the mingling of the great myths with the lives of the tribal heroes.
The English, like the other Teutonic nations, worshipped originally
the Heaven and the Earth, the Father and Mother of all things,
and their son, the glorious Summer, who fought with the Winter
and the Frost Giants, with the cloud monsters who made the
blight and the fog and drove the destroying hail on the works
of the farmer. And the doings of the light and darkness, of the
heat and cold, were made into mythical stories which gathered
around a few and afterwards round many gods whom the
personating passion of mankind fitted to the various doings of
Nature. .' These stories grew into lays and sagas of the gods.
They became a part of worship.| But the myths thus existing
took a fresh life in the war stories. When a great hero arose, did
famous deeds and died, his history also grew into a saga, and
in a few generations he became almost divine in the minds of
men. Then, because wonder must belong to him, the Nature-
myths stole also into his story, and the tales of winter and
summer, of the gentle doings of the light and of the battle of
light with darkness, were modified and varied into the hero's real
adventures, till at last we can scarcely distinguish between the
hero and the divine being, between, for example, Beowulf and
Beowa, in all those matters which from day to day represent the
struggle between winter and summer, light and darkness. The
religious myth becomes inextricably mixed up with the heroic
tale of war. Thus both the fruitful sources of poetry, worship

Digitized by

Googk

42 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

and battle, give passion and dignity to the character and deeds of

the hero.

»l^ j This was the origin of the early unhistoric sagas, like that of

A Beowulf^ and such a saga was the highest form of the oral

I literature of the German tribes. It was not, however, thrown

/ into a complete form) like that which we possess in Beowulf^ till

/ long after its origin, jit existed at first in short ballads, each

(^celebrating some separate act of the hero. Such short lays, and

other lays celebrating the battles of the day; marriage songs, funeral

dirges, and religious hymns, were the daily literature which went

unwritten from mouth to mouth. Of all this heathen poetry we

have scarcely any remains in England. It was not likely to be

written down by the monks, and it perished before the disapproval

of Christianity. There exist, however, the remnants of the

original lays which are embedded in Beowulf; a fragment of a saga

concerning Finn, The Battle of Finnsburg ; another fragment of

the story of Walther of Acquitaine, Waldhere ; a poem made in

, praise of his art by a wandering bard, Widsith ; another by a

bard whose lord had abandoned him to poverty. The Complaint

of Deor ; and a few scattered verses in the Charms which the

peasant sang when he ploughed, when he swarmed his bees, when

he went on a voyage, or when he suffered from cramp and fever.

The Charms^ in which we find the oldest heathen remnants,
"Vere kept in the mouths of the people, and their paganism was
afterwards overlaid by Christianity. They are like an ill-rubbed
palimpsest The old writing continually appears under the
-new ; the new is blurred by the old, the old by the new. The
heathen superstitions have Christian clothing, and the Christian
heathen. The monks could not destroy them, but they changed
the gods. Jesus, the Holy Ward of Heaven, replaces Father
Heaven; and the prayer to Mother Earth is made into a prayer to
the Virgin Mary. In one of the Charms^ thai for bewitched land^
we have some lines of poetry which are quite heathen ; and other
lines in which heathen and Christian work are intermingled
The first is the prayer to the Earth : —

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 43

Erce, Erce, Erce ! O Earth, our Mother !
May the All-Wielder, Ever-Lord, grant thee
Acres a-waxing, upwards a-growing,
Pregnant with com and plenteous in strength ;
H<»sts of grain-shafts and of glittering plants I
Of oroad barley the blossoms,
And of white wheat ears waxing,
Of the whole land the harvest

This is part of an ancient lay sung by the ploughers in the old
Germanic lands long before the English tribes came to Britain.
The only Christian touch is the "Ever-Lord," for the "All-
Wielder " may well stand for the Father of gods and men. The
song breathes the pleasure and worship of the tillers of the soil in
the pregnancy and labour of Mother Earth and in the plenteous
children of her womb. It has grown, it seems, out of the breast
of Earth herself into the gratitude of men. A few lines after, in
the same Charm^ we come upon another fragment, gray with
antiquity, and sung when the plougher had cut the first furrow,
in which we hear of Father Heaven embracing his spouse the
Earth, and filling her with fruitfulness : —

Hale be thou Earth, Mother of men !

Fruitful be thou in the arms of the god.

Be filled with thy fruit for the fere-need of man !

I daresay these verses were sung by the first dwellers on the
North Sea when the Teutonic folk were born and cradled. They
may be the oldest stave in any modem language. A little farther
on, when the farmer had taken each kind of meal and kneaded
them into a loaf with milk and laid it under the first furrow, he
sang again : —

Acre, full-fed, bring forth fodder for men ! \„ - ^ '

Blossoming brightly, blessed become !

And the god who wrought with Earth ^ grant us gift of growing
That each of all the corns may come into our need !

And when the farmer had so sung, the rite was done and he drove
the plough straight through his acre.

» "These grounds" or " fields. »»

Digitized by

Googk

44 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

In the first verses of the same Charm we have a heathen lay
to Heaven and Earth overworked by some Christian monk of the
eighth or ninth century very curiously. The farmer, having said
nine times " Wax and increase and fill this land *' over turfs taken
from four parts of the field and hallowed, said as often the Pater
Noster, and bowed himself nine times very humbly, and sang : —

To the East I stand, and for help I bid me !

To the Mighty One I pray, to the Mickle Lord,

To the Holy One I pray, to the Ward of Heaven's realm ;

And to Earth I pray, and to Heaven on high,

And to Mary, ever holy, and for ever true.

To the Might of Heaven and to his high-built hall,

That I may this evil spell utterly dissolve away

By these words I sing, and by thoughts of power,

To waken up the swelling crops for the needs of men.

This is half heathen, half Christian, and the ceremony which
precedes it is a heathen ceremony with Christian rites and names
imposed upon it The turfs which here are taken to the Church
and their green side turned to the altar, the names of the
evangelists written on the crosses of bast, and the repeating of the
Lord's Prayer, are the old sacrificial rites of the ploughing, when
the turfs were taken to the shrine of the god, and their green side
turned to his symbol, and divine names were written on strips of
bast, and the song of dedication and prayer was sung to Earth
and Heaven in times when the cornfield, as Professor Rhys says,
was the battlefield where the powers favourable to a man made
war on those that wished to blast the fruits of his labour.

In two other Charms we may meet with the Valkyrie or with
the Fate-Maidens. In the first of these, a charm for swarming
bees, the spell-master, taking some earth and throwing it with his
right hand under his right foot, sings : —

Lo, this Earth be strong *gainst all wights whatever,

then, throwing gravel over the bees, cried this verse of the old
time : —

Sit ye. Victory-women, sink ye to the earth !

Never to the wood fly ye wildly more I

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 45

The next brings us closer to the Valkyrie, for the " Victory-women "
addressed to the bees is more like a term of endearment than an
allusion to the wild maidens of Woden. But in this new Charm^ ^
they come riding over the hill, whirling their spears, as Wagner -
has drawn them in music. The charm is against a stitch orf
cramp made by the spear of a witch-maiden. The charm-doctor ^
stands over the sick man with his shield outstretched against >
the dart, and anoints him with a salve, and sings this rattling ^
heathen song ; —

Loud were they, lo ! loud, as over the land they rode ;

Fierce of heart were they, as over the hill they rode !

Shield thee now thyself, from their spite thou ma)r'st escape thee.

Out, little spear, if herein thou be I
Underneath the linden stand I, underneath the shining shield,
For the mighty maidens have mustered up their strength,
And have sent their spear, screaming through the air !
Back again to them will I send another,
Arrow forth a flying from the front against them !

Out, little spear, if herein thou be !

In the Nine Herbs Charm^ a most curious piece, we come on
full heathendom in four lines about Woden : —

These nine herbs did work nine poisons against

A snake crept on sneaking and with teeth tore the man !

Then Woden in hand took the nine wonder-twigs,

And with these he smote the adder that it flew in pieces nine.

But these verses, since the mythical Heaven and Earth, the
nature deities, are here succeeded by the far more personal Woden
of the third century, are later in time than those which preceded
them. For the first worship of the English, as we see by these /
fragments, was a nature-worship of Father Heaven and Mother /
Earth, and of their benignant children, of whom Thor was one ; I
and to these we may add some kind of war-god, whose name was
Tiw. Below these deities there were semi -divine ancestors of
the folk, and each family had probably their own household
spirits. The rites of these worships were conducted partly in
the households and partly in temples belonging to the tribe,

Digitized by

Googk

>; \ -*w 46 ^

OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY

or in places like the Holy Isle held in wide and profound
veneration. After these great personages, a lower worship,
founded on fear, was given to the dark and destroying powers
of nature, embodied as giants, elves, and monsters, and also to
the elements, places, and things in which the gods, the ancestors,
and the meaner beings were supposed to dwell — the icy cliflfs
and lands, the fire, the ocean caves, the dark hill-lake, the howes
and burial barrows, the islands in the river, the open spaces in
the woods, the great trees, the wells, the ancient pillars of stone
they found on the hill-tops and the plain. But the root-thoughts
of their religion, as we see from these songs of the earth, were
homely and noble, reverent and simple. There were dark and
dreadful elements as well, even in the worship of the high gods ;
but these, as in certain mystic rites to the earth, appear but seldom,
and did not touch the daily life of men.

These fragments in the Charms date back to the old England
before the conquest of Britain. Of the other heathen poems there
is one — the Widsith lay — the personal part of which belongs also
to this early date. When the singer of Widsith^ the far-voyager
or voyage, describes the Angles as still on the Eyder, the Bards and
the later CongoBards as on the lower Elbe, the East-Goths as
on the Vistula and eastward of it, he describes conditions which
only existed before" the conquest of Britain by the English. More-
over he speaks, though this is no proof of his living at this early
date, of his being contemporary with the earliest chiefs whose
names are well-known in the Teutonic saga-cycle. That cycle
*did not begin before the time when the folk-wanderings began —
that is, in 375; and its main heroes were Theodoric (475-526),
the East-Goth, Gunther the Burgundian, and Hagen. The poet
of Widsith writes of Gifica (Gibich) the father of Gunther, of

IGuthhere (Gunther), and of Hagena (Hagen). He declares that
he knew Eormanric (Ermanaric), King of the East-Goths, who
died in 375, and was alive in the time of ^tla (Attila), who was
f king in 433. We cannot say for certain that he lived between
these dates, but it is extremely probable. If so, he lived to listen

Digitized by

Googk

XI OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 47

to the first songs of the saga of Ermanaric, and before the great
saga of Theodoric had begun to form itself.

This is a romantic thought, but it is still more romantic to
think that the poet heard, fully formed, the lays of a saga-series
earlier even than those of Ermanaric, for he speaks of Finn the
Frisian, of Hngef, of Ongentheow, of Hrothgar, concerning whom
lays are sung by the bards in Beowulf, He speaks, as if that chief
were near his own time, of the Offa who ruled over the ancient
Engleland. These names belong to the earliest part of the Widsith; "
but its later editors, to display their learning, have introduced into
the poet's list of the kings and places he visited, other names which
carry us backwards and forwards from the middle of the fifth cen-
tury. We hear of Alexander the Great, of Caesar, of Alboin who
was king in Italy in 568; and, along with the German folk, of
the Syrians and Medes, the Egyptians, the Persians, and the
Hebrews. These are plainly later interpolations, perhaps of the
eleventh century, to yhj^h ^^<^^ ^"'^ i^aniic/^ripfr of the poem
belongs. "'^-— .^ _ ^_

As to the poem itself, the personal part is the oldest and the
most interesting. It begins with, " Widsith told his tale, unlocked
his word-hoard, he who most of men saw many kindreds and
nations, and often received for his singing fair gifts m hall. Of
the tribe of the Myrgings,^ he went as Scop with Ealdhild, the
weaver of peace, to visit Eormanric, King of the Hrethen, who
lived east from Ongle. Then ^tla ruled the Huns, Eormanric
the Goths, Becca the Banings, and Gifica the Burgundians." This
prefaces the long list of kings and places which continues to the
87th line, when the personal matter again begins : —

For a longish time lived I with Eormanric ! J |\j
There the King of Gotens with his gifts was good to me ;
He, the Prince of burg-indwellers, gave to me an armlet :
This I gave to Eadgils, to my lord who guarded me,
For my master's meed, Lord of Myrgings he !
And another gift Ealdhild gave to me,

^ They dwelt between the Elbe and the Eyder.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

48 . OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

Folk-queen of the doughty race, daughter of Eadwine !
Over many lands I prolonged her praise ;
Scilling oft, and with him I, in a voicing clear,
Lifted up the lay to our lord victorious ;
Loudly at the harping lilting high our voice,
That our hearers many, haughty in their heart,
They that couth it well, clearly cried their praise —
That a better lay never had they listened.

This pleasant picture of his friend Scilling and himself singing
in hall to the applause of the warriors, comes to us from the old
fatherland beyond the seas, and paints the Scop in his prosperity.
Nor was he unwoi*thy to sing of war; for, if we may trust the
verses, he had shared in the battles the Gothic chiefs had fought
with the Huns in the dark woods of the Vistula. " Fierce often
was the fight when the Hreth-Goths warded with swords their
fatherland all about the Wistla Wood, when Wudga and Hama
sent the spear yelling through the air amid the grim-faced folk."

Of these things he sang, and he closes his poem by glorifying

his art. "I have fared," he said, "through many strange lands;

good and evil have I known ; but the wandering gleemen are

always welcomed and have joy in their art" Wherever they go,

I they

Say in song their need, speak aloud their thankword.
Always South or North some one they encounter
Who, if he be learned in lays, lavish in his giving,
Would, before his men of might, magnify his sway,
Be of earlship worthy. For, till all shall flit away —
Life and light together — laud who winneth thus,
Under Heaven hath high-established power.

, In another heathen poem, The Complaint of Deor ; or. The

\ Singer^s Consolation^ we meet with a Scop who has borne as much

; adversity as Widsith had prosperity. Deor is no rover like Wid-

i sith ; but, like Widsith, he has had a lavish lord who enriched

him with gold and lands. But all has been taken from him by

this rival Heorrenda, and he writes this poem to console his heart
We' see from it tliat the saga of Weland was known to the earlier

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 49

English, as it was known to iElfred, and to the carver of the
ivory casket in the British Museum.^

The poem also alludes to the sagas of Theodoric and ofi
Gudrun, for Heorrenda is the Horant of the Gudrun saga. It is *
plain that the English kept touch with their brethren abroad, and
received from them, as the fragment of Waldhere also proves, the
great Germanic stories. And Deot^s Complain t^ though its m anu-
script dates from the eleventh centur vj and though it contains a .
Christian interpolation^ is^^lainly^^of the old heathen time. None
"oi iW eAaiiipies"are Christian ; all are from the heroic sagas. Its
form also is remarkable. It has a " r efrain,'' elsewhere un known •*
in Anglo-Saxon verse. AndJt iSjaLJiue, lyric> with one constant,
domi nant motive, vari ed from verse to verse unto the close. I
give the first two verses which have to do with the Weland story,
and the last

Weland, f or a woman , knew too well exile ;
Strong of soul that Earl, sorrow sharp he bore ;
To companionship he had weary care and longing,
Winter-frozen wretchedness ! His was Woe again, again.
After that Nithad in a Need had tied him,
Severing his sinews I Sorrow-smitten man !
That he over-went, this also may I.

Not to Beadohild was her brother's death
On her soul so sore, as was her self-sorrow,
When that she was sure, with a surety far too great,
That with child she was I Never could she think,
With a clear remembrance how that came to be.
That she over-went, this also may I.

Of the Heodenings, I was hight of old the Sc6p ;
Dear unto my Lord, Deor was my name.
Well my service was to me, many winters through ;
Loving was my I..ord, till at last Heorrenda —
(Skilled in song the man) — seized 'upon my land -right.
Which the Guard of earls granted erst to me.
That he over- went ; this also may L

* There is a full account of this casket in my book on Early English
Literature^ vol. i. p. 60.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

50 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap

Another fragment of an Old English poem, written on two
.vellum pages which had been used for the binding of a book, was
found by Professor WerlaufF in the National Library at Copen-
hagen. The two sheets were not continuous, but different portions
of the same poem — a poem belonging to the saga of Walther of
Acquitaine. This saga, then, which was one of the Theodoric cycle^
was domesticated in England ; and if one story out of the cycle,
and that one of the least important, is found in a southern English
dialect, it is of the highest probability that the Old English
possessed the rest of the Theodoric stories. The manuscript,
Stephens thought, was of the ninth century, but the Old English
poem may be much older, as old perhaps as the seventh
century.

There are three forms, independent of our fragments, in which
the story has come down to us — in a GennaELforpi only known to
us by a translation into Latin hexameters written by Ekkehard of
St. Gall in the tenth century ; in a Frankish form, and in a Polish
form. Our English poem is derived from the original German
form, not from its Latin translation. It has characteristics not
found in the later forms. The Anglo-Saxon Hildeguthe (Hilde-
gund), with whom Waldhere has fled from the Huns, does not cry
out when Guthere and Hagena come riding in pursuit — " Slay
me, lest I belong to the Huns, and not to thee ; flee, flee ! " — as
she cries in the Latin version of the poem, but kindles Waldhere
to the fight like an ancient Teuton maid, though he is one against

(twelve pursuers. "Honour me in honouring thyself. Be, as
always, .^tla*s foremost fighter." "This points," says Wiilker,
" to a high antiquity," and indeed the lines I quote have all the
ring of the earliest warrior times. Not a Christian thought in-
- trudes. We are with Weland and his sword Mimming (Mimungr),
the most famous sword of the northern world ; with Widia, his
son, the kinsman of Nithad who delivered Theodoric from
grievous straits ; that is, we are placed among the earliest lays of
the Theodoric saga. Here is Hildeguthe's cry to Waldhere,
couraging him greatly : —

Digitized by

Googk

U OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 51

Truly of Weland the work ne'er deceiveth

Any of men who Mimming can wield,

Hoary of edges I Oft fail in the war

Man after man, blood -marbled, sword-wounded,

But thou, who art JEt\a.*s forefighter, O, let not thy force • ^

Fail downward to-day, O droop not thy lordship I

Now is the hour.
That thou shall have one thing, or else another, '*

Or lose thy life, or long-lived dominion, •' ^

Make thine among men — ^Elfhere's Son I
At no time, my Chief, do I chide thee with words ;
For never I saw thee, at the sword-playing —
Through wretched fear of whatever warrior —
Flee out of the fight, or in flight at the slaughter ;
Or care for thy corse, though a crowd of the foe
On thy breast-bymy with bills were a-hewing ;
But fighting forward was for ever thy seeking.

Now honour thyself
By thy great doings, while good is thy fortune.

And this good fortune is to stand in the battle, one against twelve. -
It is not the thought of the woman of the ninth, but of a much
earlier century, of that seventh century when a multitude of lays
were produced among the Lombards. There are, for example, in
the record of Paul the Deacon, two close paraphrases of .^Ifwine
lays, and ^Ifwine is Alboin, King of the Lombards, who died in
572. The original German Waidhere belonged to this seventh-^
century, and our English fragments seem to be of the same date.
To an older realm of saga than that of Theodoric belongs the
fragment we possess of the saga of Fiiln, in the Battle of Finns- ^
burg ; and its story is either preceded or continued by another
portion of the same saga in the poem of Beowulf and which is "^ \
sung by the Scop at the feast in Heorot. The arrangement of
these two fragments of the same tale is differently made by
different critics. Which is true, does not so much matter. What
I give here is Grein's, but that of Wiilker ^ seems equally probable.

' Grein makes the fragment in Beowulf /t7//(£7w the fragment of Finns-
burg; Wiilker makes the Beoztml/ hsigment precede the fragment of Finnsburg^
so that this latter comes in between the lines 1145 and 1146 in Beowulf

Digitized by

Googk

52 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

What is important to us is the poetry. Finn, King of the North \
Frisians, was married, to heal a feud, to Hildeburh, daughter of
Hoc the Dane and sister of Hnaef. Finn invited Hnaef, much
as iEtla invites the Niblungs, to stay with him, desiring to slay
him. Hnsef, with his comrade Hengest and sixty men, are lodged
in a great hall, and at night Finn and his men encompass them -
with fire and sword. At this point our fragment (which was/
discovered by Dr. Hickes on the cover of a manuscript of homilies!
in Lambeth Palace) begins with the alarm of Hngef,^ who hasi
leaped to his feet, young and war-like, and shouts to his men : — '

This no eastward dawning is, nor is here a dragon flying.

Nor of this high hall are the horns a-buming ;

But the foe is rushing here ! Now the ravens sing ;

Growling is the gray wolf; grim the war-wood rattles ;

Shield to shaft is answering 1 Shining is the moon.

Full below the welkin.

Now awaken, rouse ye, men of war of mine,

Ready have your hands, think on hero-deeds,

In the front be fighting, be of fiery mood.

Then did many a thegn
Spring to feet, begemmed with gold, girt him with his sword ;
And two lordly warriors went to guard the doors,
Sigeferth and Eaha, and their swords they drew.

At the other doors up -stood Ordlaf and Guthlaf ;
And Hengest himself — ^he strode upon their track !

Then a fierce hero cried from without — Who holds the gate ?
and Sigeferth answered —

Sigeferth's my name, quoth he. I'm the Secgas' lord
Widely known a wanderer ! Many woes I*ve borne,
Battles hard to bear.

And now there rose the wail of deadly battle, and the shields
and helms were shattered, and the house-floor rang, till Garulf
fell, and many with him. The raven, swart and sallow-brown,
flew round and round, and the sword flashed so that all Finn*s

^ According to Wiilker, Hnsef has already fallen, and it is his war
comrade Hengest who cries out that the redness is not the dawn.

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 53

Burg seemed aflame. Never did sixty swains of war better pay
their due to Hnaef for gifts and mead than these his fighting men.
Five days they fought and held the doors. Then Hnaef was slain
— and here the fragment ends, and that in Beowulf begins. There
we hear that Hengest fought on until nearly all Finn's men were
slain, and among them Finn's sons by Hildeburh. So, Hildeburh
had lost her brother Hnaef by her husband's hands, and she has
lost her sons by her brother's hands. Peace is made, but the things
done hold so much of brooding in them, that the peace cannot
last All the passion of the situation is in Hildeburh's burial
of her sons, which is sung in Beowulf. Beside the pyre of Hnaef
Hildeburh bade —

Lay her well-beloved son, all along the low of flame ;

So to burn his bonechest, on the bale to set him !

Wretched was the woman, wept upon his shoulder.

Sang her sorrow-dirges ! Now the war-death-smoke arose ;

Curling to the clouds, flamed the greatest of corpse-fires.

O'er the howe it hissed, till the heads were molten,

And the gates of wounds were gaping, and outgushed the blood.

From the foes* bite on the body. Then the blaze devoured all.

Of all ghosts the greediest.

But Hengest, staying with Finn and Hildeburh in Friesland,
kept wrath in his heart, and when the waves were unlocked from
ice, thought still more of vengeance ; and as he brooded, Finn
knew of his thought and had him slain. Then Guthlaf and Oslaf
took up the feud, attacked Finn in his hall and brought sword-
bale to him, and bore back Hildeburh to her own people. So they
avenged the death of Hnaef and Hengest The events are passion-
ate, and it is to our sorrow that we have not the whole of this
saga which, arising on the North Sea, spread itself among the
Franks and Frisians.

Beowulf contains in its episodes fragments o^ or allusions to *
sagas older or later than the time of the historic Beowulf, and these
are heathen sagas. The myth of Scyld begins the poem, a thing
hoary with antiquity. The rivalry of Breca and Beowulf in

Digitized by

Googk

54 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

swimming through the sea lashed by the northern wind may be a

part of the ancient myth of the summer and the winter, but it also

contains the common story of the young men of the North fighting

I in youthful rivalry with the great water-beasts of the sea. The

/ story of Heremod was in vogue when Beawu/f grew into a poem —

, the story of the bad chieftain who was false to the heathen standard

of generosity, of honour, and of gentleness to his comrades. The

story of Thrytho, the wicked woman, is part of the ancient saga

of Offa of Engle, son of Wermund, a saga sung long before the

/ English came to Britain. The story of Hrothgar's daughter

Freaware, and of Ingeld the son of Froda, tells us of another

I saga, a portion of which has slipped into Beowulf, In a battle

' between Hrothgar and Froda, Froda is slain, and Hrothgar, to

/ heal the feud, gives Freaware his daughter to be wife to Ingeld,

\ Froda's son. When Freaware comes into Ingeld's hall, one of her

I seven brothers (of whom seven sagas were written) carries the

; sword of Froda by his side, and a gray-haired warrior knows the

j jewelled hilt and turns to Ingeld : " Know'st thou not the sword ?

i Dear was that blade when the Danes murdered Froda ; thyself of

j right should'st have it," and Ingeld, stirred to revenge, had his

; wife's brother slain, and the feud burst forth again. We know the

conclusion of the matter, not from the poem oi Beowulf hnt from

that of Wtdsith, There we hear that Ingeld led a fleet into the

fiord, stormed over the hills and attacked Hrothgar in Heorot ;

but " Hrothwulf and Hrothgar hewed down at Heorot the host of

the Heatho-beardnas. There they bowed the point of the sword

of Ingeld."

In Beowulf also we touch for a moment on a yet older saga

than the saga of Finn or Offa or Ingeld — on the oldest perhaps of

^all the pure sagas, certainly on the most famous. The singer at

Hrothgar's court, thinking as he walked the meadows in the dawn

of what he will sing at night, recalls the story of Sigmund the

Waelsing, which afterwards grew into the Volsunga-Saga and into

' the Nibelungen Lied. It is interesting that we have here in

-^ English the very oldest form of this great Teutonic story. The

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 55

slayer of the dragon here is not Sigfrid, the son of Sigmund,
but Sigmund himself. Sigfrid does not yet exist. Nor is the
dragon called Fafnir, nor is the story at all connected either with
Woden or the Dwarfs, or with th e Burgundian story of Gunther
and Hagen, or with any women. The singer sings only "of
^igmund's noble deed, of his battles, of the feuds and the crime,
of his far journeys of which men knew nothing certainly, save
Fitela (Sinfiotli) who was with him, for ever they were true
comrades in fighting and many of the race of the Eotens they
had slain with swords. But fulness of fame came to Sigmund after
his death, for he had slain the Worm, the Watcher of the hoard
He alone, the iEtheling-born, dared the dreadful deed, going into
the cave under the gray rocks, and Fitela was not with him. Yet
his sword drave through the wondrous worm, till the good steel
clashed against the rock-wall, and there the Drake lay dead. So
had he, painfully fighting, wrought with his strength till he could
have the hoard of rings at his own will. And he called his sea-
boat ; and the offspring of Wsels bore the gleaming gems and gold
into the womb of the ship. But the worm melted away. Of all
rovers he was the most famous for strong deeds, a shelter of
warriors, and for that in old time he had great honour."

This is all Beowulf knows of the famous story, and its interest
lies in its simplicity. We catch the first sketch of that tale which
was developed into a national epic in Iceland and in Germany,
which has in so many centuries engaged the arts, and at last, in the
hands of Wagner, the art of music.

One other piece may be, I think, isolated from the poem of
Beowulf not as a fragment of a saga, but as a separate lay of the
heathen time. Like the Sigmund story, it is an example of the
short ballads in which sagas began. Introduced into Beowulf \.q
usher in the story of the dragon's hoard and concerning things
which happened three hundred years before the historic Beowulf,
it is of great age and singular charm. A prince, three hundred
years ago, dwelt in the land of Hygelac, where Beowulf now is
king. A deadly life-bane swept away his folk and he alone was

Digitized by

Googk

56 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap.

left. And he wandered to and fro mourning, yet wishing delay of

death that he might still look on the leavings of a high-bom race

— the heaped-up rings and gold cups, jewels, helms, swords and

bymies, a golden banner, great dishes of gold, and old work of

\ the Eotens. At last, as death drew near, he hid them in a high

'. mound, in the dip of a headland, in sound of the moving waves,

I and sang over them this lament, which has some likeness to the

■ poem of the Ruined Burg: —

" Hold thou here, O Earth, since the heroes could not,
Hold the wealth of Earls I On thee long ago
Warriors good had gotten it. Ghastly was the life-banc.
And the battle-death that bore every bairn of man away,
All my men, mine own, who made yielding of this life 1
They have had their joy in hall . . .

None is left the sword to bear,
Or the cup to carry, chased with flakes of gold ;
Costly was that cup for drinking, but the Chiefs have gone elsewhere !
Now the hard-forged helm, high-adorned with gold,
Of its platings shall be plundered ; sleeping are its polishers.
Those once bound to brighten battle-masks for war I
So alike the battle-sark that abode on stricken field
0*er the brattling of the boards biting of the swords,
Crumbles, now the chiefs are dead I . . .

Silent is the joy of harp.
Gone the glee-wood*s mirth ; nevermore the goodly hawk
Hovers through the hall ; the swift horse no more
Beats with hoof the Burg-stead. Bale of battle ruinous
Many souls of men sent away afar."

So in spirit sad, in his sorrow he lamented,

All alone when all were gone — Thus unhappy did he weep,

In the day and in the night, till the surge of Death

On his heart laid hold.

Moreover, in the midst of an account given in Beowulf oi the
Tales of the Sons of Hrethel, which might be called the Saga of
Hrethel the Geat, and of Ongentheow the Sweon, there is a lay
which voices the grief of Hrethel for his eldest son. It has the
quality of a lyric ; and it seems to me as if the poet knew of this

Digitized by

Googk

II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 57

mournful song and used it for this place. Picturesqueness, sim-
plicity, passion, and a sweet movement characterise it

Sorrow-laden does he look, on the Bower of his son,

On the wasted wine-hall, on the wind-swept resting places,

Now bereft of happy noise. . . .

For the Riders sleep ;
In their howe the heroes lie. Clang of harp is there no more,
In the dwellings no delight, as in days of old.

There are other lays in Beowulf^ but they belong to the very body
of the poem — the last and the longest of those Old English songs
which arose on the continent, which have come down to us from
heathen time, but which were afterwards overlaid by Christian
editing.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER III

BEOWULF

;^The poem of Beowulf^ consisting of 3183 lines, records in two
parts two great deeds of the hero Beowulf — his fight with the beast-
man Grendel, and with his dam, and his fight with the dragon. .
The first has two divisions — the death of Grendel and a later ad- 1
dition, the death of GrendeFs mother. More than fifty years elapse'
between the overthrow of the monsters and the last fight of
Beowulf with the dragon. Several episodes are introduced, one /
of which gives the history of these fifty years, and others are taken /
from sagas of an earlier origin than the story of Beowulf.

The poem is an example of that minglin gof m yth and he roic/^
stor^ f which we have spoken, of the clothing of an historical ^
personage with mythical garments. . There was an historical I

t/Beowulf, a Geat who was a nephew of Hygelac. Hygelac is the 1
Chochilaicus whom Gregory of Tours in his history of the Franks |
(Bk. iii. ch. iil) tells us made a raid on the Attuarii of the Frisian
shore — the Hetware of the poem — sometime between 510 and
520. He swept away many slaves and spoil, but Theodoric, then
King of the Franks, sent his son with an army of Franks and
Frisians to the rescue. The ships were already laden when
Hygelac was overtaken. He fell in battle and all the booty was
recovered. Beowulf was with Hygelac, and avenged his lord's
death on his slayer, and he tells the story before he goes to fight
the dragon. This puts the historical part of the poem into the

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. Ill BEOWULF 59

sixth century. Hygelac died in 520; Beowulf reigned for fifty *-
years after the death of Hygelac's son. The lays, then, about the
historic Beowulf were fully sung in the beginning of the seventh
century, about the time of ^Ethelfrith in England, before North-
umbria had become Christian.

But these historic lays are of scarcely any consequence in the
poem. They only exist as episodes, and they are chiefly found
in the account Beowulf gives in his death-song of his early years,
and in Wiglaf s tale of the feud between the Geats and the Sweons.
The main story of the poem lies in the transference to the historical -f
Beowulf of the mythical deeds of Beowa, who is here the god of 1
the sun and of the summer. The lays which told this story were *;
sung in South Sweden and Denmark, in the Isles, and about the
Elbe, long before the historic Hygelac and Beowulf were born. '
They probably came to England with the Angles, who possessed
them before they left their country. These lays told how Beowa,^
bringing with him summer, attacked and slew the winter-powers on *
the sea-coast ; not only the demoniac welter and destroying strength
of the icy and stormy sea, but also the deadly fogs, hail and rain
of the winter-moorland which brought disease to men and agri-
culture. These winter-powers are represented by the monsters,
Grendel and his mother. Ettmiiller's derivation of Grendel, ^
if Grendel be German, — from grindan, "to grind to pieces,
to utterly destroy," — agrees with the myth. Grendel is the tearer,
the devourer of men ; the crushing ice-laden sea that grinds the
rocks, breaks the ships and rends the seamen. This Beowa myth
is transferred to Beowulf and becomes his adventure with the
dreadful creatures which harry Heorot, the hall of Hrothgar ; and
the fight with GrendeFs mother is a later and an additional form
of the fight with Grendel and of the same myth.

The second part of the poem is the fight between Beowa and
the dragon ; the representatives of the ancient myth of the light
and the darkness, of the sun overcoming the night and dying in
the contest in order to live again. This, the oldest myth in the
world, was extended, and especially in the North, to the battle

Digitized by

Googk

6o BEOWULF chap.

* between the winter and summer, between the frost-giants and the
I beneficent beings who brought life to men and fruitfuhiess to their
labour. Then it was further specialised to represent different
phases of the contest, and its scenery was modified by the peculiar
features of the climate and aspects of the place in which these
special developments arose. The scenery in which' the contests
with Grendel and the dragon are placed is characteristic of the
\coasts about Denmark and Sweden and of their climate, but the
^special features of the fight of Beowulf and the dragon represent
(it is thought by the mythologists) that phase of the winter and
( summer myth in which the sun, here Beowa, fighting his last fight
with the winter-dragon, rescues from him in late autumn the trea-
sures of the earth, the golden corn and ruddy fruits, but, having
given them back to men, dies himself of the winter's breath, to rise
again, in the next summer, and renew the ever-recurring battle.
Whether we can specialise as closely as this the myth into the
poem is a matter open to much dispute. Those who are devoted
to the nature-myths specialise even further the poem of Beowulf
There is an episode in it of Beowulf and a rival of his, Breca, who
have a swimming adventure together on the stormy sea and slay
a number of nickers. The mythologists declare that Breca is
either the stormy wind of spring — the Breaker — who rivals Beowa,
the sun, in breaking up the ice ; or that Beowa is a wind-hero —
the cloud-sweeper — ^and that Breca who rules over the Brondings,
that is, the sons of the flaming brand, is the child of Beanstan, the
sun, and then this episode means that the wind and the sun with
.rival powers fight the winter. But this is one of the instances, it
j seems, where the nature-myth is driven too hard. All we have
rnere to say is that lays which told of Beowa, conceived of as the
J summer god contending with the winter-monsters in early summer
and then contending with the winter-dragon in late autumn, were
transferred to the historic Beowulf, and made, with local colouring,
into adventures of his own. How, where and when this trans-
ference was made, after the year 600, we cannot tell, but it was
probably made in the lands where the story of Beowulf took place

Digitized by

Googk

BEOWULF 6i

— in South Sweden and Jutland; and the tale, thus developed,
was brought to Northumbria by belated Angles, who, as they
came from the peninsula where a great part of its scene was laid,
had a special national interest in it It would be gladly received
by the dwellers in Bemicia, Deira, and Mercia, and probably 4
reached its half-epic proportions before 650 in England. Poets
who lived in different parts of England would add to it lays
and episodes of their own; and in this way perhaps, to take
two instances, the story of Scyld was placed at its beginning, and
the fight with Grendel's dam added to the original Grendel story. '.
Then in the eighth century a poet — who I think was a Northum- -
brian, but others a Mercian — drew the main story and its additions
together, gave it unity, and filled it with his own personality. He
is thought to have added to it the Christian elements we find
therein, but if so, he did this with so sparing a hand that we owe
him gratitude. It may even be the case that these Christian ele-
ments were added, not in the eighth century, but by the translator
who much later put the whole poem into th e Wes t-Saxon dialects
and from whom we have the existing manuscript in the Cottonian
Library.

The story of Beowulf, before the business of the poem, that
is, before his mythical adventure begins, is to be gathered from
various parts of the poem; but his character, which is the
English and North Germanic ideal of a hero, is to be inferred
from the whole of the poem, and is the creation of the single poet
who took the old lays and wrought them into a united poem. The
character is historical even in the mythical portions, that is, it is
built up out of the ideals of the time in which the poem was
written. So also the manners and customs are historical. They
are those of our forefathers in the continental lands of the
English, and there is no other record of them, save a few hints
derived from the ancient Teutonic laws. We see the works
of war and peace, the chiefs hall, the settled town with its
houses and gardens and the moorland beyond the cliffs and
stormy sea, the harbour and the coast-guard, the ships sailing

Digitized by

Googk

62 BEOWULF — C^- Nj' €/^ ' CHAP.

and at anchor, the. hunt, the feast, the warriors gathered to
hear the bard declaim his sagas, the chief and his friends, and
his way of governing. We understand the ideal of a king, his
relations to his war-comrades and people, the etiquette of the
court, the character and position of women, the sort of life the
young men lived who went a-sea-roving, the conduct of ceremonial
receptions, the burial of great personages. We have the doings
of one whole day from morning to night related in detail. Behind
the wars and contentions of the great we watch in this poem the
continuous home-life, the passions and thoughts of our fathers
who lived for one another, fought and loved, from the sixth to

Hhe eighth century. This is the historical value of Beowulf^ and

-^ the record is one of surpassing interest "^

It collects around the character of the hero, and this lives
for us apart from the mythical framework. He was tl^eson
of E cgtheow, of the family of the Waegmundings, a wise warrior
who served Hrethel King of the Geats, and to whom Hrethel gave
his daughter to wife. Of these two came Beowulf, and to him
Hrethel left a^oat of mail which Weland himself had smithied. '.
Hrethel had three sons, of whom only one, Hygelac, is alive when
the action of the poem opens, and he is uncle of Beowulf and his
lord At the end of the poem, Hygelac and all his kindred are
dead. Thus on his mother's side all Beowulf s relations are gone.
On his father's side also, no one is left alive but Wiglaf, his
supporter against the dragon, and Beowulf himself is childless.

^ Thi s_ lonelines s is one of the j)athetic points of the hero's char-
acter. ""He speaks of it again and again. It iaJiisJast thought
when dying. This, as well as his immense strength, isolates
him, and the inward pathos of it gave him, it may be, the_
gentleness for which among a violent race he is renowned in t he
saga.

Then, Ecgtheow is known for his wisdom — " All the wise men 1
far and wide remembered him." This wisdom descends to his '
son. We hear of Beowulf s good counsel as much as of his •.

•" strength, Wealtheow, the queen ot Wrothgar, begs him to be of \

Digitized by

Googk

Ill BEOWULF 63

good advice to her sons. Hrothgar says that he holds his fame
with patience, and his might with prudence ; that he is a comfort
to his people and a help to heroes. When BeQwulfjs dying, he
t hinks more of his wisdom as a ri ilgr than of his ^^'*t ^^^^^ '^r^ urnr-
Even in his youth he speaks to Hrothgar, who might be his
father, witji the steady gravity of an experienced man. " Sorrow
not over-much for your friend ; rather avenge him ! Wait the
close of life ; win honour ; that is everything ; and be patient of
your woes." Along with this went an iron rPTnlntensfifr. He had
the gentleness of Nelson, and his firmness in battle. "Firm-
minded Prince " is one of his names. Fear, as also in Nelson, is
lyViniiy ^]nknown to him, and he has inspired his comrades with
his own '5BTI?2g5r They all lie down and go to sleep in the hall
which Grendel haunts. It is a trait worthy of the captains at
Trafalgar. But his gentleness does not destroy the North Sea
elements in him. His defence against those who attack him is
fierce, full of scorn, of savage retort But when Unferth, who
mocks him, repents, he forgets the wrong with a swiftgejjeiowt]^
This also is in Nelson's character. Bijt the boasnulness of '
Beowulf did not belong to N elson.^ He is as _boastfuLo f his deeds
as all the Northern heroes are. It is their fashion; part almost of
their duty. Nor is he less prompt in the blood-feud than in
speech, but his vengeance was not hasty or private. He " shared
in no blood-brawls," it is said of him, " he did not kill his drunken
companions, nor was his mind cruel" So also his sense of
honour of which he was so jealous, was not in a nice readiness to
t^le e pti& onal offence, but in faithfulness to his word, to his duty,
to his war-comrades. "I swore no false oaths," he said when
dying. " On foot, alone, in front, I was ever my lord's defence."
hen the kingdom was offered him, he refused, for Heardred,
Hygelac's son, was alive. It is true he was but a boy, but
Beowulf was faithful to the family of his lord He trained the
child to war and learning, "guarded him kindly with honour,"
served him and avenged his death. His gejie t e o ity and courtfisy
were part of his honour. He gave away the gifts he received;

Digitized by

Googk

64 BEOWULF chap.

women loved his g entlei^^ss^ as much as his audacity. But,
above all, he had the honour of undaunted courage. The two
-great duties of an English chieftain's life were to govern men in
peace so as to make them wise and happy ; and to win fame in
war out of the jaws of death. Beowulf never fails in battle, and
he dies, at the end, for the love and welfare of his people. " Let
us have fame or death," he cries ; " gain praise that shall never
end, and care nothing for life." " Beloved Beowulf," said Wiglaf
to him, when the dragon's breath poured flame around him —
" bear thyself well. Thou wert wont in youth to say that thou
would'st never let Honour go."

Before he went to Hrothgar he had borne himself bravely in

wars and troubles. In the long life that followed he was set to do

many heroic things and to bear the weight of government So,

even when he was young, life seemed to him grim, needing fortitude

more than joy. And when he was old, and though he thought

his work well done, it had been done with bitter care. Neverthe-

-fless his soul had conquered fate. This double aspect of life was

deepened in colour by his belief in ^j^rd, th e Fate Goddess of

the North. She was the mistress of man, and none could avoid

/ her doom. But on a strong and noble character, like that of

A ij Beowulf, the weight of unavoidable fate acts with distinction, and

, ^ ' so it is represented in the poem. " Wyrd will do as she choose,"

''\^ he says, as he goes forth to fight Grendel and to slay the dragon,

but the goddess "may save a man if his courage keep his

fighting power at full stretch." Yet, the doom is settled, and

the mingling of unbreakable courage and of grave sadness which

arose from Beowulfs conception of the Wyrd gives him that

noble aspect which made Wulfgar say of him, when first he saw

him, " Never saw I a greater Earl, nor one of a more matchless

air."

This is the hero's character ; the English ideal of a prince
and warrior of the seventh century. It is well hewn out in the
poem,jthe best piece of art in it. And it is the type of all the
great sea-captains of our race ; and more, of the just governors

Digitized by

Googk

V^^of'-'M'^V! •• I-

III BEOWULF 65

who are called by the peoples they have ruled, as Beowulf was
called, " the good king, the folk-king, the beloved king, the war
guard of the land, mildest and kindest to his comrades, gentlest
to his people, keenest of all for fame " ; who having won treasure
in death for his folk, thinks of those also who sail the sea ; and
making his barrow a beacon for seamen, is burned amid the tears
and praise of all.

Many tragedies and wars took place when he was young, and
in all these he bore his part. At last, times of peace came on,
and Hygelac is established on the throne. Then Beowulf looks
for adventure, as was the manner of young men. He hears of
how Grendel torments Hrothgar, King of the Danes; and
he resolves to go and slay the monster. And so the poem
begins. Beowulf becomes Beowa. The Summer goes to slay the
Winter.

I have adopted in this chapter the explanation given by myth-
ologists of the legends in Beowulf— oi the Grendel story and of
the fight with the dragon. It is the common explanation, and is
doubtless part of the truth. The stories came to mean the battle
of the summer god with the winter giants, and the variations of
that combat. But in a large and general way, not in detail. The
detail for the most part was the creation of the poet's imagination,
and was modified by the climate and natural scenery of the place
where he lived, and by the character, manners, and customs of
its indwellers. Matters which the mythologists have explained
as nature myths — such as the story of the swimming- match
between Beowulf and Breca, which seems to be nothing more
than a great feat of rivalry between young men on a seal-hunt —
are common events made heroic by the poet for the sake of
exalting the hero. Moreover, a good many things in the story of.
Grendel go back to a time when the nature -myth business — '
that is, the poetic personification of the forces of nature — had not
come at all into the minds of men, when their minds were not far
enough ^4y^Rce4 for §ucb conceptions, and when actual savage

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

66 BEOWULF

men and women existed in the dark woods and moors, among the
cliffs and caves, beyond the strip of cultivated land along the sea
shore.

The original germ of Grendel, and of a host of other cog-
nate stories among many peoples, was sown at a time when the
primeval indwellers of the sea-coast were driven back by the first
invaders into the wild moors and rocks of the inland, where the
miserable remnant of them took refuge. There, deprived of the
fruit of the sea, they were starved, and some became cannibals, if
they were not so before. There they gradually died down into a
very few who made raids at night on their conquerors. The mystery
which surrounded them made them a terror ; their hideous
violence, hunger-born, their tiger-desire for revenge, made them
seem more than human, and mingled them with the brute. The
darkness of the night and the pale mists of the moors magnified
their size into monstrous proportions, and their life and its madness
gave them the strength of a wild beast.

This is at the root of the Grendel story and of stories of the
^same kind, of ogres, trolls, and of their kindred forms, which we
find all over the world. It is a piece of common history, enshrin-
ing the last struggle between the earliest savages and their first
half-civilised conquerors, perhaps between Palaeolithic and Neolithic
man. Having this basis in actual experience, it became a folk-tale ;
incessantly, in every settlement, changing its form, and modified
by the individual fancy of every teller of the tale. Later on, when
men did begin to personify the forces of nature, the folk-tale was
taken up into the myth and woven into it ; and when a poet took
up the story and wound it round a hero, he used both the folk-
tale and the myth unconsciously, and gave them his own meaning ;
moralising them into a character, such a character as the poet
drew in Beowulf. Naturally, then, many odd, old, savage things
derived from the folk-tale of the eldest times remained ; curious
reversions to the original type — the claws on Grendel's hands,
the pouch, the baleful eyes flaming in the night, the mist that
follows him, the terrific strength, the beast -delight in bloody

Digitized by

Googk

BEOWULF 67

the rending of the bodies of his victims, the cannibalism, the
poison in the pool on the moor, the corrupted blood in the
welter of the sea-pot, none of which seem justly or naturally to
belong to a nature-myth. The stocy -oflGrendel and Beowulf'
Js thus a mixture of the folk -tale, the nature-myth, the heroic
legend, and the poet's imagination of a noble character.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER IV

BEOWULF — ^THE POEM

The poem opens with an account of the forefathers of Hrothgar,
the King of the Danes, and this opening may have been a preface
added after the body of the poem was composed. It is probably
a fragment out of a mythical saga concerning Scef (who is here
-* called Scyld), the first Culture-hero of the North, and it is only
in our England that the myth has been preserved. Four Eng-
lish chroniclers, -^thelweard, William of Malmesbury, Simeon
of Durham, and Matthew of Westminster, as well as Beowtdf
record it. Their stories, which diflfer somewhat, as if from
different sources, have their common origin in one heathen myth.
They describe a boat drawing out of the deep to the Scanian
land, and a boy asleep in it, his head resting on a sheaf of com.
Around him are treasures and tools, swords and coats of mail.
The boat, richly adorned, moves without sail and oar. The
people draw it to land, take up the child with joy, make him their
king, and call him Scef or Sceaf, because he came to them with a
sheaf of grain.
I This is the same story as that in the beginning oi Beowulf^ but

I it is told in the poem of Scyld the son of Scef. Though the myth
. is only found as a whole in England, yet the names of Scyld and
' Scef are scattered under various forms in the sagas which belong
to the tribes round the mouth of the Elbe, to Denmark and South
Sweden, that is, to the countries of the English. It is the legend-

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. IV BEOWULF— THE POEM 69

myth of the man who first taught them agriculture — the father of
the sheaf. The lines in Beoumlf continue the sketch of him as
the Culture-hero, who, having taught agriculture, teaches law and
government when he grows to man's estate. " Then he subdued
the scattered tribes around him, and wrought them into one
nation. All the folk around him gave him service."

This is the history, under the myth, of the first civilisation in
Scania, Of him was bom Beowa, " the son of Scyld in Scede-
land," the personage whose myth is transferred to the Beowulf of
the poem. Then Scyld died and was buried, and the ancient lay
of his burial ends the preface of the poem. When the day came
his comrades bore him down to the flowing of the sea to bury
him, as Haki is buried in the Ynglinga saga ; as Sigmund buries
Sinfiotli, as the gods themselves bury Balder. Haki, sore
wounded, has his ship laden with dead men and weapons, and a
pyre made in the midst of it He is laid on the pyre, the sail
is hoisted, the wind blows from shore, the pyre is kindled.
Sigmund bears Sinfiotli to the beach, and Odin, mantled in gray,
receives the young warrior in his boat and sails away. Balder,
lying on a great pyre in the womb of the ship, is pushed from the
land into the deep. The pyre is lit, the flame soars high, the
wind arises, and the ship rushes out to sea, blazing till all
the headlands shine. But Scyld is not set on fire ; he sails away
as he came, and none ever knew who received him.

There at haven stood, hung with rings the ship ;

Ice-bright, for the out-path eager ; craft of iEthelings it was 1

Then their lord, the loved one, all at length they laid

In the bosom of the bark ; him the bracelet-giver ;

By the mast the mighty King. Many gifts were there.

Fretted things of fairness brought from far-off ways I

Never heard I of a keel hung more comelily about

With the weeds of war, with the weapons of the battle,

With the bills and byrnies. On his breast there lay

Jewels great and heaped, that should go with him

Far to fare away in the Flood's possession.

Digitized by

Googk

70 BEOWULF— THE POEM chap.

Then they set a standard, all of shining gold,

High above his head. And they let the heaving ocean

Bear him ; to the sea they gave him. Sad their soul was then,

Mourning was their mood. None of men can say,

None of heroes under heaven, nor in hall the rulers.

For a truthful truth, who took up that lading.

It is a fair and noble tale. As the hero came from the

sea alone, so at death he passes alone into the silence of the

deep, with the wind in his golden banner. It is also the

burial of a great sea-king, and the earliest of all such records.

•^Moreover it strikes the sea-note of the whole poem. We are

^never in Beowulf without the presence of the ocean. Beowulf is
in his youth a sea-rover, a fighter with sea-monsters, a mighty
swimmer of the sea. All the action is laid on the sea-coast

f Grendel and his dam are as much sea-demons as demons of the
moor. The king and the dragon fight in hearing of the waves.
Beowulfs barrow, heaped high on the edge of Hronesnaes, the
cliff whence men watched the tumbling of the whales, is a
beacon for those who sail through the mists of sea. The. back-
ground of this story of the fates of men is that ocean life and
ocean mystery which here begins the English poetry, and whose
foam and roar and salt winds have in this century, after long and
curious neglect, entered again with an equal fulness into its
singing.

The first thing told of Beowulf sounds again that note of the
sea which is struck in the preface. He hears at Hygelac's court
of the monster Grendel who haunts Heorot, the great hall that
Hrothgar the Dane has built; and who has slain and devoured all
who ventured into the hall at night. Adventure stirred in his
heart to set Hrothgar free from this curse, and his war-comrades
whetted him to the deed. So helped by a sea-crafty man who
knew the ocean-paths, he sought his ship drawn up on the beach
under the high cliff.

There the well -geared heroes
Stepped upon the stem, while the stream of ocean
Whirled the sea against the sand. To the deep ship-bosom

Digitized by

Googk

BEOWULF— THE POEM 71

Bright and carvM things of cost carried forth the heroes,
And their armour well-arrayed. Then outpushed the men
On desired adventure their tight ocean-wood !
Likest to a fowl, the Floater, foam around its neck,
Swiftly went the waves along, with a wind well-fitted.

Till at last the seamen saw the land ahead
Shining sea-cliffs, soaring headlands,
Broad Sea-Nesses — So the Sailer of the sea
Reachedjjhe seos^yay's end.

And the Weder-folk, at the end of the low bay between the
cliffs, beached the ship, slipped down the plank ashore, and their
battle -sarks rang on them as they moved. They tied up their
bark, thanked th& gods the wave paths had been easy to them,
and saw on the ridge of the hill above the landing-place the ward
of the Scyldings sitting on his horse, and his heavy spear in his
hand. He shook it, and cried : —

" Who are ye of men, having arms in hand.

Covered with your coats of mail, who, your keel a-foaming,

0*er the ocean-street, thus have urged along,

Hither on the high-raised sea ? Never saw I greater

Earl upon this earth than is one of you.

'Less his looks belie him, he is no home-stayer.

Glorious is his gear of war, aetheling his air."

Beowulf explains his coming, and is bid to go on to Heorot.
As he tops the hill, he finds the well-paved road leading to the
town, and sees the hall below among its homes on a strip of
cultivated land, reclaimed from the moor ; and on the sea-side of
it the ground sloped upwards to the cliffs. The hall is a long,
rectangular building; its gables are sharp, with stags' horns on their
points, and the ridge of its roof glitters in the sun. Outside of
the hall the houses clustered, each with its garden ; and in the
midst of the town was a wide meadow, where in the morning the
Queen walks with her maidens, and the poet muses apart, and
the young men breathe their horses. This is an island of tilled
and house-built land between the edge of the sea and a wild

Digitized by

Googk

72 BEOWULF— THE POEM CHAP.

waste of moorland which stretches away towards the horizon.
Over this the dark mists rose and fell, and in them at night,
Grendel, the monstrous growth with eyes of fire, stalked, and
thought to devour men. It is the image of a hundred settle-
ments such as the Angles built along the margins of the sea;
and the monster, originating in a tale of elder days, is now clothed
by the poet with their thoughts about the terror-haunted wastes
beyond their dwellings.

And now Beowulf and his men have reached Heorot, in their
grisly war-gear, their swords ringing as they walked. Sea-wearied,
they set down their shields ; their spears of gray ash stood like
a grove where they struck them on the ground, and Hrothgar
asked their names and their wishes. His Queen Wealtheow and
his daughter Freaware sat with him, and at his feet Unferth lay,
the boon companion ; all of them on the dais, where the table
ran from east to west. The other tables stretched for nearly the
length of the hall, laden with boars' flesh and venison and cups
of ale and mead. In the midst on the paved floor, and between
the tables, were the long hearths for fire, and in the roof above,
openings for the smoke. The walls and supporting shafts, adorned
with gilding and walrus-bone, were hung with shields and spears
and tapestries. When Beowulf tells of his wish to fight with
Grendel there is a great welcoming, and then the feast begins.

Unferth, jealous of Beowulf, tells of Beowulf's rival Breca,
and that he beat Beowulf in swimming ; but Beowulf, wrathful,
defends himself. When his mocking is over, the Queen greets
the guests, brings the cup first to her lord, and last of all bears
the cup to Beowulf, who swears that he will slay Grendel. And
his boast pleased the Queen, who sat down again beside her lord.
Then the Sc6p chants clear in Heorot the ancient sagas, and the
feast is over. Night has come, the feasters depart ; only Beowulf
and his men are left in the hall, and Beowulf, knowing that the
monster is charmed against all weapons, lies down with naked
hands.

Now Grendel enters on the tale — the ancient man-beast of the

Digitized by

Googk

IV BEOWULF— THE POEM 73

folk-tale, the death-bringing winter of the myth to wrestle with the
life-bringing summer of the early year. The colours are grim in
which he is painted. So strong is he that the strength of thirty men j
can scarcely overcome him ; four men must carry his huge head
when he is slain ; he smites in the great doors of the hall with a
single blow of his hand ; his nails are monstrous claws. He is the
fiend of the morass and the moor, " lonely and terrible, a mighty
mark-stepper who holds the fastnesses of the fells." Night is
his native air. "-In ever-night Grendel kept the misty moors,"
and the pools where the marsh-fire burns are his refuge. He is
also the fiend of the weltering and furious sea. His companions
are sea-monsters, and he lives with his fearful mother in a deep
sea-cave, in a ghastly hollow of the rocks, where the billows tumble
together and roar to heaven. Like his shape, like his dwelling, is
his character ; greedy of blood, ravenous, furious, joyless, hating
men and their festive music, pleased with evil, always restless,
roaming for prey — the creature "oTHie'^WTnter "and its fury, of the
sunless gloom and its despair. If he find sleeping or drunken
men in Heorot, he rends them to pieces, breaking the bones and
drinking the blood, or bears them away to consume alone in the
caverns of the moor or the sea. And he came this night. " In
the wa&i darkness, while the warriors slept, the shadow-stalker drew
near from the moorland ; over the misty fells Grendel came
ganging on ;. under the clouds he strode." He smote the door in,
and when he saw the heroes sleeping his heart laughed and loath-
some light flared from his eyes. He tore a warrior into shreds,
and then he met the grip of Beowulf. Fear fell on him ; the hall
cracked and cried with the wrestling and the whoop of the beast ;
but Beowulf held on, and at last rent Grenders arm from itsj
socket ; "the bone burst, the blood streamed,*' and the fiend fled;
to the sea-cave to die.

So in the morning there was wondrous joy in Heorot, games,
horse-racing, poets making songs. The king and queen come to
see GrendeFs arm hung over the dais ; fine gifts are given to the
rescuers; the feast is set, the hall is cleansed; the bards, even

Digitized by

Googk

74 BEOWULF— THE POEM chap.

the king, sing old sagas ; night comes again and all once more
sleep in the hall; each under his shield and spear and coat of
woven rings.

Then begins the vengeance of Grendel's dam. This was

-originally a separate and later lay, and is now woven into the
poem by the poet of the whole. The monster is described over
again; new qualities are added to him, but GrendeFs mother is a
fresh creation. The details of the scenery are so particular that
it is probable this second lay actually described the cliff scenery
of the place where the maker of the lay lived. But the tale is /
another version of the original folk-tale and myth. Grendel's dam /

•'is like her son, only she belongs especially to the furious sea.f
She is greedy, restless, a death-spirit, a scather of men, a creature
also of the mirk and mist. She swims the sea ; clutches to Beo-
wulf like a sea-monster ; she is a " sea-wolf, a sea-woman, a wolf
of the sea-bottom." Her hands are armed with claws ; her blood
is so venomous that even the magic-tempered blade which alone
can slay her melts in her blood like ice in the sun. Wrath for

I her son drives her to Heorot, and she bursts into the hall, where
Beowulf is not that night, and rends -^schere, Hrothgar's dearest
friend, limb from limb, and bears him away to her cave. " Hast
thou had a still night," asks Beowulf of Hrothgar in the morning.
" Ask after no happiness," answered the king, " ^schere is dead,
Yrmenlaf's elder brother, my rede-giver, my shoulder-to-shoulder-
man in war. All is ilL" He tells the tale of the night and of the
place where Grendel's mother lives. "Seek it, if thou dare it;
I will pay thee with old treasures." " Life is nothing," answers
Beowulf. " Better vengeance for a friend than too much of sorrow
for him. Who can win honour, let him do it before he die, for

' that is best for him when he is dead. Have patience of thy woes
to-day ; I look for that from thee. Neither in earth's breast, nor
deep in the sea, shall Grendel's kin escape from me."

I So they rode to the cliffs, and found themselves above a deep

sea-gorge with a narrow entrance from the sea, where many
" nickers " or sea-monsters were stretched upon the rocks, and in

Digitized by

Googk

IV BEOWULF— THE POEM 75

which the waves, beaten from side to side, made a mad whirlpool
which flung its welter, black and ulcerous, into the sky. Landward
the moor sloped downwards, and a stream fell over an arm of gray
rock, under ice-nipt trees, into the pool below. The description,*
often quoted, is the first of those natural descriptions for which
English poetry is famous, and which, frequent in Old English
poetry, are so remarkable at this early time. It seems to have
impressed the English writers, for there is a passage in the BHcklmg
Homilies of the tenth century which reads almost like a quotation
of this description.^ Secret in gloom is the land

Where they ward ; wolf-haunted slopes ; swept with wind its nesses ;

Fearful is its marish-path, where the mountain stream,

Underneath the nesses' mist, nither makes its way.

Under earth its flood is flowing, nor afar from here it is,

But the measure of a mile where its mere is set.

Over it, outreaching, hang the ice-nipt trees ;

Held by roots the holt is fast, and o*er-helms the water.

There an evil wonder every night a man may see —

In the flood a fire.

None alive is wise enough that abyss to know.

If the heather-stepper, harried by the hounds.

If the strong-homed stag seek unto this holt-wood,

Put to flight from far, sooner will he flee his soul,

Yield his life-breath on the bank — ere he will therein

Try to hide his head. Not unhaunted is the place I

For the welter of the waves thence is whirled on high,

Wan towards the clouds when the wind is stirring

Wicked weather up, and the lift is waxing dark

And the welkin weeping.

1 It occurs in the sermon on the Archangel Michael : " As Paul looked
towards the North from which all the floods came down, he saw a gray rock
over the water and north of it were woods hung with icy rime. And darky
mists were there, and under the cliff the dwellings of nickers and other]
monsters. And he saw how on the ice -clad trees many black souls wer^
hanging with bound hands and the devils in shape of wolves seized on theii
like jiungiy wolves, and the flood under the cliff was black. And twelve mil^
beneath the clifls was this water, and when the branches on which the souls
hung, broke off, the souls fell into the water, and the water-monsters gripped
them.''

Digitized by

Googk

76 BEOWULF— THE POEM chap.

They ride down to the shelving rocks, and find iEschere's
bloody head, and the water is red and troubled. One of the
strange sea-dragons, imaged by the poet from the walrus and the
tusked seal, is slain with arrows and spears, and the men gaze on
the grisly guest; but Beowulf, arming himself, and taking Un-
ferth's sword, Hrunting, one of the old treasures of the world,
plunged into the ocean surge. But the sea-wolf saw him, and
bore him upwards into her dwelling, a cave where water was not
A weird light was there, and the hero struck at the mere-woman.
But the war-beam would not bite, and GrendeFs dam seized Beowulf
and flung him down as he stumbled, and drew her seax, brown-
edged, and drove at his heart His war-sark withstood the blow,
and Beowulf leaped to his feet And he saw, hanging on the wall,
an old sword of the Eotens, hallowed by victory, doughty of edges,
a pride of warriors, and, seizing the gold-charmed hilt, he smote at
the sea-wolfs neck. The brand gripped on her throat, broke
through the bone into the body, and she fell dead on the sand.
Again he looked round, rejoicing in his work, and there by the wall
lay Grendel, lifeless and weary of war; and his body sprang far
away as the hero smote off his head The blood streamed into the
water and Hrothgar's thegns saw it and crying, "We shall see him
no more," went their way to Heorot. But Beowulfs thegns sat
on, and at last the hero rose through the bloody sea, bearing the
golden hilt and Grendel's head. Proudly they marched back to
Heorot, and the four men who bore on spears the head of Grendel
flung it at the feet of Hrothgar. Beowulf told his tale of victory ;
feasting brought on the night, and night the morning, "over shadows
sliding." Great gifts were given and alliance sworn ; and Beowulf
went home, over the meads and over the sea, to Hygelac, and gave
his gifts — horses and gray war-shirts, and a collar like the Brising
collar — to Hygelac and Hygd his queen. And Hygelac gave
Beowulf a gold -inlaid sword, and seven thousand in money,
and a country seat and the dignity of a prince — and so the first
part of the poem is at an end

The second part opens some sixty years afterwards, when Bea

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

IV BEOWULF— THE POEM 77

wulf has succeeded Heardred, Hygelac's son, and has reigned for
fifty years. He has outlived all enmity, and dwells in peace,
worshipped by his people, till he is past eighty years of age. The
summer of his life has died, late autumn has come, and the sun-
king now goes forth to his last fight with the dragon of the winter,
and to secure for his people the golden fruits hidden in the earth.
He wins the treasure, but in the battle dies.

The myth twists itself, through a folk-tale, into the following
story. One of Beowulf's thegns found a high barrow on the cliffs,
where a dragon watched a treasure laid by three hundred years
ago, and stole a cup therefrom. At which the drake, furious, flew
forth at night to avenge his wrong, vomiting flashes of fire. The
palace-hall, the homes, the country, were all aflame, and Beowulf,
hot as of old, let an iron shield be made, under which to slay the
ravager. The cave where the dragon lurks is in a valley-dip be-
tween two headlands whose cliffs plunge into the sea. These
have their names, Hronesnses and Eamanses, the Ness of the
Whale, the Ness of the Earns. The dell between them has low
cliffs on either side, and on the ridge of the right-hand cliff is a
wood, where Beowulf sits and sings his death song before he goes
down into the meadow below, and where his frightened thegns
take refuge. It is on this side that Beowulf, with his back to
the rocks, is brought to bay by the dragon. On the other side,
but higher up the dell, the great barrow stands, and near it the
cave, entered by a rocky arch ; and here is the lair of the worm.
A stream breaks from the mouth of the cave, and runs down the
dell to lose itself in the gray heath which from the inland rises to
the cliffs. This is the place where Beowulf finds his last foe and
his death. And he sat down, and sang the deeds of his life. " I
remember all, since I was seven years old." He bade his men
farewell, and armed himself, for he has to fight with fire. " Not
a foot will I fly the ward of the hill ; but at the rock wall it shall
be as Wyrd wills, Wyrd, the measurer of the lives of men. Wait
ye on the hill, clad, in your byrnies. Then the fierce champion,
brave under helm, bore his mail sark down to the rocks." And

Digitized by

Googk

78 BEOWULF— THE POEM chap.

he shouted, seeing the cave and the stream smoking with the
dragon's breath, and his shout was like a storm. Now the ward
of the hoard knew the voice of a man, and rolling in curves, and
his fiery breath burning before him while the earth roared, he
struck at Beowulf with his head And the king smote hard, but
Naegling, his sword, slid off the bone, and in a moment Beowulf
w^s wrapt in flame. Then all his thegns fled, save one, Wiglaf,
his kinsman, who, wading through the deadly reek, stood beside
his lord. "Ward thy life, loved Beowulf, think on fame, I will
stand by thee." And the hero smote again, but Nsegling broke,
and the drake clasped his paws round the king's throat till the
life-blood bubbled forth in waves. But Wiglaf struck lower into
the belly of the beast, and the fire abated ; whereat Beowulf drew
his deadly seax, bitter and battle-sharp, and clove the worm in
two. So the battle ended.

But the king had got his death. The venom boiled in his
breast, and he sat down to think, and to look at the arch of the
cave, while Wiglaf unloosed his helm. And he spoke his death-
words : " Would I could give to a son this war-weed of mine, but
I have none sprung firom my loins. Fifty winters I held my sway
over my folk ; nor durst any king greet me with his war-friends
or press on me the terror of war. I tarried at home on the hour
of my weird ; I held mine own fitly ; I sought no feuds ; I swore
no oaths which I did not keep, and I swore few ; so I may, for
all this, have comfort, since the Master of men may not charge
me with murder-bale of kinsmen, when life flies from my body.
Now hasten, dear Wiglaf, and bring the hoard out of the hollow
rock, that I may see the ancient wealth, so that, after sight of it,
I may the easier give up my life, and the peopleship I have held
so long."

And Wiglaf, hastening, saw in the worm's den the glittering
gold, and many treasures ; and, greatest of wonders, an all-golden
banner, curious in handiwork, woven with magic songs, and shed-
ding a wizard light over all things in the cav^. And he brought
forth the treasure. " I thank the glorious king," cried Beowulf,

Digitized by

Googk

ly BEOWULF— THE POEM 79

" that, ere I die, I have won these things for my people ; have
paid my old life for them. But do thou supply the need of my
folk, I may no longer be here." ,

Bid the battle-famed build a barrow high.

Clear to see when bale is burnt, on the bluffs above the surge.

Thus it may for folk of mine, for remembering of me,

Lift on high its head, on the height of Hronesnaes ;

So that soon sea-sailing men, in succeeding days.

Call it Beowulfs Barrow ; when, their barks a-foam,

From afar they make their way through the mists of Ocean.

And he did off from his neck the golden collar, and gave his
helm and ring and mail-coat to Wiglaf. " Use them well," he
said. "Thou art the last of the Waegmundings. Wyrd swept
them all away ; strong earls they were ; each at the weirded hour.
I must go after them. This was the last of the thoughts of his
heart" So Wiglaf sat alone, with his dead lord in the green dell
between the two cliffs; and on the meadow lay the fire-drake,
fifty feet of him, and the broken sword, and the gold cups and
dishes, rings, and jewels: swords rusted with three hundred
winters ; and above them, as was Scyld*s honour when he died,
the golden banner glistened. And all the host, and the twelve
thegns who had fled, came down to see the sight and their dead
king. And Wiglaf reproached the faithless who had deserted
their lord; and the passage marks one of the main Teutonic
conceptions : —

Now shall getting gems, and the giving too of swords,
And the pleasure of a home, and possession of the land,
Be no more to kin of yours 1 Every man of kin to you
Shall bereft of land-right roam, when the lords shall hear
Of your deep damnation. Death is better far.
For whatever warrior, than a woeful life of shame.

And the messenger who tells of the king's death to the host pro-
phesies that because of it the old feud with the Sweons will
break out again. "The leader of our battle has ceased from
laughter, from sport and the joy of song. The treasures will be

Digitized by

Googk

8o BEOWULF— THE POEM chap.

borne away, the maidens shall walk in alien fields, the hands (of
ghosts?) shall lift the spear, morning cold, and the harp shall
never more

With its ringing rouse the warriors, but the Raven wan,
Eager, fiercely, o*er the fated, shall be full of talking,
I Croaking to the sallow Earn how it sped him at the gorging,
When he, with the wolf, on the war-stead tore the slain.

So the three beasts, like the Valkyrie, shall speak of then: bloody
work.

Then Wiglaf told of the battle, and of the burial the king
wished for ; and they laded a wain with the treasures, and heaved
the drake over the cliff, and carried Beowulf to the further edge
of Whale's Ness ; and Wiglaf sang, while he laid with care the
gray-headed warrior on the bier : —

Now the Gleed shall fret,
And the wannish flame wax high, on this War-strength of his warriors-^
Him who oft awaited iron showers in the battle,
When the storm of arrows, sent a-flying from the strings.
Shot above the shield-wall ; and the shaft its service,
Fledged with feathers, did, following on the barb.

So they made a great barrow, labouring for ten days, timbered-up
on high, to be seen far and wide by those who fared the main ;
and did into it armlets and bright gems and the ashes of their
lord, and hung it with shields and helms and shining shirts of
war.

Then about the barrow rode the beasts of battle,

Twelve in all they were, bairns of iEthelings,

Who would speak their sadness, sing their sorrow for their king.

So, with groaning, grieved, all the Geat folk,

All his hearth-companions for their House-lord's overthrow I

Quoth they, that he was, of the world-kings all,

Of all men the mildest, and to men the kindest,

To his people gentlest, and of praise the keenest.

With these words of farewell Beowulf closes ; and this care-
fully- wrought conclusion and the summing up of the hero's
character go far to prove that, however many ancient lays were

Digitized by

Googk

IV BEOWULF— THE POEM 8i

used by the writer, the poem was composed as a whole by on e- ^
poet who had the keenest sympathy with the heathen traditions
of his people, and who may himself have been, like many folk in
the eighth century, half heathen at heart. The Christian inter-^
polations, I have already said, may have been made, not by him,
but by the Wessex editor of the saga in the tenth century. At
any rate, they are few, and of slight importance. Some, who
have not, it seems, read the poem, make a great deal of them,
and say they spoil the poem. They are, it is true, quite out
of place and jarring when they occur. But they are curiously,
brief, with the exception of the sermon of Hrothgar about pride ;
and they are easily set aside. The poet was remarkably merciful,
and thought too well of his original material to do much of
this Christianising work. I have, however, sometimes thought
that the second part of the poem, the fight with the dragon,
may have been frankly heathen, and that the later editor made /
omissions in consequence, for this part is much broken up (
and confused. Whatever may be said of this conjecture, it I
remains true that the form of the first part is good and clear ; \
that of the second not. Loose lays are introduced into it without
any just arrangement ; and the story of the theft from the dragon
is told twice over. But when that is said, criticism has but little
left to say but praise, especially when we think ot the early date
at which the poem was made. Its lays go back to the seventh,
perhaps to the sixth century ; its composition as a whole to the
eighth. No other extant modem poem — the Welsh poems of the -
sixth century and some Irish verse being excepted— can approach
its age, save, perhaps, that fragment of Hadubrand and Hildebrand
found at Fulda, said to date from the eighth century, and to have
been sung as a lay in the seventh. But this is a mere fragment ;
Beowulf is a complete poem. Its age dignifies it, excuses its
want of form, and demands our reverence.

What poetic standard it reaches is another question. It has
been called an epic, but it is narrative rather than epic poetry. —
The subject has not the weight pr dignity of an epic poem,

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

82 BEOWULF— THE POEM chap.

nor the mighty fates round which an epic should revolve. Its

-p-story is rather personal than national The one epic quality it

has, the purification of the hero, the evolution of his character

— through trial into perfection — and Beowulf passes from the isolated
hero into the image of an heroic king who dies for his people —
may belong to a narrative poem. Moreover the poem is made

•-up of two narratives with an interval of some sixty years, an

— interval which alone removes it from the epic method, which is
bound to perfect the subject in an ordered, allotted, and con-
tinuous space of time. But as a narrative, even broken as it is.
It attains unity from the unity of the myth it represents under

^two forms, and from the unity of the hero's character. He is

the same in soul, after fifty years, that he was when young.

^ There is also a force, vitality, clearness and distinctiveness of

portraiture, not only in Beowulf's personality, but in that of all

the other personages, which raise the poem into a high place, and

-^predict that special excellence of personal portraiture which has
made the English drama so famous in the world. Great imag^ina-
|tion is not one of the excellences of Beowulf^ but it has pictorial
power of a fine kind, and the myth of summer and winter on
which it rests is out of the imagination of the natural and early
world. It has a clear vision of places and things and persons ;
it has preserved for us two monstrous types out of the very early
world. When we leave out the repetitions which oral poetry

-^created and excuses, it is rapid and direct ; and the dialogue is
brief, simple and human. Finally, we must not judge it in the
study. If we wish to feel whether Beowulf is good poetry, we
should place ourselves, as evening draws on, in the hall of the
folk, when the benches are filled with warriors, merchants and
seamen, and the Chief sits in the high seat, and the fires flame
down the midst, and the cup goes round — and hear the Shaper
strike the harp to sing this heroic lay. Then, as he sings of
the great fight with Grendel or the dragon, of the treasure-
giving of the king, and of the well-known swords, of the sea-
rovings and the sea-hunts and the brave death of men, to sailors

Digitized by

Googk

IV BEOWULF— THE POEM 83

who knew the storms, to the fierce rovers who fought and died with
glee, to great chiefs who led their warriors, and to warriors who
never left a shield, we feel how heroic the verse is, how passionate
with national feeling, how full of noble pleasure. The poem is
great in its own way, and the way is an English way. The men,
the women, at home and in war, are one iti character with us. It
is our Genesis, the book of our origins.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER V

SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY

We are still in heathen times when we accompany the Jutes
across the sea to the conquest of Kent. Other Jutes, a good
time afterwards, took and colonised the Isle of Wight and a small
piece of the adjacent mainland. News of the conquest of Kent
reached the Saxons, and the first band of them, landing near
Chichester, completed the conquest of Sussex in 491. Wessex
began to be made by a second band of Saxons under Cerdic, but
it was not till 577, after the battle of Deorham, that the West
Saxons, having previously conquered Dorset and Wilts, secured
the north of Somerset, reached the Bristol Channel, and seizing
the valley of the Severn, occupied our Herefordshire and
Worcestershire. The third tribe, the Angles, left Denmark about
547. They settled in the district they named Norfolk and Suffolk ;
they seized the coasts of Yorkshire and subdivided it westward to
the Pennine chain. They subdued the northern coast as far as
the Firth of Forth and the land westward to the valley of the
Clyde and Cumberland. The Yorkshire part they called Deira,
"the southland," and the northern Bernicia, "the land of the
Braes," and these two, when they were afterwards united, made
Northumbria. Then all the rest of the Angles poured across the
sea, leaving their old lands so totally uninhabited that the Angles
are never mentioned again among the German tribes ; and these
belated invaders, passing through the East Anglian lands, turned

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

CHAP.V SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 85

south and west and won the middle of England as far as the Vale
of the Severn. As these English called the borderland between
them and the Welsh the March, they called themselves the
Mercians. Meanwhile, other Saxon bands conquered Middlesex
where London was, and Essex where was Colchester. So all
England, save the three Welsh kingdoms — the Kingdom of Devon
and Cornwall, that is, West Wales ; the Kingdom of our North
and South Wales ; and the Kingdom of Cumberland with the
Clyde valley — belonged to the English. This conquest — for the
Brythons fought with desperate and steady courage, unlike the
English against the Normans after Senlac — took about 150 years.
During this period the poetry of England was altogether heathen,
unbroken by a single Christian voice. But there is no doubt that
every famous fight and the deeds of kings and warriors were sung
by the English bards in ballad form, and grew into sagas of the
Conquest of England

The only English poem which has any relation to the Con-'
quest is the fragment called the Ruined Burg. It is now generally
allowed to be a description of Bath (Bathanceaster), which was
sacked and burnt by Ceawlin after the battle of Deorham in 577.^
The Saxons left it, for they scorned to dwell in towns, and the
wild forest grew in the colonnades and porches of the hot springs,
over the Forum and the public buildings of the Romans. It
was not till a century after, in 676, that Osric, an under-king of
the Hwiccas, founded a monastery among its ruins ; and more
than a century later, in 781, that Offa, seeing the importance of
the place, encouraged the new town into a vigorous life. Some
poet, coming in a chieftain's train to visit the place — we may
say in the eighth centu ry — and wandering on a frosty morning
among the fallen buildings, was smitten to the heart by the
sorrow of so much ruin, and made this poem, which has no
Christian elements in it, but much humanity. Its motive — imagin-

1 It is possible that the Roman buildings may have fallen into ruin before
Ceawlin attacked the town. It is also possible that the poem may describe
Dot Bath, but Camelot.

Digitized by

Googk

86 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY CHAP

% /» ative sadness for the departure of splendour and life — became
"^ \ common in early English poetry.

Wondrous is this wall of stone ; Weirds have shattered it !

Broken are the burg-steads, crumbled down the giants' work !

Fallen are the roof-beams, ruined are the towers :

All undone the door-pierced turrets ; frozen dew is on their plaster.

Shorn away and sunken down, are the sheltering battlements,

Under-eaten of Old Age ! Earth is holding in her clutch

These, the power- wielding workers ; all forworn and all forlorn in death are

they.
Hard the grip is of the ground, while a hundred generations
Move away. . . .
Long its wall abode

Through the rule that followed rule, ruddy-stained, and grey as goat.
Under storm-skies steady. Steep the Court that fell ;
Brilliant were the burg-steads ; bum -fed houses many ;
High the heap of hornM gables ; of the host a mickle sound.
Many were the mead-halls, full of mirth of men.
Till the strong-willed Wyrd whirled that all to change.
In a slaughter wide they fell, woeful days of bale came on ;
Famine-death fortook fortitude from men I
All their battle-bulwarks bared to their foundations are ;
Crumbled is the castle keep ! . . .

. . . Many a brave man there
Glad of yore,*a-gleam with gold, gloriously adorned.
Hot with wine, and haughty, in war-harness shone ;
Saw upon his silver, on set gems and treasure.
On his welfare and his wealth, on his well-wrought jewels.
On this brightsome burg of a broad dominion !

Then the baths are described — the steam surging hotly through
the courts of stone and whirling round and round, the waves filling
the great circle of the bath, " a kingly thing," or a place where a
" Thing " might assemble.

There is no trace of Christian sentiment in the poem, and this

• want seems remarkable. But we must remember that Christianity,

after its introduction in S97» took nearly a century to conquer the

whole of England, and left, even after the last heathen district

was christianised in 686, a great part of the wild country and its

Digitized by

Googk

V SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 87

farmers all but heathen. It is not strange then that a good deal /
of poetry among the people was scarcely touched by Christianity. \
It is probable that many laymen, who, like Cynewulf in his youth, \
lived as poets in the train of chieftains, had, though nominally \
Christians, little or no Christian feeling. Even when they were j
" converted " they easily recurred, at least whenever they sang of '^
war, or of the sea, or of personal sorrow other than that for sin, to
the old heathen lays for inspiration. The Riddles of^newulf, the
Elegies^ the passages concerning war inlhe~C8e3monic poems and
"Tn~the ChrisHan poems oF Cynewulf are all heathen in tone and
jma^j^n 'i ne same may be said of even so late' a poem as the t
Song of Brunanburh, It is not till we come to the Battle of'
Maldon^ 991, t hat we meet with a poem of war which mingles
Christian prayer and inspiration with the noise of arms and the
passion of fame. Therefore, before we discuss the poetry which
is distinctively Christian, it will be well to consider that poetry of
war, of nature, and of daily life which has no Christian elements in
it, even when it occurs in Christian poems.

War was the chief business and the chief glory of the Germanic
tribes. And being waged for the sake of home and fame, ad-
venture and revenge, it became, through the ideality of these
things, the chief subject of song. Everything that belonged to it
was clothed in imaginative dress. All weapons, and chiefly the
sword, were glorified ; and the great smiths, like Weland, were the
themes of legend. Battle was attended by spiritual beings, by
Wyrd, by the Shield-Maidens, by Woden in his coat of gray, by
the spirits who became at one with the famous swords and spears
of heroes. Even the creatures of the wood and the air who
devoured the dead, the gray-eagle, the raven, the kite, the hawk
from the cliff, the wolf and the hill-fox, were impersonated. They
screamed, croaked, howled their battle-song, they talked with one
another as they rent the dead, and the note of their cries foretold
the issue of the battle. They are rarely absent from the poetry
of war.

Cynewulf conceives the sword in one of his Riddles^ and with

Digitized by

Googk

'"\

88 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY cha».

■ I '

all his impersonating power, as a warrior wrapped in his scabbard
as in a coat of mail, going like a hero into battle, hewing his path
into the ranks of the foe, praised in the hall by kings, and even
mourning, when it is laid by, for its childlessness and for the
anger with which women treat it as the slaughterer of men. Im-
personation can scarcely go further, yet it is not too far among
men who conceived of a living being in the sword. In another
Riddle Cynewulf impersonates the shield, and in others the
helmet, the spear, and the bow. The shield is sick of battles,
no physician can heal its wounds, it is weary of the sword-edges,
notched day and night with the mighty strokes of the sword, that
" heritage of hammers." The helmet mourns the bitter weather
it has to bear, and as the lines sketch a northern storm I quote
them : —

On me, still upstanding, smite the showers of rain ;

Hail, the hard grain, beats on me, and the hoar-frost covers me $

And the flying snow (in flakes) thickly falls on me.

The speat wails that as a sapling it was taken from the green
fields and forced to bow to a slaughterer^s will ; but as it comes to
know its master better, it learns to love his fame as its own, and
to be happy. Then it is proud of its small neck and fallow sides :
rejoicing when the sun glitters on its point and a hand of strength
is on its shaft, when it knows its way in battle. The bow exults,
singing with savage joy when out of its bosom fares forth an adder,
hot to sting, venomous against the foe.

Then a drink of death he buys,
Brimming sure the beaker that he buys with life.

The coat of mail cries that he was brought out of the bosom of
the dewy meadowland, and woven into rings, not with the shuttle,
not through the crafts of the Fate goddesses, but to be the
honoured web of fighters, famous far along the earth. The horn
boasts that he is kissed of warriors, that he summons comrades to
battle, that the horse on land and the ocean-horse on sea bear

Digitized by

Googk

V SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 89

him on adventure, that he calls the haughty heroes to the wine-
feast and makes the plunderiag pirates fly to their ships with his
shouting. These are all sketches from Cynewulf s hand, and were
written while he was a wild boon-companion of his lord. No
touch of Christian thinking intrudes on their heathen hardihood.
They tell us how the ancient English thought of their war-
weapons, and they have abundant literary power.

Then, many of the finest passages in Old English poetry
are descriptions of battles. They occur in Christian poems, but
they recollect in every line the spirit of the heathen poetry. When
the Jews in Judith pressed towards the Assyrian host, making a
shield-burg as they went, they sent spear and arrow over their
yellow shields.

Letten forth be flying shower-flights of darts,

Adders of the battle, arrows hard of temper,

From the horn-curved bows 1 Loud and high they shouted,

Warriors fierce in fighting.

Then rejoiced the gaunt Wolf,
Rushing from the wood ; and the Raven wan,
Slaughter-greedy fowl ! Surely well they knew
That the war-thegns of the folk thought to win for them
Fill of feasting on the fated. On their track flew fast the Earn,
Hungry for his fodder, all his feathers dropping dew :
Sallow was his garment, and he sang a battle lay ;
Homy-nebbed he was.

When in the Exodus Pharaoh's host draws nigh, the poet sees

Forth and forward-faring Pharaoh's war-array.
Gliding on, a grove of spears I Glittering the hosts I
Fluttered there the flags of war, there the folk the march trod.
Onwards surged the war, strode the spears along,
Blickered the broad shields, loudly blew the trumpets.

Wheeling round in gyres, yelled the fowls of war.
Of the battle greedy I Hoarsely barked the Raven,
Dew upon his feathers, o*er the fallen corpses ;
Swart was that slain -chooser ! Loudly sang the wolves
At the eve their awful song, eager for the carrion !

Digitized by

Googk

90 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY chap.

When in the Elene Constantine joins battle with the Huns,
Cynewulf 's description b pagan : —

Forth then fares the Fyrd of folk, and a fighting lay
Sang the wolf in woodland, wailed his slaughter-rune.
Dewy-feathered, on the foes* track,
Raised the Earn his song. . . .

. . . Loud upsang the Raven,
Swart and slaughter-fell. Strode along the war-host,
Blew on high the horn-bearers, heralds of the battle shouted ;
Stamped the earth the stallion, and the host assembled
Quickly to the quarrel !

There the trumpets sang
Loud before the war-host, and the raven loved the work.
Dewy-plumed, the earn looked upon the march ;

. . . Song the wolf uplifted
Ranger of the holt ! Rose the Terror of the battle I
There was rush of shields together, and the crush of men together ;
Hard was the hand-swinging there, and the dinging down of hosts,
After they had first encountered flying of the arrows.
Full of hate, the hosters grim, on the fated folk
Sent the spears above the shields, and the shower of arrows.
Strode the stark of spirit, stroke on stroke they pressed along.
Broke into the board-wall, plunged their bills therein.
Where the bold in battle thronged, there the banner was uplifted ;
Victory's song was sung round the ensign of the host ;
And the javelins glistened, and the golden helm
0*er the field of fight ; till there fell the heathen,
Dead in ruthless slaughter.

These are but a few examples of the pagan keenness in the war-
song lasting on into the Christian poetry, and they probably
belong to the eighth century when Christianity had been fully
established in England.

When we turn from war to that natural description which is so
remarkable in Old English p*oetry,*we are neither in a specially
heathen nor in a specially Christian world of thought. Where
the descriptions are connected with the nature-myths, the heathen
elements of course exist, but the natural description in early Eng-
lish poetry goes far beyond the phrases derived from the myths.

Digitized by

Google

SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY

Where the descriptions occur in poems on Christian subjects,
they are as it were apart from the theme ; the poet steps aside,
as if led by a personal fondness, to describe the things he sees in
sea or sky. The only set description of nature which is intimately
inwoven with Christian thought is that of the sinless and lovely
land in the PhosniXy and it is not done from nature, but from
imagination. Moreover, its origin is in the poem of Lactantius
which the poet was adapting, and which itself had a far-off origin .
in the Celtic myth of the Land of Eternal Youth. Independent, i
however, of these descriptions, the Riddles of Cynewulf insert j
deliberate and careful descriptions of natural scenery, not as a I
background for human interest, but for the sake of nature alone, I
and this is quite singular in early modern poetry. \

The chief natural things of which the English poets wrote were
the forest-land, the sky, and the sea. The forest-land was all the wild
uncultivated country, on the outskirts of which, and continually
scooping their way back from the river valleys into it, the English
lived and set up their hamlets. Scattered records of this forest-
land occur in the poems. The moor, roamed over by the wolves,
the grizzly heath -tramplers ; in the pools and caves of which
dwelt the water elves and the dragon of the English imagination ;
does not fill so large a place as the fens, where the anchorites
built their hermitages, and the fisher watched the " brown-backed
billow " come in with the tide, and the wild birds came to St.
Guthlac*s hand. But the woods were nearest to the English life.
The various trees are described in verse — the yew, the oak, the
holly, and the birch. " Laden with leaves is the birch, high is
its helm, decked out with beauty its branches, in touch with the
air." A wild refuge in a forest hollow for the outlaw or the exile
is closely described : —

Men have garred me dwell in a grove of woodland,
Under an oak-tree, hidden in an earthen cave.
Old is this earth-hall; I am all outwearied ;
Dark are these deep dells, high the downs ahove ;
Bitter my burg-hedges, with wild briars overwaxen.

Digitized by

Googk

92 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY chap.

When in early dawn all alone I go

Underneath the oak, round about my lair,

There I sit and weep through the summer-lengthened day.

Wife^s Complaint,

The animals which haunt the wood are described — the wolves, the
swine, the wild cattle, the stag tossing his head ** while the gray
frost fled from his hair," the badger on the slopes of the forest hills,
the beaver in the river, and the salmon darting in the pools ; the
eagle, the raven, and the hawk from their homes in the recesses
of the woods; the falcon on the noble's fist, brought from the
wild sea cliff; the cuckoo shouting in the glen and announcing
the spring, the starlings rising and falling in flocks among the
village roofs [Riddle Iviii.] : —

Here the air beareth wights that are little,

0*er the hill-summits, and deep black are they,

Swart, sallow-coated I sweet is their song,

Flocking they fly on, shrilly they sing,

Roam the wood-cliffs, and at whiles the town-dwellings

Of the children of men.

So also Cynewulf sings the nightingale, and paints the hamlet as
the bird pours its song on the air, and the men sitting at their
^ doors listening in silence [Riddle ix.] : — '

Many varied voices voice I through my bill ;
Holding to my tones, hiding not their sweetness —
I, the ancient evening-singer, bring unto the Earls
Bliss within the burgs, when I break along
With a cadenced song. Silent in their dwelling
They are sitting, leaning forwards.

But the most charming of these descriptions is that of the wild
swan, whose feathers, like those of the swan-maidens, sound in
flight [Riddle viii.] :—

Voiceless is my robe when in villages I dwell,
When I fare the fields, when I drive the flood along.
But at times my glorious garment and the lofty air
Heave me high above all the houses of the heroes.

"■\

Digitized by

Googk

9 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 93

Wheresoever the craft ^ of clouds carries me away,

Far the folk above — then my fretted feathers

Loudly rustling hum, lulling, sound along.

Sing a sunbright song — then, restrained to earth no more.

Over flood and Held I'm a spirit faring far !

This is of a quality almost unimaginable in poetry of the eighth
century. It is like poetry of our own time. The "power of
clouds " is a phrase Wordsworth might have used

The poetry of the sky, of sun and moon, and of the sea is
equally remarkable. The northern English were close observers
of these great Creatures, and one proof of this lies in the number
of words they invented to express their different aspects. The
changes of the dawn from the first gray tinge of the east to the
upward leap of the sun, the noonday light, the changes of the
evening from the light left by immediate sunset to the last
glimmer of it before dead night, have each their own special
words. The fiercer phases of the weather are drawn with a
rough observant pencil Cynewulf describes three different kinds
of storms. But no natural object engaged them so much as the
sea, and they have at least fifteen different names for it, to express
their conceptions of its aspect and its temper. Then they have
coined a multitude of phrases to represent the appearance of its
waves, and its movements in calm, but chiefly in storm, most of
which I have given an account of elsewhere. There can be no
doubt from his poetry that Cynewulf lived constantly near the sea
and a rocky coast, and that he watched it with all the care of
Tennyson. But the temper of mind in which he and his school,
after the settlement, considered the sea was very different from
the temper of the sailors of the heathen time. Beowulf and his
comrades have the spirit of the sea-dogs of Drake and Nelson.
They rejoice in the storms, the ocean is their playmate ; they are
its masters, or they fight with it as with a monster for their lives.
Five nights in all (and if the story be a myth yet the spirit of the
swimmers is not), Breca and Beowulf swam in rivalry through the

1 Power,

Digitized by

Googk

94 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY chap.

ocean in the bitterest of weathers and fought with the tusked
nickers of the deep {Beowulf^ 11. 546-548].

Swoln were the surges, of storms 'twas the coldest ;
Dark neared the night, and northern the wind,
Rattling and roaring, rough were the billows !

till in the morning the heaving of ocean bore them up on the
land of the Heathoraemes.

This fearlessness ceased when they settled down and passed

from pirates into agriculturists. There is not a trace in the

poetry after Caedmon of their old audacious lordship over the sea.

The Seafarer tells of his voyages, and how he outlived hours of

pain and dread, sailing his ship through frosty seas : " No man

on land can tell all he suffers who fares on the wanderings of the

j deep." The crew in the Riddle on the Hurricane are aghast with

} fear. The companions of Andreas on his voyage are terrified

I when the storm begins. It is alway s^jhfi. jaaerchant .sailor and

I not the Viking who speaks m the later poems. But the imagin-

I atFve representation of the sea^ and especially in storm, is all

the greater perhaps for this temper of dread. Here are a few

lines out of the Andreas [IL 369 ; 441] : —

Then was sorely troubled.
Sorely wrought the Whale-mere. Wallowed there the Horn-fish,
Glided through the great deep 5 and the gray-backed gull
Wheeled in air, of slaughter greedy I Dark the storm -sun grew :
Waxed the wind in gusts, grinded there the waves together.
Stirred the surges high ; and the sail-ropes groaned,
Wet with washing waves. Water-Horror rose
With the might of troops.

Ocean-streamings then
Beat upon the bulwarks I Billow answered billow.
Wave replied to wave. And at whiles uprose
From the bosom of the foam to the bosom of the boat
Terror o*er the wave-ship.

Along with this vivid description of a storm at sea we may place,

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

V SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 95

and also from the Andreas, this description of the coming of
winter on the land [11. 1257-1264] : —

Snow enchained the earth
With the whirling winter-flakes, and the weather grew
Cold with savage scours of hail ; while the sleet and frost,
Gangers gray of war were they — I locked the granges up
Of the heroes, and folk-hamlets I Frozen hard was all the land
With the chill of icicles ; shrunk the courage of the water ;
0*er the running rivers ice upraised a bridge.
And the sea-road shone.

Cynewulf s imagination of nature is perhaps highest when, in
the thirty-fourth Riddle, he paints the iceberg plunging and roar-
ing through the foaming sea, and shouting out, like a Viking, his
coming to the land, singing and laughing terribly. Sharp are
the swords he uses in the battle, grim is his hate ; he is greedy
to break into the shield-walls of the ships. Nor is he less
vigorous when he describes the storm on land Jn the second
Riddle, and the storm at sea in the third, and the whole pro-
gress of a hurricane in the fourth, from its letting loose, like a
delivered giant, from the caverns under the earth, to its driving
of the flood of sea, gray as flint, upon the cliffs; from the
thunder of the mountainous advance of ocean under its impulse,
to the shipwreck it makes and the terror of the seamen. Then
he brings the tempest from the sea into the air, and then on the
works of men, and finally lulls it to sleep again in its cave.
There is no finer description of a great northern gale than this
in the whole of our literature. I have translated it fully in an
appendix, but it ought tp be read in its own language. I may
give one more example of this nature-poetry, of a fine poetical
quality. It uses one of the old nature-myths with remarkable
skill, and fills it with vivid natural description. The first two
lines describe the old moon with the young moon in her arms
long before Sir Patrick Spence saw it. The rising of the sun
over the roof of the world, his setting, the dust and dew and the
advent of night are done with the conciseness and force of
Tennyson.

Digitized by

Googk

96 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY chap.

Cynewulf saw the crescent moon like a boat of air and light
sailing up the heaven, and the old myths came into his mind.
So he likened the moon to a young warrior returning with his
spoil, and building a fortress in the height of heaven. But
another and a greater warrior, even the Sun, was in hot pursuit,
who, coming over the horizon wall, took the moon's booty and
drove him away with great wrath. Then the Sun, full of his
vengeance, hastened to the West, and then Night arose and
overwhelmed the Sun. It is a true piece of nature-poetry, built
on an ancient nature-myth [Riddle xxx.] : —

Of a wight I've been aware, wonderfully shapen,

Bearing up a booty in between his horns I

'Twas a Lifl-ship, flashing light, and with loveliness bedecked.

Bearing home his booty brought from his war-roving ;

All to build a bower for it, in the burg on high,

And to shape it skilfully if it so might be !

Then, all wondrous, came a wight, o'er the world-wall's roof ;

Known to all he is of the earth's indwellers ;

Snatched away his war-spoil, and his will against.

Homeward drove the wandering wretch ! Thence he westward went,
\ With a vengeance faring ; then he hastened further on !
1 Dust arose to Heaven, dew fell on the earth,
! Onward came the Night I And not one of men

Of the wandering of that wight ever wotted more.

That there should be so much deliberate nature -poetry,

written for the sake of nature alone, and with an evident and

observing love, is most remarkable in vernacular poetry 6f the

eighth century, and very difficult to account for. There is

nothing that resembles it, even in the later Icelandic sagas.

It is only partly derived from nature-myths. We may say in

explanation that the Celtic influence was very strong in North-

umbria where these poems were written, and the Celtic feeling

; for natural scenery is always strong. But the feeling here is

1 different from the Celtic; and it is rather in the imaginative

j quality of the verse and in certain charmed expressions that we

, detect the Celtic spirit. It has been said, again, that these Riddles

Digitized by

Googk

V SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 97

were nothing more than imitations of the Latin ^nigmata on the
same subjects. This is no explanation. Cynewulf took the
subjects, but he transformed the treatment; whatever he takes
he makes original. Ealdhelm's Latin Riddles have not a
trace of imagination, Cynewulf is impassioned with it. Eald-
helm writes like an imitator of the late Latin poets, Cynewulf
writes out of his own delight and from the sight of his own
eyes. We cannot mistake his personal love of nature. Where, at
this time, did he gain it ? How does he happen to have it in a
way which scarcely appears again until the nineteenth century ?

Perhaps the best answer is that he was a man of genius, but
then genius moves in the groove of its own time, and this is not
a groove which belongs to the time. The one thing I can think
of in the way of explanation is that he was a reader of Vergil, and .
there are passages in his poems^and in the Andreas which seem
directly suggested by Vergil. We know that Vergil was commonly
read by literary men in Northumbria, and no one, with a natural
tendency to the observation of nature, could long read Vergil
without being put into the temper of love of nature, and of a
close observation of her ways. Once the temper was gained, the
original genius of Cynewulf would use it on the natural scenery
which surrounded him. But then, other men read Vergil and
did not write like Cynewulf. There must have been something
singular in the man. At any rate, it is interesting, considering
the magnificent work which the English poets have done on
nature, to find at the very beginning of our poetry one who was
so filled with pleasure by her doings, and who had the power to
put his pleasure into noble expression.

These poems then, poems of war and poems of pure nature,
may be called half- heathen, though^written in Christian times.
What changes Christianity wrought in poetry is now our subject.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER VI

THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY

The English literature written of in the previous chapters has
been heathen or secular. The passages about war and those
dealing with the natural world, taken from poems written when
England had become Christian, show clearly how long the temper
of heathendom clung to the English, even to those who had
warmly accepted the new religion. Long after the last conquest
of Christianity, heathenism retained its power over the super-
stitious 'farmers and folk of the remoter hamlets. Even in the
I days of Cnut, the laws forbid the worship of heathen gods, of sun
' and moon, of rivers and wells, of fire, stones, and trees. For a
long time, then, Christianity and heathendom mingled their influ-
ences together, and they did so in comparative peace. The
growth of Christianity was left to the will of the people. It
was not forced upon them by the sword. There was so much
wisdom and tolerance on the part of the kings and nobles that
the two faiths scarcely ever persecuted one another during the
many years they existed side by side. Even Penda, that sturdy
Mercian pagan, did not prevent the preaching of the faith in his
kingdom, and allowed his son to become a Christian.

The result of this long intermingling was that heathen ideas
were not so much rooted out in literature as changed. There
was a continual interpenetration of Christian and heathen ele-
ments, of Christian and heathen legend, which had no small

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. VI THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 99

influence upon the early Christian poetry of England. The
mythical representations of Nature — the Sun hasting up the sky
like an eager youth, the march of my lord Darkness over the earth,
the Moon building his burg in the topmost vault of heaven against
the onset of the Sun, the vast " Chasm of chasms " out of which
the worlds were made, the all-covering, swart ocean — are mythical
conceptions which endure. We find them in the poems of Genesis
and Exodus^ and in the poems of Cynewulf. The great nature-
festivals of Yule- and Eostra-tide were taken into Christian service,
and bound up with the story of the birth and resurrection of Jesus.
The festival of Midsummer lives in many Christian observances.
New Christian feasts were made to fall on heathen holidays. The
Church took the place of the heathen temple, the Holy Rood of
the sacred tree ; the groves of the Nature God became the groves
of the convent. The hills, the wells, the river islands, once de-
dicated to deities of flood and fell, were called after the saints and
martyrs. The minor gods and heroes which the various wants of
men created to satisfy these wants were replaced by saints who
did precisely the same work. The gracious and beneficent work
done by the gods kind to man was now done by Jesus and the
Virgin ; while the cruel and dreadful monsters of frost and
gloom were embodied in Satan and his harmful host In
this way the emotions of the past and their pleasant poetic joy,
the primitive imaginations and their popular influence, were re-
tained unimpaired, though all the names were changed. The
ancient heathen stuff endured, but it was Christianised. The same
things happened, under the wisdom of the Roman Church, over
all freshly converted lands, but they happened with persecution.
In England they happened without it. The Charms to which
I have drawn attention are an example of tlify iuLermingling.
Other things also passed over frdnTlrcathenism, with a change,
into Christian poetry. The belief in the Wyrd — the goddess who
presided over the fates of men or who overcame them in the end
— became belief in the will of God. Even the name was at times
transferred. " The Wyrd is stronger, the Lord mightier than any

Digitized by

Googk

100 THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY chap.

man's thought," is a phrase in the Seafarer^ and it may be matched

I in many Anglo-Saxon poems. But though the sadness of destiny
remains, it is no longer grim. The Wyrd is now the will of a
just God who keeps eternal joy and peace for the Christian
warrior.

/ Another heathen motive was the regret for the passing away of

Ithe splendour and mirth and fame of men. It is the note of the

jPrince's lay in Beowulf and of the Ruin; it continues after

/Christianity in the Wanderer and the Seafarer and in all the poems

/ of Cynewulf. Mingled with this is the regret for the loss of youth,

I of dear companions, and of personal happiness, such regret as we

/ find in Deaths Complaint This too continues, but it was changed

1 and modified by the Christian hope. " One thing is sure," cries

I the Epilogue to the Wanderer^ " the Fortress in Heaven " ; and

j Cynewulf in many a poem, when he has mourned for earth and

loss, and the storms in which all he loved has perished, thinks of

the " Haven which the Ruler of the Ether has established," where

all "his friends are dwelling now in peace and joy." These are

new feelings for the English, and they are the foundations of all

our religious poetry. The note of Cynewulf, of Vaughan, of

Keble is much the same.

The added gentleness and grace of these thoughts and of many
others concerning life which Christianity instilled into the English
character, but the germs of which we see in the heathen character
of Beowulf, brought many new ^elements of poetry and of poetic
feeling into English literature. The Ecclesiastical History of Baeda
i is full of lovely and tender stories. But with all this new mildness,
the war-spirit of our ancestors lived on in literature with as keen a
life as it had in heathen times. The battle in the Genesis with the
kings of the East might serve to describe the pursuit of some
Pictish plunderers by a Northumbrian host The advance of
Pharaoh's army in the Exodus is the exact image of the going forth
to war of the Fyrd of iEthelfrith or Penda. The overthrow of the
Huns in the Elene might serve for the war-song sung by Oswiu's
bard after the destruction of the Mercians at the fight of Winwaed.

Digitized by

Googk

VI THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY' '•: .' V . iV

-^ — Ti •' • ••••_■ ••_ir*

The battle m Judith is sung with the same* ^^ight* witfi- nuahch'*
Hengest would have sung his first victory. There is no change in
the fury of war-poetry.

But there is even more to say. The distinctively Christian]
poetry, the poetry about the fall and the redemption of man, the
last judgment, the Nativity, Death, Resurrection and Ascension!
of Christ, and the spread of the Gospel, is all sung in termsf
of war. The heathen rapture in battle is transferred to thel
Christian warfare. The contest between Light and Darkness,]
between Summer and Winter, becomes the contest between Christ I
and Satan, between the Christian and his spiritual foes. The
original spirit of the myth is preserved. It was made not less but
more imaginative in Christianity. The Christian war began before
the creation of man ; it would only end at the last judgment It took
in all the history of the world. Satan was the great foe who wast
gripped by God as Grendel was by Beowulf, and hurled into the\
dark and fiery burg of hell. When man was made, a new phase I
of the war began, of which Jesus is the divine king. It is by V
his being the great warrior that he becomes the great Saviour; |
and round his victory the force of the Christian poetry was con- /
centrated. In the Vision of the Rood, the young Hero girded him- j
self for the battle. He was almighty God, strong and high-hearted, I
and he stepped up on the lofty gallows, brave of soul in the sight ^
of many, for he would save mankind. All creation wept, mourned
the fell of its king, as all created things wept for Balder. Sore
weary he was when the mickle strife was done, and the men laid
him low, him the Lord of victory, in his grave, and folk sang a
lay of sorrow over him — ^as his comrades did for Beowulf It is
the death and burial of an English hero.

Then in this vast epic comes the Harrow ing of hell; and it is
always told in the spirit of the war-song. The hero, Christ, came
" like a storm, loud thunder roaring, at the break of day. The
war-feud was open that morning, the Lord had overcome his foes ;
terrible, he shattered the gates of hell, and all the fiends wailed far
and wide through the windy hall." The women who go to the

Digitized by

Googk

*:*if& . V : :-'rPHE coming of Christianity chap.

— *i-

. , . — — — J-— _j-j-j ^7jl •

/•\i,^'^pftb4j> ttepcfeii!*on-the Descent into Bell ^xq ^theling women.
Christ's tomb and death are those of an iEtheling. He is "the joy
of -^thelings, the victory-son of God." John the Baptist, the great
thegn whom Jesus has armed with sword and mail, welcomes his
Lord to the gates of hell. " Then high-rejoiced the burghers oi
Hades," — that is, the Old Testament saints — " for the Hero had
risen full of courage from the clay. Conquest-sure was he, and
hastened on his war-path. For the Helm of Heaven willed to
break and bow to ruin the walls of hell, he alone ; none of bymie
bearing warriors would he lead with him to the gates of helL"

Down before him fell the bars ;

Down the doors were dashed, inward drove the King his waj.

In triumph the hero returns to the burg of heaven. The feast
of the Lamb is laid in the long hall, amid the singing of the
angels who are the bards of the battle ; and the king makes his
speech of welcome and victory to his assembled warriors. But he
has left an army on earth to carry on the war, and he gives them,
like an English leader, weapons and courage for the fight The
apostles are -^thelings known all over the world. Great proof of
valour they gave ; far spread was the glory of the King's thegns.
"What!" cries the poet in the Andreas, "we have heard from
ancient times of twelve heroes famous under the stars, thegns of
the Lord. Never did the glory of their warfare fail when the helms
crashed in fight Far-famed folk-leaders were they, bold on the
war-path when shield and hand guarded the helm upon the battle-
field." "Bold in war was Andreas; not tardy was James, nor
laggard on his way. Daring was the venture of Thomas in India ;
he endured the rush of swords. Simon and Thaddeus, warriors
brave, sought the Persian land ; not slow were they in the shield-
play." Andrew is " the hero hard in war, the beast of battle, the
steadfast champion." Round about these heroes stand their thegns,
sworn by baptism, as the English warrior was by his oath, to keep
unfailing truth to their Lord. All the devotion which tied the '
thegn to his chief, all the disgrace which befell him if he broke his

Digitized by

Googk

VI THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 103

bond by CQwardice or by betrayal was transferred to the relation \
of the apostles and saints to Christ And the fame given to the I
heathen fighter who was true in war was now given to the warrior /
of Jesus who fought faithfully to the death. Then, at the end, was
the consummate triumph. The Christian poetry of early England
exhausts itself in the joy of the great day, when, after the judg-
ment of evil, the King returns with his warlike hosts to the
city of heaven. Little then of the imaginative poetry, little of
the spirit of war was lost. Saga changed its name, but not its
nature.

These, then, are the ideas which, altered, pasfeed on into Chris-A,
tian out of heathen poetry. But there were also other ideas, newy
to the English, which are rooted now in poetry. The first of
these was the sorrow for sin, the personal cry for release from it,
and the rapture which followed the conviction of forgiveness.
This, of course, belongs in its depths to personal poetry, and
poetry in Old England did not become personal till it came into
the hands of Cynewulf. In his verse it reaches a profundity of
pain and of joy, of prayer and of exulting praise, the fulness ofj
which is scarcely equalled in the whole range of sacred song in
England And this is true of the praise especially. The very
first hymn of English poetry, which Caedmon sang, was an outburst
of praise. The rushing praise of Cynewulf in the Crist has the
loud uplifted trumpet note of Milton; and the later poems,
entitled Christ and Satan, break their divisions with impassioned
hymns of joy. English sacred poetry has never lost the music
and the manner of its first raptures.

One other element was quite new — the love of fair and gentle
scenery in contrast with the fierce weather, the bitter climate and
the stormy seas which heathen poetry described so well. The
Christian poets also painted in words the tempest and the frost,
but they had the vision of sweeter scenery, of a more tender air,
and a grave delight therein. The gentleness of Christ disposed
their minds to this love of happy nature. Here are a few lines —
the first from the Genesis ; the second from the Azarias —

Digitized by

Googk

104 THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY chap.

Winsomely the running water, all well-springs that be,
Washed the happy lands, nor as yet the welkin
Rose above the roomful land, nor dispersed the rains that are
Wan-gloomed with the gale ; yet with growing blooms
Was the earth made fair.

Lord Eternal, all the river springs
^Laud thee, high exalted ! Often lettest thou
Fall the pleasant waters, for rejoicing of the world.
Clear from the clean cliffs.

The " bubbling streams that run through the woods, the foun-
tains that well through the soft sward"; the "spreading plain,
fresh with green grass that God loved " ; the " blossoming earth,
the flowers, honey -flowing and rejoicing, the fragrant woods";
" the sweet song of birds ; the cuckoo announcing the year " ;
" the dew dropping at the dawn and winnowed by the wind ; the
cool winds in the summer- tide when the sun is shining"; "the
calm and shining sea when the winds are still " ; are described with
distinction, and the phrases bear with them the proof of a con-
templative pleasure in lovely and gracious scenery which was not
known or felt by the heathen English.

It is in the description of the happy land where the Phoenix
lives that this new delight is best expressed The writer took a
great part of it from the poem of Lactantius which he adapts.
But he added largely to that poem, and I think that intotEe"
Northumbrian mind had grown, from its long connection with
Celtic feeling, the elements at least of the Irish myth of the land
of eternal youth and beauty set far among the western seas — the
myth which we find in varying forms among nearly all peoples,
but nowhere more vividly wrought than among the X)eltic tribes
Far away the island lies ;

Winsome is the wold there, there the wealds are green ;
Spacious-spread the skies below ; there nor snow nor rain,
Nor the furious air of frost, nor the flare"7)i firep"
Nor the headlong squall of hail, nor the hoar-frost's fall.
Nor the burning ofTh'e siiw; iTor the bitter cold,
Do their wroi^^ any wight ; '. . . "

Digitized by

Googk

VI THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 105

Calm and fair the glorious field, flashes there the sunny grove :
Happy is the holt of trees ; never withers f ruitage t here 1
In the winter, in the summef,'!!} the wood lor ever
Hung with blossomed boughs ; nor can ever break away
Leaf below the lift 1 . . .

. . . but the liquid streamlets,
Wonderful and winsome, from their wells upspringing.
Softly lap the land with the lulling of their floods !
Welling from the woodland's midst are the waters fair.
Which, at every moon, through the mossy turToTearth,
Surge up as the sea-foam cold.
That the mirth of rivers, every month that goes.
All about the fame-fast land, should overflow in play.

This was the new element which, in pleasant contrast with the
bitter weather and frost-bound land, the Christian poet introduced
into natural description, and it completed the range of that sub-
ject of poetry. The Welsh poetry of soft nature was much later.
It was, as I have said, remarkable that wild nature should be
made in England a separate subject for song; it is still more
remarkable to find — however much influence we allot to the study
of Vergil — the gentleness of nature treated distinctively. And
this is all the more interesting when we think that the poetry of
natural description has been in England continuously mingled up
with the poetry of the love of God, of Christ, of the Virgin Mary ;
with the devotion of the human spirit in worship, repentance, and
joy. Such a mingled harmony is indeed to be found in Italian,
German, French, and Spanish poetry, but it is found most closely
knit together in English poetry, most happily expressed, and most
fondly realised.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER VII

LATIN LITERATURE

From the Coming of Augustine to the Accession of Alfred

The history of literature written in Latin prose in early England
might, if we were rigid, be justly excluded from our history,
but it is scarcely possible to shut out from our view the School oi
Canterbury and the School of York, or men like Ealdhelm, Bseda,
Ecgberht, and Alcuin, who, if they did not write English, at least
spread knowledge; who stimulated the production of English:
and who sent, when • it was most needed, English education and
learning into the Continent The whole of our earliest prose
is contained in their Latin work. There were no books of any
importance in English prose till -Alfred sent forth his translation
of Gregory's Pastoral Care,

Rome was the origin of this Latin prose, and it was written
by monks, in monasteries established by the Latin Church. The his-
tory of it lasts from 597, when Augustine landed in England, to the
destruction of the monasteries by the Danes in the ninth century ;
or, if we wish to be more accurate, from the founding of the
Canterbury Schpol by Theodore in 671 to the battle of Ashdown
in 871. By 871 almost ev6fy"^centre of learning in Wessex,
Mercia, and Northumbria had been destroyed. The story, then,
is the story of 200 years, and it may best be told by dividing it
into three parts — Latin literature in Wessex, in Mercia, and in
Northumbria.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP VII LATIN LITERATURE 107

I. The story begins in Wessex, or rather in Kent, which was
then a separate kingdom. Gregory the Great, before he was
Pope, saw, according to a well-known story, some blue-eyed and
fair-haired children standing to be sold for slaves in the forum of
Rome, and was told that they were Angles. " Not Angles," he
said, " but Angels " ; and he was moved to bring the people from
whom these lovely ones came to the faith of Christ. So, when he
was Pope, he sent Augustine to England, who, though delayed on
his way, landed in Thanet in 597, and sent messengers to King
^.thelh^rhft of Ke nt, ^thelberht, partly influenced by his
gtir^ctiijll^ gife Berth a, daughter of Chariberht of Paris, graciously
gave him leave to preach the Gospel. Bertha had already set up .
a Christian service at St. Martin's Church, and, when the King »
and his people were baptized, St. Martin's, freshly restored,
became the first Christian Church in England, as Canterbury was
the first Christian town. In 601 Augustine was made archbishop,
and the bishopric of Rochester was founded. Not long after
Augustine's coming the Witan was held which enacted the first
code of laws that we possess in our mother tongue, and this is
the title of the code : "This be the dooms that ^thelbriht. King,
ordained in Augustine's days." They were written in Roman
letters ; but we do not possess them in the Kentish dialect, but in
a West Saxon translation, and in a register of the twelfth century.
In 673 the West Kentish Code appeared, and in 696 King Wihtraed
" set forth more dooms." The Kentish dialect is, then, the first
vehicle of English prose, and the schools of Kent the rude cradle
of English learning.

The first bishops of Canterbury had, however, no sympathy ■
with the English tongue. They were all Italian up to the death /
of Honorius in 653. Frithona (Deus-dedii) succeeded him, and /
then Theodore of Tarsus was enthroned in 669. He hadf
brought with him from Rome an Englishman, Benedict Biscop, \
who soon, leaving Canterbury, led the choir of Latin learning in
the North. Hadrian, Theodore's deacon, and an excellent scholar,
joined him in 671, and with his help Theodore resolved to make

Digitized by

Googk

lo8 LATIN LITERATURE chap.

the English clergy into a body of scholars. A school was estab-
lished, and from month to month disciples from Ireland as well as
England gathered into C^oteihury. "Streams of knowledge,"
said Baeda, " daily flowed from Theodore and Hadrian to water
the hearts of their hearers."

This was the true beginning of literature in the south of
England. The teaching of the school included theology, arith-
metic, medicine, astronomy, rhetoric; Greek and Hebrew com-
position and Latin verse were not neglected; the Latin poets,
grammarians, and orators were read, and careful instruction
was given in caligraphy, illuminating, and ecclesiastical music.
Theodore's fame for learning in the canon law soon spread over
Europe. Some record of this learning appeared in the Penitential
of Theodore^ drawn up from Theodore's oral answers to questions
about discipline. Canterbury had thus begun to produce books
of her own; learned foreigners soon ceased to be needed in
England ; she had her own bishops and scholars, and before long
taught her foreign teachers. Brihtwald, the next archbishop, " was
a man," Bseda declared, " whose knowledge of the Greek, Latin,
and Saxon tongues and learning was manifold and thorough."
Tatwine, who followed him, was " splendidly versed in holy writ,"
and his ^nigmata were studied by Cynewulf. By this time, that
is, by 731, many bishoprics had been set up in_Wessex. They
were served by men of learning, of whom Daniel, Bishop of
Winchester, 705-744, was the most famous. He helped Baeda
in hb Ecclesiastical History ; foreign missions grew under his
fostering care, and the whole West Saxon Church was deeply
indebted to his work. But the scholar of Theodore who gathered
into himself all the learning and ability of the time was Ealdhelm.
I *'\ He was bom about the middle of the seventh century, and was
a kinsman of Ine, King of Wessex. Eager for the new learning,
he joined himself to Mailduf, an Irishman, who set up a hut and
hermitage, a school and a small basilica at a place which after-
wards took his name, Malmesbury, Mailduf s burg. Ealdhelm thus
joined the Irish to the Latin learning, for he was also a scholar of

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE 109

Canterbury. He loved Hadrian with the deep affection which
belonged to his character. " My father," he writes, " beloved
teacher of my rude infancy, I embrace you with a rush of pure
tenderness : I long to see you again." He took up the school at
Maljaggbury after Mailduf s death ; it rose into a monastery of
which he became abbot; he was made Bishop of Sherborne,
and travelled continuously through his diocese, preaching,
founding monastic schools, building churches (for he was a good
architect), and playing on all kinds of instruments, as eager a
musician as Dunstan. He founded two monasteries, one at
Bradford-on-Avon, another at Frome, and he assisted Ine in his
plans for the restoration of Glastonbury. It is not impossible
that he had something to do with the compilation of the Laws ^
of Ine^ the oldest West Saxon laws. They date from about 690,
and we possess them in an appendix to the Laws of Alfred in a
noble parchment of the Chronicle now at Cambridge. They are
in English, and have this much literary interest that "as the
foundation," Earle says, " of the Laws of Wessex, they are also at
the foundation of the laws of all England." Ealdhelm is the
first Englishman whose Latin writings are those of a scholar.
His classical knowledge was famous. He wrote Latin verse with
ease; he composed a long treatise on Latin prosody, and he
showed what he could do in this way by his transference into
hexameters of the stories told in his treatise, De laudibus Virgini-
tails. He knew Horace, Lucan, Juvenal, Persius, Terence, and
Vergil ; he read the Old Testament in Hebrew ; he spoke Greek,
and it is supposed he wrote on Roman Law. He concocted
Latin Riddles^ which went to the North with his Prosody to
Acircius (Aldfrith), King of Northumbria, and these kindled the
genius of Cynewulf in after-days. His Latin is fantastic, allitera-
tive, swelling, and pedantic, but the spirit in which he writes is
tender, keen, and gay. He corresponded with Gaul, with
Ireland, with Rome, with English and Welsh kings ; but his most
charming letters are to the abbesses and nuns who knew a little
Latin— ^/f^^x ecclesla^ he calls them, Christl margarlta, paradlsi

Digitized by

Googk

LATIN LITERATURE

CHAP.

gemma. Nor did he wholly neglect the literature of his own
tongue. He made songs in English, some of which Alfred had,
and one of which was still commonly sung in the twelfth century.
And as he travelled on his preaching tours from town to town, it
was his habit to stand, like a gleeman, on the bridge or in the
public way, and sing to the people flocking to the fairs in the
English tongue, that by this sweetness of song he might lure
them to come with him and hear the word of God. He died on
one of his journeys in 709, but he had lived long enough to fill
Wessex with the desire of learning, to build up its Church into
strength, and to link into spiritual harmony the North and the
South. Even the Welsh owned his charm. His letters to
Gerontius, King of the Damnonian Britons, converted both king
and people to the observance of the Roman Easter.

Ealdhelm was the last man in the south of England before
Alfred to whose work we may give the name of literature.
The learning and energy of Wessex were more displayed in build-
ing up the church, in teaching, in policy, and in missionary work
than in literature. Winfrid (Boniface), Willibald, and LuUus
were Wessex men. Boniface was, from 719 to 755, the chief
apostle to the heathen of Central Europe. Willibald, famous
in the history of travel, journeyed through Sicily, Ephesus,
Tortosa, and Emessa to Damascus. Thence he visited the
whole of Palestine, and reached Constantinople in 725. His
voyage was written by a nun, it is supposed from his own dic-
tation. LuUus, who left England about 732, and succeeded
Boniface as Archbishop of Mainz, never forgot his country. His
correspondence, as well as that of his predecessor, was constant
with England. There is no better example, not even that of
Boniface, of the continual intercourse between the English- kings
and bishops and the Continent than the letters of LuUus.

But after the middle of the eighth century, the literary life of
Wessex passes away. The ceaseless wars troubled even the
monasteries ; ignorance succeeded to knowledge, and the schools
decayed The ecclesiastical struggle of Canterbury with the new

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE 111

metropolitan See set up at Lichfield by Offa left no leisure for 1
the work of its school Archbishop -^thelhard won back the *
supremacy of Canterbury in 803, but he did not win back any of ;
the learning which Theodore had originated. Alcuin begs him /
"to restore at least the reading of the Scriptures." Ecgberht, I
great king as he was, who came to the throne in 802, was too '
much employed in establishing his overlordship in Mercia and
Northumbria to do anything for learning; and, worst of all, he
had to fight the Vikings, who had begun their raids by a descent
on Dorsetshire in 787. In 833 they endangered the very life of
his kingdom. They fell on London in 839 and plundered
Rochester. They had the year before descended on East
Anglia. In 845 they were defeated in Somersetshire. These
were desultory raids. But in 85 1 Rorik sacked Canterbury with
furious slaughter, and penetrated into Essex. Then the Vikings
regularly camped for the winter at Sheppey in 855. In 860 they
plundered Winchester, and in 865 devastated Kent In 866 /
" the army," as the Danish host was called, came no longer to raid
but to settle. They conquered Northumbria, they marched into
Mercia, and in 871 crossed the Thames into Wessex. There
" the army " was met at Ashdow n by ^thelred an d -^Ifredj and
defeated with great camageT But in thecourse""orthis raiding
and invasion the centres of literature in Wessex were destroyed,
and there is no more to say of learning and literature in the j
south of England till they rose again to life at the call of -Alfred.
2. There is but little to tell of Latin learning in Mercia.
Mercia had been heathen during the reign of Penda, who had
slain Oswald of Northumbria in 642. But Penda met his death
at Winwged's stream of which it was sung : —

At the Winwede was vengM the war-death of Anna,

The slaughter of Kings-^of Sigbert, of Ecgrice,

The death of King Oswald, the death of King Edwin.

In 655, then, the date of this battle, Mercia became Christian.
Penda's son, Wulfhere, 657-675, established some monasteries,

Digitized by

Googk

112 LATIN LITERATURE chap,

and fable has made him the builder of many more. Under
-^thelred, who followed him, the Mercian Church was organised ;
and under -^thelbald, his successor, Mercia seems to have
established a reputation for literature and learning. When
Canterbury wanted archbishops, it drew them from the Mercian
priests. Ecgwin, Bishop of Worcester, who founded Evesham,
was one of ^Ethelbald's bishops, and is said, in the questionable
report of two later biographers, to have written his own life and
to be our first autobiographer. The king himself patronised
learning, and his name is mixed up with that of St. Guthlac. In
his days, Felix of Crowland wrote in a swollen Latin prose the
Life of St, Guthlac for an East Anglian king. The book
formed the foundation of the second part of the English poem
of St Guthlac^ and was translated into Anglo-Saxon prose
in the tenth or eleventh century. Crowland, where Guthlac
had his hermitage, became the site of a great abbey which owed
its splendour to the munificence of ^Ethelbald Offa, the next
Mercian ruler, 757-796, was so great a king that we should expect
literature to flourish in his reign. Many have conjectured that it
did flourish then; Beowulf has even been allotted to his court;
but we have no evidence of any Mercian literature in his
time. The king, however, became himself a subject of litera-
ture. The legendary tales told of Offa the son of Wermund
who ruled the Engle on the Continent, were imputed to our
Offa, and obscure all his early history. But after his death the
supremacy of Mercia perished. Ecgberht annexed it to Wessex
in 828, and shortly after Ecgberht died the great abbeys of
East Anglia and Mercia were swept away by the Danes. In
Middle England, then, as well as in Wessex no Latin literature
was left.

^ 3. Northumbria was the chief English home of Latin litera-

ture, and its beginnings were contemporary with the coming of

' Theodore. The history of it is fuller and longer than that of
Mercia or of Wessex, for it contains the tale of a great scholar
whom at one point we may call a man of genius, and of a great

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE 113

school — the tale of Bseda, and the tale of the University of York.
It begins indeed at York, and in that city it also ends.

Christianity reached York, the capital of Deira, in the year
627, when Eadwine and his people were baptized byPauUinus.
But when the king died in 633, the kingdom relapsed into /
heathenism, and Paullinus, fleeing away, left the conversion of the
country to the Celtic missionaries whom Oswald summoned from
lona to his help in 634. Aidan, the gentle Irish monk whom
Oswald loved, set lip his bishop's seat on the wild rock of jL.indis -
^fajne, and in many missionary voyages Christianised both Bernicia
and Deira — provinces which Oswiu, a few years after, made into
the one kingdom of Northumbria. Twenty-six years after Aidan
took root at Lindisfame, Wilfrid, who followed the Latin rule, led
its cause against that of^theDeltic Church. He introduced the
Benedictine rule at Ripon, under the patronage of Alchfrith, son
of Oswiu, 661. Some years later he built with great splendour
the Priory of Hexham, and made it, as well as Ripon, a centre ot
Latin learning. In 664, at the Synod of Whitby, he succeeded
in establishing the Roman instead of the Celtic Church as the
mistress of Northumbria, though the Celtic influence lasted for
many years. But Benedict Biscop, who had been in Rome with
Theodore and afterwards with him at Canterbury, was, rather than
Wilfrid, the real founder of Latin learning. He came north,
bringing with him the methodical teaching of Canterbury, and set
up in 674 the monastery of St. Peter's at Wearmouth, and in 682
the sister monastery of Jarrow. In the course of five journeys to
Rome, this indefatigable collector brought back to his two
monasteries enough books, images, relics, and pictures, to furnish
both of them with large and decorated libraries. To these
libraries we owe Baeda and the school of York and Alcuin, and
all the continental learning that flowed from Alcuin. A famous
school grew up around them, and Baeda led it to a greater fame.
Benedict was as active in the cause of art as of learning. Archi-
tecture, painting, mosaic, music, glass -making, embroidery,
belonged to his religion. But his chief love was his books.

Digitized by VjOOQ I

114 LATIN LITERATURE chap.

"Keep them together," he cried, as paralysis brought on
death, — " keep them with loving care. Never injure them, never
disperse them." He died in 690. Aldfrith was King of North-
umbria at the time, and Aldfrith, eaucared in Ireland and at
"Cahterbury, and the friend of Ealdhelm and Wilfrid, may be
called a scholar. He too was a collect or of books^ anc^ gave t o
Abbot Ceolfrid, BeiAt^dicl'IS S^uutCbi^Ol aTWearmouth and Jarrow,

"Itl ppciit and a ffection. ^Deolfrid^s school became famous. Men
as far asunder as the Popeana waiton the King of the Picts asked
his advice on ecclesiastical and theological subjects. Baeda
himself wrote his Life, and there is no better picture than this brief
biography of the daily life of a great English monastery. More-
over, these two men, Ceolfrid and Aldfrith, touched the literature
of a Celtic monastery. They were both connected with the
celebrated book in which Abbot Adamnan of lona gave at this
time an account of Arculf s journey to the Holy Land. Arculf,
shipwrecked on the west coast, found his way to lona and dictated
his adventures to Adamnan, and the abbot brought the book to
Aldfrith, who had been his pupil and who sent it eagerly on to
Ceolfrid.^ Many copies were made of it and dispersed throughout
Northumbria. It was also popular in Europe through Baeda's
abridgment of it, and through the extracts he made from it in the
Ecclesiastical History,

Some years later, after 709, Wilfrid's biography was written by
I his friend, Eddius Stephanus. This book, in an excellent style,
I is of the greatest use for the history of the Northumbrian Church
in the seventh century. Moreover, it is the first biography ever
written in England. It had a companion, composed about the
same time, in the Life of St, Cuthbert by a nameless writer, which
Bsedk borrowed from Lindisfarne when he was inditing his genial
story of St. Cuthbert. Another well-known name must not be

* ** These two men, Adamnan and Ceolfrid, met at Weannouth. Ceolfrid
converted Adamnan to the Roman Easter, and Adamnan probably showed
Ceolfrid his new book, the Life of St, Columba^ which he made at the end o\
Ihe seventh century."

Digitized by

Googk

vii LATIN LITERATURE 115

forgotten — John of Beverley , who had studied under Theodore
and Hild, who ordained Baeda, who became Bishop of York and
of Hexham. He loved magnificence as a great ecclesiastic, but he
loved still more the life of the anchorite. The Celtic pleasure in
a solitary life with God often drove him from the grandeur of
Hexham to his hut on the summit of the Howe of the Earn, a hill
above the flowing of the Tyne. Beverley, where the fair minster
now claims our admiration, was then a lonely meadow in the
midst of the waters and trees of Underwood, round which the
river Hull, delaying its speed, had been dammed by the beavers
who gave the place its name. There, round the little church,
John kept a school, to which a number of persons, lay and clerical,
resorted. Among this circle of learned men, Acca, Wilfrid's
closest friend and supporter, is not the least famous. Abbot, and
then Bishop of Hexham in 709, he increased the monastic library.
Like Benedict Biscop he was an architect and musician. He
finished the three churches near Hexham that Wilfrid had begun.
If he was not a writer himself, he urged others to write. It was
he who caused Eddius to compose the Life of Wilfrid, He
pressed Baeda to write his Commentary on St Luke^ and Baeda
dedicated to him his Commentary on St, Mark, a poem on the
Last Day, and perhaps the Hexameron,

These are the chief names among a number of persons who
made Northumbria famous for Latin learning in the seventh and
the beginning of the eighth century. That learning was as yet
scattered ; it needed to be gathered together and generahsed by a
man of genius, and the man who did this work was Baeda of
Jarrow. He mastered all the learning of Northumbria; he
gathered new learning from the rest of England and from the
Continent, and he threw the whole into form in a series of books
which his quiet life and his unwearied industry produced year after
year. These books became the teachers, not only of England,
but of Europe. They were the text-books of the school of York
to which students came from Gaul, Germany, Ireland, and Italy ;
and they went with Alcuin to the court of Charles the Great

Digitized by

Googk

n6 LATIN LITERATURE ^ chap.

As to the means of education in Bseda's power and the learn
ing which he collected, I quote the summary of them which the
Bishop of Oxford gives in the Dictionary of Christian Biography^
and more especially as it illustrates the extension of learning all
over England at this time : " Under the liberal and enlightened
administration of Benedict Biscop and Ceolfrith, Bede enjoyed
advantages which could not perhaps have been found anywhere
else in Europe at that time ; perfect access to all the- existing
sources of learning in the West Nowhere else could he acquire
at once the Irish, the Roman, the Gallican, and the Canterbury
learning ; the accumulated stores of books which Benedict had
bought at Rome and Vienne, or the disciplinary instruction
drawn from the monasteries of the Continent, as well as from the
Irish missionaries. Amongst his friends and instructors were
Trumbert, the disciple of St. Chad, and Sigfrid, the fellOw-pupil
of St Cuthbert under Boisil and Eata. From these he drew the
Irish knowledge of Scripture and discipline. Acca, Bishop of
Hexham and pupil of St. Wilfrid, furnished him with the special
lore of the Roman school, martyrological and other ; his gionastic
learning, strictly Benedictine, came through Benedict Biscop,
through Lerins ana the many continental monasteries his master
had visited ; and from Canterbury, with which he was in friendly
correspondence, he probably obtained his instruction in Greek,
in the study of the Scriptures and other more refined learning."

Then Baeda himself mentions, as his authorities for the Ecclesi-
astical History^ Albi nus, Hadrian's pupil ; Nothelm, who worked
for him among the libraries at RoniS^ Daniel of Winchester, and
Forthhere of Malmesbury, who brought to him, I suppose, the
works of Ealdhelm which had their own influence on North-
umbrian literature; Esi from East Anglia; Cynibert from
Lindsey; the monks of many monasteries, and chiefly those of
Lastingham, who told him the stories of Cedda and Ceadda. All
these, from so many diverse parts of England, poured their
knowledge into Baeda's reservoir. Kings gave him their friend-
ship — Aldfrith, and Ceolwulf to whom he dedicates his History ;

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE . 117

his own pupils were great scholars; he had correspondents in
many parts of Europe ; and a host of visitors came to the silent
cell at Jarrow with the experience of many men and many lands.

As to the books he wrote, the first probably were the
Ars metricay the De Natura Rerutn^ and the De Temporibus^
written between 700 and 703. These scientific manuals were
followed by the De sex aetatibus saecuh\ an admirable epitome
of the history of the world, written for Wilfrid about the
year 707. The commentaries on the books of the Old and New
Testaments, the composition of which ranges over many years,
come after 709, for they are dedicated to Acca as Bishop of
Hexham, and Acca succeeded Wilfrid in that year. The Lives of
St Cuthbert and the Abbots of Wearmouth and Jarrow date
between 716 and 720. The De temporum ratione was in 726.
The Ecclesiastical History was finished in 731. After this, shortly
before his death in 735, is his Epistola ad Egbertum, and on the
day of his death he was still employed on his translation into
English of the Gospel of St. John. Many other things, including
Homilies, he wrote, but these are the chief. Most of them are
studious epitomes, of great learning, of little originality, but all
suffused with his gentleness and brightness. The scientific works
are mostly derived from the elder Pliny; the grammatical and
rhetorical from the then known classical writers on these matters.
He possessed Greek as a scholar, and he knew " all the Hebrew
he could learn from the writings of Jerome." The Commentaries
are a mixture of a calm, clear, sensible, and unaffected teaching of
Christian conduct and love with an extravagance of allegorical
interpretation. They preserve that steady piety which has made
the practical religion of the English people, " seeking," as Baeda
said Cuthbert and Boisil did while they read St. John's Gospel,
" that simple faith which works by love, not troubling themselves
with minute and subtle questions."

The chief information we have of his life is given by himself
at the end of his Ecclesiastical History : " Baeda, a servant of
God, and priest of the monastery of the blessed Apostles, Peter

Digitized by

Googk

ii8 LATIN LITERATURE chap

and Paul, which is at Wearmouth and Jarrow ; who, being born
in the lands of the same monastery, was, at seven years old,
handed over to be educated by the most reverend Abbot
Benedict and afterwards by Ceolfrid ; and passing all the rest of
my life in that monastery, wholly gave myself to the study of the
Scriptures and to the observance of the regular discipline, and
of daily chanting in the Church, and had always great delight in
learning and teaching and writing. When I was nineteen years
old, I received deacon's orders, and when I was thirty those of
the priesthood, and both were conferred on me by Bishop John,
and by order of Abbot Ceolfrid. From which time till I was
fifty-nine years of age I made it my business, for the use of me
and mine, to gather together out of the writings of the venerable
fathers, and to interpret, according to their sense, the following
pieces : " — And here follows a list of his works, at the end of which
is this gracious sentence : " And now, good Jesus, I pray that to
whom thou hast granted of thy grace to share in the words of thy
wisdom, thou wilt also grant that he may come to thee. Fount
of all wisdom, and stand before thy face for ever, who livest and
reignest world without end, Amen." These are the last words of
the book. " Here ends," he says, " by God's help, the fifth book
of the Ecclesiastical History of the English nation."

It is his greatest work, the book in which he showed he was
not only an industrious compiler, but also a writer who had
gained those powers of choice of what to say^ of arrangement, of
rejection of needless material, of imaginative form, which are
needful for a capable historian. The pains also he took to get at
the truth, the host of assistants he employed to procure for him
contemporary information at first hand, the quotation of all his
authorities, permit us to call him the leader of modern history,
one whom a careful writer like William of Malmesbury might be
proud to follow. " I have not dared," he said in his preface to
his Life of St. Cuthbert^ "to transcribe what I have written
without the most accurate examination of credible witnesses,
without inserting the names of my authorities to establish the

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE 119

truth of my narrative." But the qualities which add Hterary
charm to his history and biographies, and often to his com-
mentaries, arose out of his happy, joyous, gentle, and loving
nature, which kept to the end, like Arthur Stanley, a childlike
simplicity, charm, and love of beauty. The stories which animate
and ornament the History ; their peculiar lucidity and grace; the
vivid sketches of characters and persons, the pervading tenderness,
the delight with which he entered into those legends especially
which breathed of human affections, make us love the writer, and
there is no greater proof of a book being fine literature. It seems
a pity we know so little of him, but had he been more personal,
he had not been so enchanting a story-teller.

That no imaginative work full of his personality exists seems
to set him apart from those who feel the poetic impulse, and his
long home -staying agrees with this judgment But though he
sat at home, he knew the world. I have said that his quiet cell
received many travellers ; men of all ranks of life were his cor-
respondents, and he had many pupils in high places in Church
and State. One of these, Ecgberht of York, seems to have been
nearest to him. Almost the only visit he paid in his long life was
to Ecgberht, when for a few days they consulted about the
condition and welfare of the Church in Northumbria. The year
after he sent to the bishop his well-known Letter. Few pastoral
letters have been more weighty with wisdom and piety, with love
for the souls of men, and with love of his country, with soundness
of ecclesiastical advice, and with knowledge of the needs of the
Church. It is firm and gentle, authoritative and courteous, and
the style is worthy of the thoughts and emotions with which it is
charged.

Not long after, on the eve of the ascension, in 735, the time
of his departure came. " I have not lived among you," he said,
"so as to be ashamed, nor do I fear to die, since we have a
gracious God." Even to the last breath he drew, he laboured
to complete two works — Collections out of the Notes of Bishop
Isidorus, and a Translation of the Gospel of St. John into the

Digitized by

Googk

I20 LATIN LITERATURE chap.

English tongue. "Go on swiftly," he said to his scribe as he
dictated the words of the gospel, "I/fttiow not how long I can
continue." And the boy said, "Dear master, there is yet one
sentence unwritten." He replied, " Write quickly," and the boy
said, " The sentence is now finished." At which he answered,
" It is well, it is ended. Take my head into your hands, for I
am well pleased to be facing my holy place, where I was wont to
pray." And so singing the " Gloria in Excelsis " he breathed his
last in his cell, among his books, and entered the kingdom of
heaven. It is well to think of him as the " Light of the Church,"
\ as the " Father of English Learning," but it is pleasant also to
remember that he began English prose in his translation of St.
John; that he loved English poetry, and told, with a personal
pleasure in the story, of its origin with Csedmon ; and that even
in death, " he said," as his scholar Cuthbert tells, " many things —
for he was learned in our songs — in the English tongue. Moreover,
he spoke this verse, making it in English.

Before the need-faring, no one becomes
Wiser in thought than behoves him to be.
To the out-thinking, ere his hence-going,
What to his ghost, of good or of evil.
After his death, shall be doomed in the end."

When Bgeda died in 735, the seat of letters was transferred from
Jarrow to York, where Ecgberht, Bseda's pupil, had already
established a school, which before long rose to so high a position,
and was directed by so excellent a staff of teachers, that we may
call it a university. Canterbury, under Theodore, was not more
than a brilliant monastic school, and when Theodore died, its light
departed. But the heads of York provided for the continuance
of the school, and for an organisation which may be called cor-
porate. The teaching was systematised, subdivided, specialised ;
pupils were trained into professors; the library, famous over
Europe, was added to every year; and the whole organisation
was handed on intact and in good working order for fully fifty

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE I2i

years. The long history o f York , from the Roman time when it
took rank almost as an imperial city to the years when it was the
seat of the supremacy of Eadwine, and the capital shortly after of
the Northumbrian kings ; the fact that the first Christian king of
Northumbria was baptized within its walls ; the fame of the little
chapel of wood set up by Eadwine and PauUinus, over which
rose the rich cathedral of ^Ethelberht ; its becoming again in the
days of Ecgberht the seat of an archbishopric ; its crowded and
wealthy population ; its active commerce, and the beauty of its
site between the rivers — these, one and all, added to the repute
of its school in England, and to its fame in Europe. It ^became
t h^^centre of Eu ropean learning. Scholars flocked to it from
Germany, Gaul,1;taly, andTfeland. European schools sought
for their teachers at York. Its certificate secured their reputa-
tion.

Ecgberht, the Archbishop, was brother of Eadberht, King of
Northumbria, 738-758, and his life was as princely as his burth.
He loved the arts of gold and silver working, of figured silk, of
rich embroidery, of church music, and applied them to the decora-
tion of the minster. Round about the minster rose the schools.
The education began with grammar and continued through classical
literature. The Roman poets, orators, and grammarians were
read, and some of the Greek fathers. Rhetoric, logic, law, astro-
nomy, arithmetic, the natural history of Pliny, and the Scriptures
were studied ; and Ecgberht himself kept in touch with the pupils
through their whole course. His chief work there was educa-
tional, but he wrote a few books — a volume of Episcopal Offices^
Extracts on Church Discipline^ a Fenitentiale — standard authorities
in the Anglo-Saxon Church. It is probable that he translated
these into English, and that we may class him among the earliest
writers of English prose. When he died, he was succeeded in
the archbishopric by his friend and chief assistant in the school,
^thelberht or iElberht. A better scholar than Ecgberht, he was
the chief administrator and improver of the famous library.
Alcuin, his fellow-scholar, travelled with him to Gaul and Rome,

Digitized by

Googk

122 LATIN LITERATURE chap.

seeking for manuscripts, and in 770 no library outside of Rome
could be compared with that of YorL Under their direction the
number of students increased, and missionary enterprise was not
forgotten. Nor was art neglected. In 741 the minster was burnt.
iEthelberht remade it; embellished the little oratory in which
King Eadwine was baptized ; enriched the whole with gold, silver,
gems, and decorated altars ; made it glow with coloured ceilings
and windows, and dedicated it before he died — leaving all men
in love with him —

O pater, O pastor, iritae spes maxima nostrae,
Te sine nos ferimur turbata per aequora mundi,

wrote his greatest friend, Alcuin, who, bom about 735, and brought
up from childhood at York, had taught the school during
iEthelberht's latest days.

Of all these men Alcuin was the finest scholar. Ecgberht and
iEthelberht gave him their knowledge. The arts and sciences,
especially astronomy, engaged him as well as theology. He
mastered all the classics in the library at York, and formed a
Latin style so good that he has been called the Erasmus of the
eighth century. He loved Vergil so well that he sometimes
neglected for him the services of the Church. His fame spread,
and England was soon deprived of him. He left York in 782,
the date of iEthelberht's death, and from that date the school
decays. He had met Charles the Great at Pavia about 780, and
again at Parma in the following year; and in 782 he joined Charles,
and remained with him for eight years, taking charge of the Palatine
schools. In 790 he was again in England, but in 792 he rejoined
Charles, and from that year, or perhaps we may say from 782,
Alcuin belongs, not to English learning, but to the planting of
learning in the Continent by the hands of English scholars. He
took with him a number of men trained in York ; he constantly
sent to York for fresh men and for books; English scholars
visited him and many remained with him. It is not too much
to say that Alcuin drained York of its best, and hastened the
paralysis of its learning. He remained with Charles till 796,

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE 123

and then, wearied with work, retired to the abbey of St. Martin
at Tours, where he lived till his death in 804. He left behind him
an extensive series of books, most of which, of great value for the
extension of learning, of theological knowledge and discipline,
are of little value as literature. The longest of his Latin poems —
De Pontificibus et Sanctis Ecclcsiae Eboracensis — is also the most
attractive, and is our best authority for the history of the school of
York from the consecration of Ecgberht to the death of iEthelberht.
But the most important of his writings, both as literature and for
the uses of history, is the collection of his Letters^ more than three
hundred of which exist. The most interesting of these are those
between Charles and Alcuin, letters which reveal many charming
traits in both men. But they all prove his wide influence, "as
the success of his work is proved by the literary history of the
following century." Alcuin, bringing to Europe English learning,
is the chief source of the revival of classical learning which has
been, with much justice, called the Carolingian Renaissance.
None of this work belongs to English literature in England,
but it is pleasant and interesting to know that an English scholar
carried oflf all the learning of Northumbria, exactly at the
right time, before the invasion of the Danes destroyed it, to
fertilise therewith the Empire which Charles the Great had
ploughed out of Europe. Of this revival of learning Charles
himself was the driving power. It was he that chose Alcuin,
Peter of Pisa, Paul the Lombard, and Einhard to be his literary
friends and courtiers, who kept them to their work, who made
them read to him, who set up a court school which became an
academy for learned men such as was set up afterwards at
Florence and Paris ; who took care that good schools should be
founded at Tours, at Utrecht, at Fulda, at Wiirzburg and in
other places. No one can read the account that Einhard gives of
his master without comparing Charles, as a patron and founder of
literature, with -Alfred. They pursued the same aims, they worked
on similar lines. But Charles had more power to enforce his
•will. Where ^Elfred failed, he succeeded.

Digitized by

Googk

124 LATIN LITERATURE chap.

Unhappy fates had now fallen on Northumbria. It could no
longer shelter or cherish literature. The kingdom was the battle-
field of anarchy from 780 to 798. Then six years of quiet followed,
quiet in which Northumbria was expiring. The school of York
sank into silence, and in 827 Ecgberht of Wessex annexed the
north. Meanwhile, a terrible blow was dealt on learning from
without In 793 the Vikings made their first raid on the coasts
of Northumbria, and " God's Church at Lindisfarne was ravaged
with rapine and slaughter by the heathen." " St Cuthbert could
not save his own," cried Alcuin; "the most venerable place in
Britain, where Christianity first took root among us after PauUinus
left York, is a prey to the heathen men. Who thinks of this and
does not cry to God to spare his country has a heart of stone
and not of flesh." The next year Jarrow and Wearmouth suffered.
The mother of all Northumbrian learning was defiled. But the
monks took arms, the pirates were driven oflf, and the repulse saved
for a time monastic life from Coldingham to Whitby.

There was an interval of seventy-four years between the attack

on Lindisfarne in 793, and 867 when "The Army" came to invade

and settle in Northumbria. During that time, uneasiness, dread,

preparations for defence, absence of quiet and hope, weakened

everywhere the health of learning. At last " The Army," coming

from East Anglia, had, after a fruitless English rally, an easy

/ conquest of York. Then the Danes, setting out from York, utterly

I destroyed every monastery in Deira. A few years afterwards they

j rooted out all the abbeys of Bemicia. There was not one home

I of learning left from the Forth to the Humber. Bishoprics

\ perished, even so great a one as Hexham. The libraries, the

schools, the knowledge of two hundred years were swept away.

Northumbria thus shared the same terrible fate which had fallen

. on Mercia and Wessex.

In Western Mercia, which alone now retained the name of
Mercia, one poor school of learning lingered still in Worcester after
the peace pf Wedmore ; in Wessex Alfred's victory enabled him to
build the foundations of a new learning ; but Northumbria, where

Digitized by

Googk

VII LATIN LITERATURE 125

learning in England had reached its highest excellence, was so
exhausted and dismantled, that no literature of any worth issued
from it till long after the Norman Conquest York, however, may
have retained some faint show of learning. As the Danish capital
of Northumbria, it was not ruined ; nine years after its capture
the invaders settled down in it. Commerce began to return ; the
place grew in population ; the archbishop still ruled the churches.
The city sat again as a queen upon its river, and it may be that
into its library flowed whatever manuscripts had been saved by the
fugitives from Wearmouth, Whitby, Tynemouth, Lastingham,
Ripon, and Hexham. We can distinguish nothing amid the
gloom, but when it was known that iElfred welcomed any one who
had a grain of learning, or could bring him a manuscript of Baeda,
or a collection of Northumbrian verse in English, many sad-faced
scholars may have set out from York to Worcester, and from
Worcester to Winchester, to bring to the wise and generous king
the fragments that had escaped from the Danish hurricane of fire.
This then brings to a close the history of the literature of Latin
prose before the time of iElfred. When it arose again in England,
it arose in Wessex with the revival of monasticism by the scholars
of Dunstan and by the kings he influenced. But before its re-
birth, English prose had grown under King ^Elfred, and a century
after him under ^Elfric, into a vigorous and fruitful life.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER VIII

CiEDMON [660-680]

The Christian poetry of England began in Northumbria, and
the story of its origin is told by Baeda. The place of its birth
was the double monastery of Hild. Hild was a princess of the
royal blood, grand-niece of King Eadwine, by whose side, when
she was a girl of thirteen, she was baptized by Paullinus. The
monastery was founded by her in 658, high above the fishing
village and the little harbour where the Esk, coming down from
the wild moors, meets the stormy sea. Streoneshalh was the
name of the village, and in after-years the Danes called it Whitby.
A paved road, even then, led straight up the steep ascent to the
lofty summit of the black cliff, which, stretching out towards the
north-east, looks from its gusty edge over the German Ocean.
The remains of the abbey, built long afterwards, now stand on its
highest point, dark against the evening sky, and are reflected in
the long pool which alone breaks the desolation of the meadows,
humped and ridged with the grass-grown ruins of the monastic
buildings. In the same place where this abbey church still draws
the seaman's eye, rose of old the wooden and wattled church of
Hild, surrounded by its halls, dormitories, refectories, and out-
buildings. A number of small oratories were scattered over the
hillside, and many of them no doubt occupied the long and
narrow platform where St Mary's Church stands now among the
tombs of drowned sailors. It was a fitting home for the first poet

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. VIII CiEDMON [660-680] 127

ol the nation which has ruled and loved the sea. Csedmon was
his name, and he was attached in a secular habit to the monastery
" — one of its dependents, and living in the village at the foot of the
cliff. Whence he came we cannot tell, but he may have come \
to Whitby with Hild from Hartlepool. He was born a heathen,
and the heathen note rings clear in some of the poems attributed
to him. His name is scarcely English, and this, and the similarity
of his story to other stories of shepherds suddenly gifted with
song, have made some persons deny his real existence. But ]
Bseda's account makes it clear, by evidence almost contemporary,
that he was himself, and not a mere name. Whether he was truly
an Englishman is an undecided question. His name seems to be
Celtic, and Dr. Sweet is of this opinion, or at any rate he does not
believe it to be Teutonic. The name in Welsh is Cadvan, and in
earlier spellings Catman, and in a Latin inscription Catamannus.
I cannot, however, trace any Celtic elements in Genesis A ; but
there are clearly Teutonic elements. But then, it is not proved ^
that he wrote Genesis A, His personality eludes us. We know ^
nothing of hirii beyond that which Baeda tells us.

He was well advanced in years when he began to make
poetry, and as he died in 680, we may fairly think that his
first verses were written between 660 and 670. He was only a
dependent of the monastery, for he took care of the cattle in his
turn, but lowly birth and a poor education do not prevent Apollo.
The gifts of the god are no respecter of persons ; and though they
lingered long before they spoke in the man, they spoke at last.
Moreover, though Caedmon had only received the slight monastic
education given to the dependents of a monastery, he lived in a
place where great events took place and to which great personages
came ; and the higher education which flows from national emotion
was received by him. He often heard the story of the baptism
of King Eadwine and of his mistress Hild, and the tale of the
first conversion of Northumbria. He saw the long procession and
heard the solemn service with which Eadwine's body was re-buried
at Whitby, a burial which made Whitby the Westminster Abbey

Digitized by

Googk

128 CiEDMON [660-680] CHAP.

of Northumbria. In 670 he saw Oswiu laid in the same church,
and probably his wife Eanfleda — great burials charged with
history. i^Elflc da, the daughter of Osy iu, was dedicated to Christ
by her father and sent to Hild at Hartlepool after the battle of
Winwaed, where Oswiu slew the heathen Penda and avenged the
death of Oswald. -^Ifleda — whose very presence spoke of the
glory of Northumbria — lived all her life at Whitby. She was
about twenty years old when Caedmon began to write, and she
listened to his first hymn. Oswiu the victorious king ; Ecgfrith,
who in 670 worthily carried on the noble traditions of Northumbria ;
were both seen by Caedmon, and from the sight of these high princes
flowed into the poor man's soul the deep emotion of national glory.
Nor did he want the impression of a spiritual glory. PauUinus
had baptized the abbess ; Aidan was her friend, Aidan, who, when
Paullinus fled, reconverted Northumbria. After 664, Caedmon
saw the "angel face" of Cuthbert who died seven years after
Caedmon, and whose romantic life was common talk at Whitby.
Great ecclesiastics, like John of Beverley and Bosa of York, were
educated at the monastery. Caedmon lived at a centre whence
-» spiritual life radiated over England. In 664 he saw one renowned
event at Whitby which brought together the national glory of
Northumbria, the splendid memories of the Celtic mission, and the
intellectual power, the spiritual unity and the awe of Rome. The
Synod of Whitby was presided over by King Oswiu, and Alchfrith
his son came with him. d olman of Lindisf^ e, Hild, Cedda,
represented the Celtic evangelisers; Wilfrid, with Agilberht Bishop
of the West Saxons, Romanus, chaplain of Oswiu's wife, James the
Deacon, one of Paullinus's companions, represented the over-
mastering Church of Rome. It was a great occasion, a sight to be
always remembered by a man in whom poetry was as yet hidden ;
nor could any one who heard Wilfrid, speaking English with a
"sweet soft eloquence," ever forget that keen and passionate
partisan. These things would work even on a dull spirit ; they
would certainly have their kindling power on Caedmon.

The story of his awakening is told by Baeda. It was Caedmon's

Digitized by

Googk

a^iDMON [660-680] 129

habit, when a feast was held and all were called on to sing in turn,
to return to his house when the harp came to him, for he knew
nothing of the art of song. " But on an evening when he had the
care of the cattle he fell asleep in the stable ; and One stood by
him, and saluting him, said, 'Csedmon, sing me something.' ^-^
And he answered, * I know not how to sing, and for this reason
I left the feast.' Then the other said, 'Nevertheless, you will
have to sing to me.' * What shall I sing ? ' Caedmon replied.
*Sing,' said the other, *the beginning of things created.'
Whereupon he immediately began to sing in praise of God, the
world's Upbuilder, verses which he had not heard before; "and
Bseda gives in his Latin prose the sense of the words of this
first English hymn." ^ " When Caedmon awaked, he remembered

* A happy chance has left us at the end 'of an old MS. of the Historia '
Ecclesiastica the words of this hymn of Csedmon's, m their native Northumbrian.
As it is the most ancient piece of extant Christian song in English, I give it
here, and translate it.

'Nu scylun hergan hefaenricaes uard,
Metudes msecti end his modgidanc,
Uerc uuldurfadur; sue he uundra gihuaes
Eci Dryctin or astelidae.
He serist scop selda bamum
Hcben til hrofe ; haleg scepen 1
Tha middimgeard ; moncynnses uard !
Ed Dryctin ! iEfter tiadse
Firum foldu ; frea allmectig I

Now must we greet with praise the

guard of Heaven's realm,
The Maker's might, and of His mind

the thought,
The glorious Father's works, and how

to wonders all
He gave beginning. He, the Eternal

Lord I
He at the very first formed for the

bairns of men,
I^e, Holy Shaper ! Heaven for their

roof;
Then Middle-garth He made : He, of

mankind the Ward !
Lord everlasting He I And then He let

arise
The earth for man ; He is Almighty

God!

This is from " Sweet's Old English texts." — ** The hymn is written," he
says, " at the top of the page in a smaller hand than that of the list of kings which
follows it. It b not impossible that the hymn may have been written later
than the list, to fill up the blank space. But the hand is evidently con-
temporary." **The list must have been written either in 737, or between 734
and 737, most probably in 737, which is of course the date of the Moore
MS. of Baeda's history."

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

130 CiEDMON [660-680]

what he had sung, and added words in the same fashion worthy
of God. In the morning he told the Town-Reeve of his gift, who
brought him tn TJilH, And she, in the presence of learned men,
ordered him to tell the dream and sing the verses, which they
approved, and said that heavenly grace had been given him by
our Lord. And he sang again for them a holy history in excellent
verse, and the abbess, loving this grace of God in the man, urged
him to take the monastic habit, which he did, and in time was
taught the whole series of sacred history. Then Caedmon,
ruminating like a clean animal all he had heard, turned the whole
into the sweetest verse, and sang the Creation of the world and
man, all the history of Genesis, and of the departure of Israel
from Egypt and their entrance into the Holy Land, and of many
other stories in the Scriptures ; and of the Incarnation of the
Lord and his Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension, and of the
coming of the Holy Ghost, and of the doctrine of the Apostles.
And of the terror of future judgment and of the sweetness of the
heavenly kingdom he made many songs." " So he lived, always
desiring to stir men to despise the world and to aspire to heaven.
A devout and humble man, but inflamed with fervent zeal
against those who were not minded to follow the regular discipline,
wherefore he brought his life to a fair end. For on the night
he was about to depart he went to the house where the dying
were borne, and having talked in a right joyous fashion with
those who were there, asked whether the Eucharist were nigh.
* What need of the Eucharist,' said they, * since you talk as merrily
as a man in health ? ' ' Nevertheless,' he replied, * bring me the
Eucharist,' and saying, * I am in charity, my children, with all
the servants of God,' strengthened himself with the heavenly
viaticum and made ready for the other life. * Is it far from the
time,' he then asked, *when the brethren shall sing the Nocturns?'
'Not far off,' they said *Well,' he replied, Met us wait that
hour,' and signing himself with the sign of the Cross, he laid his
head on the pillow, and falling into a slumber, ended his life
in silence ; and as he had served God with a pure and simple

Digitized by

Googk

VIII C^DMON [660-680] 131

mind and with tranquil devotion, so also he left the world by as
tranquil a death ; and he seemed indeed to have foreknowledge
of his death."

We know, then, that he sang, in a series, like some of the later
mysteries, the whole story of the fates of men, from the Creation ^
and the Fall to the Redemption and the Last Judgment, and,
within this large framework, the Scripture history. This would be
a long and steady piece of work ; it cannot have taken less than
ten, and may have taken twenty years. His poems, we may
surely infer, went from monastery to monastery over the whole of
Northumbria, not only to the Celtic, but to Latin monasteries
like Wearmouth and Jarrow. Where they went, they kindled
other men into poetry. Among those who wrote English verse ^
in Caedmon's manner we may count Baeda himself, who was most /
learned in English songs — doctissimus in nostris carminibus — and £
who himself, as we have seen, made verses in English. Caedmon
then made, as it were, a school. " Others after him," said Bseda,
fifty years after Caedmon's death, " tried to make religious poems
in the English nation, but none could compare with him, and no
vain or trivial song came from his lips." He was the first and
best of his school. If this view of Baeda be worth anything,
we can scarcely accept the opinion of those who look upon
Caedmon as a rude and uncultivated writer, or that of those who
think that he produced nothing but hymns of a quality similar to
the verses with which he began. A i^an of some genius, as Baeda
certainly represents Caedmon to be, who continually writes poetry
and practises his art for fifteen years makes steady advance in that
art, and is capable of writing in various manners, not only in one.
And to deny that he could have written the Genesis A pushes —
criticism beyond the bounds of literary sense. I do not say he
wrote it ; I know nothing about it ; but it is not wise to say that
he could not have written it. It is archaic in feeling ; it uses
the old nature -myths. When it comes to tell of war, it
borrows with frank simplicity the terms of the ancient war-songs ;
when it does touch the scenery of sea or land, it is such as

Digitized by

Googk

132 C^DMON I660-680I

Csedmon might have seen from the lofty and storm-swept fields on
which the monastery of Hild was built ; and though the beginning
of Genesis A differs in words and form from the verses given
above, it is just such a difference as one who has become a good
poet would make out of an early sketch which, nevertheless, from
his fondness for his first verses he retained. It pleases me then
/ (though I record the view of some critics who say we have nothing
/ of Caedmon*s in the Junian manuscript, and of others, who think
/ that Csedmon wrote, not long poems like the Genesis^ but short,
I hymn-like songs) to believe that we have in Genesis A^ with the
/ changes that time and recitation make in a poem, some of the
\ work of Csedmon himself. That piece consists of paraphrase of
the Biblical narrative, interspersed with episodes in which the
poet lets his imagination play freely with the story of the Creation,
the Flood, the war of Abraham, the tale of Hagar, and the sacri-
fice of Isaac. The paraphrase is as it were the dull background
before .which the scenic tales are represented, and it is as sleepily
written as the tales are vividly written. In fact, two kinds of
poetry appear in Genesis A, The one resembles the mere mono-
tonous narrative of a homiletic monk, the other is the heroic lay of
the heathen saga transported into a Christian frame, and having at
its root a poet's clear individuality. Csednion^jherj^JIJiejaia^
t his poem, ha d two manners. It is probable that he had others.
No poet is contented with one fashion of writing. He certainly
made hymns in the same manner as his first song, but better —
lyric outbursts of praise ; and this kind of poetry was likely to
become fashionable in the monasteries.

It is probable that he attained another manner. He may have
- created the heroic Christian lay, in which Christ takes the place
of the saga-hero; and the battle for world-victory, fought between
him and Satan, is deeply tinged with the colours of the nature
and the hero myths. This conjecture — it is nothing more — is
based on the possibility, which some critics suggest, that he
wrote the poem quotations from which are carved iri runes upon
the Ruthwell Cross in Annandale close to the Solway Firth,

Digitized by

Googk

CiEDMON [660-6S0] 133

The cross itself dates from the first half of the eighth century, and
the lines, which from their situation and language belong to the
north, are believed to be of the latter end of the seventh.
Stephens translated the runic inscription on the top of the cross,
" Caedmon me fawed,'' as " Csedmon made me," and explained this -
phrase as an assertion that the verses were by Csedmon. This it
does not say, but criticism of the language and manner of the
lines tends to make the authorship of Caedmon more and more
probable. They sing how "Jesus, the young hero, who was God
Almighty, girded , himself, and stepped up full of courage on the
gallows for the sake of man." Then the Rood itself speaks and
tells how, " lifted on high, it bore the Lord of the heavenly realm,
and how it trembled, all besteamed with blood.** " Christ was on
the Rood," it cries, " but I, pierced with the spears, and sore pained
with sorrows, beheld it all. They laid him limb-wearied in the
grave, they stood at the head of his corse.** This is part of a
lay, written in the old heroic manner, and belongs to a time when \
heathendom lay close to Christianity. Csedmon himself was -A
bom a heathen, and his work bridged the river between the pagan I
and the Christian poetry. He showed how the new material of /
Christianity could be assimilated by the English poets. High /
honour is due to his nama Though perhaps of Celtic descent,
his tongue was English and his poems English. He wrote — in
sudy id est^ Angiorum iingud^ says Baeda. But the monks of
Whitby who taught him and helped him in his work, were some
of them Irish, and all of them under Irish influence ; and Wiilker
conjectures that they laid before him, as a pattern for his poetry, ,
or as an incitement, existing Celtic hymns, such as Colman's, of the ,
seventh century. Thus, as the English learned the arts of writing ♦
and of illumination from the Irish, so Csedmon may also have
received from them an impulse to the making and form of his
poetry. But it was no more than an impulse. What he wrote,
he wrote in his own original way ; and that way was English not
Irish, Teutonic not Celtic.

Digitized by

Googk

\
I \

^1^-'^""

,^''^

v^" -J

CHAPTER IX

POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF OEDMON

The poetry which we may conecF under the name of the School oj
Cadmon belongs to the end of the seventh and the beginning of
the eighth century. Men were as yet close to the heathen lays of
war and to the heroic sagas ; and in the hymnic songs of praise
which formed one kind of the poetry of this school, and in the half-
epic poems like Exodus and Judith which formed another kind,
the close influence of heathen models and heathen thought is
. clearly felt. In yet another kind of poetry, the narrative poem,
/ like Genesis A, with episodes like lays inserted into it, the
episodes retain many of the qualities of heathen poetry. Of the
poems of this character and date some are preserved in theu&EStfc-
Book, Three long ones — Genesis A, JSxodus, and Daniel — ^are in
the Junian manuscript. -X Another considerable fragment is tiie
last three books ot the yudith, *^ Whether we can add to these
the poems in the Junian manuscript entitled Christ and Saian^
is still, I think, a matter under judgment.
V) In the Exeter Book (to take these sources in turn) there is a
4eventh-century adaptation of \}s\QfSong of the Three Children in
the Furnace, That hymn of praise comes from the Apocrypha,
but being in the Liturgy for Sunday, would be one of the first
things chosen by a versifying monk to put into English. The
Prayer of Azarias soon followed it, composed from' an ancient
original. It was joined on to the previous song, and both were,

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON 155

but much later, furnished with a conclusion — a hymn of praise for
the glorious deliverance of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

Meantime, at the end of this seventh century, we find some ■■
traces of poetry in the south of England. Ealdhelm, we know,
made songs^nd sang them to the people, and no one doubts that
the family lay and the war-song were made and sung all over the
south. It is conjectured, on slight grounds, that some of the
Anglo-Saxon Riddles may be Ealdhelm's translations of his own
Latin Riddles. His Latin Verse and Riddles are said to have
some traces in them of folk-poetry. It is difficult to find them.
Whatever may be said of the probabilities of English poetry
flourishing in the south, one thing is plain : no such school of
Christian poetry existed in the south as did exist in the seventh
and eighth centuries in Northumbria. Baeda is silent on the
subject, and though his silence does not prove the absence of
southern poetry, yet it means something. Moreover, had Ealdhelm,
who did care for English verse, known of a school of poets in the
south, he would scarcely have left it unnoticed. We may say,
I think, that there was no school of English Christian poetry in
the south during the seventh and eighth centuries.
^ The next poems belonging to this time, and of the school of
Csedmon, are some of those contained in the Junian manuscript, j ^
That manuscript, of which a short account is necessaryTWSS^'und
in England b y Archbishop Ussher , and was sent to Francis Du Jon
(whose name in literature is Junius)^ a scholar of Leyden, and
librarian to Lord Arundel. "WEenJunius left England, in 1650,
he had the manuscFfpt prmted at Amsterdam, and published it as •
the work of Csedmon. He based this opinion on the substantial l^
agreement of its first lines with Bseda's abstract of the verses sung .
by Csedmon in his dream, and on the harmony of its contents *
with Bseda's account of Caedmon's work. It is a small folio of .
229 pages, and it rests in the Bodleian. The first part, in fine
handwriting of the tenth century, and illustrated with rude pictures,
contains the Genesis^ the Exodus^ and the DanieL The second ~*
part, in a different and later handwritinjj, includes poems and frag-

»/

(

Digitized by

Go ogle JL ,

136 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^EDMON chap.

ments of BK)emsHthe F^ of the ^ebel Angels, the Harrowing
t)l^ Hedl,. tlw^Resurrection^kscension,^entecost, and the Tempta-
tion. They are ^nerally daccod uader-^ie-titlelj^ Christ and
Satan. Since the time of Junius, the critics ha^ found in the
separate parts of the manuscript so many diverse elements and
differences of style and thought that they have allotted the various
poems to separate and nameless authors, and have hesitated to
attribute a single line of it to Csedmon. However, we will
take, without guessing at their authorship, those poems in the
manuscript which belong to the close of the seventh or the
beginning of the eighth century. They are that portion of the
Genesis which is now called Genesis A ; the Exodus; and the
Daniel

Genesis A consists of the first 234 lines of the Genesis^ and

then of the lines from 852 to the close. The lines from 235 to

^851 {Genesis B) contain a second account of the Fall of Man, and

I are a late insertion into the original. They will be discussed in

their proper place. Our poem begins with an ascription of praise to

' God, which resembles but is not the same as the hymn sung by

I Caedmon in his dream. The action of the poem is opened by the

■ rebellion of the highest of the angels, who, swollen " with pride

and of malicious hatred all athirst," strove with God for the wide

clearness of heaven, and for empire in the north.^ But Gk>d made

"a woful dwelling for the false spirits, howls of hell and hard

pains, a joyless deep ; furnished with eternal night and crammed

with sorrows, filled full of fire and frightful cold, with reek of

smoke and ruddy flame." And he "beat down their courage

I and bowed their pride," and, like Beowulf with Grendel, "gripped,

I stern and grim, his foes

With cruel clutch and crushed them in his grasp.

* Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain.

Homeward with flying march where we possess
The quarters of the North. — Par, Losty Book V.

Digitized by

Googk

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^DMON 137

So they sang no more their lofty song, shamed for their lost
beauty, and knew exile and broken boast, and were decked with
darkness as with a garment."

But as ever, there was " soft society in Heaven," thegns who
loved their Lord, and manners fair and mild. But God, grieved 1
for the empty seats of heaven, looked forth on the vast abyss — ^the
Norse ginnilnga gap^ the chasm of dark mist, where broods the
heolster-sceadoy the shadow that hides the unfathomable caverns,
Milton's hollow dark^djid filled it with creation. The antique
lines I here translate are full of heathen conceptions, of nature-
myths : —

Nor was here as yet, save a hollow shadow,

Anything created ; but the wide abyss

Deep and dim, outspread ; aU divided from the I^rd,

Idle and unuseful. With His eyes upon it

Gazed the mighty-minded King, and He marked the place

Lie delightless — (looked and) saw the cloud

Brooding black in Ever-night, swart beneath the heaven.

Wan, and wasteful all,^ till the world became.

Then the ever-living Lord-at the first created —

l ie the Helm of e very wight — Heaven and the Earth ;

Reared aloft thePSriflaindit, and this r oomfu l land

Stablished steadfest there. , *"*'*"'*—

* They viewed the vast immeasurable Abyss,
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom tiuned by furious winds
And surging waves. — Par, Lost, Book VH.

Thb whirling of the winds in the unutterable depths of darkness is not in
the Teutonic conception. That chasm of chasms is silent But Milton has
other phrases for chaos. He calls it ** the wasteful Deep," " the waste, wide
anarchy of chaos, damp and dark,'* " the unvoyageable gulf obscure," " the
dark, unbottomed, infinite Abyss," "tlie vast Abrupt" — a splendid phrase —

The void profound
Of unessential Night receives him next.
Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of being
Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf.

Par, Lost, Book H.
Most of these phrases — so receptive was Milton — belong to the Teutonic
and not to the classical conception of the dark beyond.

Digitized by

Googk

138 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF Ci^DMON chap.

But as yet the Earth —
E'en the grass ^ — ^ungreen was now 1 Gloomed in Ever-night
Far away and wide, waters rolling wan,
Ocean veiled the world. Then the wondrous-bright
Spirit of the Heaven's Ward o'er the heaving sea was borne
With a mickle speed. . . .
Then the Lord of triumphs let a-sundered be,
O'er the lake of Ocean, light apart from gloom.
Shadows from the shining. . . .
And of days the first saw the darkness dun
Fading swart away o'er the spacious deep.
Then that day departed o'er the ordered world
Of the midmost earth, and the Meas urer drove
After the sheer shining — He our shaping God —
Earliest Evening on. On its footsteps ran,
Thrust along, the gloomy Dark. That the King Himself
Named the Night by name. . . .
After that stept swiftly on, striding o'er the Earth,
Bright, the third of morns.

There is now a gap of three leaves in the MS., and we come
at once on the Creation of Man. God is " bhthe of heart " as
he blesses them ; in the breast of both is burning love of God :
and the phrases are full of the new English passions of joy and
love which had come with Christianity. Nor is the love of quiet
nature which follows in the description of Eden less new to
the English. It marks that feeling towards nature on which I
•N have dwelt, and which the novel tenderness of Christianity had
induced. The fierce weather and storm-tossed seas and ice-clad
trees of Beowulf stand alone no longer : I quote a second time

Winsomely the water, running, all well-springs that be.
Washed the happy lands ; nor as yet the welkin
Bore above the roomy ground all the rains that are
Wan-gloomed by the gale ; yet with growing blooms
Was the Earth madt fair.

At this point the work of the elder poet finishes, but it is taken
up again at the story of Cain nnd Abel. There is no interest

;

* ** A yawning gap was there, and nowhere was the grass." — Volosph,

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON 139

in it ; it is only a dull paraphrase till we come to the episode of
the Flood. This pleased the poet who knew the ways of the sea,"
and he describes the black heaven and the whelming waves with
so much eagerness that we are ready to think that he lived at
Whitby. Dialogue, with even a dramatic touch in it, is here,
as afterwards through the whole poem, introduced to enliven the
tale. The sea is the dark, " flint-gray " sea of the Eastern coasts,
the "swart water, the wan waves," wherein dwells that strange
creation of the English poets — the Terror of the Water. The
ship is called by the old names of the heroic poems — "the ocean-
house, the foam-bark, the wood-fortress." God bids Noah build
his ark, and the lines in which the poet tells of the wrath of God,
and in which the flood is described, might well have been sung
in the great hall of the abbey while the storm roared outside, and
the sound of the waves kept company with the clanging of the
harp and the roll of the verses. " And God said : —

Now 1*11 set a feud of war, for the space of forty days,
'Gainst (the souls of) men ; and with surging troops of waves.
Owners and their ownings, quell them all, in death,
• . • • . . •••

When the swart cloud-rack upward swells (in heaven).

. . . Then sent forth the Lord
From the heavens heavy rain ; eke he hugely let
All the welling water-springs on the world throng in
Out of every vein of earth, and the ocean-streams
Swarthy, sound aloud 1 Now the sea stepped up
O'er the shore-stead walls ! Strong was He and wroth
Who the waters wielded, who with His wan wave
Cloaked and covered then all the sinful children
Of this middle-earth.

Then afar and wide rode on, all the welkin under,
O'er the Ocean-ring, that excelling house :
Faring with its freight ; and this faring ship —
That swift sailer through the seas — durst no surge's terror
Heavy, heave against :

The northern sternness of this is soon relieved by the northern
tenderness when the poet begins to play with the story of the

Digitized by

Googk

I40 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^DMON chap.

dove. Sympathy with animals belongs to the quietude of the
monastic life, and he describes her sorrow — for she could find no
resting-place — in gracious lines, and then her joy when she
perched at last on a gentle tree ; how she plumed her feathers,
and brought to the sailor an olive-twig of green. The lines, in
"^heir love of animals, in their new sympathy with rest and joy, are
a strange contrast to the pagan poetry. And they have a quality
in them which makes us think that here, if anywhere, the Celtic
touch is felt : —

Far and wide she flew,
Glad in flying free, till she found a place,
Fair, where she fain would rest I With her feet she stept
On a gentle tree. Gay of mood and glad she was.

There she fluttered feathers ; went a-flying off" again,
With her booty flew, brought it to the sailor.
From an olive wood a twig ; right into his hands
Bore the blade of green.

"Then the chief of seamen knew that gladness was at
hand."

After this episode, the poem hurries through another desert
of paraphrase to the Abraham story, and the invasion of the
kings of the East is made into a well-invented lay of war. It is
^ developed with great freedom through 200 lines. It is English
war, full of English terms and customs ; it might be a piece out
of an heroic saga. The raid into the Jordan valley exactly repre-
sents a raid of the Picts into Northumbria. " The country side
is overspread with foes ; many a maiden, pale of cheek, passes,
trembling, to the embraces of a stranger ; the shielders of the
brides fall, sick of wounds"; but the folk gather under their
kings and the battle is joined. Then the poet becomes all
heathen, all heroic : —

Loud were then the lances,
Savage then the slaughter hosts I Sadly sang the wan fowl,
With her feathers dank with dew, midst the darting of the shafts.
Hoping, (crying) for the carrion..

Digitized by

Googk

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^EDMON 141

Then was hard play there,
Interchanging of corpse-darts, mickle cry of war ;
Loud the hurtling clash of battle.

And the folk of Sodom went, for their life, from that encampment,
and " fell on their track, eaten by the edge of the sword : and all
the wives and maidens fled with them." But "the war-wolves
exulted in their triumph and their booty." Then a man, "a
sparing of the spears," brings the news to Abraham, the Hebrew
earl ; and the hero told it to his war-comrades Aner and Mamre
and Eshcol, and they " give him their troth that they will wreak
his wrong or fall with him on the war-stead. And the hero bade
the host-men of his hearth take their weapons, and they gather
of head-warriors eighteen, and of the rest three hundred, loyal to
their lord. Of them all he knew that on the fighting Fyrd they
could well bear the fallow linden." This is as close to English
history as the poet could make it. Nor, after the battle, where the
" sharp ground spears grisly gripped at the heart of men," is the
talk between the war -leader of Sodom and Abraham less true
to English life. "Give me the maidens," cries the king, "the
bairns of the aethelings, the widows of those who were good folk-
fellows in the fight ; let me lead them home to their wasted dwell-
ings — but keep the twisted gold and the cattle and the beauteous
ornaments of horse and man. These are yours."

And Abraham answered, as a great English earl might have
answered : " Nothing will I take, lest thou shouldst say — * I
have been enriched by Sodom '; all the booty mine by battle thou
shalt keep — all except the share of my aethelings. Never will I
take from my warriors their right." These are the words of the
Bible, but they exactly fitted the temper of a great ealdorman.
Then the poet passes to his own time and his own temper, and
ends with a piece of pure heathen fierceness — of the North-
umbrian impassioned against the Pict : —

Go, and bear with thee
Home the gold enchased, and the girls embraceable,
Women of thy people ! For a while thou needest not

Digitized by

Googk

142 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON chap.

Fear the fighting rush of the foes we hate —
Battle from the Northmen ! For the birds of carrion,
Splashed with blood, are sitting on the shelving mountains,
Glutted to the gullet with the gory corpses.

/ The paraphrase begins again, but vivid dialogue illumines it in the

rstory of Hagar, so vivid that one might almost say that the

dramatic genius of the English people begins to show itself in

this early poem. This quasi-dramatic method is again introduced

-in the tale of the sacrifice of Isaac with which Genesis^j^^^h»a^^

^ends. Homely northern touches enter into it — the bale-fire for

thebairn; the swart flame ready to burn the body; the holy man,

the white-haired gold-giver, girding his gray sword upon him ; the

golden spear-point of the sun showing its wondrous brightness

over the deep sea ; the high downs towering above the roof of the

land ; the wolds where the pile of wood is upbuilt — till the father

heaves the child on the bale and grasps and lifts the sword. It is

almost an actual picture of a northman's human sacrifice, and the

poem ends with the cry of God : —

Pluck the boy away living from the pile of wood.

The poem called Exodus stands alone, a united whole. It is
-taken up with one event, the beginning, progress, and close of
which it records ; it moves swiftly and moves well. The triumph
of the death of the first-born begins it ; the triumph over Pharaoh
at the Red Sea concludes it In the midst is the march of the
Israelites and the passage of the sea. Dialogue is not so common
as in Genesis A^ and when used it is brief and dry. On the
other hand, the descriptions are long and very elaborately worked,
through many repetitions of the same things in different words ;
they are, however, full of force, even over-forcible. We are by
no means so close to human nature as we are m Genesis A, The
-naivete of the earlier production of the school is gone. The
writer is too conscious of his art to be simple, and on the other
hand, he has none of the intellectual subtlety which we find in
later work, for instance, in Genesis B, There is no actual battle

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON 143

as in Genesis A ; but war and the circumstance of war give great
pleasure to this poet. The gathering of hosts, the march, the
pomp of ensigns and music and cavalry, the appearance and
speeches of the chiefs, the array of warriors, are described with
so much personal interest that we feel the writer had seen war and
loved it. The real battle of the poem is the battle of God and
of the fierce storm and charging waves He wields with Pharaoh
and his host, and a fine piece it is of early heroic work, done on a
Scriptural subject A great number of curious, vigorous, pictorial
expressions, not used by other poets, individualise this writer
from the rest of the Anglo-Saxon poets. His style is also more
desirous of effect ; it tends even towards that fresh sensationalism
which is so often connected with exuberance of life. The literary
audacities of the poem suggest a young man as its writer.

The poem, after a short celebration of Moses as the law-giver,
passes into its subject with a bold image which carries with it the
central matter : —

Then in that old time, and with ancient punishments,
Deeply drenched with death was the dreadest of all folk.

The fate of the first-bom follows, and it sometimes reads as if \
the poet had read Beowulf^ as if he used some of the phrases of
the lays in that poem, especially that of the prince who hid the
dragon's treasure. Certainly the whole passage is in the heroic
manner : —

By the death of hoard-wards, wailing was renewed,

Slept the song of joy in hall, spoiled of all its treasure I

God had these manscathers, at the mid of night,

Fiercely felled.

Broken were the burg-defenders, far and wide the Bane strode ;

Loathly was that people- Hater 1 All the land was gloomed

With the bodies of the dead ; all the best were dead.

Far and wide was weeping, world-delight was little ;

Locked together lay the hands of the laughter-smiths I

Famous was that day,
Over middle-garth, when the multitude went forth.

Digitized by

Googk

144 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^DMON chap.

The journey follows through narrow ways, past the fortresses of
the March, underneath the blazing sun. But God overtented the
sky with " a sail of cloud by day, and by night the cloud stood
above the shooters, a fiery light." The shields shimmered in its
flame, the shadows slunk away. It was their watchman, to
guard them from "the terror of the wan-gray heath, and its
tempests like the ocean " : —

Fiery flaming locks had that Forward-ganger :
Brilliant were his beams ; bale and terror boded he !

The poet had probably seen the great comet of 678, which " shone,'
the Chronicle says, "like a sunbeam every morning for three
months."

The host arrives at the Red Sea shore, and they heard with
hopeless terror of Pharaoh's Fyrd a-forward ganging. This is a
fine opportunity for the poet, and he takes full advantage of it to
describe an English army going into battle. Flags are flying,
trumpets sounding, horses stamping. The ravens circle above the
march, the wolves are howling on its skirts ; haughty thegns are
prancing in the van ; the king with his standard rides before them,
fastening down his visor, shaking his sark of mail. Close beside
him are his comrades, hoary wolves of war, thirsting for the fray,
faithful to their lord. The well-known horn gives order by its
notes how the host should march. Then with all this glory the
poet contrasts the dark fate that was at hand. This "battle-
brilliant '* host was doomed.

Nor is the Israelites' call to arms and their march less English.
With the blare of brass, at the break of day, all the folk are
gathered; bid to don their war-sarks, to think of noble deeds, to
call the squadrons to the shore with the waving of their banners.
Swiftly the watchmen bethought them of the war-cry, and the
sailors struck their tents to the sound of shawms. The tribes are
marshalled under their leaders, their numbers are counted, the
gray-haired warriors and weak youths are put aside. The host-
banner is displayed, and the war-chief leaps to the front of the

Digitized by

Googk

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CJEDUOT^ 145

heroes, and upheaves his shield, bids the folk-leaders silence the
host that all may hear. It is the image of the English Fyrd at the
moment of marching. Tribe by, tribe, each in order, each with
its device, they raise their white linden shields and wade into
the greenish depths of the sea-paths between the wondrous walls
of water. First came Judah, and above his host shone his
banner, a lion all of gold. The greatest of folk bore the boldest
of beasts. No insult to their leader did they ever bear in war.
They ran to onset in the van : —

Bloody were the bill-tracks, rushing was the battle-strength,
Grind on grind of visored helms there where Judah drove.

After them the sons of Reuben marched, sailors proudly tread-
ing ! Shields these Vikings ^ bore over the salt-marshes. Next
came the sons of Simeon : their ensigns waved over their spear-
faring, their shafts were wet with dew. Then the rustling murmur
of the dawn reached them from the moving of the ocean : God's
beacon rose, bright shining morn.

Here a dull episode has been pushed into the poetn, but it
soon recovers itself, and tries, by repeated descriptions, to realise
the overwhelming by the sea of the host of Pharaoh. Vigour,
even fury, fills the pictures; startling images obscure them, but
the artist does not get home to the horror and madness of the
hour. Nevertheless he reaches a certain power, a power fsi^r
beyond that which we should expect from early poetry. " Wyrd
wrapt them," he says, " with her wave."

Where the paths had lain
Mad of mood the sea was. Drowned the might of Egypt lay !
Then upsurged the streaming sea, and a storm of cries arose,
High into the Heavens — greatest of host- wail ings I
Loudly howled the hated foes, and the heaven grew black above ;
Blood was borne the flood along, with the bodies of the doomed.

' The Israelites are ** seamen," as above; the children of Reuben arej
Vikings, the pillar of cloud is like a sail spread from a great mast. Was |
the writer a seaman ?

Digitized by

Googk

146 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON chap.

Shattered were the sea shield-burgs ! This, of sea-deaths greatest,
Beat against the vault of sky !

So the brown upweltering overwhelmed them all ;
Highest that of haughty waves ! All the host sank deep !

" God, with his death-grip, decided the battle. With his sword
of old he smote down on Egypt the foam-breasted billows, and
the host of sinners slept."

This is the end of the overthrow, and the poem closes with
the joy of the Israelites. "The trumpets of victory sang, the
banners rose to that sweet sound. The men looked on the sea.
All stained with blood was the foaming wave through which they
had borne their sarks of battle. They sang of glory, and the
women sang in turn.

Then was easily to see many an Afric maid
On the Ocean's shore all adorned with gold :
And the sea-escaped began from their seines to share
On the leaving of the waves ,i jewels, treasures old,
Bucklers and breast armour. Justly fell to them
Gold and goodly webs, Joseph's store of riches.
Glorious wealth of warriors I But its wardens lay
On the stead of death, strongest of all peoples."

Judith is probably of the same cycle as the Exodus. Like the
Exodus^ the subject is conceived in a saga fashioa Both these
poems addressed not only the monk but the warrior. The king,
the thegns, and the freemen listened to them as they sat in the
hall at the mead. The poems, half war, half religion, touching
heathendom with one hand and Christianity with the other,
equally excited and instructed the feasters. This poem was prob-
ably written towards the middle of the eighth century, after the
death of Baeda. It belongs to the joyous, unself-conscious time,
before the Muse became melancholy in Cynewulf, full of regrets
for the past, of hopes only for a world beyond this earth, and of
self-introspection. We are placed in the midst of an eager life, in

' That b, the shore.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^EDMON 147

full sympathy with liberty, battle and patriotism, with bold and
heroic deeds. Judith is a fine creature, even finer than she is in ^
the Apocrypha ; and I do not doubt that there were many English-
women of the time capable of her warlike passion, and endowed
with her lofty character. The manuscript exists along with the -
MS. of Beowulf. It seems to have been in twelve books or
sections, for we only possess fourteen lines of section ix., and the
whole of sections x., xi., and xii. Perhaps the beginning was a
mere paraphrase of the earlier chapters of the book oi Judith^ and
the listeners did not care about preserving it. The scribe there-
fore only preserved the main interests : the feast, the slaughter of
Holofemes, Judith's call to battle, and the overthrow of the
Assyrian host.

The feast with which the tenth book begins lasts the whole
day, and the drunkenness of Holofernes may be drawn from some
English chief. " He laughed and shouted and raged so loudly
that all his folk heard how this stark-minded man stormed and
yelled, full of fierce mirth and mad with mead." He bids Judith
be led to his tent, but she, of plaited tresses, drew the sharp
sword, hardened by the scours of battle, and called on the Ward
of Heaven with a fierce and passionate prayer: "Let me hew
down," it ends, " O God, this lord of murder ! Venge thou that
which is so angry in me, this burning at my heart," — and the slay-
ing of the heathen dog is described point by point with careful
joy. Book xu takes Judith and her pale-cheeked maid to the
walls of Bethulia. And the folk raced, old and young, to meet
the divine maid. Then she bade her women unwrap the bloody
head, and calls on them, like Joan of Arc, to strike for freedom.
" I have wrenched life from this loathliest of men ; fit ye for the
fighting. When God makes rise the blaze of day, bear youi
lindens forward : —

Shield-board sheltering your breast, byrnies for your raiment,
Helmets all high-shining midst that horde of scathers;
Fell in death the folk-chiefs with the flashing swords,
Doomed for death are they 1 "

Digitized by

Googk

148 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON chap.

Then again the English battle is described with all its attend-
-ants. Din was there of shields, loud they rang; and the gaunt
wolf of the weald rejoiced, and the black raven, thirsty for
slaughter, and the earn flew on their track, dusky-coated, horn-
nebbed, dewy-feathered, hungry for fodder, singing his battle-
song. Swift was the step of the chiefs of war to the carnage;
and they let fly, sheltered by their shields, showers of arrows,
battle -adders, from their bows of horn. Right into the host of
the hard ones they sent their spears, and their cries were like a
storm. So the Hebrews showed their foes what the sword-swing
was.

Book xii, tells pf the dread waking of the Assyrians, of their
finding of Holofernes headless, of their headlong flight. Then
is told the gathering of the spoil " Proud, with woven tresses,
the Hebrews brought to Bethulia helms, hip-seaxes, bright-gray
byrnies, panoplies inlaid with gold." And to Judith they gave
the sword and bloody helm of Holofernes and the huge war-sark
embossed with gold and his armlets and bright gems. For all
this she praised the Lord — and the poem makes a fair ending,
gracious and touched again with that new rejoicing in the tender-
ness of nature which is so great a contrast to the fierce, storm-
shaken natural scenery in Beowulf: —

To the Lord beloved, for this,
Glory be for widening ages ! Wind and lift He shaped of old,
Sky above and spacious earth, every one of the wild streams,
And the ^Ether's jubilation — through His own delightfulness.

/ To pass from the brilliant heroism of Judith to the dull
4* monotony of the Daniel is sorrowful indeed. It shows how the

impulse Caedmon gave, how the heroic imagination, had died

, away. A long poem of 765 lines, its end is wanting. It closes

j abruptly with the story of Belshazzar (Daniel v.), as if the writer

j thought the rest of the book uninteresting. The beginning seems

' to wish to connect itself with the Exodus^ for it sketches the

history of the Hebrews from the Exodus to Nebuchadnezzar.

Digitized by

Googk

IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CiEDMON 149

When he comes to the book of Daniel, his alliterative verse is
nothing more than a dull paraphrase of the Latin version which
lay before him on his desk. The writer was some monk, with a
dreary turn for homiletic verse. He had, however, the good taste
to recognise better work than his own, and when he came to the
story of the three men in the burning fiery furnace, he inserted
the old poem of the seventh century on that subject, as well as ^
the Song of the Three Children and the Prayer of Azartas, with-
out taking any pains, says Wiilker, to reconcile the contradictions
between this insertion and the previous part of his poem.

The Daniel closes the cycle of the earliest Christian poetry —
that which belongs to the end of the seventh and the first half of
the eighth century. It is a poetry which passes, as we have seen,
through paraphrase, hymns, heroic Christian lays like that on the
Ruthwell Cross, and heroic pieces of saga worked on the Genesis
stories, into poems of a quasi-epic character like the Exodus and
the Judith, At last it dies, as in the Daniel, in mere paraphrase,
and in imitation of the good work of the past. It was also a^
poetry which drew nearly all its materials from the Old Testa-
ment history, and left untouched the stories of the Saints and the
legends of the Church. Though it celebrated Christ as God
Almighty, it celebrated Him, with one exception, only as the God .
of the Jews, as the great Shaper who made the world and man,
as the great Warrior who overthrew the rebel angels, who
destroyed the kings of the East and the Egyptians, and who
subdued the pride of Assyria. It was, moreover, a poetry
eminently English ; it clothed the events and personages of the
Old Testament in an English dress. It was also eminently-
objective, historical, unmeditative. The personality of the poet,
his sorrow or joy, his own thoughts about the subject on which he
writes, never intrude. And finally, as we have seen, it was so
close to heathendom, that it shares in the myths, the manner, the
thoughts, the war-customs and expressions of the heroic sagas
before Christianity.

Digitized by

Googk

150

POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CEDMON

The Christian poetry which succeeded it in the latter half of
the eighth century is clearly distinguishable from it ; and it marks
the exuberance of early Anglo-Saxon literature, first, that this new
poetry is more copious than its predecessor ; and secondly, that it is
as good in its own literary way. Many critics say that it is better,
and in one sense that is true. It is more literary; its form is
more carefully considered ; it has greater command of language
and of metrical movement; it has a finer faculty of comparison,
a livelier fancy, a more cultivated imagination ; in one word, the
art of the poetry is higher. However, more of the materials of
poetry were in the hands of this second band of writers. They
had studied Vergil, Ovid, and the Latin Hymns.

In Cynewulf, the leader of this later school of poetry, all these
finer elements are found. But we miss, with some regret, the
bold, unconscious heathen note, the rude heroic strain. We miss
the sublimity given — ^as in the Genesis account of the Creation —
by the nearness of the nature-myths ; we miss the youthful
audacity of the Exodus, and even its furious wording ; we miss the
absence of self-consciousness. To compare these small things oi
poetry with very great, we feel as if we were reading Euripides
instead of ^Eschylus.

But this is only a distinction of art ; in other matters the new
poetry is even more clearly to be distinguished from the old. Its
subjects are now drawn from Christianity rather than from Judaism.

-The New Testament replaces the Old; the stories of saints and
martyrs and the legends of the Church replace the stories of
Abraham and Isaac, of Daniel^nd Judith. The Roman Church
has laid its power on poetry. The influence of the Latin, not of
the Celtic, Church is now dominant. Again, Christ is celebrated
now as the Saviour rather than as the Warrior-God. His victory

' is the victory He wins for all mankind upon the Cross ; and the
poetry of it is a poetry of sorrow before it becomes a poetry of
triumph. Earthly life is all sorrow in it ; only in the life to come
is rapture. The elder poetry lived in the present, this in the

-. future. Then, too, the special English note decays. It is there,

Digitized by

Googk

fx POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CMDUON 151

but it sounds ever weaker and weaker; it is succeeded by the
more international note of the Roman Church. And finally, the
poetry almost ceases to be objective. The personal passion of ^
the poet, especially in Cynewulf, always intrudes; it colours every-
thing that is written — hymns, stories of martyrdom, legends of
anchorites and of saints, allegorical poems, and even natural
description. The inward feeling overtops that outward vision of
the thing which was dear to the writers of the Genesis, the Exodus,
zxiA Judith,

All thqse new elements were raised in Cynewulf s work to the
highest value they could then attain. He added to them the shap-
ing and surprising imagination of a true poet ; he added — and it
is the natural companion of imagination — ^a personal passion
which in his outbursts of praise, in his strong crying of prayer, in
his feeling for human affections and for divine love, lifts his re-
ligious poetry into a lofty place in the record of the sacred song of
England. Moreover, he added to these elements, if we allot the
best of the Riddles to him, so vivid an imagination of the things ,
he describes that he not only saw them as they were, but also, '
driven by his own strong personality, saw them as if they were -
persons, and attached to them, as he did, for example, to the
Hurricane, the Sword, the Swan, the Nightingale, the Iceberg and ^
the Sun, human passions and human intelligence.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER X

THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES

We have closed the last chapter with the name of Cyne-
wulf as the chief of the new Christian poetry. But before
we speak of that poetry, we must notice poems which have
few if any connections with Christianity, and may have
been written, as far as I can judge, in the first half of
the eighth century. These are the Elegies, the Ruined Burg,
the Wanderer, the Seafarer, the Wif^ Complaint, the Husbands
Message, They are not of the Csedmon school, nor have they
any close relation to the known poems of Cynewulf. They stand
apart on a platform of their own. The Caedmon poems seem to
belong to a time of youth and of national exultatioa These
Elegies are steeped in regret for the glory of the past, they speak

- of exile and slaughters and ruin ; they love nature, but love in it
sorrow; the writers belong to a nation in distress — such. dis-
tress, if we may guess, as prevailed in Northumbria during that

- parenthesis of bad government and national tumult which filled
the years between the death of Aldfrith in 705 and the renewed
peace and order under Ceolwulf in the years which followed 729.
The Ruined Burg, which I have already partly translated (p. 86),
swells with impassioned sorrow for the passing away of the
splendour and fame ^nd work of men. The Wyrd has " whirled
their glory into change." . This too is the motive of the Wanderer,
but mixed up with it is the poet's personal sorrow for vanished

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. X THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES 153

friendship and good fortune. Then the personal cry becomes
universal again : Woe is me, this fate of mine is the fate of all the
world of men : —

All is full of trouble, all this realm of earth ;

Doom of weirds is changing all the world below the skies.

The Wif^s Complaint^ the Husband^ s Message are the laments of
exiles. The Seafarer is the wailing of the worn-out seaman who
thinks of the dread and misery of the ocean, and yet of the fierce
Weird which makes him long to put out to sea again — the very
note of Tennyson's Sailor Boy. The internal evidence of them
all, except the Seafarer^ points to a time when the halls of nobles
were desolated, when war and exile were common ; but neither
this nor the mournful motive can date the poems or place them
in any special part of England. Ruined cities and ruined chief-
tains, exile, and the fates of war, were common everywhere and at
every time in ancient England.

Their date can best be conjectured from their want of Christian -
sentiment, and from the presence in them of certain heathen ele-
ments, especially the dominance of the Wyrd, elements which
have all but disappeared in Cynewulf and his followers. It is true,
the Seafarer ends with a Christian tag, but the quality of its verse,
which is merely homiletic, has made capable persons give it up as
a part of the original poem. It is true, the Wanderer has a pro-
logue into which the name of God is inserted and an epilogue
which is distinctly Christian, but the whole body of the poem, full
of pagan sentiment, suggests that these are later additions; and
even these additions are not made by a person who cared, as one of
the Christian school would have done, for specialising doctrine. I-
believe these poems were written by laymen, men who were only
Christians in name, who cared for poetry not for religion — poets
who, like .Cynewulf in his youth, had lived and feasted with great
chieftains, who had loved, had sailed the seas, and suffered
exile. It is probable that there were many poems of this kind.
But they would not have been written in this semi-heathen

Digitized by

Googk

154 THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chap.

manner in the later part of the eighth or in the ninth century.
Their proper place, it seems to me, is in the earlier part of the
eighth century, when, especially in Northumbria, heathenism was
still close at hand.

As to where they were written, we cannot telL Wiilker says
they belong to the ninth century, and were written in the south
of England. I cannot agree with him. It is probable enough
that the Ruined Burg was written by a Mercian guest in the
monastery of Osric. But the Wif^s Complaint and the HtisbanePs
Message have no special note, they are both imaginative poems,
they have a clear eye for natural scenery ; and neither in Wessex
nor Mercia have we any evidence, at present, of a school of
English poetry capable of producing such good work, or of any
person, unless we except Ealdhelm in the conventionalisms of his
Latin verse, who had a care for nature. In Northumbria we
have a fine school of poetry, and that poetry has a love of nature
As to the Wanderer and the Seafarer^ they have the note of the
North. The seas, the cliffs, the seamanship, the wild and
desolate coasts they describe are not southern. Seamanship had
died out in the South, but it was kept up in the North by the
incessant traffic between the monasteries of Northumbria from
Coldingham to Whitby. The Seafarer should be a northern poem
and I should be inclined to say the Wanderer also. But we can
attain to no certainty on these matters.

What is most remarkable in the Elegies, as in many of the
• Riddles, is their pleasure in the aspects of wild nature. And it
may serve to help us to date these poems that, with the one
exception of the coming of spring, the nature they describe is the
savage nature which we find in the heathen poem of Beowulf,
The tenderer, lovelier aspect of field and glade and river which
belongs to the poems of Cynewulf has not become common in
poetry. The Seafarer could scarcely describe better the fierce
doings of the tempest and of the frost on the German ocean, the
wild birds which haunt the gale, and the plunging waves ; or, in
contrast, the soft incoming of the spring and the cuckoo crying

Digitized by

Googk

X THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES 155

sorrow. The Wanderer paints the fallow waves and the inter-
weaving of their crests, the sea-birds bathing and broadening out
their plumes, the driving sleet and the snow sifted through with
hail, the storms lashing on the ruined fortress, the whirling of the
snow when the drift of it — that terror of the winter — comes black
from the North, and the night darkens down, bringing harm to
men. The Wifis Complaint describes the wild wood cave in the
steep downs overgrown with briers and sheltered by the roots of ?i
great oak ; the overhanging cliff, storm-beaten, white with frost ;
and the Husband^ s Message sings of the cuckoo crying of his grief
from the woods that fledge the mountain steep.

This is a remarkable love of nature, but what is more remark-
able and modern in these poems is that the natural objects are
seen, not as Genesis A saw them — as they are — but in accordance +
with the mood of the poet. Even the modern passion of being
alone with nature is not unrepresented. The young man in the
Seafarer longs to be away from the noise of men upon the far
paths of the deep. Nor do these poems want a psychological
element which is startling in poetry 11 00 years old. The young
seaman, eager for the ocean, sees his spirit pass from his body and
go before him : —

O'er the surging flood of sea now my spirit flies,
0*er the homeland of the whale — hovers then afar,
O'er the foldings of the earth ! Now again it flies to me,
Full of yearning, greedy ! Yells that lonely Flier,
Whets upon the whale-way irresistibly my heart,
O'er the storming of the seas !

The Wanderer, remembering his friends, sees them as ghosts
floating before him in the ocean-mist. He cries to them, " but
they are silent. They sing none of the old familiar songs, but
swim away in the mist as in a sea, and his sorrow is deepened."
These are passages steeped in our modem spirit, and they show,
at least, how constant are the roots of English song, and how
needful it is, if we would fully understand it, to go back to the
ground from which it has grown.

Digitized by

Googk

156 THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chap.

As to the poems themselves, the Husband*s Message begins
with an introduction of eleven lines describing the slice of wood
on which the message is carved in runes. The rest is the
message itself, and the word-tablet is the spokesman, — an awkward
experiment of the poet The message is a love-message from the
exile imploring her to join him : ** Bethink thee of the troth we
I plighted of old, take sail to meet thy lover : —

Soon as ever thou shalt listen, on the edges of the cliff,
To the cuckoo in the copsewood, chanting of his sorrow —
Then b^[in to seek the sea, where the sea-mew is at home,
Sit thee in the sea-bark, so that, to the south-ward,
Thou mayst light upon thy lover, o'er the ocean pathway —
There thy Lord with longing, waits and looks for thee."

And the poem ends with the binding together of the runes of then
names to symbolise a love till death. It has a distinct note of
passionate love and tenderness which does not occur, save here
and in the Wifis Complaint^ in Anglo-Saxon poetry.

The Wif^s Complaint is a much more involved piece, subtle in
feeling, better written than the last, and also unique in Anglo-
Saxon poetry. It may be a story out of an old saga belonging to
the time of Offa, King of the Engle, the son of Wermund, but it is
best to think of it as a separate poem. It tells its own story fully.

The foes of the woman have made bad blood between her and
her husband ; he has exiled her into the wild wood, and she sings
her grief. She recalls how they were parted by treachery, how
much she loved him, how deep were the vows they made that
death alone should divide them — and now " in this cavern, over-
nm with briers, under the oak, is my dreary dwelling. Other
lovers there are who live and sleep together, but I am alone with
uncounted sorrows." Then she thinks of her husband, and pictures
his lonely life while he thinks of her and his home. " He who
thinks her guilty, and yet loves her, what sorrow must be his I

For my friend is sitting
Under the o*erhanging cliff, overfrosted by the storm :
O my Wooer, so out wearied, by the waters compassed round

Digitized by

Googk

X THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES 157

In that dreary dwelling I There endures my dear one ;
Anguish mickle in his mind ; far too oft remembers him
Of a happier home ! Woe is his, and woe,
Who with weary longing, waits for his Beloved I "

The Seafarer is still more modern in feeling, and contains the
two motives which have underlain so much of our sea-poetry —
pity for the sailor's dangers on the deep, and the passion which
drives the sailor into the secrets of the sea. It has been divided
into a dialogue between an old mariner who represents the first
motive, and a young one who represents the second ; or it has been
taken as a dramatic soliloquy in which the poet contrasts these
two views of a seaman's life, and ends by saying that whether the
life be hard or not the attraction to it is irresistible. Whatever it
be, it is the work of a fine poet, and there is little reason why its
motive and sentiment should not belong to the nineteenth century.
I have placed a translation of it in the Appendix, along with a
translation of the Wanderer, for both belong to the fine flower of
old English song.

The Wanderer is the best in form of all Anglo - Saxon -
poems. The Prologue is, I think, as ancient as the body of the
poem. " The grace of God " is a phrase which may have slipt in ;
we feel the full remembrance of pagan thought in the phrase —
" Wyrd is fully wrought." Wyrd and the doom of her weirds stands
throughout instead of the will of God. The duty of a great earl
to bind up the coffer of his breast is described. The gold-friend
from whose treasure-giving the poet is exiled, the feast in the hall,
the heroes, the man-lord on the gift-stool, the tie of comrade-
ship, the drawing of the character of the wise man, the picture of
the ruined fort and hall, the fates of war, the hero lost in the
ship or torn by wolves, or hidden in the earth by his weeping
friend, tell us the story of English life in stormy times, and are
followed by the long cry of desolation —

Whither went the horse, whither went the man, where has gone the treasure

giver?
What befell the seats of feasting, whither fled the joys in hall ?

Digitized by

Googk

158 THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chap.

Ea la ! the beaker bright, £a la ! the bymied warriors I
EsL la ! the prince's pride ! How departed is that time !
Veiled beneath Night's helm it is, as it ne'er had been.

This reminds us of the heroic age, of those who bore the
battle and the tempest, and confessed that Wyrd had her way.
Then, when the poet has cried that the foundations of earth itself
are of no avail, that doom of weirds changes to fleetingness all
that is great below the skies ; and has left us unconsoled — some
later writer, loving the poem, added a Christian epilogue which
brings the consolation. We have the grace of the Father and
the eternal Fortress that stands sure.

These are the Elegies. Of a different type of poetry, somewhat
-4ater than the Elegies, and related to them not only by a similar
affection for the same kind of natural scenery, but also by the
absence, for the most part, of Christian, and the presence of
heathen, feeling, are the Riddles. There are some which have to
do with Church and Monastery; with the sacramental paten,
chalice and pyx ; with the book chest in the scholar's cell, holding
things more costly than gold ; with the missal and the book-worm ;
but nearly all those that have to do with natural objects or with
war might have been written by a man who had no concern with
religion of any kind. A few of them, indeed, are of such primaeval
grossness that it is quite plain the writer of them was a layman
and lived a " Bohemian " life, singing his Riddles from hall to hall,
at the Chieftains' feasts, and at the village-gathering. They are
also alive with heathen thoughts and manners. The old nature-
myths appear in the creation of the Storm-giant who, prisoned
deep, is let loose, and passes, destroying, over land and sea, bearing
the rain on his back and lifting the sea into waves. With him
are the Spirits of lightning and thunder and death. "See, the
swarthy Shapes, forward pressing o'er the peoples, sweat forth
their fire; and the Thunders that let fall black sap from their
womb; and the pale Phantom stalking through the sky, who
darts his deadly spears — the Spirit of the rain who wades through

Digitized by

Googk

X THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES 159

the clashing of the clouds." They appear again in the ever-
renewed contest between the sun and the moon, in the iceberg
shouting and driving his beak into the ships, in the wild hunt in
the clouds, in the snakes that weave, in the fate goddesses, in the
war-demons who dwell and cry in the sword, the arrow, and the
spear; in the swan, who is lifted into likeness with the swan-
maiden whose feathers sing a lulling song.

And the thoughts and manners are such as we see in Beowulf^
and not in the Christian poems. The heroes are painted at the
drinking : we share the strife of the drunken warriors, and the lords
haughty with wine; the jewelled horns are carried round, the
warriors sing ; the sword is brought in, displayed, and its master
boasts of it ; the mighty smiths are exalted ; the bower-maidens
bedecked with armlets attend the feast, the bards are rewarded
with rings and falcons — and all the other business of heathen life,
the business of war, of sailing the ocean, of horses, of plundering
and repelling plunderers, of the fierce work of battle, is frankly
and joyfully heathen. These are the work of a man who. Christian
in name, was all but heathen in heart.

We possess the Riddles in the Exeter Book, scattered through-^
out it in three divisions. There are ninety-five of them, but, as
generally reckoned, they are combined into eighty-nine. There
were probably a hundred. Riddles were made in centuries.
Symphosius made a hundred of them, so did Ealdhelm. Tatwine,
the Archbishop of Canterbury, made only forty ; but Eusebius
completed them into a hundred. These were all in Latin verse,
and vary from four lines to twenty ; and Ealdhelm wrote many at
a much greater length. But then Ealdhelm had some original /
fancy, and he knew some of the Classics well.

The collection in the Exeter Book is, with the exception of one I
Latin Riddle, in English verse, and nearly half of it is worthy of
the name of literature. All the Latin Riddle-writers of England,
who wrote to the end of the seventh century, are used by the
writers of the English Biddies, They are therefore not written
earlier than the eighth century. They are of various lengths, from

Digitized by

Googk

f6o THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chak

four to more than a hundred lines. The best of them escape
altogether from the I^tin convention, and are English in matter
and sentiment Nor is this the only difference. Their writer has
the* poetic faculty of which his models are destitute. Those who
state that these nobler Riddles are merely imitations are unable to
/ distinguish between what is and what is not poetry. Of course,
/ this is not said of all the Riddles, Some are poor and meagre, and
I others are close imitations of the Latin. We find a number on.
common subjects, as if they were made for villagers of the ruder
\ sort ; on the ox and dog, the hens and swine ; on things in common
use, on the cowhide, the leather bottle, the wine-vat, the onion ;
others on half-humorous persons, — the one-eyed garlic-seller, and
the clowns who are led astray by the marsh fires and the night.
But those on splendid subjects, — on the fierce aspects of nature,
on weapons of war and feasting, on the nobler birds, on instru
ments of music, on wild animals like the badger, on the plougher
the loom, and old John Barleycorn, are of an extraordinary fine
quality. It is plain, then, that if, as some believe, various writers
-shared in their composition, there was also one poet of youth
ful imagination and original personality who, loving humanity
and nature, made these Riddles which stand out so clearly from
the rest. Whether the same man in his more vulgar hours made
the others, without caring for his subjects, is possible, and not so
very improbable.

Who this man was is still a subject of discussion. There are

those who attribute some of these English Riddles to Ealdhelm,

translations of his own Latin Riddles. But there is a general

-agreement that we may attribute the best to Cynewulf. The first

j Riddle, Leo declared, was a riddle on Cynewulf s name. The

^ name Wulf occurs in it, but Mr. Gollancz has explained it, with

some probability, as a little story of love and jealousy between

: two men, Wulf and Eadwacer. The eighty-sixth Riddle, how-

I ever, the only one in Latin, has the name Lupus, and this has

I been used as the Latin translation of the name Cynewulf. We

\ may, therefore, though this evidence is vague, allow that he was

Digitized by

Googk

X THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES i6i

the writer of at least the finest of the Riddles. If so, he wrote
them when he was a young poet. And his retrospective sketch
of himself in the Elenty one of his signed poems, paints exactly
the youth who could have written these Riddles, "He was a
singer," he says. " He had taken in the mead-hall treasures of y
the appled gold. Need had often been his companion ; a secret \
grief (of love) had cramped him when his horse paced the roads \
and proudly pranced along. Yet he had had his joy ; the radiance \
of youth had long ago been his. But all is vanished now." \
Then he speaks elsewhere of the " youthful sins in which he had /
been ensnared, and how he came to tremble for them." This is /
the portrait of a wild young poet, sometimes a Sc6p attached to a /
chieftain, but for the most part, for he loved his liberty, a /
" Wandering Singer." And the eighty-ninth Riddle, the solution ^
of which is The Wandering Singer^ is most probably his own
description of himself when he was young. " I am," he says, " a
noble, an ^Etheling, and am known to the Earls. I rest with
the rich, but also with the poor. Amid the Folks I am famous.
Loud applause rings through the hall when I sing to the rovers
and the warriors, and I win glory in the towns and glittering gold.
Men of wit love to meet with me, for I unveil to them wisdom.
When I sing all men are silent. The dwellers on earth seek after
me, but I often '* (with a poet's love of loneliness) " hide from them
my path."

This sketches not only the position and temper of the Sc6p,
but also that of the wandering singer. It is a revelation of
Cynewulfs youthful character. But the Riddles^ if they are his, /
tell us more about his youth. They make plain that he knew
some Latin, that he had received a good education at the convent
school They show that he was a lover of natural scenery and of
animals, a close observer of all he saw and heard; that he
delighted as much in the song of the dove and the nightingale as
in the roaring of the tempest and the sea ; that he was imagina- \
tive and rejoiced in his imaginations ; that he was as ready to \
verse a coarse song for the peasant as a lay of the sword for a king ; \

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

i62 THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chap, x

that he had a passion for impersonation, and a keen sensitiveness
to beauty which afterwards became a keen sensitiveness to
righteousness; that he had fought as a warrior, had sailed the
seas, and seen many phases of human life.

Any poet might have had this character and these experiences
as well as Cynewulf, but we know of Cynewulf, and that he was a
wandering singer when he was young ; and we do not know of
any other poet who fits so well as he into the character of the man
who wrote the best or even the worst of the Riddles, Moreover,
what he says and suggests about himself in his signed works agrees
1 with the knowledge that the poet of the Riddles has of the seas
I and of war and of the scenery of rock-bound coasts. Cynewulf is
[at home in all these matters; and when he is writing of them
there are certain passages which parallel otheis in the Riddles^ not
only in wording, which does not make much matter, but in senti-
ment, which makes a great deal. Finally, whoever reads the
Riddles and believes them to be Cynewulf s, cannot have much
power of impersonating a man if he does not form a clear con •
ception of what Cynewulf was in his wild, radiant, impressionable,
gay, and loving youth. But the world soon changed to him, and
what he became we know, and with certainty, from the poems he
signed with his name.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XI

THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF

There are four poems signed by Cynewulf, — the Fates of the ^ \ 4-
Apostles, the Crist, ^<t Juliana, and the Elene, And this is the I
fashion in which he signs his name. He puts the runes which *
spell his name into the midst or at the end of each of these
poems. Attached to these quaint signatures there are four
personal statements, in which something of his character, feelings,
and life are portrayed. We possess then not only his name, but
we can also realise him as a man. No other Anglo-Saxon poet-)
has this intimate fashion of talking about himself; and the
manner of it is so distinct that when we find it in a poem not
signed by himself — in the Dream of the Rood — it seems almost «S
as good as his signature. '^ " ■""■ —

The question as to where he lived and wrote has been elaborately
argued to and fro, and Wiilker has decided, against Ten Brink, that - j
Mercia was his home. The inland counties of Mercia seem a
strange dwelling for one who was certainly well acquainted with
the sea, who himself knew the pains, longing, and trouble of a
sailor's life ; who describes them and the cliffs beaten by the waves
in the Crist, who told with such vigour the sea-voyage in the Elene,
If he wrote the Riddles, the improbability of his being a Mercian \
is doubled. The man who composed the Riddles on the Anchor^
on the Hurricane, on the Tempest at Sea and the Tempest by
Land, on the Iceberg, is most likely to have lived on the sea-coast,

Digitized by

Googk

164 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

and on a coast fringed by lofty cliffs, and on a coast where a
welter of ice and sea was a common phenomenon. It is very
improbable that one whose home was in Mercia or in Wessex
could have made these descriptions so vivid. A Mercian would
scarcely be a seaman ; in Wessex seamanship had fallen to the
lowest ebb ; in Northumbria alone good seamanship was common ;
and the cliffs and seas of Northumbria realise the pictures of
Cynewulf. If he wrote, and it is not impossible, the poem of
the Andreas^ the probability of his being a Northumbrian of the
sea-border is increased. The scenery of that poem closely
resembles northern coast scenery, even to details ; and it would
strain credulity to believe that any inland man could have written
the voyage of St. Andrew.^ Again, if Cynewulf wrote the second
part of St GuthlaCy the probability that he was not a Mercian nor
an East Anglian, but a Northumbrian, is also strengthened.
The voyage over the fens is turned into a sea-voyage, which an
East Anglian would not have done ; and the voyage is described
with a keenness and pleasure very difficult to find in an inland
man. I think the writer tells of what he knew — of a .journey
made by sea — such as was frequent between Whitby and Tyne-
mouth, between Jarrow and Lindisfame, between Lindisfame
\ and Coldingham. In truth, the atmosphere of the Riddles^ the
i - Crista the Elene^ the second St Guthlac and the Andreas^ is
entirely northern, and though some may think little of an
"atmosphere" as proof, it is thoroughly good literary evidence.
•- Secondly, if Cynewulf lived in Mercia, and had many imitators,
why have we never heard of any Mercian or Wessex school
of poetry? A poet of the genius of Cynewulf arises out of a
long-established school, his work bears the traces of the previous
school, and he creates a school. There was such a school in

* The changes, or rather the additions, made to the original Greek story
by the poet are chiefly in the natural description of the coasts and of the sea,
and they are realistic, as if written on the spot. The conversation of Andrew
with Christ as master of the sea-boat is worked into an English scene with an
]£nglish sailor, and special English sea-touches are continually inserted.

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 165

Northumbria, and the work of Cynewulf touches it at many pointsi-
Thirdly, the sentiment of his poems corresponds with the historical -
conditions of Northumbria at the time in which he wrote.
The personal portions are marked with regret and melancholy ;
the general statements with regard to the fates of men speak of
wealth fleeting away like water, or passing like the wind, and of
the decay of glory. This note does not suit the life men lived in
Mercia under iEthelbald and Offa from 718 to 796, when Mercia,
with one brief interval, was lifted into its greatest prosperity ; nor
the national life of Wessex after the battle of Burford, 754, when
Wessex, in fine fighting condition, was looking forward, alert and
young, to the conquest of England. But Northumbria was exactly
in the state which would produce the half-sad, half-despairing note
of Cynewulf from the year 750 to the year 790, when a patriotic
Northumbrian looked back from anarchy and misrule to a past
time of national glory.

But it was not only the misfortune which troubled his country
which now changed the thoughtless joy of the young poet into the
thoughtful sorrow of his manhood; it was even more personal
misfortune, bringing with it a passionate conviction of sin. His
careless happiness passed away "like the hastening waves," he
says, " like the storm which ends in silence." And we find him
now in the bitterest repentance, fear of the wrath of God lying
heavy upon him, so heavily that his " song-craft left him." Then
he had a revelation of the redeeming power of the Cross of
Christ; and I believe that the Dream of the Holy Rood was
written in his old age and is his poetic account of this moment of
conversion in his youth. He alludes to it also in the Elene when,
speaking of his past, he says that the "Lord gave him a new
learning through His work as a Light-bearer, that the burden of
his sin was removed, and his singing-craft restored."

It is a question which was the first of the signed poems
written in this new atmosphere. The Fates of t/ie Apostles is
given this place, and this seems likely, for the poem is short, dull
and conventional, such as a man might write when beginning on a

Digitized by

Googk

i66 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

changed class of subjects in a changed temper of mind. More-
over, Wiilker thinks that the usage of phrases borrowed from
heroic poetry, such as the description in the Fates of the
Apostles as "iEthelings going forth to war, as heroes hard in
battle, in the play of shields" are, the remains of Cynewulf's
youthful period; and that the personal statement mixed up
with the runes of his name refers to the overthrow of his youthful
happiness and to his exile from his home.

But Cynewulf makes full use of the phrases of heroic poetry
in his latest signed poem, the Elene ; and I think he would, in his
miserable remorse, have avoided everything which could recall a
poetry which for the time he would consider wicked. It would
be more natural for him, when his soul was long afterwards at ease
with God, to recur to the manner and expressions of pagan poetry.
And he certainly did this in the Elene, a poem of his old age.
Moreover, if the Fates of the Apostles be, as Mr. GoUancz con-
jectures, not a separate poem but the epilogue to the Andreas —
and making therefore the Andreas a poem by Cynewulf— its
heroic manner would belong, as I think it should, to the later
life of Cynewulf. Nor is the personal passage in the Fates, in
which he signs his name, against this view. It has no reference
to a time of conversion, to his sins or to his fear of God. His
" departure to a land lying where he knows not " is much more
applicable to a belief in approaching death than to an exile from
his home. And the home he prays for is in " the height with
the King of Angels."

I cannot, then, think that the Fates of the Apostles was his first
signed poem. The Juliana, I believe, takes that place. In
it the bitterness of sin, the fear of divine wrath are the foremost
thoughts. Here is the personal passage, with his signature in
runes, and we read the man in it.

Sorrowful are wandering
C and Y and N ; for the King is wrathful,
God, of conquests Giver 1 Then, bedecked with sins
E and V and U, must await in fear

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 167

"What, their deeds according, God will doom to them
For their life's reward. L and F are trembling,
Waiting, sad with care. Sorely I remember me
Of the wounds of sins wrought by me of old,
And of late, within the world 1

All too late I shamed me
Of my evil deeds.

This fits a time of contrition and change.

Tht Juliana is in the Exeter Book, Its source is the Acta S.
/utianae, virgtm's, martyris. Cynewulf has worked the legend up
with some care for unity of feeling and form. Juliana is led from
triumph to triumph, in a series of episodes couched in Cynewulf s
favourite fo rm of dial ogue, to her final purification in death.
There is some tentative art in the poem, but art and work are
both poor. Abrupt changes, crude dialogue, tiresome repeti-
tion, disfigure the poet's recast of the legend. It is written
by a man who was wearied of himself or weary of his sub-
ject A few touches of rough humour, very similar to those
which occur in the Andreas^ an attempt to realise the mingling
in Juliana's character of iron resolution and of womanly
charm, the turning of the devil into the northern dragon and of
Heliseus the persecutor into an English heathen king, are the
only things in which the English poet himself appears. It is
a transition poem in which the writer is feeling his way into
originality.

In the Cristy which is the next signed poem, this note of sorrow
for sin continues, but with a difference. " How are we troubled,"
he cries, " through our own desires ! Weak, I wander, stumbling
and forlorn. Come, king of men, we need thy mercy to do the
better things." But there is also another note; of peace almost
attained, of modest joy, and these two — sorrow for sin, delight in — I
forgiveness — mix their music, like life and death, throughout the
poem. The personal passage in which his name is signed
belongs to his sorrow. It is in the middle of the Crist, at the
end of the second division, when he is about, in the third, to

Digitized by

Googk

i68 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

sing the day of judgment. "I dread the sterner doom," he
cries, " terror and vengeance for my sins." ^

Then the Courage-hearted cowers when the King he hears
Speak the words of wrath — Him the wielder of the heavens —
Speak to those who once on earth but obeyed him weakly,
While as yet their beaming pain, and their ^eed, most easily
Comfort might discover.

These shall bear their judgment ; but then, turning from his
own fate to the destruction of the earth by fire, as of old by water,
he sets the three last letters of his name into three other words —
omitting the E : —

Gone is then the ^nsomeness
Of the Earth's adornments ! What to Us as men belonged
Of the joys of life was locked, long ago^n Zake-floods,*
All the /ee on earth.

/ Thus he records his name in a passage as sad as that in the
Juliana, But the sadness is no longer unrelieved. Only a few
lines farther this lovely strain appears, full of peace ; a passage as
personal in its pathetic religion as anything in Cowper, and of a

^ The runes in iYie Juliana have only the value of the letters of his name.
But here and in the EUne and the Fates of the Apostles they have also the
meaning of the words by which the runes are named ; and these meanings are
to be read into the text.

C [h] stands for Cene^ the keen, the courageful warrior.

Y [ fil] stands for Yfel^ which as a masculine adjective is wretched; oi
as an abstract noun misery,

N f"^ ] stands for Nyd^ necessity, hardship.

E [M] stands for Eh^ horse.

W [^] stands for Wyn, joy.

U [ ri] stands for Ur^ our.

L [h ] stands for Lagu^ water*

F [|jj] stands for Feoh, wealth.

I have accepted, it will be seen, Mr. Gollancz*s explanation of the runes
y and U as Yfel and Ur, He discovered Ur glossed as noster in a Runic
alphabet.

• Lagu — the great water of the Flood.

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 169

higher hopefulness. The man who wrote it has passed far beyond
the fears in tht Juliana: — .

Mickle is our need
That, in this unfruitful time, ere that fearful Dread,
On our spirits' fairness we should studiously bethink us I
Surely now most like it is, as if we, on lake of ocean.
O'er the water cold, in our keels were sailing ;
And through spacious seas, with our stallions of the deep,
Forward drove the Flood-wood l/Fearful is the stream
Of immeasurable surges that we sail on here.
Through this wavering world, through these wind-swept oceans ;
O'er the path profound. Perilous our state of life,
Ere that we had sailed our ship to the shore at last.
O'er the rough sea-ridges '/Then there reached us help,
That to win the hithe of healing led us homeward on —
He the Spirit-Son of God-
So aware at last we were, from our vessel's deck,
Where to stay our stallions of the sea with ropes, /

Fast a-riding by their anchors — ancient horses of the wave ! /
In that haven then, all our hope we shall establish, /

Which the Ruler of the iEther there has roomed for us, /
When He rose to Heaven — Holy in the Highest.

This is a strain of peace ; the change from the temper of the I
Juliana is clearly marked. The Crist is full of quiet joy. l

In this poem Cynewulf attains originality and his true line of p
work as a Christian poet It is not the translation of a legend ; \
it is invented, and out of its freedom springs its excellence. Cyne- 1
wulf has recovered, with a difference, his youthful imagination, I
his rushing movement, his exultation and his ease. In his out- /^
bursts of exalted praise and his descriptions of great events, he
reaches his nearest approach to a fine style, and his style reveals
his character. We feel the man's heart, when his trumpet-tongued
joy in salvation is succeeded by personal passages full of a pro-
found humility. In praise and prayer, in moumfulness and
rapture, he is equally passionate. The half-dramatic turn we find
in a Riddle like the Sword appears crudely in the Juliana^ but
reaches a finer development in the Crista and so does his pictorial

Digitized by

Googk

i7o tHfi SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

power. The ascent from Hades, the four angels blowing their
trumpets, the deluge of flame, the blazing Rood streaming with
blood, its foot on earth and its head in heaven, are done with the
same originality and force as the picture of the Hurricane in the
Riddles,

The Crist is in the Exeter Book, Several leaves of it are lost

] We owe to Dietrich the proof that the hymnic poems of the

I sections from Za to 32^, which were held to be separate, are one

connected whole of three parts. The first part celebrates the

I Nativity, and ends at line 438 ; the second part the Ascension,

• and ends at line 865 ; the third part, the Day of Judgment, ends

/ at line 1637, and the whole poem (if we accept Mr. Gollancz's

j transference of the last verses to Guthlac i.) at line 1663. The

first part uses the Gospel of St. Matthew ; the second makes a

free use of Gregory's homily on the Ascension ; the third relies

on the Latin hymn De die judiciiy to which Baeda refers in his

; treatise De Metris, The tenth homily of Gregory is also used.

' One can scarcely say these are sources; they are, even when

some of their passages are closely followed, rather assistances.

The poem is truly original.

The first part is set in hymnic parts, in cantatas. The first is
mutilated, but slightly, and begins by a fortunate chance with the
' word " cyninge," "to the King." It might almost serve as a title to
I the poem, and the invocation which follows to Christ as the Wall-
I stone, to preserve His Church, to pity His people and make them
, worthy, introduces the miraculous conception. The second cele-
. brates the place of Christ's birth, and this is a piece of it : —

See I O sight of peace ! sacred Hierusalem !

Thou, of kingly thrones the choicest, citadel of Christ,

Native seat of seraphs, of the sooth-fast souls

That for ever sit, they alone, at rest in thee

In their splendours, singing joy.

Now the King of Heaven draws near to thee, " Heaven and
Earth are looking upon thee." At this moment Mary appears,
carrying the babe in her womb. The scene of this third hymn,

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 171

in which the men and women of Jerusalem meet Mary, is set
in a dramatic dialogue — the first seed, in our literature, of the '
Miracle Play. It may even be probable that this part of the
poem was sung in the church, and the parts taken by different
persons. A scenic effect is, as it were, made for the entrance of
the personages, a choir seems to await them and to close the
scene with a choric hymn. We might, then, see in this remarkable
passage the first striving of the poetry of England towards the
drama in which afterwards it reached such excellence.

As Mary is seen approaching, the dwellers of Jerusalem break
into welcome and questioning : —

** In the glorious glory, hail ! gladness thou of women
In the lap of every land ; loveliest of maidens
Whom the ocean-rovers ever listened speech of.
Make us know the mystery that has moved to thee from Heaven."
Maty answers —

** What is now this wonder, at the which ye stare,
Making here your moan, mournfully a-wailing ;
Thou the son of Solima, daughter thou of Solima t

Ask no more; the mystery is not known, but the curse is
overcome," and a chorus to Christ closes the dialogue. In the
sixth cantata the poem becomes for a time a true dramatic con-
versation between Joseph and Mary. Joseph arrives on the scene,
sad and troubled : —

** Mary. Ea la I Joseph mine, child of Jacob old,

Kinsman, thou, of David, king of a great fame,
In our fast-set friendship wilt thou fail me now ?
Let my love be lost ? "
Joseph, Lo, this instant I

Deeply am distressed, all undone of honour ;

Sore speeches have I heard, insult to thee, mocking scorn of
me. Tears I must shed, and yet God may cure

Easily the anguish deep, that is in my heart,

And console me, sad. Oh, my sorrow I oh young girl I

Maid Maria 1 "

Digitized by

Googk

172 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

Mary, Why bemoanest thou ?

Criest now, care weary ? Never crime in thee
Have I ever found ; yet thou utterest words
As if thou thyself wert all thronged with sin !

Joseph, on whom the tables are thus turned, replies at some
length, and this dramatic form of writing is not again resumed
save for a few lines at the opening of the second part Two
other cantatas follow, celebrating the Virgin, Christ and the
Trinity, but all are linked to the main subject of the Incarnation,
and end with choric praise and prayer.

The second part is taken up with the Ascension ; and an
episode relates the ascent of the Old Testament saints with
Christ after the harrowing of hell. This fine scene is laid in
mid-space. The angels in heaven come forth to meet and wel-
come the ascending saints ; and when Cynewulf sees this mighty
meeting in his vision, the warrior wakens in him, and the speech
the angelic leader makes to his host is such as a heathen chief
might make when he saw his lord return victorious. " See," it
begins, "the Holy Hero has bereaved Hell, taken back the
tribute. Lo, He returns after the war-playing, with this unnum-
bered folk set loose from prison. O ye gates, unclose, the King
has come to His city." Then the whole story is retold ; and in
the midst, at line 591, there is a passage which needs to be noted,
because each limb of the alliterative verse is set in rhyme. Another
passage farther on, when he describes Christ's descent with the
Spirit at Pentecost, repeats a favourite motive (there is a parallel
to it in the Gifts of Men) — the description of the various gifts
which men derive from God — ^wisdom, harp-playing, law-giving,
star-telling, writing, smithery, tracking, sailing ships, good fortune
in war.

The next part of the Ascension is an allegorical exposition of
the text in the Canticles — " He came leaping on the mountains,
skipping on the hills." Six leaps made Christ, and the first was
from heaven into the Virgin's womb ; the second, when in the bin
He lay, of all majesties the Majesty. The third was the mounting

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 173

of the Cross, the fourth into the rocky grave, the fifth when He
descended into hell, the sixth was the " Holy One's enraptured
play when He stept up into His ancient home, to His house of
glittering light; and the angels were blithe with laughter upon
that holy tide." The last portion of the Ascension contains that
personal passage in which Cynewulf signs his name, and suggests
his new subject, "The Day of Doom." He sketches, in a rapid
study, this third part : —

Then shall all earth-glories
Bum within the bale-Hre. Bright and swift
Rages on the ruddy flame, wrathfully it strides
O'er the out-spread earth. Sunken are the plains,
Burst asunder the Burg-steads ! See the Burning on its way
Greediest of guests, pitilessly gorges now
All the ancient treasures, that of old the heroes held.

"O our need is great," he cries, "to bethink us of God's grace
before that terror comes," and he closes with the sea-suggested
passage which I have already translated. 1

At line 866, the third part of the poem, The Day ofju^ment^ I
begins with the gathering of the angels and the faithful on Mount I
Zion ; and Cynewulf, as if suddenly smitten with a vision, breaks i
into a noble description of the summoning angels : —

Therewith from the four, far-off comers of the world,
From the regions uttermost of the realm of earth,
All aglow the Angels, blow with one accord
Loudly thrilling trumpets. Trembles Middle-garth ;
Earth is quaking under men I Right against the going
Of the stars they sound together, strong and gloriously,
Sounding and resounding from the south and north ;
Over all creation, from the east and from the west ;
Bairns of doughty men from the dead arousing,
All aghast from the gray mould, all the kin of men,
To the dooming of the Lord.

A blaze of sun appears, and after the blaze the Son of God, with
His hosts. Deep creation thunders, the heavens are broken up,
5un and moon depart, and the stars " shower down from heaven,

Digitized by

Googk

174 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

through the roaring air, lashed by all the winds." And then, in
words which recall the third Riddle^ he describes the ocean of
fire which devours the world, impersonating, as his way was of old,
conflagration : —

So the greedy Ghost shall gang searchingly through earth,

And the Flame, the Ravager, with its fire-terror,

Shall the high uptimbered houses hurl upon the plain.

Lo, the Fire- blast, flaming far, fierce and hungry like a sword,

Whelms the world withal I And the walls of burghs

In immediate ruin falL Melt the mountains now,

Melt the cliffs precipitous, that of old against the sea,

Fixed against the floods, firm and steadfast standing,

Kept the earth apart ; bulwarks Against the ocean billow,

And the winding water. Then on every wight

Fastens now the flame of death ! On the fowls and beasts,

Fire-swart, a raging warrior, rushes Conflagration,

All the earth along.

And the dead rise, " and in them, as through a glass, are seen the
figure of their works, the memory of their words, and the thoughts
of their heart." This motive, with that of the terror and the fire,
is wearisomely repeated, till at line 1081 the theme of the Holy
Rood is wrought out. It is a piece of true imagination. The
cross is pictured, standing with its root on Zion's hill and rising
till its top strikes Heaven. By its light all things are seen and
\ the vast multitude look upon it. It shines instead of the ruined
> sun ; all shade is banished by its brilliancy. From head to foot
i it is red, wet with the blood of the King of Heaven. It brings
j brightness to the souls of the good, torment to the evil. A
' description of the agony of all creation at the crucifixion follows,
and Cynewulf works up this thought, which belongs also to the
Balder story, with his curious minuteness concerning nature-
changes. The rest of the poem, with the exception of a remark-
able speech of Christ concerning His death, who emphasises His
words, like a Roman Catholic preacher, by turning to the Rood
and pointing to the image of Himself upon it, is an enlargement of
the xxvth chapter of St. Matthew's gospel. Homiletic exhortation.

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 175

the final locking of Hell, and a joyous description, like that in
the Phoenix^ of the saints in the perfect land, conclude the poem.
It is here, but preceded by the Phoenix and the second part of
St GuthlaCy that I place the third of the signed poems, the Fates of
the Apostles, The personal passage, containing the runes of his
name, was discovered by Professor Napier at Vercelli. " Here,"
Cynewulf says, " the wise in forethinking may find out, whosoever
joyeth him in songs, what man it is that wrought this lay." The
letters of his name follow, but not, as in the other poems, in order.
They begin with F, the last letter of his name. W, U, and L
follow ; then come C and Y ; but N has been obliterated in the
manuscript. " Wealth (Feoh) stands at an end, and Joy (Wyn)
shall fall away ; our (Ur) joy upon this earth. Then drop asunder
the fair trappings of the body, as Water (Lagu) glides away. Then
the bold warrior (Cene) and the afflicted wretch (Yfel) shall crave
for help, but destiny (Nyd) overrules."^ Then he asks for prayer,
for he must "seek for strange dwellings and a strange land, strange
to all who hold not fast the Spirit of God. But be His praise
great, and His might abide ever youthful, over the universe."
These do not seem to me to be the words of a young man, but
of one who is looking forward to death, to the strange land beyond.
Nor are they the words of a man overwhelmed with sin, as those
in the Juliana, They close with a strain of praise and faith.
This is one reason why I place the poem not at the beginning but
towards the close of Cynewulfs Christian poetry. The other
reason is the bold use of the old saga phrases, such phrases as are
constantly used in the Elene, The work of the apostles (I have
already quoted the passage) is told as if it were a Viking expedi-
tion — " Great proof of valour gave these -^thelings ; far spread
over earth was the might of the King's thegns. Bold in war was
Andreas; not slow was James, nor a laggard on the journey.
Daring was the deed of Thomas in India ; he bore the rush of
swords. Brave in battle, Simon and Thaddeus warred in the
Persian lands ; they were quick in the shield-play." Wiilker, as I
> These three last are Mr. Gollancz*s restoratiozL

Digitized by

Googk

176 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

j have said, thinks the use of these phrases characteristic of a man
who has just left his profane poetry. I think the opposite — ^that
he would have refrained from such phrases at first, and when his
soul was at rest recurred to them. It is plain he did recur to
them in a poem we know to be written in age, in the E/ene ; and
Mr. Gollancz's opinion that the Fates belongs to the Andreas
accords with my view of the place of this poem in Cynewulf's
/ life.^

The Elene is the last of the signed poems. It comes from

the Vercelli Book; 1320 lines. Its source appears to be the

Latin life of Quiriacus or Cyriacus, Bishop of Jerusalem, in the

Acta Sanctorum of the 4th of May, but reasons have been alleged

i that some other life was used by Cynewulf. Cyriacus is the

\ Judas of the poem. Cynewulf uses his source with all his own

! freedom, expanding and contracting where he pleases. The battle

of Constantine with the Huns and the sea expedition of the

Empress Helena are original additions of his own. These are

the best parts of the poem, and worthy of the pains he says he

bestowed on its composition. The subject is the Finding of the

w True Cross ; and the action passes on steadily to the close. The

i Huns gather round Constantine's host as he lies asleep in his tent.
He dreams his famous dream of the Cross, and is bid to conquer
by that sign. The battle follows ; Helena goes to Jerusalem to
' find the Cross. Her council with the Jews is described; the
separate council of the Jews when Judas advises them to conceal
\ the place where the Cross lies; his imprisonment, release, his
prayer to Christ ; the finding of the three crosses ; the discovery
: of the true Cross by a miracle ; the baptism of Judas as Cyriacus,
and his appointment to the Bishopric of Jerusalem ; the finding
' of the nails, the return of Helena. The personal epilogue closes. -
This epilogue is full of the character of the old man. He
recapitulates his life, first in simple verse and then In a riddling

1 Sievers, however, does not consider that this rune passage is attached
at all to the Fates of the Apostles^ or to any poem in the Vercelli manuscript,
but thinks it to be a detached fragment.

'>\

Digitized by

Googk

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 177

representation under the runic letters of his name. " Thus I,"
so he begins like a careful artist, " old and ready for death in my
frail tabernacle,"

Craft of words have woven, wondrously have culled them out.
O'er and o'er my art have thought, anxiously have sifted
Night by night my thinking —

Then he recalls the days of his conversion — " I' was stained with
sins, tortured with sorrows, till the Lord was my Light-bearer, and
for my solace, now I am old, measured to me a gift that does not
make ashamed. And straightway my singing-craft returned to
me, and I used it with all my heart." This is followed by the
closest piece of biography in his poems, though it is somewhat
obscured by the runes of his name having each the value of the
words by which the runes are called and by some of them, as
Q Y and U, also meaning himself : —

Beaten by care-billows, C^ began to fail,

Though he in the mead-hall took of many treasures

Of the appled gold. Kwas wailing sorely,

N was his companion then ; harrowing was its grief,

Twas a rune that cramped him, when before him E

Paced along the mile-paths, proudly raced along,

Prankt with woven trappings. IV was weakened soon I

After years, my pleasures and my youth all passed away.

And my ancient pride. [/ was in the times of old

All one gleam of youth ! Now the gone-by days.

Far away, to fading came, when the £aited hour rose ;

And delight of living passed, as when L doth glide away,

Flood that follows flood. F for every soul

Is but lent below the lift ; and the land's adornments

1 C=Cynewulf as Cene, the keen warrior.
Y = Cynewulf as V/el, the "wretched one.**
N = Nyd, hardship, need.
E = Eh, his horse.
W = Wyn, joy.

U = 6V, our — that is, *• I Cynewulf.**
Li^LagUf water.
Y^Feoh, wealth.

Digitized by

Googk

178 THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF chap.

Vanish all the welkin under, to the wind most like,

When, before the eyes of men, roaring, it npsteps the sky,

Hunts the clouds along, hurries, raging onward.

Till all suddenly again silent it becomes.

In its clampM chambers closely prisoned now,

Pinned with mighty pressure down.

So Cynewulf — ^with these allusions to the myth in Vergil and to the
northern myth of Woden's wild hunt in the sky — ^strikes his melan-
choly note. It is natural, for he is old ; but he does not support
it to the end. He closes his poem with a picture of the righteous,
victorious in beauty.

The battle with the Huns has been already mentioned.
But here is the voyage, full, like the battle, with the Viking
passion, quite unlike the sea-note in the other Anglo-Saxon poems
of the Christian poetry. One would think that Cynewulf had
been reading the Beowulf,

Quickly then began all the crowd of Earls

For the sea themselves to ready. Then the stallions of the flood

Stood alert for going, on the Ocean-strand,

Hawsered steeds of sea, in the Sound at anchor.

Many a warrior proud, there at Wendelsea *

Stood upon the shore. Over the sea-marges.

One troop after other, hourly urged they on.

So they stored up there — with the sarks of battle.

With the shields and spears, with mail-shirted fighters,

With the warriors and the women — the wave-riding horses.

Then they let, o'er Fifel's wave, foaming, stride along

Their sea-rushers, steep of stem. Oft withstood the bulwark,

O'er the surging of the sea, swinging strokes of waves ;

Humming hurried on the sea ! Never heard I now or since.

Or of old, that any lady led a fairer power

O'er the street of sea, on the stream of ocean !

There a man might watch — (who should mark the fleet

Break along the bath- way) — rush the Billow's- wood.

Play the Flood-horse on, plunge the Floater of the wave

Underneath the swelling sails. Blithe the sea-dogs were,

* The Mediterranean.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

XI THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 179

Courage in their heart ! Glad the Queen was of her journey,
When at last to hithe, o'er the ocean-lake fast-rooted,
They had sailed their ships, set with rings on prows.
To the land of Greece. Then they let the keels
Stand upon the sea-marge, driven on the sandy shore.
Ancient houses of the wave.

Here the heroic terms are in full use. They enliven and strengthen
Cynewulf's verse, and seem to inspire the work of his old age
with youth. It is curious how tame he is when he does not stray
from his text, or whenever he has no opportunity for hymns of
praise. He is always far better in tnv i ntioa than in i i witeli e H , or
as a lyric than as a narrative poet In this poem also the metrical
movement is more steady than in the rest of his work. He rarely
uses any other than the short epic line into which English poetry
now drifted more and more. Rhyme and assonance are also not*
uncommoa These things point to a time when the poets had
consciously adopted rules in their art, when metrical freedom
was strictly limited. Had English poetry lasted, it might have
become as rigidly scientific as the Icelandic

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XII

POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL

>The most important of these poems are the Fhcsnix^ the second
part of the St Guthlac^ the Harrowing of Helly the Andreas^
and the Dream of the Rood, They have all been attributed to
Cynewulf, but with regard to the two last there has been much
difference of opinion, and present criticism tends to remove them
from his hand

The Fhcenix is in the Exeter Book^ and runs to 677 lines. Its

^ource is a Latin poem by Lactant ius. Cynewulf, to whom almost
all the critics attribute the poem, leaves his original at verse 380,
and then composes the story he has told into an allegory of the

^Resurrection. He uses, in this second part, the writings of
Ambrose and Baeda. He greatly expands, but sometimes shortens,
the original Latin of the first part His expansions are mostly
when he is describing natural scenery or breaking into praise.
The ending is somewhat fantastic in form — eleven lines, the first
half of each in Anglo-Saxon, the latter half in Latin. The Latin
is alliterated with the Anglo-Saxon.

The first canto describes the Paradise — which is related
to the Celtic land of eternal youth — in which the Phoenix dwells,
and I have already translated a part of this famous piece. The
second describes the enchanting life the Bird lives from mom
to evening in that deathless land of joy. A translation of them
will best express the careful imagination of Cynewulf, and his

Digitized by

Googk

CH. XII POEMS OF CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL i8i

delight in the doings of the sun and in the waters of the eardi
and sea.

He shall of the Sun see and watch the voyaging ;

And shall come right on 'gainst the candle of the Lord,

'Gainst the gladdening gem ! He shall gaze with eagerness

When upriseth clear that most ^Etheling of stars,

0*er the Ocean wave, from the East a-glitter,

Gleaming with his glories, God the Father's work of old ;

Beacon bright of God I — Blind the stars shall be,

Wandered under waters to the western realms.

All bedimmed at dawn, when the dark of night,

Wan, away has gone. Then, o'er waves, the Bird,

Firm and feather-proud, o'er the flowing ocean stream,

Under Lift and over Lake, looketh eager-hearted

When up-cometh fair, from the East a-gliding

O'er the spacious sea, the upshining of the Sun.

The next lines repeat the same motive in other words, and as
this is one of the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon poetry, and as
Cynewulf manages it with excellent skill, I translate them
here. They were used to heighten the impression, and when
they were sung were perhaps set to different music or to the
same in a different key.

So the fair-bom fowl at the fountain-head,

At the well-streams wonneth, in a winsomeness unfailing I

There a twelve of times, he the joy-triumphant one

In the bum doth bathe him, ere the beacon cometh,

Candle of the MiheT ; and, as often, he

Of those softly-joyous springings of the Wells

Tastes at every bath — billow-cold they are !

Then he soars on high, when his swimming-play is done,

With uplifted heart on a lofty tree —

Whence across the Eastern paths, with an ease the greatest.

He may watch the Sun's outwending, when that Welkin-taper

O'er the battle of the billows brilliantly is blickering,

Flaming light of light ! All the land is fair-adorned :

Lovely grows the world when the gem of glory,

O'er the going of great Ocean, glitters on the ground.

Over all the middle earth — mightiest this of stars !

Digitized by

Googk

i83 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

This is the repetition, and very well done it is. Then Cynewulf
describes the Phoenix's life till evening falls, and its wondious
song.

Soon as ere the Sun, o'er the salt sea-streamings.
Towers up on high, then the gray and golden fowl
Flieth forth, fair shining, from the forest tree ;
Fareth, snell of feathers, in its flight along the lift ;
Sounds, and sings his way (ever) sunwards on.

Then as beautiful becomes all the bearing of the bird ;
Borne his breast is upwards in a blissfiilness of joy !
In his song-craft he makes changes, in his clear re-voicing.
Far more wonderfully now than did ever bairn of man
Hear, the Heavens below, since the High-exalted King,
He the Worker of all glory, did the world establish.
Earth, and eke the Heaven.

The up-ringing of his voice
Than all other song-crafts sweeter is and lovelier ;
Far away more winsome than whatever winding lay.
Not alike to that clear sound may the clarion be,
Nor the horn nor harp-clang, nor the heroes' singings
Not to one of them on earth — nor the organ tone,
Nor the singing of the sackbut, nor sweet feathers of the swan ;
None of all the other joys that the Eternal shaped
For the mirthfulness of men in this mournful world.
So he sings and softly sounds, sweetly blest in joy.
Till within the southern sky doth the Sun become
Simken to its setting. Silent then is he.
Listening now he lends his ear, then uplifts his head,
Courage-thrilled, and wise in thought ! Thrice he shaketh then
Feathers whet for flight — so the fowl is still.

Thus lives the Phoenix for a thousand years and then flies far to
the Syrian land, where on a high tree he makes his death-nest
of odorous leaves; and when at summer time the sun is
brightest, the nest is heated, and the fury of fire devours bird and
nest But the ashes, balled together, grow into an apple, and in
the apple a wondrous worm waxes till it becomes an eagle, and
then a Phoenix as before. Only honey-dew he eats that falls at
midnight, and when he has gathered all the relics of his old body

Digitized by

Googk

XII CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 183

he takes them in his claws and, flying back to his paradise, buries
them in the earth. All men and all the birds gather to watch
his flight, but he outstrips their sight, and once more in his
happy isle " dwells in the grove, delighting in its bubbling streams."
When Cynewulf has thus brought his bird back, he makes two alle-
gories out of the story — one, of the immortal life of the saints/-^
— for Christ after the judgment flies through the air attended 1
by the adoring souls like birds, and each soul becomes a
Phoenix and dwells for ever young in the city of life ; and the
other of Christ himself, who passed through the fire of death
to glorious life. " Therefore to Him be praise for ever and ever.
Hallelujah!"

It is here, after the PJuEnix^ that we may probably place and
date the second part of St, Guthlac, Most critics allot it to Cyne- — |
wulf, and some suggest that if we had its end, it would contain
that poet's runic signature. It is preceded by a first part, which
is so poor in comparison with the second that, if Cynewulf wrote
it, I should place it before tht Juliana, that is, immediately after
his conversion. He would be likely to take, as his first Christian
subject, the story of an English saint.

The complete work, first and second parts, follows on the
Crist in the Exeter Book, and Mr. Gollancz has transferred to its
beginning a number of lines usually printed as the end of the
Crist. These form, he says, the true introduction to the Guthlac,
and he supports his opinion by the fact that there is a blank
space in the manuscript before these lines begin. The Crist
certainly ends better where he now makes it end, at line 1663.
But the difficulty of accepting these lines as the beginning of the
first part of Guthlac is that the quality of their poetry is far superior
to anything else in that part The only way I see out of that
difficulty is to hold that Cynewulf placed these lines at the
beginning when, several years afterwards, he wrote the second
part. He kept then the first as it was, but he remodelled the
introduction. That would be natural enough, and would equally
suit either the view that Cynewulf wrote the first part in early

Digitized by

Googk

i84 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

days, or that he made use of an old poem on St Guthlac written
by some other person.

A few pleasing lines of description illuminate the first part,

Ibut otherwise it is a hampered and barren piece of work It

'rests chiefly on traditions of the Saint The second part, often

differing from the first with regard to the same events, follows

closely the Ufe of Guthlac by Felix, written in Latin prose for

an East Anglian king between the years 747 and 749. The first

part avoids the poetic terms commonly used by heathen poets.

In the second, composed when Cynewulf 's soul was at peace in

forgiveness, he freely uses the old saga expressions.

{ The death of St Guthlac is its subject — the last fight of a

yChristian hero with death and Satan. This is told in almost as

/ heroic a manner as' Beowulf s fight with the dragon ; and

/ Guthlac's death-praise is sung — ^not as Beowulf s by his comrades

but in as heroic a strain — by the angels who receive him with

high pomp of music and lays into the " hereditary seat of the

saints."

The scenery, which does not disdain the nature-myths, is
carefully painted. The s un play s his part in the contest Night
darkens with her sha3owy helm"*" the "Batne-tielEX night after
night strides like a phantom across the sky. Guthlac stands
alone on his hill, as if on Holmgang, and Satan rushes on him
with many troops, " smiths of sin, roaring and raging " ; but his
soul, full of joy, was ready, and the fiend is put to flight Then
death enters the lists, "that warrior greedy of corpses, the
stealthy bowman who draws near in the shadow with thievish
steps." "How is thine heart, my lord and father," asks his
disciple; " Shelter of friends, art thou sore oppressed ? " "Death
is at hand," Guthlac answers, " the warrior never weary in the
fight" Then, "hot and close to Guthlac's heart, the whirring
arrow-storm, with showers of war, drove into his body."

But before he dies, he tells his disciple the secret of his con-
verse with an angel who visits him " between the rushing of the
dawn and the darkening of the night" My soul, he cries, is

Digitized by

Googk

XII CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 185

Struggling forth to reach pure joy. " Then sank his head ; but
still high-minded, he drew his breath ; and it was fragrant as the
blowing herbs in summer time, which, each in its own home,
drop honey and sweetly smell, winsome on the meadows." The
next sixty lines are some of the finest in old English poetry.
They begin with the setting of the sun, and the rising of the
pillar of light, that common miracle, over the hut where Guthlac
lies.

When the glorious gleaming
Sought its setting-path, swart the North -sky grew,
Wan below the welkin ; veiled the world in mist,
Thatched it thick with gloom ! Over thronged the night,
Shrouding the land's loveliness I Then of Lights the greatest
Holy from the heavens came, shining high, serenely,
Bright above the Burg-halls I

All the night it blazed, and " the shadows dwindled, loosed
and lost in air, till the murmur of the dawn softly drew from the
east over the deep ocean." Then Guthlac rose, sent his last
message to his dear sister, was "houselled with the food
majestic," and the angels bore his soul on high. All heaven
bursts into a lay of victory. The ringing sound was heard on
earth; "the blessed Burg was filled with bliss, with sweetest
scents, with skiey wonders, with the singing of the seraphim, to
its innermost recesses, rapture following rapture. And all our
island trembled, all its field- floor shook." The messenger,
himself shaken by fear, drew out his ship and hurried over seas
to Guthlac's sister. This passage brings together so many of
the terms by which the Anglo-Saxon poets called the ship that
I insert it here. The disciple

Urged the Stallion of the sea, and the Water-rusher ran
Snell beneath the sorrow-laden ! Shone the blazing sky,
Blickering o*er the Burg-halls ; fled the Billow-wood along.
Lightly lifting on its way. Laden, to the hithe,
Flew at speed the Flood-horse, till this Floater of the tide,
After the sea-playing, scornful surged upon the sea-coast.
Ground against the shingle-grit.

Digitized by

Googk

i86 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

He gives his message, and the poem, written at the zenith of
Cynewulf s power, breaks off suddenly, unfinished.

It is probable that the fragment of a Descent into Hell was
written about this time, that is, after a.d. 750. Almost every
critic gives it to Cynewulf. It has the manner of the first part of
the Crista the same trick of dialogue, the same choric outbursts of
exalted praise. There is a passage in which the poet apostro-
phises Gabriel, Mary, Jerusalem and Jordan which almost parallels
a passage in the Crista but is better done. For the poem was
probably written after the Crist There are traces in it of the
use of the pseudo-gospel of Nicodemus, but there are no traces
of that gospel in the Crist, Moreover, the use of the terms
of heroic saga, begun in the Guihlac^ is here more fully developed.
The women who go to the tomb, the disciples, the patriarchs,
even the soldiers, are ^thelings. Jesus is the victory-child of

I God, his death a king's death, his burial the burial of a hero-king.

I John the Baptist is the greatest of his thegns who welcomes Christ
to the doors of Hades, as an English chieftain would welcome his
victorious lord. Here is a passage : —

At the dawning of the day down a troop of angels came,
And the singing joy of hosts was round the Saviour's burg ;
Open was the earth-house, and the iEtheling's corse
Took the spirit of life. Shivered all the earth,
High rejoiced JEIell's burghers, for the Hero had awakened,
Full of courage, from the clay. Conquest-sure, and wise,
Rose on high his majesty I Then the Hero, John,
Spoke exulting.

This is the full saga note. It is even fuller when Christ
breaks down the gates : —

On his war-path hastened then the Prince of men,
Then the Helm of Heaven willed the walls of hell
To break down and bow to ruin, and the Burg unclothe
Of its sturdy starkness — He, the strongest of all kings I
No helm-bearing heroes he would have for battle then ;
None of warriors wearing bymies did he wish to bring
To the doors of hell I Down before him fell the bars,
Down the hinges dashed, inwards drove the king his way I

Digitized by

Googk

XII CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 187

All the exiles throng to see him, but of the great deeds when
the " doors of hell, garmented so long in darkness, gleamed in
the glory of the king," John, the great thegn, saw the most His
long speech of welcome breaks oflf in the midst, and this heroic
fragment closes.

If we allow that Cynewulf wrote the Andreas^ this is the
place, before the Elene^ in which to place it. It is much younger
in sentiment, in movement, in fancy than the Elene, The
heroic strain in it is as full as in the Descent into Hell^ and fuller
than in the Elene^ or rathef, it is used in a ruder way. But the
attribution of it to Cynewulf is doubtful. Fritzsche, who started
this doubt, gives it to an imitator of Cynewulf, and Wiilker agrees
with him, though he allows that in the use of words and in the
speech of it, as well as in the whole fashion of its representation,
there is certainly a great deal which puts one in mind of Cynewulf

The poem does not possess the personal sentiment so char-
acteristic of Cynewulf, nor his habit of accumulating repetitions
of the same thought, nor his slow -moving manner broken by
swift and rapturous outbursts of song. On the contrary, it is
full of changing incidents, its movement is swift, its pictures are
imaginative, and there are few repetitions. Nevertheless, there
are many phrases which put us in mind of Cynewulf, but then
there are many which recall Beowulf. Had Cynewulf read
Beowulf about this time, he might have been drawn into the
manner of the Andreas, On the whole it is no wonder that it is
attributed to an imitator of Cynewulf, though it is not easy to
conceive of an imitator who is as good a poet as his original,
who resembles his original at so many different points — in his
heroic strain, in the curious badness of his rude humour, in his

* "Who wrote the Andreas^* has been debated over and over again.
Ten Brink gives it to Cynewulf, so does Zupitza. Many others agree with
this view. Professor Napier emphatically disagrees with them. Sievers,
also, holds that Andreas cannot possibly be by Cynewulf, and regards this as
one of the few certainties of criticism in Old English. Each person seems
very sure of his own opinion. But it is plain that the only sure thing is that
there is no certainty at all in the matter.

Digitized by

Googk

i88 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap-

knowledge of a stormy sea and coast The writer was evidently
one who had sailed the seas. It is all these resemblances, cora-
bined with the great excellence of the AndreaSy that makes the diffi-
culty of the imitation theory. In fact, in their anxiety to give nothing
to Cynewulf which he has not signed, the critics have pushed their
imitation theory too far. It is very difficult to believe that
three poets, each of (hem of a capacity and imagination able to
write the Fhcsnixy the Andreas^ and the Dream of the Cross^ should
have lived at so early a period in the same century, and been
companions of a fourth Uke Cynewulf. Heaven is not usually so
gracious. It is possible, as we know from Elizabeth's time and
our own, but it is very improbable in the eighth and ninth
centuries. The new theory of Mr. Gollancz of the Fates of the
ApostleSy as the epilogue to the Andreas^ would settle these diffi-
culties, and allot the Andreas to Cynewulf "The Fates of the
Apostles y** he says, "consists of little more than a hundred lines j
it is certainly no meritorious piece of work, and it seems strange
that a poet should have been so anxious to attest his authorship
thereof by a long runic passage. In the MS. the poem immedi-
ately follows the legend of Andreas^ and I am more and more
inclined to regard it as a mere epilogue to this more ambitious
epic, standing in the same relation to it that the tenth passus of
Elene does to the whole poem. Its relationship is perhaps even
closer, for whereas the ninth passus of Elene ends with * finit,'
there is no such ending in the case of Andreas. At the present
moment I see nothing that militates against this view of the
Cynewulfian authorship of the Andreas^ and further investigation
will enable us, I think, to claim that Cynewulf inserted his name
in his four most important works — the epics on Christy Elenty
fulianay and AndreasJ*^ This is a happy suggestion, and we will
wish it to be proved true. It adds to the Andreas that personal
cry the want of which makes us doubt that Cynewulf was its
author. It frees us from the difficulty of putting a poem so poor
as the Fates of the Apostles into Cynewulf s best period, for it is
then not a separate poem, but a mere epilogue which we may

Digitized by

Googk

XII CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 189

conceive to have been written carelessly. At any rate its heroic
manner is quite in accordance with the Andreas. Amid all these
conflicting opinions, it is comfortable to be able to turn to some-
thing which is certain — to the poem itself. There is very little
worth our interest in the question — ^Who wrote the poem ? It is
of the greatest interest to us to be able to feel the poem itself.

The Andreas is in the Vercelli Book along with the Ekne^
and runs to 1724 lines. The source of the legend is the Acts of
Andrew and Matthew^ sl Greek MS. discovered in the Royal
Library at Paris. There was no doubt a Latin translation of
them from which Cynewulf worked. The poet used his original
with freedom, and the note of the Andreas is fully English —
more English than any other Cynewulfian poem. Andrew,
Matthew, Christ, the angels, are all English heroes and English
sailors, and the scenery is also English.^

The poem divides into two parts. The first has an intro- -|
duction which describes the seizure and imprisonment of
Matthew by the cannibal Mermedonians (^Ethiopians). This is
followed by the vision of Christ to Andrew and his voyage over
the sea to deliver Matthew. The second part, which may be
called the G/ory of Andrew^ is introduced by another vision of
Christ to Andrew, now landed on the Mermedonian coast. This
is followed by the delivery of St. Matthew, the martyrdom of
Andrew, and the final triumph of the saint in the conversion of
the Mermedonians.

The important part of the poem, from the point of view of \
literature, is the sea-voyage of St. Andrew, and it is so remarkable —I
that I give a full account of it. " When the night-helm had glided 1

* **Lo, from days of old," the poem begins in full English heathenism
transferred to Christianity, " we have heard of twelve heroes, famous under
the stars, thegns of the Lord ! The glory of their warfare failed not when
the helms crashed in fight. Far-famed folk-leaders were they, bold on the
war-path, when shield and hand guarded the helm upoi^ the battle-field.'*
This preface, speaking of the Twelve, is a sort of prologue which makes it
still more probable that the Fates of the Apostles is an epilogue to \}[i't Andreas,
Its end is then linked to its beginning.

Digitized by

Googk

I90 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

away, behind it came the light, the trampet-sound of the dawn."
But in the night the Lord appeared to Andrew in a dream, while
he dwelt in Achaia, and bade him go to Mermedonia to deliver
his brother.

"How can I, Lord, make my voyage so quickly over the
paths of the deep. One of thine angels from the high Heaven
might more easily do this. He knows the going of the seas, the
salt streams, and the road of the swan ; the onset of the billows,
and the Water-Terror, but not L The Earls of Elsewhere are
unknown to me, and the highways over the cold water."

"'Alas, Andrew!' answered the Lord, *that thou should'st
be so slow of heart to fare upon this path. Nathless, thou must
go where the onset of war, through the heathen battle-roar and
the war-craft of heroes, is boded for thee. At early dawn, at the
marge of the sea, thou shalt step on a keel, and across the cold
water break over the bathway.' No s kulker in battle was Andrew ,
but hard and high-hearted and eager for war. Wherefore at
opening day he went over the sand-links and to the sea-stead,
his thegns with him, trampling over the shingle. The ocean
thundered, the billows beat the shore, the resplendent morning
came, brightest of beacons, hastening over the deep sea, holy, out
of darkness. Heaven's candle shone upon the floods of sea."

This is all in the heroic manner, and more so than in any
other Anglo-Saxon poem. Moreover, it is filled with the sea-air
and the morning breaking on the deep. The ^ery verse has the
dash and salt of the waves in it, and the scenery is more like
a Northumbrian than an East Anglian or a Wessex shore.
The sand-dunes, the shingle, the thunder of ocean, resemble
Bamborough so closely that I have often thought that the writer
of the poem may have lived at Holy Island.

Then, as Andrew stood on the beach, he was aware of three
shipmasters sitting in a sea-boat, as they had just come over
the sea, and these were Almighty God, with His angels twain,
" clothed like ship-farers, when, on the breast of the flood, they
dance with their keels, far off upon the water cold."

Digitized by

Googk

XII CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 191

"Whence come ye," said Andrew, "sailing in keels, sea-
crafty men, in your water-rusher, lonely floaters o'er the wave ?
Whence has the ocean stream brought you over the tumbling of
the billows?"

"We from Mermedonia are," replied Almighty God. "Our
high-stemmed boat, our snell sea-horse, enwreathed with speed,
bore us with the tide along the way of the whale, until we sought
this people's land ; much grieved by the sea, so sorely were we
driven of the wind." ^

"Bring me there," said Andrew; "little gold can I give, but
God will grant you meed." — "Strangers go not there," answered
the Lord, standing in the ship; "dost thou wish to lose thy
' life ? " — " Desire impels me," said Andrew, and he is answered
from the bow of the boat by God, who is, like a sailor of to-day,
"sitting on the bulwark above the incoming whirl of the wave,"
and the extreme naivete of the demand for payment, and the
bargaining on the part of God, belong to the freshness of the
morning of poetry ; while the whole conversation is a clear picture
of the manners and talk of travellers and seamen. We stand
among the merchant carriers of the eighth century in England.

"Gladly and freely," the shipman says, "we will ferry thee
over the fishes' bath when you have first paid your journey's fare,
the scats appointed, as the ship-wards will desire of you."
Then answered Andrew, sore in need of friends : "I have no

1 I give here a small piece of the original, translated by Prof. A. S.
Cook, to show how the English writer has worked up the poem with
English manners, sea-terms, and natural description.

" Then Andrew arose early and went to the sea with his disciples, and
when he had gone down to the sea-shore, he saw a little boat, and in the
boat three men sitting. For the Lord had prepared a ship by His power,
and He Himself was as a steei*sman in the ship ; and He brought two angels,
whom He made to seem as men, and they were seated in the ship. Andrew,
therefore, when he saw them rejoiced with very great joy, and coming to them
said, 'Whither go ye, brethren, with this little ship?* And the Lord
answered, * We are joumejring into the country of the man-eaters.' **

That is enough for comparison with the text above (see Cook's First Book
in Old English),

Digitized by

Googk

192 , POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

beaten gold, nor treasure, nor lands, nor rings, to whet hereto
your will" — "How then," said the King, "would*st thou seek
the sea-hills and the margin of the deep, over the chilly cliffs,
to find a ship ? Thou hast nothing for comfort on the street of
sea ; hard is his way of life and work who long makes trial of the
paths of sea."

Andrew tells him he is God's thegn, and on His mission. Ah,
answers God the Sailor, if it be so, I will take you. And they
embark, but the whale-mere is soon mightily disturbed by a

gale :—

The sword-fish played
Through ocean gliding, and the gray gull wheeled
Greedy of prey ; dark grew the. Weather-torch ;
The winds waxed great, together crashed the waves,
The stream of ocean stirred, and drenched with spray
The cordage groaned ; then Water-Terror rose
With all the might of armies from the deep.*

And Andrew's thegns were afraid, but as in Beowulf^ as in
the Fight at Maldon^ they will not leave their lord. " Whither
can we go then ?" they say; "in every land we should be shamed
before the folk, when those known for courage sit to choose who
best of them has stood by his lord in war, when hand and shield
upon the battle plain, bowed down by grinding swords, bear
sharp straits in the play of foes." And Andrew cheers them by
telling them of the storm that was calmed by Christ : —

So happened it of yore when we in ship
Steered for the sea-fords o'er the foaming bar,
Riding the waves ; and the dread water-roads
Seemed full of danger, while the ocean-streams
Beat on the bulwarks ; and the seas cried out,
Answering each other ; and at whiles uprose
Grim Terror from the foaming breast of sea,
Over our wave-ship, into its deep lap.

* I translate these passages from the Attdreas into blank verse, in a different
manner from the other passages in this book. Naturally, they are not, like
the others, literal. A certain freedom is used in them.

Digitized by

Googk

xii CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 193

. . . And then the crowd
*Gan wail within the keel, and lo, the King,
The Glory -giver of the angels, rose
And stilled the billows and the weltering waves,
Rebuked the winds ! Then sank the seas, and smooth
The might of waters lay. Our soul laughed out,
When we had seen beneath the welkin's path
The winds and waves and water-dread become
Fearfiil themselves for fear of God the Lord.
Wherefore in very sooth I tell you now
The living God will never leave unhelped
An earl on earth if courage fail him not.

The thegns sleep, but Andrew and the steersman renew their
talk. "A better seafarer," Andrew says, "I never met. Teach
me the art whereby thou steerest the swimming of this horse of
the sea, this wave-floater, foamed over by ocean. It was my hap
to have been time after time on a sea-boat, sixteen times, push-
ing the deep, the streamings of Eagor, while froze my hands, and
once more is this time — yet never have I seen a hero who like
thee could steer o'er the stern. The sea-welter lingers on our
sides, the foaming wave strikes the bulwark, the bark is at full
speed. Foam-throated it fares ; most like to a bird it glides o'er
the ocean. More skilful art in any mariner I've never seen. It
is as if the ship were standing still on a landstead where nor
storm nor wind could move it, nor the water-floods shatter its
foaming prow; but over seas it sweeps along, swift under sail
Yet thou art young, O refuge of warriors, not in winters old, and
hast the answer of a sea-playing earl, and a wise wit as well."

"Oft it befalleth," answers Almighty God, "that we on
ocean's path break over the bath-way with our ocean-stallions ;
and whiles it happeneth wretchedly to us on the sea, but God's
will is more than the flood's rage, and it is plain thou art his
man, for the deep sea straightway knew, and ocean's round, that
thou hadst grace of the Holy Ghost The surging waves went
back; a fear stilled the deep-bosomed wave."

Andrew, hearing tJ)iS; broke into a song of praise, and this

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

194 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

part of the poem closes; for now Christ changes the subject,
and asks Andrew to tell him of his master Jesus, that is, of Him-
self — 2L pleasant motive. They have a long conversation until
sleep overtakes Andrew. He wakens on shore in the morning,
and sees a landscape which I have also thought might have been
drawn direct from Bamborough : —

Until the Lord had bid in brightness shine
Day's candle, and the shadows swooned away,
Wan under clouds ; then came the Torch of air,
And Heaven's clear radiance blickered o*er the halls.
Then woke the hard in war, and saw wide plains
Before the burg gates, and precipitous hills,
And, round the gray rocks and the ledges steep,
Tile-glittering houses, towers standing high,
And wind-swept walls.

Then Andrew awakened his comrades. "Twas Christ the
-^theling," he says, "that led us across the realm of the oar." —
"We, too," they answer, "have had our adventure"; and this
poet, who has a special turn for various incident, develops for
them the dream in which they are brought into the heavenly
Paradise : —

Us weary with the sea sleep overtook 1
Then came great earns above the yeasty waves.
Swift in their flight and prideful of their plumes ;
Who from us sleeping took away our souls,
And bore them blithely through the lift in flight.
With joyful clamour. Bright and gentle they
Caressed our souls with kindness, and they dwelt
In glory where eternal song was sweet.
And wheeled the firmament.

And there they saw the thegns of God, the patriarchs and
martyrs and prophets, and the apostles and archangels praising
the Lord. And Andrew gives thanks to Christ, who now in
form of a young ^theling draws near. " Hail to thee, Andrew,**
he cries, "the grim snare-smiths shall not overwhelm thy souL"

"How could I not know thee on the journey?" Andreyn
answers. "That was a sin."

Digitized by

Googk

xii CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 195

"Not SO great," replies Christ, "as when in Achaia thou
saidst thou could'st not go over the battling of the waves. But
now arise, set Matthew free. Bear many pains, for war is
destined to thee. Let no grim spear-battle make thee turn from
me. Be ever eager of glory. Remember what pains I bore when
the rood was upreared. Then shalt thou turn many in this burgh
to the light of Heaven."

Andrew then — and here begins the Delivery of St. Matthew —
enters invisibly the town, like a chieftain going to the field of war.
Seven watchmen keep the dungeon. As the saint drew near,
death swept them all away; hapless they died; the storm of
death seized on these warriors all beflecked with blood. The
door fell in, and Andrew, the beast of battle, pressed in over the
heathen who lay drunken with blood, ensanguining the death-
plain. In that murder-coffer, under the locks of gloom, he found
Matthew, the high-souled hero, singing the praises of God. They
kissed and clipped each other. Holy and bright as heaven a
light shone round about them, and their hearts welled with joys.
Now when Andrew had delivered Matthew, he went to the city
and sat him down by a pillar of brass on the march-path, full of
pure love and thoughts of bliss eternal, and waited what would
happen. And here begins the story of his suffering. The folk-
moot is held, and the Mermedonians send for Matthew tojkyoyr
him. He is gone, and an agony of hunger falls on them. The
council is called, and the burghers, like English folk, "come
riding to the Thing-stead on their horses, haughty with their ashen
spears," and cast lots whom they shall eat A youth is given up
by his father, but Andrew blunts the knife, at which a devil
cries — "It is Andrew, a stranger -^theling, who has done this.
There he stands." He is seized; God cheers him, but he is
dragged through gorges and over stony hills, and "over the
streets paved with parti-coloured stones," and brought back, his
thought still light and his courage unbroken, to his prison. A
bitter night of frost is then painted, to frame and enhance the
lonely figure of the martyr.

Digitized by

Googk

196 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

Then was the Holy One, the stark-souled Earl,
Beset with wisdum's thoughts the whole night long,
Under the dungeon gloom.

Snow bound the earth
With whirling flakes of winter, and the storms
With hard hail-showers grew chill, and Frost and Rime-—
Gray gangers of the heath * — locked closely up
The homes of heroes and the peoples' seats 1
Frozen the lands ; and by keen icicles
The water's might was shrunken on the streams
Of every river, and the ice bridged o'er
The glittering Road of the Sea.

The next day's martyrdom follows, till " the sun, gliding to his
tent, went under a headland of clouds, and Night, wan and brown,
drew down her helm over the earth and veiled the steep mountains."

A wild scene takes place in the prison when the Devil, with
seven shield-companions, attacks and is repulsed by Andrew, and
another day of torment closes with the vision of Christ, who tells
him he shall no longer suffer ; and he looks on the track where
his blood has gushed forth, and it is sown with blowing bowers
laden with blossoms. On the plain where he has been left for
dead are two upright stones, which are the two tables of the Law,
and at Andrew's word they send forth a mighty, weltering torrent,
and air and earth and fire join in the overwhelming. The yellow
waters swell, the wind roars, fire-flakes fall on the town, the earth
trembles, and a great angel withstands the warriors. All the
wicked ones are swallowed by a cleft in the hills, and the rest,
repenting, cry — " Hear Andrew, he is the messenger of the true
God." He baptizes them, builds a Church, appoints Plato as
Bishop, and the poem closes with the description of his departure,
such as the poet may have written when he read in Baeda how
Ceolfrid went away from the shores of Tyne.

Then by the nesses of the sea they brought
The eager warrior to his wave- wood home,

1 Or (another reading), war-steppers = hild-stapan. I have already given
this passage in another connection and in a literal translation.

Digitized by

Googk

XII CVNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 197

And weeping after him, stood on the beach.
As long as they could see that iEthelings' joy
Sail o'er the seals'-path, on the tumbling waves.
Then they gave glory to the glorious Lord,
Sang in their hosts, and this it was they sang —
** One only is the eternal God ! Of all
Created beings is his might and power
Lauded aloud ; and over all, his joy.
On high a holy splendour of the Heavens,
Shines through the everlasting ages far,
In glory beautiful for evermore
With angel hosts — our iEtheling, our King."

The Dream of the Rood is in the VercelU Book, There is great -
discussion concerning its authorship. A large number of critics
allot it to Cynewulf, but they lessen the weight of their opinion
by giving other poems to Cynewulf which have nothing in them
of the artist Ten Brink and Zupitza both maintained against
Wiilker the authorship of Cynewulf. No assertion can be made
at present on the subject. It is a matter of probabilities.

I not only think it probable that Cynewulf wrote it, but I
believe it to be his last poem, his farewell to earth. It seems
indeed to be the dirge, as it were, of all Northumbrian poetry.
But I do not believe that the whole of the poem was original,
but worked up by Cynewulf from that early lay of the Rood,
a portion of which we find in the runic verses on the Ruthwell )
Cross. That poem was written in the " long epic line " used by
the Caedmonian school, and I think that when in our Dream of
the Rood this long line occurs, it belongs to or is altered from the
original lay. The portions by C3niewulf are written in the short
epic line, his use of which is almost invariab le in th e Ele ne,

What he did, then, was probably this. Having had a dream of
the Cross in his early life which converted him and to which he
refers in the Eleney he wished to record it fully before he died.
But he found a poem already existing, and well known, which in
his time was attributed by some to Caedmon, and which described
the ascent of Christ upon the Cross, His death and burial. He

Digitized by

Googk

198 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap.

took this poem and worked it up into a description of the vision
in which the Cross appeared to him. Then he wrote to this a
beginning and an end of his own, and in the short metre he
now used.

This theory, whatever its worth may be, accounts for the
double metre of the poem, does away with the strongest argument
— that derived from metre — against Cynewulfs authorship,
explains the difficulty of the want of unity of feeling which exists
between the dream-part and the conclusion, and leaves to Cyne-
wulf a number of passages which are steeped in his peculiar
personality, which it would be hazardous to allot to any one but
himself.

The introduction is quite in his manner, with the exception
of two long lines. The personal cry — "I, stained with sins,
wounded with my guilt," is almost a quotation from his phrases
in the Juliana and Elene. The impersonation of the tree, the
account of its life in the wood, is like the beginning and the
manner of some of the Riddles, The subjective, personal element,
so strong in his signed poems, is stronger in his parts of this
poem. It would naturally be so if the poem were written, when
he was very near to death, as his retrospect and his farewell It
is equally natural, if this view of the date of the poem be true,
that he would enshrine at the last, by means of his art, the story
of th e most im portant hour of his life, and leave it as a legacy to
the friends of whom he speaks «o tenderly. " Lo," it begins —

Listen, of all dreams, I'll the dearest tell,

That at mid of night, met me (while I slept),

When word-speaking wights, resting, wonned in sleep.

To the sky up-soaring, then I saw, methought,

All en wreathed with light, wonderful, a Tree j

Brightest it of beams ! All that beacon was

Over-gushed with gold ; jewels were in it.

At its foot were fair ; five were also there
High upon the shoulder-span, and beheld it there, all the angels of the Lord
Winsome for the world to come ! Surely that was not, of a wicked man the
gallows.

Digitized by

Googk

XII % CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 199

These two last lines may belong to the original poem, which
Cynewulf was working on. Now he goes on himself: —

But the spirits of the saints saw it (shining) there,

And the men who walk the mould, and this mighty universe !

Strange that stem of Victory ! Then I, spotted o'er with sins.

Wounded with my woeful guilt, saw the Wood of glory,

All with jo)rs a-shining, all adorned with weeds.

Gyred with gold around ! And the gems had gloriously

Wandered in a wreath round this woodland tree.

Nathless could I, through the gold, come to understand

How these sufferers ^ strove of old — ^when it first began

Blood to sweat on its right side. I was all with sorrows vexed,

Fearful, 'fore that vision fair, for I saw that fleet fire-beacon

Change in clothing and in colour ! Now beclouded 'twas with wet.

Now with ruiming blood 'twas moist, then again enriched with gems.

Long the time I lay, lying where I was,

Looking, heavy hearted, on the Healer's Tree —

Till at last I heard how it loudly cried !

These the words the best of woods now began to speak — >

" Long ago it was, yet I ever think of it.

How that I was hewM down where the holt had end I

From my stock I was dissevered ; strong the foes that seized me there ;

Made of me a mocking-stage, bade me lift their men outlawed.

So the men on shoulders moved me, till upon a mount they set me."

These lines seem to me partly Cjniewulf s and partly of the old
poem. He has introduced personal modifications to fit them
into his dream. Now, he scarcely touches the old work : and
the lines run on to a length which contrasts strangely with those
of the conclusion to the dream itself: —

" Many were the foemen who did fix me there ! Then I saw the Lord, Lord

of folk-kin he.
Hastening, march with mickle power, since he would up-mount on me."

" But I — I dared not, against my Lord's word, bow myself or
burst asunder, though I saw all regions of earth trembling ; I
might have felled His foes, but I stood fast : —

^ That is, the Rood and the Saviour on it.

Digitized by VjOOQIC

200 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO CHAP.

T hen the Hero youn g, armed himself for war, — ^and Almighty God he was ;
Strong and staid of mood stepped he on the gallows high,
Brave of soul in sight of many, for he would set free mankind.
Then I shivered there — when fhf> r^flmpj^^ rlipjWl me round ;
But I dared not, then, cringe me to the earth. ^

A Rood was I upreared, rich was the King I lifted up ; Lord of all
the heavens was he, therefore I dared not fall With dark nails
they pierced me through and through; on me the dagger-strokes
are seen ; wounds are they of wickedness. Yet I dared not do
them scathe; they reviled us both together. Drenched with
blood was I, drenched from head to foot — blood poured from the
Hero's side when he had given up the ghost. A host of
wrathful weirds I bore upon that mount. I saw the Lord of
peoples serve a cruel service ; thick darkness had enwrapt in
clouds the corse of the King. Shadow, wan under the welkin,
pressed down the clear shining of the sun. All creation wept,
mourned the fall of the King : Christ was on the Rood. I be-
held it all, I, crushed with sorrow. . . . Then they took Almighty
God : from that sore pain they lifted him ; but the warriors
left me there streaming with blood; all wounded with shafts
was I : —

So they laid him down, limb-wearied ; stood beside the head of his lifeless

corse.
Then they looked upon him, him the Lord of Heaven, and he rested there,

for a little time.
Sorely weary he, when the mickle strife was done ! Then before his Banes,

in the sight of them.
Did the men begin, here to make a grave for him. And they carved it there

of a glittering stone,
Laid him low therein, him the Lord of victory. Over him the poor folk

sang a lay of sorrow
On that eventide !

And there he rested with a little company." Here the old work
ends, and Cynewulf, touching in what he had learnt from the
Legend of Helena and the Cross, is told by the Rood to tell his

Digitized by

Googk

3Cn CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 201

dream to men, to warn them of judgment to come, and to bear,
if they would be safe, the Cross in their hearts.

Now the Rood ceases to speak, and Cynewulfs personal
conclusion follows. Its first lines are retrospective. They tell
how he felt in early manhood, immediately after the dream
which was the cause of his conversion. He felt "blithe of
mood," because he was forgiven, "passionate in prayer, eager
for death " — a common mixture of feelings in the hearts of men
in the first hours of their new life with God. " Then, pleased in
my heart, I prayed to the Tree with great eagerness, there, where
I was, with a small company, and my spirit was passionate for
departure." But he did not die, forced to out-live many sorrows
— " Far too much I endured in lohg and weary days." Then hf
turns from the past to the present — " Now I have hope of life tc
come, since I have a will towards the Tree of Victory. There is
my refuge." Then he remembers all the friends who have gone
before him, and sings his death-song, waiting in joy and hope to
meet those he loved at the evening meal in Heaven. " Few are
left me now," he says, "of the men in power I knew " : —

Few of friends on earth ; they have fared from hence,
Far away from worldly joys, wended to the Lord of Glory I
Now in Heaven they live, near to their High Father,
In their brightness now abiding ! But I bide me here.
Living on from day to day, till my Lord Hb Rood,
Which I erst had looked upon, long ago on earth,
From this fleeting life of ours fetch my soul away —
And shall bring me there, where the bliss is mickle,
Happiness in Heaven ! There the High God's folk
At the evening meal are set ; there is everlasting joy I

At last, with a happy reversion to that earlier theme he loved —
the deUverance of the Old Testament saints from Hades — he
turns from himself, now going home, to the triumphant home-
coming of Jesus ; soaring, as his custom was, into exultant verse :

Hope was then renewed.
With nresh blossoming and bliss, in the souls who'd borne the fire I
Strong the Son with conquest was, on that (soaring) path,

Digitized by

Googk

202 POEMS OF CYNEWULF.OR HIS SCHOOL chap, xii

Mighty and majestical, when with multitudes he came.
With the host of holy spirits, to the Home of God —
And to all the Holy Ones, who in Heaven long before
Glory had inhabited — So the Omnipotent came home,
Where his lawful heirship lay, God, the Lord of all.

This is the close of the Dream of the Rood and the closing song
of the life and work of Cynewulf. W^e see him pass away, after
all storms and sorrows, into peace.

The most vigorous part of the poem is the old work, but its
reworking by Cynewulf has broken it up so much that its sim-
plicity is hurt The image of the towering Tree, now blazing
like a Rood at Hexham or Ripon with jewels, now veiled in a
crimson mist and streaming with blood, is conceived with power ;
but, as imaginative work, it is not to be compared with the image
of the mighty Rood in the Crist which, soaring from Zion to the
skies, illuminates with its crimson glow heaven and earth, the
angels and the host of mankind summoned to judgment. The
invention of the Tree bringing its soul from the far-off wood,
alive and suffering with every pang of the great Sufferer, shiver-
ing when Christ, the young Hero, clasped it round, longing to
crash His foes, weeping when He is taken from it, joining in the
wail of burial, conscious that on it, as on a field of battle, death
and hell were conquered, is full of that heroic strain with which
» Cynewulf sympathised, and the subject was his own. It was he,
\ more than any other English poet, who conceived and cele-
1 brated Christ as the Saviour of men, as the Hero of the New
Testament *

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XIII

OTHER POETRY BEFORE iELFRED

The rest of the English poetry, before the revival of learning \
under Alfred, is of little value, and consists of a number of small \
pieces, of varied kinds, of various age, and of various worth. \
The most remarkable of them are the Whale, the Panther, and T
the Partridge ; An Address of the Soul to the Body; a Warning of \
a Father to a Son; the Fates of Men ; the Gifts of Men; a frag-
ment on the Falsehood of Men ; four collections of Proverbs or /
Gnomic Verses ; two poems on Solomon and Saturn, and the f
Rune Song,

The three first must be tdken together, and form part or the
whole of an English Physiologus, A Physiologus in the literature _
of the Middle Ages was a collection of descriptions of beasts,
birds, or fishes, of their life and habits, and each of thpse was
followed by a religious or moral allegory based on the description.
.We have already seen an example of this in the Phoenix. For
the most part, the animals are taken as types of Christ or the
Devil, and in our poems the Panther is the image of Christ and"
the Whale of the Devil. This allegorical treatment of animals is
of great antiquity, and came down to us from the East, but the
taste for it was established by the Fathers of the Church. It
was common in the eighth and ninth centuries, to which these
English poems of ours belong. It grew, as time went on, among
poets and preachers till it became the source of a widespread

u,yuized by Google

204 OTHER POETRY BEFORE illLFRED chap.

mediaeval literature. Our Physiologus has this special interest,

I that it is the oldest in any modern language.

' The earliest was in Greek, and from it the ^Ethiopian as well
as the Latin Physiologus were translated. The Latin one is
supposed to be the source of these three Anglo-Saxon poems,
and also of two Physiologi of the ninth century, B. and C. In
B., after twenty-two other animals, the Panther^ the Whale^ and the
Partridge follow one another. In C. the Panther and the Whale
are retained, but the Partridge is omitted. It is suggested that
the English writer chose these three concluding animals, not at
random, but with the intention — since each of them represents
one of the three kingdoms— of making a short but complete

-►Physiologus. Finit stands in the manuscript after the fragment
of the Partridge. The Panther and the Whale have some literary
interest

"In the far lands, in deep hollows, the Panther lives,
glittering in a many-coloured coat like Joseph's, a friend to all,
save to that envenomed scather, the Dragon. When he has fed,
he seeks a hidden place among the mountain dells and slumbers
for three nights. On the third day he wakes ; a lofty, sweet,
ringing sound comes from his mouth, and with the song a most
delightful steam of sweet-smelling breath, more grateful than all
the blooms of herbs and blossoms of the trees. Then from the
burgs, and from the seats of kings, and from castle halls, pour
forth the troops of war-men and the swift lance-brandishers and
all the^animals, to hear the song and meet the perfume. So is
the Lord God, the Prince of Joys, and so the hope of salvation
which he gives. That is a noble fragrance."

The Whale, since it has to do with the sea, is more wrought
out by the poet, and more interesting than the Panther. The
first part of the legend— of the sailors landing on the monster's
back as on an island — may come from the East. It is in the
story of Sinbad the Sailor, but it continued a long time in
English literature, through Middle English to Chaucer, and so
on to Milton's simile. Our description here is the first English

Digitized by

Googk

xin OTHER POETRY BEFORE i^ILFRED 205

use of the tale. It is fairly done, and filled in with special sea-
phrases. " I will tell of the mickle whale whose name is

Floater of the Flood-streams old, Fastitocalon 1
Like it is in aspect to the unhewn stone,
Such as movM is, at the margent of the sea.
By sand-hills surrounded, thickly set with sea-weeds ; *
So the sailors of the surge in their souls imagine
That upon some bland with their eyes they look.
Then they hawser fast their high-stemmM ships
With the anchored cables on the No-land there ;
Moor their mares of ocean at this margin of the main !

. . . Thus the keels are standing
Close beside that stead, surged around by ocean's stream.^

The " players of the sea " climb on the island, waken a fire,
and are joyous, but suddenly the Ocean-Guest plunges down
with the bark, and in the hall of death prisons fast, with drowning,
ship and seamen. So plays the Fiend with the souls of men.

Yet another fashion has this proud "Rusher through the
water." When he is hungry, this Ocean-Ward opens his wide lips,
and so winsome an odour pours forth that the other fishes stream
into his mouth till it is filled ; then quick together crash the grim

^ <* Thickly set with sea- weeds " is literally '* greatest of sea- weeds or sea-
reeds." I take it to mean that the stone looks as if it were itself the very
greatest of sea-weeds, so thickly is it covered with them.
* Compare Milton —

Or that sea-beast

Leviathan, which God of all his works

Created hugest that swim the ocean-stream,

Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,

The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,

Dreaming some island, oft, as seamen tell.

With fixed anchor in his scaly rind.

Moors by his side tmder the lee, while night

Invests the sea, and wishM mom delays.

So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay,

Chained on the burning lake. — Par. Lost^ Book 1.

It is a whole lesson in art to contrast this with its predecessor of the eighth
century. " Ocean-stream " is pure Anglo-Saxon for *< stream " — " sea."

Digitized by

Googk

2o6 OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED chap.

gums around his prey. So, too, it is with men and the accursed
one. When life is over, he claps his fierce jaws, those gates of
hell, behind them. This is the common image of the entrance
of hell — ^as seen, for example, in the rude pictures of the Caedmon
manuscript — like the gaping mouth of a monstrous fish.

The next two poems may be called didactic The Address

I of a Father to a Son is of no literary value. It consists of ten
pieces of advice to practise virtues and to avoid vices ; but the

^Discourse of the Soul to the Body has some points of interest It
exists in full as a double poem. The first is the speech of a lost

"^oul to its body ; the second, of a saved soul to its body. The
first is in the Exeter and the Vercelli Books ; the second, a frag-
ment, is only in the Vercelli Book, The second is poor work,
and may have been written much later than the first, in order to
complete the representation of the subject It has one peculiarity.
"No poem of a similar kind," Hammerich says, "in which a

-saved soul speaks to its body, is found in any other literature."
The other, the Lost Soul to its Body, may date back to the
^ear 700, if we take the phrase used in it — " that the spirit shall
iraw near to its body for three hundred winters, unless God work

[sooner the end of the world" — to refer to the common belief
that the end of the world was to come in the year 1000, but
the whole manner of the poem belongs to a later date than
this, and we may suppose that this phrase crept in from some
earlier poem upon the same subject

" Cold is the voice of the Spirit, and grimly it calls to the
corpse : * O gory dust, why didst thou vex me ? O foulness, all
rotted by the earth ; O likeness of the clay ! Thy sinful lusts
pressed me down ; it seemed to me thirty thousand winters till
thy death-day. Thou wert rich in food, sated with wine, but I was
thirsty for God's body, for the drink of the Spirit Dearer to none
than the black raven, thou hast nought but thy naked bones, but
by night I must seek thee, and at cock-crowing go away. Better,
on the day of doom, hadst thou been beast or bird or the fiercest
of snakes. Wroth will then be the Lord; and what shall we

Digitized by

Googk

XIII OTHER POETRY BEFORE .ELFRED 207

two do ? ' " Then the spirit flies away, and into the silent body
the worms make their way to rive asunder and to plunder. One
of them is leader : Gifer is he named : —

Sharper than the needle are the jaws of him !

He, the first of all, drives into the earth-grave

Tears the tongue asunder ; through the teeth he pierces !

And ahove, inside the head, he eats into the eyes ;

Works for other worms way unto their food,

To their wealthy banquet

This captain of the worms, Gifer^ venomous Greed, who
pierces a path for his warriors into the prey, is almost worthy of
EzekieL

The Crafts or Gifts of Men^ the Weirds of Men^ and the Gnomic
Verses may be taken together. The two first are writings which,
in their contemplative view of life, might have been written by
some retired and pensive scholar, such as looked from his
college windows at York on the changes of the kingdom. They
have both been allotted to Cynewulf ; but the man who wrote
the Gifts of Men was not capable of writing the Weirds of Men^ so
much does the latter poem excel the former. The art in both
poems is different, the poets are different ; and though both of
them carry in them the influence of Cynewulf, their work does
not resemble his.

The chief interest of the Gifts of Men is that it may be a
Christian working up of a heathen poem from which Cynewulf
in the Crist also drew his passage on the Gifts of Men. The
subject was common. Homer has used it, and St. Paul enumerates
the gifts of the Spirit. Gregory's Homily on Job dwells upon
them. Our writer uses St. Paul and Gregory, but, as many of the
gifts are frankly profane, he may also have used an English
heathen song as well He celebrates harp -playing, running, -
archery, steering the war-ship, smithery, skill in dice, in riding,
hunting, drinking, in hawking and juggling, among other nobler
or more sacred gifts. It is a mere catalogue, however, without
any literary quality.

Digitized by

Googk

2o8 OTHER POETRY BEFORE iELFRED chap.

The Weirds of Men is diiTerent It has some form; its
introduction is good, and in it shines a poet's hand. It begins
with the birth of a child, its growth, education, and entrance
into the world. What will become of it ? God only knows
by what death it may die, or if its weird be fatal. The man
may die by the wolf, that gray ganger of the heath ; by hunger,
by blindness, by lameness, by falling from a tree, by the gallows,
by fire, by quarrel at the feast; in misery from exile or loss
of friends or poverty — and the descriptions of these various
kinds of death give us several aspects of English life and scenery.
But others, by the might of God, shall win to a happy and
prosperous old age, with troops of friends — so manifold are
the dooms God gives to men. Then the writer slips into the
related subject of the Gifts of Men ; and the same matter is
done over again, but now by a poet, which we have had in the
last poem.

The Gnomic Verses are in four collections — three in the
''Exeter Book^ one in the Cotton MS. at Cambridge. They con-
sist of folk-proverbs and maxims, short descriptions of human life
and of natural occurrences, thrown together, without any order.
They vary in length from half a line to eight lines. Some are of
early simplicity, others show knowledge of the world, of war, of
courts, of women, of domestic life ; some are quotations from the
poets. There is one (line 8i) which almost reproduces the 1387th
line of Beowulf Some have come straight down from ancient
heathen times; others, derived from heathenism, have been
Christianised; others were written when Christianity was fully
established, and others are much later than the eighth ^century.
^ I think it probable that these collections were originally made in
-the school at York, and afterwards re -edited in Wessex, when
new matter was added, the introduction written, and their ends.
The last line of the first collection may be the wish of the editor
to be thanked for the trouble he or another has taken — " Let him
have thanks who got together for us these pleasures." The last
four lines of the third part seem to have been a late addition.

Digitized by

Googk

XIII OTHER POETRY BEFORE i^LFRED 209

Some one found this ancient folk-saying about weapons, and
tagged it on at the end : —

Yare be the War-board and lance-head on shaft,
Eidge on the sword, and point on the spear,
Brave heart in warriors ; a helm for the keen.
And the smallest of hoards for the coward in soul.^

The Rune 6b«^ belongs — ^as well as we can guess — to the eighth -
or ninth century. Some heathen elements appear in it, but its
form is generally Christian. Each of the twenty-nine runes are
taken, and a verse made on the meaning of the word which
names the rune. It is a poetical alphabet like those in our
nursery rhymes. Here is one : —

r^ Bull is a fierce beast, broad are his horns.
A full furious deer, and fighteth with horns,
A mighty moor-stepper — ^a high-mooded creature.

Most of the verses are of this type ; they do not belong to
literature. Two mistakes as to the meaning of the runes Os and
Sigel induce critics to believe that the editor did not understand
them, and that this song is a late Christian redaction of an old
alphabet One verse on the 22nd rune [Ing] is clearly ancient,
and is explained by Victor Rydberg to enshrine an episode in
the first great Northern Epic — broken fragments of which only
remain scattered here and there in Sagas, and in Saxo Grammaticus
— the epic of "the first great war of the world," as it is called by
the seeress in Volospa : —

X. Ing* was first. seen among the East Danemen ;
Then he betook him, eastward, o*er sea !
Vagn hastened to follow :
Thus the Heardings called the hero.

1 I have put in an Appendix the most interesting and oldest of these Gnomic
verses.

* Ing is, as Tacitus tells us, the Father of all the German tribes dwelling
on the sea-board of the Ingavones ; he is the old German god of the Heavens.
According to Rydberg (see Teutonic Mythology y Eng. trans, p. 180), the
tffaen {siwatn) of the third line is to be read yagn, the proper name of the
giant foster-father of Hadding, whose folk are the ffeardings of the text,

Digitized by

Googk

2IO OTHER POETRY BEFORE i^LFRED chap.

There are two dialogues between Salomo and Saturn with
which we may close the poetry of the ninth century. They
are fragmentary. The oldest is the second in the manuscript
[IL 179-506]. We guess this from the vigorous way in which it
begins: "Lo I heard, in the days of old, strive together con-
cerning their wisdom, men cunning of wit, Lords of the World.
Solomon was the most far-famed, though Saturn had the keys of
many books." Saturn had wandered through all the East, and
Solomon asks him about "the land where none may walk."
The answer is romantic. " The sailor over the sea. Wandering
Wolf was his name, was well known to the tribes of Philistia, and
the friend of Nebrond. On the plain he slew at daybreak five-
^nd-twenty dragons, and then fell dead himself. Therefore none
may fare to that land nor bird fly over it. Yet shines the hero's
sword, mightily sheathed, and over his burial-howe glimmer the
hilts." Then Solomon answers, and Saturn begins his questions.
Their wits are set over one against the other. Solomon stands
-^ as the representative of Christian wisdom, Saturn of the heathen
wisdom of the East^ I quote a question and answer to show
the poet's way :

"What is that wonder that fareth through the world, that
goes so fiercely, beating down the under-stones of towns, wakening
the droppings of sorrow ? Nor star, nor stone, nor the steep gem,
nor water, nor wild beast, nor aught can get away from it."

" Age " (the answer) " is on earth, powerful over all things.
With its gripping chains of war, with its huge fetters, it reaches
far and wide, and halters all it will. It crushes the tree and
breaks its twigs ... it overcomes the wolf in fight, it overlives

^ These Solomon dialogues became common in Western literature, but
under the title of Dialogues ^between Solomon and Marculf, In these dia-
logues Marculf does not play the grave part of Saturn, the Eastern sage, but
that of the peasant or mechanic full of uneducated mother-wit and rough
humour. This suits the mediaeval temper, always a little in rebellion against
the predominance of the Church, the Noble, and the King. And again and
i^in Marculfs native wit has the better of Solomon. But in this early Anglo-
Saxon dialogue no such levity is allowed.

Digitized by

Googk

OTHER POETRY BEFORE i^LFRED

the rocks, it overtops the mountain path, it eats the iron with
rust, it eats us also."

The other poem of Salomo and Saturn^ though it begins the
manuscript, is the later of the two. It has no introduction, and
Saturn at once asks Solomon to explain to him the power of the
Paternoster. The answer takes up the whole poem, and in the
course of it many interesting examples of folk-lore and superstition
occur. Every letter, for instance, of the Paternoster has its own
special power. " Prologa prima, whose name is P : this warrior
has a long rod with a golden goad. Ever he smites fiercely into
the grim fiend, on whose track A, with mighty power, follows and
beats him also." It continues in this quaint fashion until the
couplets cease. Then a prose fragment is inserted full of-
curious things concerning the shapes which the Devil and the
Paternoster will take when they contend together, of how the
Paternoster will shoot at the Devil, of what kind of a head and
of a heart the Paternoster has, and of all the wonders of his body;
wonders so heaped up and amazing that they may have had
their origin in Eastern imagination.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XIV

iELFRED

iELFRED, whom men have called the " Great " and the " Truth-
teller"; whom the England of the Middle Ages named "England's
Darling"; he who was the Warrior and the Hunter, the Deliverer
and the Law-maker, the Singer and the Lover of his people, —
" Lord of the harp and liberating spear " — was, above all, for the
purposes of this book, the creator and then the father of English
prose literature. The learning which had been lost in the North
he regained for the South, and York, where the centre of liter-
ature had been, was now replaced by Winchgster. There,
iElfred in his king's chamber, and filled with longing to educate
his people, wrote and translated hour by hour into the English
tongue the books he thought useful for that purpose. They are
the origins of English prose.

He was bom in 849, at Wantage in Berkshire, the youngest
son of iEthelwulf and grandson of the great Ecgberht. At the
age of four years the boy saw Rome, voyaging with an embassy to
the centre of the world of thought and law. Leo IV. ordained
and anointed him as king and received him as his adopted son.
Two years later he went thither again with his father, who loved
him more than his other sons, and stayed in the city until he
was seven years old. The long journey through diverse countries,
the vast historic town, its noble architecture, the long tradition of
its law and story, its e^rly Christian life, the spiritual power of

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. XIV .ALFRED 213

the Roman Church, even the temporal power which flowed from
it into Charles the Great of whom Alfred had heard so much,
must have made a profound impression, for inspiration and
education, on a boy of genius. We can trace some of the
results in his after-life. He was never satisfied till he was able
to read Latin literature ; he knit the Church of Rome and the
crown of Wessex into a close friendship. We know from the
Chronicle how often he sent embassies and gifts to Rome.

But this was not the only foreign influence which played
upon his youth. He lived, on his return from Rome, for three
months with Charles the Bald at the Frankish Court The
memory of the intellect and power of Charles the Great still shed,
after nearly fifty years, a departing ray over the dying empire,
and it shone into the mind of the child. We may be sure that
the learned men of the court did not forget to talk with him of
the English scholar, Alcuin, who had brought to the kingdoms
of Charles the treasures of learning from York. His own country
and his own folk had done this great work, and iElfred never
forgot it When years had passed by, he recalled it in one of
his prefaces.

With these new impulses he returned to England, desiring
knowledge, but, as afterwards, there was none to teach him.
One thing, however, he could do — he could learn the songs and
stories of his own people in his own tongue ; and the tale, with
all its difficulties, which Asser tells, at least embodies his early
love of books and of English verse. As he stood with his
brothers at his mother's knee, she read to them out of a
book of English songs, ^thelstan and iEthebed had no care for
book or poetry, but Alfred, delighted by the beauty of the
illuminated letters, eagerly turned over the pages. "Whoever
of you first learns the songs," said the Queen, " shall have the
book," and iElfred had no rest till he won the prize. The love of
his native literature never left him. Night and day, we are told,
he was eager to learn the " Saxon songs," and in after-life one
of his chief pleasures was to recite English songs, to hear the

Digitized by

Googk

214 .ALFRED CHAP,

singers of the court declaim them, to collect Saxon poems, to
teach them to his children, to get his nobles to care for them,
and to have them taught in his schools. He knew the English
sagas, and the heroic names. He mentions Weland, the mighty
smith ; he told Asser the story of Offa's daughter Eadburga, a
tale which was imported into Mercian history from the legend
of Offa of the ancient Engle-land; and he recorded, with
added touches of personal interest, the story of the first poet of
England.

It may be imagined, then, with what bitter sorrow he heard at
the age of eighteen, in 867, that there was not one religious house
from the Tyne to the Humber which was not ravaged and burnt
by the heathen ; that not one trace, save perhaps in York and in
a few abbeys north of the Tyne, was left of the learning and
libraries of Northumbria. And his sorrow would be still more
bitter when in 869 the rich abbeys of East Anglia were destroyed
by the pirates Ivar and Hubba, and Wessex, his own land, lay
open to the ravager. Guthrum or Gorm led this new attack, and
the long-gathered wrath of the patriot and the lover of learning
whetted -Alfred's sword when, on the height of As hdow n, around
the stunted and lonely thorn-tree, he and his brother'^^thelred
made their final charge and beat the invaders down the hill with
a pitiless slaughter. In the battles that followed -^thelred was
wounded to death, and in 871 Alfred, now twenty-two years old,
became the king.

The first years of his reign were dark as the night Wessex
barely held to life ; Mercia was a desolation ; all the seats of
learning in Bernicia were now ruined, and at the beginning of 878
the Danes were in the heart of Wessex, apparent conquerors.
But -Alfred was greatest when all seemed lost. He refuged
himself at Athelney (the ^thelings' isle) a hill, defended by
morass and forest, at the confluence of the Parret with the Frome,
among the deep-watered marshes of Somersetshire. It is here
that legend places the scene of the cowherd's hut and iElfred
watching and forgetting the burning loaves; and it was here that

Digitized by

Googk

XIV i^LFRED 215

the famous jewel of gold and enamel was found, with the inscrip-
tion — "Alfred bade me to be wrought" There he sat for three,
perhaps for seven months, gathering a host ; and broke forth from
his solitudes in the spring of 878, attacked the Danish army at
Ethandun, drove them to their camp, forced their surrender in
a fortnight, and dragged from them the peace o f Wedmore . That
peace, in spite of the later struggle of 885-886, settled England.
It broke the advance of the Danes and weakened their power in
England and abroad. It left Wessex and Kent in the hands of
Alfred ; it secured for the English that part of Mercia which was
west of Watling Street — ^from the Ribble to the Severn valley and
to the upper valley of the Thames. The rest of England from
the Tees to the Thames, including London (which Alfred, how-
ever, got in 886), was in the power of the Danes and is called tht
Danelaw.

Over the Danelaw — ^to interrupt for a moment the tale of
Alfred — Danish customs, religion, and commerce prevailed ; the
Danish sagas were simg, and the Danish spirit grew. One would
think that these folk, especially when they became Christian,
would have left some traces of their keen individuality on the
poetry or prose of the Danelaw. The stories of Horn and
Havelok, rooted in Danish and Celtic traditions, were taken
up by the Anglo-Norman, and then by Middle-English poets.
There are, moreover, a few Danish legends in Layamon's poem.
But now, and after the Norman Conquest, there is nothing but
place-names and folk-tales to show us that more than half, and
in after-years, the whole, of England belonged to Danish kings
and to Danish folk. But the Danes who took England were
scarcely a nation ; when they settled down they became part of
the English people and absorbed their ways. And they did this
the more easily because they were of the same race and tongue
as the men they conquered. Christianity also knit them to the
, English who made them Christians. With the loss of their wild
gods half their individuality fled away. The land also and its
scenery had their assimilating power on the new indwellers.

Digitized by

Googk

2i6 iELFRED CHAP.

IVhen Alfred was forced to leave the Danelaw in Danish hands,
pe little thought that he was making Englishmen.

But at present the English and the Danes were two, not one ;
and iElfred had to keep the English elements uppermost It was
well then, having this stem work at hand, that he was not only
the student and the singer, but also a great warrior, and active in
all bodily exercises. He was a keen hunter, falconer, rider, and
slayer of wild beasts. " Every act of Venery," says Asser, " was
known and practised by him better than by others." No man
was bolder in the fight, none more watchful in the camp or wiser
in the council His people who fought along with him hailed him
with joy. His look shone, it is said, like that of a shining angel in
the battle. At Ashdown, " he charged again and again like a wild
boar," and the slow gathering, knitting together, and inspiration
of his men when he lay hid like a lion at Athelney and sprang
forth, roaring, to overwhelm his foes, shows that his prudence,
skill, and mastery of the art of war were as great as his personal
courage.

When iElfred had thus won peace for his people, he wished
to educate them. But he had at first something more needful to
do ; and he spent the six years of quiet from 878 to 884 in re-
pairing the ruin made by the Danes, in reforming the army, in
building a navy, and in establishing just government and law.
The peace was broken in 885 by a fresh attack of the Northmen,
but was again secured in the following year. Alfred was now
complete master, not only of his kingdom, but also of the national
imagination. "In that year," says the Chronicle^ "all the Angel-
cyn turned to Alfred, except those in bondage to Danish men."
In the following year he began, with his mingled humility, good
sense and self-confidence, that revival of learning which he had
so long desired. The foundation for this great purpose had
already been partly laid. He had collected, and continued to
collect, around him a number of scholars who should be, first, his
teachers ; and afterwards enable him to teach the English people
in the English language what they ought to know as citizens of a

Digitized by

Googk

XIV .ALFRED 217

great country, and as pilgrims to a heavenly country. He called to
this work Werfrith, Bishop of Worcester, who himself presided
over the school in that town; Denewulf of Winchester; Plegmund,
whom he drew from Mercia to make Archbishop of Canterbury ;
two Mercian priests, iEthelstan and Werwn lf, who wp,r<^ hi s
chaplains and teacher s (all three children of the college at
Worcester) ; and these exhausted all that England could do for
him. In this penury he turned to foreign lands for help. " Men
once came," he said, "from out-land countries to seek instruction
in England ; now if we need it we can only get it abroad." So he
called Grimbald from Flanders and put him over the new abbey
rising at Winchester, and John the Old Saxon from the monastery
of Corvei in Westphalia to preside over the religious house his
gratitude had dedicated to God at Athelney.

His incessant spirit kept these men up to their work. He
translated books such as Gregory's Pastoral Care to teach the
clergy their duties ; he urged the bishops to give their leisure
to literature, and urged it as a religious duty. He gave them
books to translate and insisted on their being finished. He
may be said to have driven them to write, as much as he drove
the judges to learn the duties of their ofl&ce and the Laws of
England.

The difficulties he had with the clergy were much greater with
the nobles. The English warriors and courtiers of mature age
were sorely troubled when the king compelled them to learn to
read and write, or if they could not learn, to hire a freeman or
slave to recite before them at fixed times the books needful for
their duties. When at last he despaired of the elder men, he
sent all the young nobility and many who were not noble into the
schools where his own children were educated, that they might
learn how to read both English and Latin books, and to translate
the one language into the other. But this was afterwards. To
teach himself now was his first business, and ^thelstan and
Werwulf, his daily tutors, were not enough for him. He needed
a better scholar and one whom he could love as a friend. So he

Digitized by

Googk

2i8 /ELFRED chap.

asked Asser of St David 's, in the farthest border of Wales, to
live and study with him. Asser saw the king at Dene, near Chi-
chester, in the early part of the year 884, and stayed three days
with him. "Stay with me always," said the king, and when Asser
objected his love of Wales and his duties there, the king replied,
"Stay with me at least six months in the year." A fever kept
Asser away for more than a year, but in July 886 he came to
Leonaford, and remained eight months at the court It is prob-
able that then he went back slowly to Wales, and returned to
-Alfred in the middle of the year 887. From that time he seems
to have spent six months every year with the king. Then Alfred's
close study began. "I translated and read to him," writes Asser,
" whatever books he wished, for it was his custom day and night,
amid all his afflictions of mind and body, either to read books or
have them read to him." Thus he learned Latin, and the first result
of this association with Asser was ^Elfred's Handbook, One day
Asser quoted to him a phrase he liked out of some Latin author.
" Write it down for me," said the king, and he pulled out of his
breast a little note-book. The book was full, and Asser proposed
to begin a new book of quotations, which as the king made
he then translated into English. The new book grew till
it became almost as large as a Psalter; and he called it his
Handbook^ finding no small comfort therein. This Handbook
was his first work, and he was thirty -five years old when
he began it It consisted of extracts from the Bible and
the Fathers, and of a few scattered illustrations made of these
passages by^Elfred or Asser — "divinorum testimoniorumscientiam
— multimodos divinae scripturae flosculos . . . congregavit" " Quos
flosculos undecunque collectos," is afterwards said of this book.
William of Malmesbury has two extracts from this Manual Both
have to do with the earlier history of England and of ^Elfred's
own house, but it is exceeding improbable, as some have argued
from these quotations, that there was any history of Wessex in
the Handbook, " These passages are most likely only allusions
or illustrations which crept into this book of religious extracts

Digitized by

Googk

iELFRED 219

Else William of Malmesbury would have used the whole book."
This remark of Wiilker's seems to settle the matter. This Hand-
hooky begun in Nov. 887, was fully set forth in English in 888
for the use of the people. It is a great misfortune that it is ^
lost

The next piece of writing he did was the Law-book, He
compiled it out of the existing Codes of Kent, Wessex, and
Mercia, that is, out of the laws of -^thelberht, Ine, and Offa. It
had an introduction, followed by three parts — (i) -Alfred's Laws;
(2) Ine's Laws ; (3) -Alfred's and Guthrum*s Peace ; and it was
composed, said William of Malmesbury, " inter fremitus armorum
et stridores lituorum." This suggests that the collatign of the
laws had been begun in 885 or 886. The introduction begins
with the Decalogue of the second Nicaean Council and some
words on the Mosaic laws. -Alfred adds the letter sent by the
Apostles to the Church after the Council at Jerusalem. Then he
quotes — " Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do
ye even so unto them ; for this is the law and the prophets." He
tells every judge in the kingdom that "Judge so as ye would
be judged " is the foundation of their duty. As to the laws, he
did not make many of his own, but kept and rejected out of the
above codes those which by the counsel of his Witan he thought
best for his kingdom ; clinging like an Englishman to precedent
The whole book, since the Scriptural quotations in the preface
suggest that it came after the Handbook^ was probably issued in
888.

By this time he was fairly well acquainted with Latin, and as
the most necessary class to benefit were the clergy, the instructors
of the people, he chose as the first book to be translated the Cura
Pastoralis — the "Herdsman's Book"— of Gregory the Great, a kind
of manual of the duties of the clergy. It recites in four divisions
the ideal of a Christian priest ; and the king took care that
a copy of it should be sent "to every bishop's seat in my
kingdom." A copy was sent, as mentioned specially in Alfred's
preface, to Plegmund, Archbishop of Canterbury. Plegmund

Digitized by

Googk

220 ALFRED

■^

was first made Archbishop in 890. The translation then was
probably done in 889, and sent to the bishops in 890.^

That this was his first book is maintained by some critics,
who support their view by arguments drawn from the well-known
preface which Alfred prefixed to it I do not understand
how, after reading that preface, a number of other critics refer
the book to a much later period in iElfred's life. Almost every
paragraph suggests the beginning not the end of his translating
work. It is also not likely that after the small effort of the
Handbook he would undertake so long and difficult a business
as either the translation of Orosius, or of Baeda's history, or of
Boethius. The book is also done with more closeness to his
author than any other of his translations, and no clearly original
matter is inserted. He certainly paraphrases, omits, expands,
explains, and changes the place of his text, where he is anxious to
make things clear for his people, but he does this briefly, tenta-
tively, and less than elsewhere. The book is the book of a
beginner. In it, however, English literary prose may be said to
have made its first step. Baeda's translation of St John's gospel,
that portion also of the English Chronicle which already existed
up to the death of ^thelwulf, can scarcely be called literary
prose. As we think, then, of the king, seated with Asser or
Plegmund in his bower at Winchester or Dene, and bending over
the Herdsman's book of Gregory, we think also of all the great
prose of England, the fountain of whose stream arose in these
quiet hours of more than royal labour. It is well, though the
preface is long, to quote it in full. It is the first piece of any
importance we possess of English prose. It is redolent of
iElfred's character and spirit It marks the state of English
literature at the time it was written. It makes us realise how
great was the work Alfred did for literature and the difficulties
with which he had to contend.^

^ There are many different arrangements made by critics of the dates ol
/Elfred*s translations. I have adopted the arrangement I think the best.
* For the text of this preface, see Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader, pp. 4-7.

Digitized by

Googk

ALFRED

This Book is for Worcester

King iClfred biddeth greet Bishop WaerfertJ with loving and friendly words, '
and I let it be known to thee that it has come very often into my mind what
wise men there formerly were both among the clergy and the laymen, and
what happy times there were then throughout England ; and how the kings
who had rule over the people (in those days) obeyed God and his ministers,
and they kept peace, law and order at home, and also spread their lands
abroad ; and how it was well with them both in war and in wisdom ; and
also how keen were the clergy about both teaching and learning and all the
services they owed to God, and how men from abroad sought wisdom and
teaching hither in (our) land, and how we must now get them from without
if we would have them. So utterly had it (learning) fallen away in England
that there wer« very few on this side of the Humber who could understand
their service-books in English, or even put a letter from Latin into English ;
and I think there were not many beyond the Humber. So few there were
of them that I cannot think of even one when I came to the throne. .
Thanks be to God Almighty that we now have any supply of teachers. And
therefore I bid thee do, as I believe thou art willing to do, — free thyself from
the things of this world as often as thou canst that thou mayst put to work the
wisdom that God has given thee wherever thou canst. Think what punish-
ments have come upon us in the sight of the world when we neither loved it
(wisdom) ourselves, nor let other men have it We only loved to have the
name of Christian, and (to have) very few (Christian) virtues.

When I remembered all this, I remembered also how I saw (before it was
all harried and burned), how the churches over all England stood filled with
treasures and books, and also a great host of God's servants ; and at that
time they knew very little use for those boolcs, because they could not under-
stand anything of them, for they were not written in their own language. It
was as if they said : " Our forefathers, who held these places before us,
loved wisdom, and through it they got wealth and left it to us." Here one
can still see their footprints, but we cannot follow them because we have lost
both the wealth and the wisdom, since we would not bend our heart to follow
their spoor.

When I remembered all this then I wondered exceedingly about the
good and wise men who were formerly throughout England, and who had
fully learned the books— that they did not not wish to turn any part of them
ihto their own tongue. But I soon answered myself and said : They
did not look for it that men would ever be so careless, and that learning
would so fall away. For this desire they left it alone : — wishing that
there should be the more wisdom here in the land the more we knew oi
languages.

Digitized by

Googk

222 yELFRED CHAP.

Then I remembered how the Law was first given in the Hebrew toilgue,
and again, how when the Greeks learned it, they turned it all into their own
tongue, and also all other books. And again, how the Romans did the same.
When they had learned it they turned all of it by wise translators into
their own tongue. And also all other Christian peoples turned some part of
(the old) books into their own tongue. Therefore it seemeth better to me, if
it seemeth so to you, that we also turn some books — those which are most
needful for men to know — into the tongue which we can all understand,
and that ye make means — as we very easily can do, with God's help, if we
have stillness — that all the youth now in England of free men who have the
wealth to be able to set themselves to it be put to learning while they
are not of use for anything else, until the time when they can well read
English ¥nriting; but those whom one wishes to teach further, and to
forward to a higher place — let them afterwards be taught further in the Latin
tongue.

When I remembered how the knowledge of the Latin tongue had before
this fiUlen away throughout England, and yet that many could read English
writing — then I began amidst other divers and manifold occupations of this
kingdom to turn into English the book which in Latin is named Pastoralis,
and in English Shepherd* s Book ; sometimes word for word, sometimes mean-
< ing for meaning, as I had learned it from Plegmund, my archbishop, and Asser,
my bishop, and from Grimbold, my mass-priest, and from John, my mass-
priest. When I had learned it so that I understood it, and so that I could
quite clearly g^ve its meaning, I turned it into English. And to each bishopric
in my Kingdom I will send one, and in each there shall be an "sestel " {indu
ccUorium) worth fifty mancuses. And I command, in God's name, that
no one take the " aestel *' from the book nor the book from the minister ; it
b unknown how long there may be such learned bishops, as now, God be
thanked, are nearly everywhere. Therefore I would that they should be
always kept in that place, except the bishop wish to have the book with him,
or it be lent out anywhere, or any one be making a copy from it.

This ends the Preface. Then, after a short space, some
alliterative lines follow. They tell us that "this message
(Gregory's treatise) Augustine brought over the salt sea to the
island -dwellers, as the Pope of Rome, that warrior of the
Lord, had decreed. In many a Right-spell the wise Gregory was
versed. . . . Afterwards, King Alfred turned every word of me
into English and sent me south and north to his scribes to be
copied that he might send these copies to his Bishops,

Digitized by

Googk

XIV i?ILFRED 223

because some who least knew the Latin tongue were in need of
them."

The translation follows, and at the end -Alfred has added
some verses of his own. They have a faint touch of imagination ;
t^eir simplicity reveals his childlikeness ; their rudeness of form
and phrase belongs to one who had but begun to write, but they
mark his interest in English poetry. He who loves poetry will
try to write poetry.

These are the waters — I paraphrase the verses — which the God of
Hosts promised, for our comfort, to us dwellers on the earth ; and His will
is that from all who truly believe in Him these ever-living waters should
flow into the world ; and their well-spring is the Holy Ghost . . . Some
shut up this stream of wisdom in their mind, so that it flows not everywhere
in vain ; but the well abides in the breast of the man, deep and still. Some
let it run away in rills over the land ; and it is not wise that such bright
water should, noisy and shallow, be flowing over the land till it become
a fen.

But now, draw near to drink it, for Gregory has brought to your doors
the well of the Lord. Whoever have brought here a water-tight pitcher, let
him fill it now ; and let him come soon again. Whoever have a leaky
pitcher, let him mend it, lest he spill the sheenest of waters, and lose the
drink of life. .

The second book-Alfred translated (890-91) wasBaeda's-£'^r/<?«-
asHcalHistory of the English^ and this was addressed n%t only to the
clergy but also to the laity, who ought to know the history of their
own land. This translation also clings closely to its original, but
omits many chapters not likely to interest the ordinary reader —
letters from the Pope, theological disquisitions, the account of the
Easter controversy, and some purely Northumbrian affairs. But
-Alfred takes pains, as if it were a subject of national interest, tc
translate in full the story of the origin of English poetry. It is
a pity, but it is characteristic of his early translating, that he
inserts no original matter. No one could have given a better
account of the history of the Church in Wessex and of the
kingdom \ and this is precisely the point where Bseda is weak and
less accurate than usual That Alfred did not do this is

Digitized by

Googk

224 .ELFRED

\ probably owing to the fact that about the year 891 he had begun

I to work the Chronicle up into a national history, and saw no need

I to put forth two accounts of the same matters. The loss is

I indeed all but repaired in his editing of the English Chronicle.

I That this editing came after his translation of Baeda is at least

suggested by the repetition in the Chronicle of certain mistakes

he made in that translation. Moreover, the king might naturally

feel that history should follow history.

It was the habit of the monasteries to put down on the Easter
Tables the briefest and driest records of the events of the year,
chiefly the deaths and enthronements of bishops and kings. For
Wessex and Kent this would be done at Winchester and Canter-
bury, but it is plain the Roll would be most carefully kept at
AVinchester. Professor Earle has skilfully wrought out when the
various recensions were made before the reign of iElfred. It is
enough for our purpose to say that at the time of ^thelwulf or
shortly after his death, some one man, and probably Bishop Swithun
of Winchester, filled up the Winchester Annals from tradition back

fto Hengest, combined them with the Canterbury Chronicle, made
a genealogy of the West Saxon kings from ^Ethelwulf to Cerdic,
from Cerdic to Woden, and from Woden to Adam ; and then,
I having inserted new matter throughout, told at some length the
wrars and de^tfi of ^Ethelwulf. This part of the Chronicle^ running
to 855, was found by ^Elfred on his accession and remained as it
was till the days of peace. Then about 891, having conceived
< the notion of making it a national history, he caused the whole
to be gone over, and the part from the accession of his brother
^^thelred, with a full account of his own wars with the Danes, to
be written in. It is, from its style, the work of one man, and it
may be that iElfred did it himself. As historical prose it is
rude, but also condensed and vigorous.^ In this recension
/ many fresh entries were made from the Latin writers and
/ Baeda's history. This then is the manuscript of the Annals of

1 Some think that the first part, from 60 B.C. to A.D. 755, was not done
at ^thelwulfs death, but now.

Digitized by

Googk

ALFRED

225

ted by 1
;; and/

Winchester which, written by a single hand, was presented
Archbishop Parker to Corpus Christi College at Cambridge
it is the source of the historical prose of England.-^

The new book ^Elfred now translated,^ most probably in the
years 891 to 893, was the History of the World by Orosius, a book
written originally in the year 418, at the suggestion of Augustine,
and with the purpose of proving, as Augustine himself tried to do
in the third book of his Civitas Dei^ that the wars of the world and
the decay of the Roman Empire were not due, as the heathen -
declared, to Christianity. Though a poor work, it became a
standard authority. It was the only book which the Middle
Ages read as a universal history. Alfred, knowing its value in
education, and anxious to inform his people not only of the
history of England but also of the world beyond, gave them
this book in their native tongue. He left out all the controversial
part, and all that he thought would be of no use or pleasure to
his readers. On the other hand, he inserted a number of new
facts, interspersed with original remarks full of his inquiring
and eager intelligence. But the chief insertion he made, in'"
a clear and simple style, was a full account of the geography of
Germany and of the places where the English tongue had of old
been spoken. "It bears traces, in its use, for example, of
Ostsa, instead of the Anglo-Saxon Eastsa, of being derived
from German sources." Indeed, the king made inquiries of every^
traveller who came to Wessex, and when he heard of two in
particular who had made long sea-voyages, Ohthere and Wulf-

* iElfred's work on the Chronicle ceases in 891. In 894 a writer of
ability and force took up the task, and carried it on to 897. From that date
to 910 the book was neglected. In 910 it was again undertaken by an
excellent writer.

* Not only does Wm. of Malmesbury mention the book as Alfred's,
but the following allusion can only be to the history by Orosius : —

II [Alfred] fist escrivere un livre Engleis
Des aventures e des leis
£ de batailles de la terre

£ des reis ki firent la guere
£ maint livre fist il escrivere
U li Ion clerc vont sovent lire.
Geflfipey Gairaar's Trans, of the Estorie des EngUs, 11. 345i-S6»
Q

Digitized by

Googk

226 iELFRED chap.

/Stan, he had them up to his house, and while he sat at his desk,
made them dictate to him their travels along the coasts of
Norway and the German shores of the Baltic. " Ohthere," it
begins, " said to his Lord King ^Elfred, that of all the North-
men he dwelt the farthest north," and he told how he had
sailed along the coast of Norway till he reached the White Sea
and the mouth of the Dwina; and then of another voyage
past Denmark and the islands till he saw the Baltic running
many hundred miles up into the land. " He had passed by,"
says the king, " before he came to Haithaby, Jutland, Zealand,
and other islands on his right, where the Engle dwelt before
they came hither." Wulfstan then told his tale — how he had
sailed from Haithaby along the northern shores of Germany for
seven days and nights until he reached the mouths of the Vistula
and the land of the Esthonians, of whose country and customs he
gives an account which must have delighted the keen curiosity of
the king. I give a short extract from Ohthere's voyage in order
to show iElfred's hand.

Ohthere told hb lord, King Alfred, that he, of all northmen, dwelt the
farthest north. He said that he dwelt in that northward land by the West
Sea. That land, he said, is very long from there to the north, but it is all
waste except in a few places. Here and there the Finns dwell in it, hunting
in winter and fishing in sunimer, along the sea. He said that once he longed
to try how far that land stretched to the north, or whether any one dwelt
north of the waste. So he went due north along the land, the waste land on
the starboard, the open sea on the larboard, for three days. Then the land
bent right to the east, or the sea in on the land, he knew not which, but he
knew that he awaited there a north-west wind and sailed then east, along by
the land, as far as he could sail in four da)^. Then he had to wait for a
wind right from the north, because the land bent due souths Then he sailed
thence due south along the land as far as he could sail in five days. Then
there flowed a great stream up into the land, and they turned up into the stream,
because they durst not sail past it because of foes, for on the other side of the
stream the land was all inhabited. Nor had he before met any inhabited land
since he had set out from his own home. » . . Chiefly he went thither, in
addition to the viewing of the land, for the horse- whales (walrus), because
they had very excellent boM in their teeth, — some of their teeth they brought
to the king — and their hide is very good for ship-ropes. That whale is much

Digitized by

Googk

ALFRED

227

smaller than other whales ; it is not longer than seven ells. But in his own land
is the best whale-hunting. They are forty-eight ells long, and the greatest
fifty. Of those, he said, he was one of six who slew sixty (?) in two days.

There is a freshness as of a sea-voyage, a personal breath in
the simple writing which makes us realise how closely ^Elfredi
listened to these rough seafarers, and how much he sympathised \
with their spirit of discovery. This is the first record in English I
of the mighty roll of great adventurers upon the ocean, and ^
iElfred was as eager to secure the geographical and national
knowledge of these men as the Geographical Society would be
to-day.

These translations were the work of about five years, from ^
888 to 893, years of the "stillness" that -Alfred loved, years when
he nourished in the arts of peace and literature, as he had done
in wars and government, that " desire I have to leave to men 1
who should live after me a memory of me in good deeds." I have
said that it is probable that during this time he received and
collected the Northumbrian poetry. Baeda's account of Caedmon ^
would have set him to inquire about it Its translation into the
West Saxon dialect would follow, and I should like to have seen
-Alfred reading Beowulf for the first time, or Asser and -Alfred .
reading together the Crist of Cynewulf. Nor did literature alone
engage him. He still sang and listened to English song, but he
cared also for things and men beyond England. He kept open
house for all who brought him outlanders' tales; he received
pagan Danes, Britons from Wales, Scots, Armoricans, voyagers
from Gaul and Germany and Rome, messengers from Jerusalem
and the far East. Irish scholars came to confer with him,^

* We find in the English ChronicU^ under the year 891-892, the following
romantic entry, part of which reads like a myth — like the voyage of
St. Brandan — but which is in full accordance with Celtic love of adventure : —
"And three Scots came to King Alfred in a boat without oars from
Hibemia" (Yrlande in another MS.), "whence they had stolen away, because,
for the love of God, they would be on pilgrimage — they recked not where.
The boat in which they fared was wrought of three hides and a half, and they
took with them enough meat for seven nights. Then after seven nights they

Digitized by

Googk

228 iELFRED CHAP.

and we hear that he sent a messenger to visit the Christian
Churches in India. The arts also were not neglected. He re-
stored and developed the art of shipbuilding. He fetched
many architects from the continent, and was himself an architect.
He rebuilt the fortresses ; he rebuilt London into a goodly city.
He made new roads and repaired the old. He adorned and laid
with fair stone his royal country-houses. In his reign enamel
work, gold -weaving and gold-smithery flourished, and certain
mechanical inventions were his amusement He still hunted;
it is a tradition that he wrote a book on falconry ; and the forest
and the pools saw the king flying his royal birds and chasing the
boar and the stag with the eagerness but not the strength of
a young man. Through all this lighter work he pursued the
heavier work of ruling his kingdom and preparing it for war,
and in his translation of Boethius there is a statement inserted
[of the powers and means of Government, of the division into
yclasses a great king makes of his people for the sake of the
/kingdom, of the necessity laid upon him to use this material
nobly. It is worth reading, not only for the insight it gives into
his kingship, but for the personal touches of sentiment which
give it a literary charm.

Reason ! indeed thou knowest that neither greed nor the power of this
. earthly kingdom was ever very pleasing to me, neither yearned I at all
exceedingly after this earthly kingdom. But yet indeed I wished for
material for the work which it was bidden me to do, so that I might
guide and order with honour and fitness the power with which I was trusted.
Indeed thou knowest that no man can show forth any craft ; can order, or
guide any power, without tools or material — material, that is, for each craft,
without which a man cannot work at that craft. This is then the material
of a king and his tools, wherewith to rule — That he have his land fully manned,
that he have prayermen, and army-men, and workmen. Indeed, thou knowest
that without these tools no king can show forth his craft. This also is his
material — That he have, with the tools, means of living for the three classes

came to land in Cornwall and went then straightway to King iElfred. Thus
were they named — Dubslane, Maccbethu, and Maelinmum. And Swifneh,
the best teacher that was among the Scots, died."

Digitized by

Googk

XIV i^LFRED 229

— land to dwell upon, and gifts, and weapons, and meat, and ale, and
clothes, and what else the three classes need. ...

And this is the reason I wished for material wherewith to order (my)
power, in order that my skill and ppwer should not be forgotten and hidden
away, for every work and every power shall soon grow very old and be
passed over silently, if it be without wisdom ; because whatsoever is done
through foolishness no one can ever call work. Now would I say briefly
that I have wished to live worthily while I lived, and after my life to leave
to men who should come after me my memory in good deeds.

These were his happiest days, but he lived, as he said, "with a
naked sword always hanging over his head by a single thread,"
and his quiet was destroyed when the sword fell in 893. " Hard- /,
ship and sorrow a king would wish to be without, but this is not/
a king's doom"; and the sorrow came when the pirates from
Boulogne, with 250 vessels in their train, seized on the forest ol
Andred, and Hasting, with 80 vessels, pushed his way up the
Thames. In 894 Hasting got into Hampshire, and shortly after
the whole of the Danelaw rose and joined the invaders. It was
their dying effort. ^Elfred was well prepared, and the war, though
carried to Chester in the North and to Exeter in the South, was
victoriously finished by the capture of the Danish fleet in 897. i
From that date till his death in 901 iElfred had peace; and he
returned, worn out but a conqueror, to his literary work.

The book he now undertook was Boethius' Z>e ConsolaHone .
Philosophiae, The translation, with its original handling of the
material, points to one who now had become an expert in
translation, who boldly transferred himself into the soul of his
author. This self-confidence is that of a long practice in
translating, and places the book at the end of ^Elfred's life in
the years 897 and 898. His choice this time was directed not
so much by a desire to teach his people as by personal feeling.
The philosophic consolation of the book, to which iElfred
added his own profound Christianity, was in harmony with
the temper of a man who had seen how fleeting were wealth
and power, bodily strength and fame; and who needed and
loved to have a deep religious foundation in the soul He

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

230 i^LFRED CHAP.

had known sore trouble, his life had been a long battle with
foes, with national ignorance and stupidity, and with bodily
disease; and now, in this book which he made his own, he
mused, full of courage and of weariness, from his watch-tower
of quiet, on the tragic and changing world, on the rest of the
world to come, and on the power God had given him to act
for his kingdom and endure for his people. The preface
which I here give may have been dictated by iElfred himself.

King iElfred was the translator of this book, and turned it from Latin into
Englbh as it is now done. Sometimes he set down word for word, sometimes
meaning for meaning, as he could translate most plainly and clearly, in spite
of the various and manifold worldly cares which often occupied him in mind
and body. These cares, which in his days came on the kingship he had
undertaken, are very hard for us to number. And yet, when he had learned
I this book and turned it from Latin into the English tongue, he then wrought
Vt afterwards into verse, as it is now done. And now he b^s, and for God's
sake prays every one whom it may please to read the book, that he pray for
him, and that he blame him not if he understood it more rightly than he (the
king) could. For every one, according to the measure of his understanding
and leisure, must speak what he speaketh and do what he doeth.

f The De Consolatiom was written by Boethius in the prison
rwhere Theodoric, King of the East Goths, had laid him on a
I charge of conspiracy. Composed to comfort his heart in trouble,
I it is a dialogue between him and Philosophy, who consoles him
/ for the evil changes of fortune by proving that the only lasting
/ happiness is in the soul. Inward virtue is all \ ever3rthing else is
I indifferent The wise and virtuous man is master of himself
^^ and of events. The book is the last effort of the heathen philo-
sophy, and so near to a part of the spirit of Christianity that it
may be called the bridge between dying paganism and living
Christianity. And so much was this the case that the Middle
Ages believed Boethius to be a Christian, and his book was
translated into the main European languages. -Alfred made it
popular in England, Chaucer got it into prose in the fourteenth
. century ; in the fifteenth it was put into English verse ; under
Elizabeth it was again put into English prose.

Digitized by

Googk

XIV i^LFRED 231

Its serious and sorrowful note harmonised well with the
spiritual life of ^Elfred. He expands, but does not injprove, the
grave ethical paragraphs. He does not wear the sto ic robe s with
grace. Sometimes, leaving his original aside, lie writes out of .
his own heart, and these passages are for the most part engaged /
with that contempt of wealth and luxury and power which the L
long harassment of his life had bred in him. He claims adversity '
as his friend, not his foe ; and he speaks of wisdom and friend-
ship with an equal love. He adds to Boethius a deep religious
fervour. The prayers are the writings where he reaches most
beauty of expression. The sentences on the Divine nature,
steeped in reverence, awe and love, soar with ease into that
solemn thought and adoration which we may well believe filled
the silent hours of the king's meditation on his own stormy lifei
and on the peace of God. It is a contrast, as we have seen in
Cynewulf, which was dear to the English writers. Sometimes
he jdelds himself to the charm of metaphysics, and discusses
free will and the Divine preordination. In the fifth book, where
these excursions come, he puts his own work almost entirely in
place of his original, and explains the problems of Boethius
from the Christian point of view. Nowhere does Alfred
stand more clearly before us, and the clearer he is the nobler
he seems. As we read, our admiration of him as king and warrior
and law-giver is mingled with our pity and reverence. And the
pity is that tender pity which men feel for the veteran who has
laid by, sore wounded, sword and shield \ and for whom pity is
another word for love. It is now that the phrase — England's
Shepherd, England's Darling — may most justly be on our lips.
The prayer at the end of the book fitly closes a work he loved
to do, and reveals so intimately the man's heart, that we feel
he could never have published anything so personal had he
not felt that his people loved him dearly and were at one with
him.

I have said that we get close to -Alfred's inner life in the
additions he makes, with great freedom, to this translation of

Digitized by

Googk

232 iELFRED CHAP.

the De Consolatione, It seems worth our while to isolate a few of
these additions. They reveal him as man and king, but chiefly
as one who had thought all his life long on the temper of mind
and spirit which should rule over the doings of a king. In the
passage already quoted concerning the organisation of the
kingdom, he speaks directly to his subject. In these that follow,
on wealth and power and wisdom, there is no direct reference to
his kingship, but we feel that he is thinking while he writes of
his high place and its temptations; and his nobleness and
humility, his deep sense of duty, his apartness from the baser
elements of the world, appear in every line.

Riches are better given than withheld. No man can have them without
making his fellowmen poorer. A good name is better than wealth. It
opens the hollow of the heart ; it pierces through hearts that are closed. It
is not lessened as it goes from heart to heart among men. No sword can
slay it, no rope can bind it.

The goods of life are good through the goodness of the man who has
them, and he is good through God. The goods of life are bad through the
badness of the man who has them.

True friends are, of all the goods in this world, the most precious. It
is God who unites friends. Indeed they are not of this world, but divine.
Evil fortune cannot bring them nor take them away.

Wisdom hath four virtues — prudence, temperance, courage, and
righteousness. If thou wouldst build Wisdom, set it not up on covetous-
ness. No man builds his house on sandhills. As the drinking sand swallows
the river, so covetousness swallows the frail bliss of this world, because it
frill always be thirsty.

He that will have eternal riches, *let him build the house of his mind on
the footstone of lowliness. Not on the highest hill where the raging wind
of trouble blows or the rain of measureless anxiety.

Power is never a good unless he be good who has it. No one need care
for power or strive for it If you be wise and good, it will follow you, though
you may not desire it. Thou shalt not obtain \and here he thinks of all
he has borne as king\ power free from sorrow from other peoples, nor yet
from thine own people and kindred.

Never without fear, difficulties, and sorrows, has a king wealth and
power. To be without them, and yet have them, were happy. But I
know that cannot be.

But whatsoever trouble beset a king, he would care only to rule ovet

Digitized by

Googk

XIV ALFRED 233

a free people. [/« a discussion on Free Will, Reason saysf] "How would
it look to you if there were any powerful king and he had no free men in his
kingdom, but that all were slaves ? "

Alfred: ** It would not be thought by me right or reasonable if enslaved
men should only attend on him."

"Then," quoth Reason, "it would be more unnatural if God, in all
His kingdom, had no free creature under His power."

Proud and unrighteous kings are adorned with gold and swords and
thegns ; but strip them of their trappings, and they are no more, even worse,
than many of their thegns. Let them fall from power, and their past
luxury makes them angry with their present, weak through sadness, useless
for getting back what they have lost.

This sentence, shortened from the original, reads as if he
were thinking of Athelney. Then, having disposed of wealth
and power as making a man, he passes on to rank.

"Art thou," he sajrs, "more fair for other men*s fairness? A man
will not be the better because he had a well-born father, if he himself is
nought. The only thing which is good in noble descent is this — That it
makes men ashamed of being worse than their elders, and strive to do
better than they."

Two more phrases mark the man —

We underworth ourselves when we love that which is lower than
ourselves.

For me, I dread no ill weirds. They can neither help nor harm a
man. Ill luck is even happiness, though we do not think it is. One can
trust it ; what it promises is true.

What a pathetic note sounds through all these sentences!
It is the note of one who is almost overpowered by difficulty,
alone within, with few friends, sore troubled with disease— of
one who works for justice and peace in his kingdom with
inadequate helpers, but who at every point just conquers life ;
having his ideal aims and faithful always to them ; and having,
beyond the storms of the world, a sure faith in the greater King.
We do not dwell in a history of literature on the religion of a
man, but no account of iElfred could be true which did not
say that he rested on God for his support and inspiration, that
his incessant work in this world was combined at every point

Digitized by

Googk

234 iELFRED chap.

with the life of his spirit in the diviner world. I quote one
passage out of many to emphasise this, and in itself it is a piece
^f literature. It is the prayer at the end of the Boethius : —

Lord God Almighty, shaper and ruler of all creatures, I pray thee for
thy great mercy, and for the token of the holy rood, and for the maidenhood
of St Mary, and for the obedience of St. Michael, and for all the love of thy
holy saints and their worthiness, that thou guide me better than I have done
towards thee. And guide me to thy will to the need of my soul better than
I can myself. And stedfast my mind towards thy will and to my soul's need.
And strengthen me against the temptations of the devil, and put far from me
foul lust and every unrighteousness. And shield me against my foes, seen
and unseen. And teach me to do thy will, that I may inwardly love thee
before all things with a clean mind and clean body. For thou art my maker
and my redeemer, my help, my comfort, my trust, and my hope. Praise
and glory be to thee now, ever and ever, world without end. Amen.

V In the De Consolatione^ Boethius interspersed his prose with

rerses, with Metra, The prefaces of our two English manuscripts

tell us that the king, having translated the Metra in prose, put

(them afterwards into poetry, and the oldest of the manuscripts

^has this poetical version of the Metra, Some think we have

here the king's work. If we take the short poetical prologue

to be a true statement ^ — and indeed it might be the king's own

^ writing — the English versification of the Metra is his own. If so

he was only a poor versifier. But others say that these verses

were done from ^Elfred's prose by a writer of the age of the

manuscript, that is, of the tenth century. The question has

been argued at great length by a crowd of critics, and remains as

yet undecided. The argument does not seem worth the trouble.

^The Metra in English verse are not good poetry. It is a pity, if

Alfred wrote them, to connect them with his name. If he did

1 Here are the first verses of the prologue —
Thus iElfred us an old-spell told,
Set forth his song-craft, used a maker's skill,
King of West Saxons he I And mickle lust he had
For this his folk to sing his song.
And mirth for men and sayings manifold !
A fragment of a third MS. has been lately found by Prof. Napier.

Digitized by

Googk

ALFRED 235

not write them, it would be well if they could be forgotten. Yet
the personal touches in them, if we could be sure of iElfred's
authorship, are interesting ; moreover, though one does not care
for the poetry, yet, were it iElfred's, it would illustrate his
intellectual activity that he should attempt verse as well as
prose.

What else the king did before his death is not quite clear.
A translation of the SolUoquia of St Augustine has been im-^
puted to him, and is very probably his. There is a preface,
which, if this book belong to the end of iElfred's life, is a
pathetic farewell to all that he has done as a translator of good
books for his people, and a call to his fellow-workers to continue
his labours for the sake of their English brethren. This is put
in the form of a parable ; ^ and its personal feeling and imagina-
tive form — the first so common, the second so rare in -Alfred's
writing — make it worth quoting.

Then I gathered me darts ' and pillar-shafls and stead -shafts, and handles
for each of the tools which I was able to work with, and '* bay timbers " and
** bolt timbers," and for each of the works which I knew how to work, the
most beautiful wood, which, felling, I could bear away. Neither came I
home with an overweight ; it pleased me not to bring all the wood home,
(even) if I could carry it alL On each tree I saw somewhat of that which
I needed at home. Therefore I advise every one who may be strong enough
and have many a wain, that he go to the same wood where I cut these pillar-
shafts, and there fetch himself more, and load his wains with branches, so that
he may make many a trim wall and many a beautiful house, and build a fair
town of them, and there may dwell joyfully and peacefully both winter and
summer as I (till) now have not yet done. But he who taught me, to whom
the wood was pleasant, he can make me dwell more peacefully, both in this
passing dwelling on this wa3rfaring, while I am in this world ; and also in the

* The suggestion of the parable is Wiilker's, The houses iElfred
mentions as built by him are the books he has translated, fetching his
materials from the wood (of Literature). But much more material remains
behind. Let others, his friends, go and fetch it in, and build with it, as he has
done. Yet here, in St Augustine and others, there is the material for another
house, eternal in the Heavens.

* *< Darts," ''javelins,** must mean here poles sharpened at one end like
spears, for driving into the ground.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

236 iELFRED CHAP.

eternal home which he hath bid us hope for through St. Augustine, St. Gregory,
and St Jerome, and many of the holy fathers ; even so I believe also that he
will make (for the worthiness of them all) both this wayfaring better than it
was ere this time ; and especially enlighten the eyes of my mind, to this end,
that I may find the way to the everlasting home, and everlasting honour and
everlasting rest which is promised to us through the holy fathers. . . .
May God grant that I have power for both — to be useful here, and surely to
go thither.

The translation is made up from Augustine's Latin into two

English books ; and a letter of Augustme's De Vtdendo Deo is

kidded. The letter is thrown into a dialogue, and this is done in

/order to harmonise it with the Soliloquia which are couched in

/ the form of a dialogue between Augustine and his Reason. The

/ first book is called by the editor a collection of flowers. " Here

I end the blossoms of this book"; and this flower-title is given

I also to the second book. The third book (that derived from

I Augustine's Letter) closes with the words : " Here end the

sayings of King Alfred," etc. The date is probably 900.

But his eager spirit, even when tamed by the approach of
death, would have desired to do something new. And William
of Malmesbury tells us that he translated part of the Psalms of
David. "Psalterium transferre aggressus, vix prima parte ex-
plicata vivendi finem fecit." It is supposed that we have in the
first fifty Psalms in prose of a Psalter called the Paris Psalter^
this last piece of -Alfred's literary labour ; * and it is a work we
may well imagine his spiritual intellect would do with comfort
before he died. He did not live to finish it. In 901, "the un-
shakeable pillar of the West Saxons, a man full of justice, bold in
arms, learned in speech, and above all, filled with the knowledge
which flows from God," passed away and was buried at Winchester.

* This is a suggestion, merely a su^estion, of Winker's. Wichmann has
endeavoured to prove iElfred's authorship of these fifty Psalms. But Dr.
Douglas Bruce of Pennsylvania, in an elaborate dissertation on the Anglo-
Saxon version of the Psalms, commonly called the Paris Psalter^ has, I think
with good reason, shown that yElfred's authorship of these Psalms is open to
the gravest doubt. But this doubt does not deny that Alfred did translate
some of the Psalms — only that the Paris Psalter Psalms are his work.

Digitized by

Googk

XIV iELFRED 237

Only two books not done by himself appeared, as far as
we know, in his reign. The first was the Dialogues of Gregory^
translated at iElfred's instance by Wer frith of Worces ter, and
with a preface written by the king. Werfrith is not mentioned
in the preface, but both Asser and William of Malmesbury speak
of him as the translator. These Dialogues are divided into four
books, and contain the conversation of Gregory with his deacon
Peter. Their subject is the lives and miracles of the Italian saints,
and in the fourth book the life of the soul after death. The
doctrine of Purgatory, as held in the Middle Ages, may be said
to have been settled in this fourth book. iElfred's preface,
given in full by Earle in his Anglo-Saxon Literature^ brings us,
as usual, close to his character.

I, Alfred, have clearly known that it is specially asked of those to
whom God has given high rank on this earth, that they should bend their
minds to the divine law, in the midst of earthly carefulness; therefore I
sought of trusty friends that they would translate the following dialogues, that
I, being strengthened through their warning and love, may at whiles think on
heavenly things amid the troubles of this world.

The other is the Book of Martyrs, This is allowed, aftei -
Cockayne's arguments, to date from ^Elfred's time, and was prob-
ably compiled at his desire. It begins with the 3 ist of December,
with St Columba; and ends with the 21st of December, with St.
Thomas. Of course, the fewness of these remains does not assert
that no other books were made in English. But the silence is
expressive. And ^Elfred's loneliness and sadness, as he drew to
the close of life, makes all the more impression on us, when we
think that his effort to make a literary class was a failure, and
that he himself was the only important English writer in his
kingdom. Asserts Life of the King^ was written in Latin.
Plegmund and John the Old Saxon seem to have been quite

' That Asser wrote this book has been questioned again and again. But
we have little reason to doubt that the bulk of the book is by the man whose
name it bears. Additions have probably been made to it, legends inserted,
events coloured and heightened to glorify the King, but on the whole its
record is historical, and contemporary with iElfred.

Digitized by

Googk

238 . ALFRED CHAP.

silent The writer of the king's wars with the Danes in the
English Chronicle was probably iElfred himself. Werfrith appears
to have been forced into translating the Dialogues of Gregory^
and to. have done no more. The king really stands by himself;
and yet he had far heavier work to do than any of his friends.
No figure is lonelier and nobler in the long gallery of the literary
men of England

The character of -Alfred as warrior, ruler, and statesman has

been sufficiently displayed by historians old and new, but of that

part of his character which appears in his literary work we may

here say a few words before we bid him farewell. The more

j intimate personaHty of the king, that tender, naif, simple, humble,

I self-forgetful nature, which played like a child with the toys of

I knowledge, with the Greek and the Roman tales ; which would

' have been weak through sensitiveness were it not for the resolute

will to attain the full height of his royal duties, would have

remained unknown to us, had he not been a writer as well as a

king. What that inner personality was is sufficiently clear from

the extracts I have given, and those who read them will, each

in his own way, feel the man.

There are, however, points belonging to the intellectual
character of Alfred which have a remarkable interest He
was the only man in his kingdom who was filled with so great

I a curiosity for knowledge, and whose range of interests was so
wide, that his spirit might justly be compared with that of the
men of the Renaissance. In this he stood far above mere scholars
like Asser or Werfrith, who were probably more than content with
what they knew. .^ Elfred was never sa tisfied. This was the peculiar
grace in him, that he would not only live well as king, but learn
the life beyond a king's, know as well as act, belong to the world
where pursuit and its object had no end. No limit lav to learning.
It may be that the first seeds of this unquenchable curiosity
were sown in Rome, where he lived among the records and ruins
of the past, where every stone still awakens the desire to know.
It is more than probable that at the Frankish court he heard

Digitized by

Googk

XIV i^XFRED 239

the Story of the love of learning which was so strong in Charles
the Great, and that, even as a boy, he urged himself to imitate
the Emperor. It is certainly true that when he came to the'
throne, he acted precisely as Charles had acted. He sent for
foreigners to help him in educating his people, as Charles had
sent for Alcuin and others. He tried, as Charles had done, to
get a nest of learned men in his court. He made, like Charles,
schools for his nobles, and forced them, like Charles, to learn.
He set up schools and monasteries, without the success of Charles.
Asser and Werfrith and other men had the same friendly relation
with him that Einhard and Alcuin, Peter of Pisa, and Paul the
Lombard had with Charles. And he collected the old songs of
his English people, as Charles had reduced to writing and learnt
by heart the old Teutonic sagas — " those most ancient songs of
the barbarians, in which the actions of the kings of old and their
wars were chanted." Indeed, in this collecting of his country's
songs, Alfred began to feed his curiosity ; and his main curiosity
was to find out everything he could about his own land. Nothing
lay deeper in his heart than love of England, even though he ruled
over so small a part of it English songs, as we have seen,
engaged his boyhood ; English poetry his manhood. He sought
from Baeda's history to know the foundations of English policy
and English religion. He sought from sailors who had seen the
Baltic to know what manner of land it was where the English
lived before they came to his own England. He mastered the
existing English laws ; he set on foot a national history ; he
recorded what he himself had done for England in war and peace.
He determined to learn Latin, because knowledge was hidden in
that tongue ; and when he had gained it, he made all he read into
English that his own people might know all that he knew. It was
a misery to him that England was not as athirst for knowledge as
himself. The words in which he expresses his pity for England's
loss of learning in the past, and his hope for all she might gain
in the future, are such as a Roman scholar of the early Renaissance
might have used concerning his own country.

Digitized by

Googk

240 iELFRED CHAP.

But his curiosity was not satisfied with the knowledge of
England. . He desired to know the world beyond ; not only what
he could learn from the men he fetched from the Continent, not
only the courts and nations with which he was politically con-
nected — this might be the desire of any king — but also the past
history of great peoples, their manners, their ways in war and
peace, the stories of their poets, the theories of their philosophers,
the course of religious life among them, the geography of ancient
lands, and the discoveries of new lands. He sent messengers even
to the East. It is strange, in the midst of an England dead to
pleasure of this kind, to suddenly meet with this eager personage.
It is not strange to find, when he lives in this sphere, that he then
forgot his kingship and only remembered the new worlds of
learning which he had to conquer. When he is talking to Asser
or Ohthere, when he is writing to Werfrith or to his people about
literature, kinghood slips off him. When he is speaking of Greece
or Rome or the Germans, he writes without a trace of insularity.
Hence in all his work, even in his policy to the Danes, there
is an extraordinary absence in JElfied of any national feeling as
against other nations. His patriotism, his sense of kingship,
were strong, but they were modified by a clear recognition that
all men who loved knowledge were of the same country and of
the same rank — one in the commonalty of literature. This also
is characteristic of a man of the Renaissance. Along with this
eagerness to learn there was the same eagerness to teach which
marked the men of the New Learning. He risked his popularity
as a king by his endeavour to make his people study. He seems
to think that his nobles, clergy, and people must feel on this
matter as intensely as himself. To educate became a part even
of his religion. To give money for a school was to give to God.

But that which, even more than a passion for knowledge and
for teaching, brings him into line with the scholars and artists of
the New Learning is his individuality. The personal element
stands forth clear in all his literary work. It is this which takes
even translations out of the region of the commonplace, and

Digitized by

Googk

iELFRED

241

which lifts his prefaces into literature. In war, and as a king,
he had genius; but in literature he is either a plodder or a
child He never rises into any original power, not even in the
Chronicle^ or in the additions to the De ConsolaHone Fhilosophiae,
But the aspiring personality of the man animates and pervades
the poverty of the work with a humanity which pleases us more
even than good writing. He has all the gracious naivete of a
child He plays with the Greek stories like those of Orpheus
and of Ulysses and Circe, with the same kind of natural sim-
plicity with which Turner treated them in painting; and this
naturalness has so much charm that we should regret to lose it in
finish of style and in art of words. In all that is personal he
belongs to literature. He creates his character in his subjects,
and the impression he made upon the future writing of England
is owing to that, and not to his literary ability. It was a great
thing to do.

What, then, is his place ? He has no originality as a worker
in literature, no creative power. He was a good receiver and a
good reproducer of knowledge. Even where he seems to be
original, he may not be so. We do not know how much of the
additions to the Boethius may be derived from Asserts conversa-
tion. But the style is his own ; its simplicity is as effective in
prayer and philosophy as it is in the Chronicle^ and very pleasant
coming from a great king. It is also pervaded by a strong
desire for clearness and for use, and by a love of his people.
It succeeds in being clear and useful, and it pleases by the force
of these elements ; but most of all, perhaps, by the deep feeling
for his people which animates and warms it We might also say
that his long intercourse with public affairs and with the manage-
ment of wars adds a weight to the style, of which, as we read,
we are vaguely conscious. But even when all this has been said,
the king, in literature, is but a learner, not, in any sense of the
word, a master.

Digitized by

Googk

1(.

CHAPTER XV

THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY IN AND AFTER iELFRED'S TIME

I HAVE said that the remains of the English poetry of
Northumbria were most probably collected by -Alfred ; and were
translated into the Wessex dialect, partly in the later years of
his peace, and partly in the first twenty years of the tenth century.

i Among the poems translated iii his reign we may surely count
those of Caedmon, one fragment of which -Alfred himself put
into English in his translation of the Ecclesiastical History.
Genesis A also, whether attributed then to Caedmon or not,
appeared now in West -Saxon. The gap in its manuscript

^caused the insertion of Genesis B ; and this set of poems may
have kindled some poet of this time into the composition of
the cantatas which once bore the title of Christ and Sqtan, and
which are contained in the second half of the manuscript of the
"Junian Caedmon." These new poems with Genesis B are now

-believed to be the property of Wessex, and to have been written
— at the end of the ninth or the beginning of the tenth century.

\ The Later Genesis (Genesis B) belongs in its original form to the

i last years of the ninth century — and what follows is conjectured to

* be its history. There was an Old Saxon poem written on the book

of Genesis (a few fragments of which liave lately been discovered),

-f either by the author of the Heliand himself, or moi*e probably by

; some imitator of the Heliand} Some English scholar (an Old

^ The Heliand is an almost heroic poem of the ninth century on the life
pf the Healer, the Saviour ; and Genesis B closely resembles it in language

yGOOgI

CH. XV OLD ENGLISH POETRY AFTER iELFRED'S TIME 243

Saxon by birth and perhaps, as Ten Brink suggests, John of
Athelney) translated this poem, word for word, during -Alfred's
life, into West Saxon. In the tenth century a copyist of the Elder
Genesis {Genesis A), finding a great gap in this poem after the line
234, inserted, in order to fill up the space and out of this West
Saxon translation of an Old Saxon poem, the lines 235 to 851 ; and
we call them the Zafer Genesis. This theory is held to account
for the difficulties of language, of metre, of manner, of senti- j
ment and of intellect which make this insertion so different from '
the rest of the Genesis in the Junian manuscript It is true, it
still remains only a theory, but philological investigation, and
the discovery of new evidence — such as the identity of the frag-
ments of an Old Saxon poem, line for line, with the correspond-
ing lines in the Zafer Genesis — tend year by year to confirm the
theory.

The insertion opens with a repetition of the subject of the ^
beginning of Genesis A, The fall of the rebel angels is told
over again. God returns to heaven after the creation of man,
and Lucifer's pride is hurt His glory is described, " so mighty in
intelligence, so beauteous in body, like to the brilliant stars,"
that he seemed to himself to be equal with God. And he
breaks forth into a fierce soliloquy, which follows here, literally I
translated, and showing the long epic line which this writer |
used : —

Why then should I toil, quoth he. Not a shred of need there is

Now for m£ to have a master ! With these hands of mine I may

Work as many wonders I Mickle force to wield have I

For the setting up of a goodlier stool than He,

And a higher in the Heaven I ForHis favour why should I be of Him the

slave .
To Him bow in such a bondage ? I can God become, like Him I
With me stand strong-hearted comrades, who will not in struggle fail me,
Heroes hard in spirit ! They have for their Lord chosen me and hailed me ;

and in diction, while both writers have used a Latin poem by Avitus, Bishop
of Vienne.

Digitized by

Googk

244 THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY chap.

Far-fam ed figh ters they I Any one can plan a rede with such followers as
^ these^ "

With such folk companions frame it ! They are ready friends of mine.
True in all their thoughts to me ! . . .

... So it is not right, methinks,
That for any favour I should need to fawn on God,
Or for any good. 1*11 no longer be His vassal.

This is the bold Teutonic earl, whose pride in his manli-
ness, whose insolence of individuality bids him stand alone, even
against the gods. I ^n hisvclaim to build a kingdom for himself,
to be God if he ^ease jZyi his sense of the clo«e comradeship
between his brothers in arms and himself, and^r/ his praise of
good rede, the speech belongs to a heathen Viking, and there are
many just as bold in the Norse sagas. Then hell is drawn with
northern imagination — the abyss of pain, swart, deep-valleyed,
swept at dawning by the north-east wind and frost, then by
leaping blaze and bitter smoke through darkness and vapour
I dun ; where Satan lies on his bed of death, hafted down with
f heat-smitten fetters over neck and breast, but unconquered still;
his thought as hot about his heart as the hell that clasps him.
"O, how most unlike," he cries, "is this narrow stead to that
other home which we knew of old in the high realm of
heaven I " ^

* This also, like some passages in Genesis Ay has a far-off likeness to
Milton —

O how unlike the place from which they fell.

So also Satan's address to his thegns is similar to the argument of Beelze-
bub in Paradise Lost^ Book II. It is a question whether Milton ever saw the
Genesis. He could not have read it, but Junius was his friend, and it is
not improbable that he translated part of the poem to Milton. Milton
would naturally like to hear what Csedmon was supposed to have said on
Paradise Lost ; and if so, he would retain some of the vivid expressions, and
use them. But a great deal too much has been made of the resemblances.
They are slight, and Milton, who read widely on his subject, could have
found similar phrases in the multitudinous representations of the Fall of the
Angels and of Man which had been made before he claimed the subject.
Many of these he certainly used.

Digitized by

Googk

XV IN AND AFTER ALFRED'S TIME 245

This is my greatest sorrow — that a man,^

Adam, made out of clay, should hold my seat,

My mighty stool, and be in bliss, while we

This bale must bear, this bitter harm in hell.

Ai, Ai 1 but had my hands their rightful craft.

Could I break out of this for one short hour,

One winter hour, then with this host would I —

But, braced around me, lie the iron bands,

A rope of chains engirths me, realmless me I

And o'er and under me is mickle fire,

Immitigable flame. More hateful land,

Ne*er known till now. . . . Full well God knew my heart.

And forged these gratings of the hardened steel.

To haft my throat ; else, had my arms their force.

An evil work should be 'twixt man and me !

But God has swept us into swarthy mists.

Into this fierce and fathomless zbyss I

O shall we not have vengeance, and pay back

Our debtrto Him who robbed us of the light ?

So, since he cannot free himself, he appeals to his thegns to
slake his vengeance by turning man to evil Bring him also
down to this grim abyss. " If I ever gave you the treasures of a
king in days gone by, repay me now ; fly, one of you, with your
feathered garment, to the place where Adam and Eve, wrapt
in their weal, are on the earth ; make them break God's bidding ;
make them loathed by Him; overcraft them; then — in these
chains softly at last I shall rest myself. Whosoever does this
shall sit by me on my high seat" At this cry for the comfort of
vengeance, one of his thegns springs to his feet : —

Then 'gan to gird himself God's grim-set foe,

Artful, and eagerly equipped himself.

Above, he set a hollow helm, and hard

He spanned it down with spangs. Much speech he knew,

But all of words awry I And then he wheeled

1 I have put the rest of the quotations in this chapter into blank verse fof
the sake of variety. They do not pretend to a literal rendering of the
original, such as I have already given in my History of Early English
Literature^ but they are not far from it.

Digitized by

Googk

246 THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY chap.

His flight, nplifled, through the doors of hell ;
Beating the (murky) air. Strong was his heart,
And foully bent his mind, as swinging back
On either side the flame, he found at last
Adam, in wisdom wrought, upon the earth,
And with him Eve, the winsomest of wives 1

" And a twain of trees stood beside them ; one was gentle and
lovely, but the other swart above and dusky below, the tree of
death that bore the bitter fruit."

The temptation follows : the dialogue has invention and is
subtly borne, and the presentation of the subject imaginative —
too subtly imaginative for the ancient Caedmon to have written.
" I have sat with God of late," speaks the Worm, " and He bade
me tell thee to eat this fruit, to learn knowledge. Taste and thy
mind shall be mightier, thy heart expanded, and thy form fairer."
"God told me," Adam replies, "that to eat this fruit should
bring me hell. I know not if thou be a liar, or a messenger
from heaven ; I know naught of thy ways, but I do know what
He bade me. Take thee hence! God can give me all good
things, even though He send no vassal here." So the fiend
I left Adam, and went to Eve : " God will be wrath, Eve, with thee,
when He hears Adam's message ; but listen to me and His wrath
will be turned away. And thine eyes shall be so clear, sheenest
of women, that thou shalt see the whole world and God Himself;
and more, thou shalt turn Adam round thy will, if thou wouldest
that." At which she took the fruit, and all the sky and earth
were lovelier to her, for the great Scather moved about her mind.
"See, Eve the good, how thy beauty and breast are enlarged.
Light itself is gladly breaking on thee. I brought it from heaven ;
look, thy hand may touch it ? Tell Adam what a sight thou hast
seen ; what powers thou hast now." Then to Adam went the
winsomest of women, and of the unblest fruit part she bore in
her hand. and part was hid in her heart. "Adam, she cried,
"this apple is sweet, and comes from God. I can see Him
now, throned in the south-east, sitting by Himself, wrapt in His

Digitized by

Googk

KV IN AND AFTER iELFRED'S TIME 247

own weal, He who wrought the world; and, wheeling round
Him, His angels in their feathered vesture, of all war-hosts the
fairest; and all the music -mirth of the wl^e heavens I hear.
Look, I have the apple here ; gladly I give it, take it, my lord,
I know it is from God."

It is characteristic of English feeling, though curiously unlike
Milton whose Adam yields at once to Eve, that Eve, whose
motives are all good, takes the whole day in this poem to per-
suade Adam. At last he took from the woman "Hell and
Hither-going, heroes' overthrow, murder of men, the Dream of
Death, though it was only named a fruit"; and Satan's thegn
bursts into triumphant mockery. Revenge is the finest play a
Teutonic fiend can have who clings fast as a war-comrade to his
captive lord. He " has won his high seat " — that is a personal
pleasure ; but it is nothing to his pleasure in thinking that now
his lord will be blithe and comforted, forgetting his pain in the
thought that he has paid out God and man for all his direful
woes. "My heart is enlarged," he cries, "I have never bowed
the knee to God " ; and refusing to stay in Paradise, he takes his
flight straight to the flaming fire to tell his lord the good tidings.
But before he leaves the garden, his rapture in vengeance makes
him speak as if he were face to face with Satan, though Satan is
far away in the deepest cone of helL

See, Lord 1 thy favour now is won, thy will
Accomplished ! Man is now befooled. No more
Shall heaven, but the swart descent to hell,
Be now their weird I O Thouj who liest in^sorfows,
Rejoic e, thou needst no mourning now. Be blithe,
TLaugh yi thy heart. All is paid back again !
For me, my heart is healed, my thought enlarged.
Our harms are well avenged I In swarthy Hell
Satan is clasped, my captive Lord, and there
In flame I seek him.

Adam and Eve are left conscious of their fall. In Milton
lust follows, and then mutual horror and mutual blame, and then
repentance. Here Eve loses the vision of clear heaven, and,

Digitized by

Googk

248 THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY chap.

in dread contrast, Adam sees black hell; then, with northern
quickness of conscience, immediately repents. There is no
recrimination between them, as in Milton. All is tenderness.
Adam makes but one reproach, not in bitterness, but sadness,
and Eve's answer is loving and quiet: "Thou mayst reproach
me, Adam, my beloved, yet it may not worse repent thee in thy
mind than it rueth me in heart" And Adam replies by a broken
and impassioned outburst of desire at all risks to know God's
will and bear His punishment : " Were the All-Wielder to bid me
wade in the vast sea — ^not so fearfully deep were the flood of
ocean that my mind should ever waver — into the abyss I would
plunge, if only I might work the will of God. But naked like
this we may not stay. Let us seek the covert of the holt. So
they went mourning into the greenwood," and there they fell
to prayer. Here ends, at line 851, the Later Genesis^ and the
earlier poem, after this insertion, takes up the story. ^

The second part of the poems which pass under the name of
paedmon, and which are in a handwriting different from and later
|ian the first part, were given the name of Christ and Satan,
iey are now divided into three poems or fragments of poems —
|lhe first called the Fallen Angels^ the second the Harrowing of
\Hell^ and the third the Temptation, I have elsewhere said that
they were probably composed in the eighth century, and by a
uoUower of Cynewulf in Northumbria, and on the whole, till
/further evidence, I cling to that opinion ; but as the majority of
critics, and among them such men as Ten Brink and Wiilker,
allot them to the tenth century, and, I suppose, to Wessex, I
place them here, along with the Later Genesis^ and as written
some time after the insertion of that poem into Genesis A, They
are simple, direct, and passionate ; dialogue enlivens them ; their
human interest is thus made greater, nor are the characters ill
sustained This is especially true of Satan, who differs at many
points — ^in his variety, in the form of his regret for his loss and for
that of his followers, in his sudden aspiration after heaven, and

1 See p. 138.

Digitized by

Googk

IN AND AFTER iELFRED'S TIME

249

in this writer's half-pity for him — ^from the Satan of the Later
Genesis, The poetry has a rugged power of description, and its
outbursts of praise closely resemble the passionate hymns of
Cynewulf.

The three divisions of the Fallen Angels end each with a
psalm of praise, as if they were three lays sung on three different
evenings on the same subject. The poem begins with a sketch
of the fall of Satan into hell, and of the fiery ruin in which
he lives. He wanders in a haU, brooded over by abysmal
cloud, cold and dark, where serpents and black-faced demons
run to and fro. Outside the hall, sunk deep in the core of space,
a weltering sea of fire mingled with venom breaks on high cliffs, at
whose base on the fiery marge the fiends meet and mourn. Flame-
breathing dragons are at its gates; but twelve miles beyond
them, the gnashing of the demons' teeth is heard in the vast of
space. When Satan speaks, fire and poison flicker from his lips,
and he wails for the home he has lost. His companions, quite
unlike Satan's thegns in the Later Genesis who love their lord,
scorn and reproach him here. He is a liar, a deceiver, a
wretched robber. Again and again he cries his sorrow, and then
breaks out into this strange agony of repentance : —

O Helm of banded hosts ! O glorious Lord !
O Might of the Great Maker 1 O Mid-Earth !
O dazzling daylight ! O Delight of God !
O angel hosts, and O, thou upper Heaven !
O me ! bereft of everlasting joy !
Never again to reach my hands to Heaven,
Nor with these eyes of mine look up again.
Nor ever hear once more with happy ears
Clash clear the clanging clarions of God !

The second song of the poem and the third repeat the motives
of the first, and end as the first ends, with psalms that celebrate
the bliss of heaven.
. The Harrowing of Hell begins at line ^fid : " Anguish came
on hell and thundercrash at dawn of day, before the Judge when
he shattered the gates of hell. 'Terrible is this,' cry the fiends,

Digitized by

Googk

250 THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY chap.

wailing far and wide through the windy hall, * since this storm
has come on us, the Hero with his following, the Lord of Angels.
Before Him shines a lovelier light, never seen since we were on
high among the heavenly host So our pains will be the keener.' "
Then the good spirits in prison gather round Christ, and Eve
tells their story, and that three nights ago Judas came and told
them the King was coming ; and how the Old Testament saints
" lifted themselves, leaning on their hands, midst all their pain
delighted," to hear the happy tidings. "Take us forth, O my
beloved Lord," and Christ, driving the devils deeper into hell,
bore the redeemed on high. " That was fair indeed when they
came to their fatherland, and with them the Eternal into His
glorious burg." Christ sits with them at the feast, and speaks to
them like an English king to the assembly of his Wise-men.
And the poem turns to tell of the Resurrection and Ascension, of
Pentecost and the Last Judgment, and each fragment ends with
a hymn of praise.

At line 665 another fragment of a separate poem begins, a
part of the story of the Temptation. It is only remarkable for
the mocking speech of Christ, such as an English victor might
make to his foe. " Go, accursed, to the den of punishment ;
take no jot of hope to the burghers of hell ; promise them the
deepest sorrows. Go, and know how far and wide away is dreary
hell! Measure with thine hands and grip against its bottom.
Go, till thou knowest all the round of it, from above to the abyss;
mete out how broad is the black mist of it Then wilt thou
understand that thou fightest against God."

" So he fell to dreadful pains " — and the stages of his fall are
vividly marked out — for first, "he measured in thought the torment
and the woe ; and then as he descended the lurid flame smote
upwards against him ; and then he saw the captives on the floor
of hell ; and then their howl, when they saw him, reached his
ears ; and then he on the bottom stood. And it seemed to him
then that to hell-door from the mount where he had been was
100,000 miles by measure." This is as accurate and close as

Digitized by

Googk

XV IN AND AFTER iELFRED'S TIME 251

Dante. And he looked round on the ghastly place, and there
rose a shriek from all the lost, and they cried to their Lord : —

There ! be ever in thine evil, erst thou would'st not good.

With this fine passage close the last poems which have borne
the name of Caedmon. Though he was not their writer, though
perhaps more than two hundred years separate them from him,
yet they are fitly gathered under the name of the man who first
sang of God and man in England, who began the illustrious roll of
the religious poets of England, whose subject Milton took, and
who made the path by which the poetry of heathenism carried
its matter and manner into Christian song.

These are the last religious poems before the Conquest which
show any trace of imagination or of original power. The rest of
which we know seem to be the dry and lifeless production of
cloistered persons who, not being able to write in prose, chose to
write in poor and broken rhythm. Religious poetry became mere
alliterative versing, and was finally altogetR ^ur eplaced b^ rose.
Then prose — ^and this is common when poetry decays — tended,
in order to satisfy man's desire for musical movement, to become
rhjrthmicaL ^Ifric, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, wrote
much of his prose in a jingle dFalGteratioh.' The Versing, then, of
the eleventh century"Wa5^ oiten bad'prose. About loio, a homily
attributed to Wulfstan contains 200 lines out of a poem of
the tenth century, which are deliberately used as prose. Even
in the tenth century the religious poems were few. There are
a small crowd of expanded versions of the Creeds, the Lord's
Prayer, and the Canticles in the Roman service. Of longei
poems, there is a Saints' Kalendar entitled the Menologtum^ which
we may date after the middle of the tenth century. It is quite
plain that when this poem was written the earlier English poets
were known and studied, for many passages are taken from
them by this versifier. But this we may say for him, that the
Northumbrian love of nature had filtered down into his souL
He speaks with a true feeling for May and Summer, and of the

Digitized by

Googk

252 OLD ENGLISH POETRY AFTER iELFRED'S TIME CH. xv

charm of their happy world. The Last Judgment^ which had
vogue enough to reach Northumbria, for this is the poem that
Wulfstan quotes, belongs also to the middle of the tenth century,
and is a Wessex translation of a Latin poem, perhaps by Alcuin.
To the same date is allotted a metrical translation of fifty psalms
which is found scattered through a Benedictine Service-Book.
Then there is a poem advising a gray- haired warrior to a
Christian life, which is dated before the year 1000, since it warns
the old man that the end of the world is near ; and another
poem urging its readers to prayer, in which Latin and English, as
in the Phoenix^ are mingled in the same lines. We must also
remember, if we do not give the metrical translation of the
Metra of Boethius to iElfred, that it was written somewhere at
the beginning of the tenth century. These exhaust the poetic
efforts of religion, and mark the swift degeneration of imagination.
They were followed by the death of this kind of poetry. During
the Danish Conquest and the reigns of the last two English kings,
jeHgoussong of anjr literary value in our tongue may be said to
be silent

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XVI

SECULAR POETRY AFTER -ALFRED TO THE CONQUEST

Secular poetry among the English after the time of ^Elfred was
chiefly in the form of ballads or of war-songs. The ballads seem
to have been made on any striking story in the lives of the kings
and of the chief men of the nation, and there were probably
ballads made in every village on the traditions of their families.
We seem to understand from the biographies of Dunstan that
there were songs belonging to Glastonbury and Athelney and to
his own family history, which he was accustomed to sing. More-
over, it was the custom to put into the Chronicle accounts of the
coronations and deaths of kings, in verse. These, which are only
annals versified, suggest the belief that there were songs or
ballads on these events written at a much greater length, and
this is a general opinion. It has been conjectured also that we
find in the Chronicle brief fragments of songs embedded in its prose.
Names have even been given to these supposed songs — " the Sack
of Canterbury^ loii ; the Wooing of Margaret^ 1067; the Baleful
Bride-Ale^ 1076 ; and the High-handed Conqueror^ 1086." The
actual verses in the Chronicle are the Battle of Brunanburh^ 937 ;
the Overcoming of the Five Towns^ 942; the Coronation of Eadgar
at Bothy 973; Eadgar' s Death and his Good TitneSy 975; the Slaying
at Coffe^ 979 ; Alfred the ^theling^s Slaughter^ 1036 ; the Son of
Ironside, 1057; 2in^ihQ Dirge of King Eadward the Confessor, 1065.

* These were the Danish boroughs in Mercia — Leicester, Lincoln, Notting-
ham, Stamford, and Derby.

Digitized by

Googk

254 SECULAR POETRY AFTER iELFRED chap.

All these, with the exception of the Battle of Brunanburh^ which
stands alone, cannot be called songs. One of them, however, has
some importance — that on the death and good deeds of Eadgar.
The way in which it is expressed recalls the heroic poetry, and
proves that it had not been neglected or forgotten.

All these abrupt verses may represent the subjects on
which • the ballad poetry of England exercised itself. We
find further proof of this continuance of song in the stories
told of this period by the Norman Chroniclers, by William of
Malmesbury, and Henry of Huntingdon. It is plain that they
put into their Latin prose English songs concerning early
English history which were still sung in the coxmtry at the date
at which they wrote; and we shall see of what kind they
were. But before we speak of them and of the two long war-
poems we possess, there is one secular poem to be mentioned.
This is the so-called Rhyme Poem in the Exeter Book, It be-
longs to the tenth century, and probably to the years betjgeep
240 and 95a The reason for that date is this. The poem is
\ theSniy'Sfie in the English tongue which- is written in the
/ form called in Scandinavian Runhenda, It adds to the usual
/ alliteration the rhyming of the last word of the first half of
i the verse with the last word of the second half. This is the
I form used by Egill Skallagrimsson, the Icelandic skald and
I warrior, in the poem Hdfu^lausn^ by which he saved his life in
I Northumbria from Erik Blood-Axe in the year 938. Egill was
' twice in England, and was a favourite for a time at the court of
iEthelstan. It is supposed then that Egill made known to the
writer of the Rhyme Song this form of poetry, and the poverty of
the poem and the clumsiness with which the form is used suggest
a first and solitary experiment. Its subject, one common to
English poetry — ^is the contrast between a rich and happy past
and a sorrowful present, and may be, as Ettmiiller conjectured,
the complaint of a soul in purgatory, or even in hell, as he thinks
of all that he enjoyed on earth. If so, the poem would belong to
the religious poems, but I prefer to think of it as secular

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST

255

Its suggested resemblance to the epilogue of the Elene has no
weight.

We turn now to the ballads and war-poems from the Song
of Brunanburh to the Song of Maldon. In the years between
iElfred's death and the accession of iEthelred the Unwise, from
901 to 979, England grew into a great and united kingdom under
famous kings. Eadward the Elder was the first of these, and with
the help of his sister -^thelflsed, the Lady of Mercia, became over-
lord of the whole of Britain and king of a great part of it His
glory (he was called the Unconquered) spread over the continent.
His daughters were married to the Emperor Otto, to Charles the
Simple, King of the East Franks, to the King of Aries, and to
the Count of Paris. A united England, and an England in full
relation with the great courts abroad, ought, with iElfred's work
behind it, to have had more literature than we find in it. And
Eadward, though unable to push literature himself, may have been
interested in it. He had learned with care, when young, " English
books, and chiefly English songs." No doubt then his victories were
sung in battle-ballads, but none of these have come down to us.

iEthelstan the S jgadfast succeeded him in 925. He was the
son of a lovely peasant girl, whom Eadward had met at his old
nurse's home, and, like King Cophetua, wooed and married ; and
a ballad was made out of this romantic thing. His grandfather,
iElfred, loved the handsome boy to whom his mother's beauty had
descended ; and it is told in a story, which may have been derived
from a song, that iElfred gave him a purple cloak, over which
iEthelstan's long hair fell like a river of gold ; and girt him as a
soldier, when he was only six years old, with a noble sword in a
golden sheath, hung from a belt studded with gems ; and prayed
him to grow up into a good and glorious king. And the prayer
was answered. England, under ^Ethelstan's chieftainship, vindi- (
cated her unity against the Danes, the Welsh, and the Scots at \
Brunanburh, and two war-ballads tell the story of the fierce battle. \
The first is preserved in Latin prose by William of Malmesbury, It \
tells how Anlaf, one of the Danish kings, went in the disguise of a

Digitized by

Googk

256 SECULAR POETRY AFTER iELFRED chap.

gleeman to spy out the camp of ^Ethelstan on the night before the
battle. The firelight flashed on his face as he sang to his harp,
and a soldier who had fought under him in other days seemed to
know him, and watched him; and when he saw that Anlaf buried
the money his foes had given him, made sure he was the king.
But he would not tell ^Ethelstan till Anlaf had gone. "Why
didst thou let him go free ?" said iEthelstan. " Had I betrayed,"
answered the soldier, "him whose man I once was, wouldst
thou, whose man I am now, have trusted me ? " And the king
i praised the answer and the man. The next day the battle was
I fought, and we possess in the Chronicle the song which re-
corded its triumph. It does not seem to have been written by
an onlooker. It is without any of those personal touches which
we find in the Battle of Maldon. We miss in it the naturalness,
invention, and simplicity of the ballad of battle, as it would spring
out of the heart of the people. It is a composition, and the
verse and style are both unimpeachable. Yet it is worthy of the
hero-poetry of England ; full of patriot exultation and heathen
wrath. It recalls in its abrupt and clashing lines the " Battle of
Agincourt," the "Battle of the Baltic," and the "Charge of the
Light Brigade." Tennyson's translation of it is so fine an example
of the way genius transfers itself with creative energy into another
atmosphere than that of its own age that I am grateful for the
permission to insert it here.

BATTLE OF BRUNANBURH

I Constantinus, King of the Scots, after having sworn allegiance to Athelstan,
jallied himself with the Danes of Ireland under Anlaf, and invading England,
/was defeated by Athelstan and his brother Edmund with great slaughter at
/Brunanburh in the year 937.

* Athelstan King,
Lord among Earls,

^ I have more or less availed myself of my son's prose translation of this
poem in the Contemporary Review (November 1876).

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST

Bracelet-bestower and
Baron of Barons,
He with his brother,
Edmund Atheling,

Gaining a lifelong A r^ i\ \ (

Glory in battle, CL (^ I [' C { ^

Glory in battle.
Slew with the swyrd-edge
There by Brunanburh,
Brake the shield-wall,
Hew'd the linden wood,*
Hack'd the battleshield.
Sons of Edward with hamm^*d brands.

Theirs was a greatness
Got from their Grandsires —
Theirs that so often in
Strife with their enemies
Struck for their hoards and their hearths and their homes

III.

Bow'd the spoiler.

Bent the Scotsman,

Fell the ship-crews

Doom'd to the death.
All the field with blood of the fighters

Flow'd, from when first the great

Sun-star of momingtide.

Lamp of the Lord God

Lord everlasting,
Glode over earth till the glorious creature

Sank to his setting.

There lay many a man
Marr*d by the javelin.
Men of the Northland
Shot over shield.
There was the Scotsman
Weary of war.

* Shields of lindenwood.
S

;<Ttt

Digitized by

Googk

258 SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED chap.

We the West-Saxo ns,
TLong as the daylight

Lasted, in companies
Troubled the track of the host that we hated,
Grimly with swords that were sharp from the grindstone^
Fiercely we hack'd at the flyers before us.

Mighty the Mercian,
Hard was his hand-play,
Sparing not any of
Those that with Anlaf,
Warriors over the
Weltering waters
Borne in the bark's-bosom.
Drew to this island :
Doom*d to the death.

VII.

Five young kings put asleep by the sword-strokc,
Seven strong Earls of the army of Anlaf
Fell on the war-field, numberless numbers,
Shipmen and Scotsmen.

Then the Norse leader,
Dire was his need of it.
Few were his following.
Fled to his warship :
Fleeted his vessel to sea with the king in it,
Saving his life on the fallow flood.

IX.

Also the crafty one,
Constantinus,
Crept to his North agaia,
► Hoar-headed hero 1

Digitized by

Googk

*vi TO THE CONQUEST 259

Slender warrant had

He to be proud of

The welcome of war-knives —

He that was reft of his

Folk and his friends that had

Fallen in conflict,

Leaving his son too

Lost in the carnage,

Mangled to morsels,

A youngster in war !

Slender reason had

He to be glad of

The clash of thie war-glaive—

Traitor and trickster

And spumer of treaties —

He nor had Anlaf

With armies so broken

A reason for bragging

That they had the better

In perils of battle

On places of slaughter —

The struggle of standards,

The rush of the javelins.

The crash of the charges,^

The wielding of weapons —

The play that they play*d with

The children of Edward.

XII.

Then with their nail'd prows

Parted the Norsemen, a

Blood-redden'd relic of

Javelins over

The jarring breaker, the deep-sea billow.

^ Lit. *• the gathering of men."

Digitized by VjOOQIC

C«A^

Also the bteftten,

xiv.

f to be carrionf

Left for the w^**"*^' ^^.^ ni.yen to tend it, ^ .

G^vetotheP" ^j^ «oU of *« ""^
Thatgt»y«>«^^-

XV.
never bad huge'

S\»n hy the s«o

^*eh«-dWnow

£,jls dttit ii»e« ""
H^^ortheUnd- „a .hich

lUAtX. fttVV.\ Uvt *>*^'^'"' J j„j^

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

XVI TO THE CONQUEST 261

divided England again, and lasted even through the Danish kings
until the Norman Conquest That conquest did finally for Eng-
land what Eadward and ^thelstan had temporarily done. It made
one kingdom, and in doing so made a national literature possible.
Eadmund succeeded ^thelstan in 940, and this "Doer of
Deeds " did one thing of which a song was written. It recorded
his retaking of the Five Towns in the northern Marchland, and a
small portion of it was placed in the Chronicle, There may also
have been a song made of his murder by Leofa and of the bitter
mourning of Dunstan over him when he was laid in Glastonbury.
In 946, Eadred the Excellent came to the throne, and then |
Eadwig in 955 ; and on his death Eadgar, the Winner of Peace, was
King of all England from 959 to 975. There are three stories about
him, one belonging to his wilder youth, which were probably in
the form of ballads and which William of Malmesbury put into
prose. The first of these is the ballad of yElfthryth and jEihelwold
and of the King^ and it has many relations in the folk-tales of all
countries. -^Ifthryth was so fair a woman that the king heard of
her loveliness and sent his friend iEthelwold to her father, saying,
"Give me thy daughter to wife." But iEthelwold, made foolish
by her fairness, told the king that she was unworthy of her fame,
and married her himself. When the king beard the truth, his
anger was deep, but hiding his heart he played the friend with
-^thelwold, and said, "I will come and see thee and thy
wife." iEthelwold told his wife what he had done, and said,
" Make thyself unbeautiful, put on thy most common clothes,
and we may yet deceive the king." But the woman, wroth with
his fraud and longing to be a queen, clothed herself in glorious
garments and made her beauty greater, and smiled upon the
king. Then Eadgar, hunting with ^Ethelwold next day, slew him
with his spear and avenged the lie. "What thinkest thou of this
hunting ? " he said, turning in his fierceness to iEthelwold's son
by another wife. "My lord," said the young man, "what is
pleasing to thee cannot be displeasing to me " ; and Eadgar gave
him gifts in atonement; but he married ^Ifthryth, and the

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

262 . SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED chap.

woman had her way. Afterwards she feared for herself, and
founded a nunnery.
I In later days Eadgar, leaving his wild passions, was a strong

J and wise king, who loved honour and was ready with his hands.

I Another ballad, made into Latin prose by William of Malmes-

I bury, is of him and the Scot-king Kenneth. For Kenneth, one
day feasting with his men, said of Eadgar, who was little of
stature, " 'Tis wonderful to me that so many folk should do the
will of so small a man." And Eadgar, hearing this, bid Kenneth
meet him in a lonely glade, and brought with him two swords.
"Take a sword," he said, "let us see which is the best man,
and whether I am not fit to have bigger men than I to do my
will ; nor shalt thou go till we have proved this, for it is not meet
for a king to say at the drink what he will not stand to in battle.'*
But when Kenneth heard that, he asked forgiveness. "'Twas
but a jest," he said.

There is yet another song, or what seems to have been one,
which proves how proud and famous a king Eadgar was thought
to be. When he came to Chester to be crowned, seven years
after his coming to the throne, and steered his long barge on the
river, eight kings, of whom he was the overlord, were his rowers
— five Welsh kings, and Kenneth, and the Danish king of the

I Southern Isles, and the King of Cumberland ; so he had great
state ; and even the kings of Dublin obeyed him. He died in
975 and was succeeded by Eadward the Martyr, of whose death
also a song was made. Coming back from the chase one day, he
stayed at his stepmother's, for he was thirsty; and while he
drank she caused him to be stabbed in the back, and he fell

'^ from his horse and was dragged through the woods till he died.
"There was never so evil a deed done among the English since
first they came to Britain." And he was buried in -Alfred's
minster of Shaftesbury.

These were the great kings of England, and these the songs
which were made of them, and many more were doubtless made
which have been forgotten, for singing and making of ballads

Digitized by

Googk

XVI TO THE CONQUEST 263

never ceased in England. Even in the next reign, of iEthelred
the Unwise^ (979-1016), during which the Danish conquest of
England by Swein Forkbeard and Cnut was begun, there is one
fine battle-poem, the Death of Byrhtnoth, the alderman of
Essex, who fought in 991 with the Danes at Maldon.

The poem runs to 300 lines, and is unfortunately without a
beginning or an end. The manuscript in which it was found was
burnt among others in the Cottonian library, and we only possess
it in the copy which Hearne- printed. The oldest manuscript of
the Chrofdck and four later ones record the battle and death of
Byrhtnoth. The first makes it happen in 993, but the other
four and the history of the Church of Ely place it in 991. That
is, then, the chosen date. Some suppose it was written by a monk
of Ely, because Byrhtnoth was a rich benefactor of that Abbey.
If so, he either saw the battle or spoke with one who had been
in the van of it

Its historical interest is great. It tells of the first outbreaking
of the tempest which, long accumulating in the North, was to end
in the Danish conquest of England. One of the roving Viking
bands which had gathered some years before round Swein of
Denmark , bu t which his expn 1<^inn fmrp npr^mfl xk ^^(^ T^ Ipgse^
landed on the east coast of England, plundered. Ipswich, and,
sailing up the river Panta, landed on the long spit of ground
which divides the stream into two branches. Opposite to
them, on the northern shore, was Maeldun (Maldon), and Earl
Byrhtnoth came down from the town to meet the pirates. The
tide was in, and the stream flowed deep between the two armies.
They challenged one another, and shot their arrows to and fro
till the ebb came. Then they dashed into the ford and came to
blows in the water. Long and well they fought, but the Danes
had the better, and the earl died on the bank of the stream. I
have put into a rough metrical movement part of the poem.^

* I take the word ** Unready," the uncouniclled, to mean one who would
not take good rede, that is, who was unwise.

* A literal translation of the whole is placed in the Appendix.

Digitized by

Googk

264 , SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED chap.

The earl gathers his men. One lets his hawk fly away,
another grasps his arms, and Byrhtnoth puts his men in array ;
riding and giving rede among them, till all were ready. Then he
lighted from his horse and stood among his hearth-men. On
the other side of the stream, now full of the flood -tide, the
herald of the' Vikings shouted mightily the threat of the sea-
thieves —

Hail ! the swift sea-farers send me ;
Bid me tell you — ** Send them rings.
Better send them to defend you
From the rushing of our battle
Than that we should deal you slaughter 1
If thou givest to the Vikings,
At their dooming, gold for friendship —
We betake us to our shipping
"With the scats, and o'er the waters
Fare away in peace with you."
Byrhtnoth spake, and raised his shield.
Shook his tapering ashen-spear,
Steadfastly and fierce he answered —
Hear, thou Seaman, what this folk say—
** Spear-points they will give for tribute,
Swords of old time, venomed edges.
Battle-gear that brings no gaining I
Seamen's herald, take the message I
Here stand I, an Earl, and warding
With my host our fatherland.

Fall, ye heathen, in the war!
Shameful would it seem to me
Should ye fare to ship unfoughten,
With our scats, when ye have hither
Marched so far into our country.
Is*t so easy to get treasure ? —
First shall spear and sword encounter,
And the play of war be grim,
Ere we give a scat of tribute. "
Then he bade them bear the shield,
Till they stood along the stream- edge.

Digitized by

Googk

XVI TO THE CONQUEST % 265

Each the other could not meet
For the flood -tide followed now
On the ebb, and stream and tide
Mixed their waters — Long it seemed
Till they bore their spears together.
So about the Panta's stream
Stood arrayed the Saxon line,
And the army of the ships ;
None of them could harm the other
Save by flying of the arrows I
Ready, eager for the battle
Were the Vikings, when the flood
Ebbed at last — and Byrhtnoth cried
*' Wulfstan, kinsman, hard-in-war,
Hold the passage. Son of Ceola 1 "
Then the first who strode the ford »
Wulfstan smote him with his spear.
Fearless warriors were with Wulfstan,
Maccus, iElfere, high-hearted,
Who would never fly the pathway.
Firm they held it 'gainst the foemen.
. When the Vikings saw how fell

Were these warders of the ford,
Hateful, they began to feign —
** Give us passage o'er the ford.**
And the Earl, in scomfiilness,
Let too many foemen land.
O'er the cold stream Byrhthelm's son
'Gan to call the Vikings — ** Come !
Quickly come, for here is room
For the battle. God alone
Knoweth who the field shall win ! "
Then the slaughter-wolves, the Vikings,
Reckless of the water, went
Over Panta ; bore their shields.
O'er the gleaming water bore,
All their linden-shields to land.
Byrhtnoth 'gainst the bloody foe
With his men stood ready there;
** Make the war-hedge," then he cried,

* The word is bridge — but there was no bridge in our sense of the word.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

266 SECULAR POETRY AFTER /ALFRED CHAP.

•* Steady stand, for now the battle
Draws anigh, and now must fall
All the weirded.'* — Then the shouting
Rose on high ; the ravens wheeled ;
Carrion-greedy, barked the eagle ;^
Then they let the sharp-set darts
Fly their fingers, and the spears
Edged to keenness. Busy now
Were the bows, and now the shield
Stopped the spear-head ; bitter then
Charged the battle : on each side
Fell the warriors, youths and men,
Dead upon the slaughter-field.
Wounded was Wulfmaer; he chose
Death to' sleep in, B3nrhtnoth's kinsman ;
Sorely was he hewn with swords.
But a vengeance met the Vikings ;
One was slain by Edward, he
Smote him with a mighty stroke ;
At his feet the fated fell.
And his Lord gave thanks to him ;
Exlward was his bower-thegn.

Byrhtnoth whetted them to battle ;
He, the Hard-in war, strode forward,
Shook his spear on high, and holding
Shield aloft for shelter, stepped
Firm against a Viking I Each
Thought on death to each. The Seaman
Sent a southern dart, and wounded
Byrhtnoth, lord of fighters, who
Thrusting downwards with his shield
Broke the shaft, and loosed the spear.
Fierce was Byrhtnoth then, and pierced
With his spear the boasting Viking,
Skilful sent it through his throat.
Quickly then he flung another.
Cleft the byrnie's woven rings ;
In the Viking's heart the venom
Stood — and blither was the Earl ;
Laughed, and gave the Maker thanks,
For the work the Lord had given.

Digitized by

Googk

XVI TO THE CONQUEST 267

Then another Viking sent

Flying from his hands a spear,

And it pierced the iEtheling,

Byrhtnoth, thegn of iEthelred !

There beside him stood a youth.

Yet a boy, who forth withdrew

From his Lord the bloody spear,

Son of Wulfstan, young Wulfmaer I

And he sent that very spear

Sharp and keen against the Viking ;

In the point went, and he lay

Dead who erst had struck his Lord.

Then a fighter sought the Earl,

All to seize his rings and armour.

And the armlets and the sword ;

But the Earl unsheathed his bill.

Broad and edged with brown, and smote

At the bymie of this foe.

Ere he struck, the Viking marred

Byrhtnoth's blow, and sliced his arm ;

And his fallow-hilted sword

Fell to earth, and never more

Could he hold or wield the blade.

Yet the hoary fighter spoke,
Heartened up his men, and bade them
Be good comrades ; then he looked
Up to Heaven, and spoke this word —
" Thanks I give Thee, King of peoples,
For the joys I found on earth !
I have need, O Lord of Mercy,
That Thou grant my ghost Thy kindness ;
That my soul to Thee may wend ;
To Thy keeping, Lord of Angels,
Fare in peace : of Thee I pray
That hell-scathers may not hurt it."
Then the heathen hewed him down ;
And the men who stood by him,
-^Ifnoth and Wulmaer, lay dead ;
Life they yielded with their Lord.

Thus ends the first part of the battle with the great earPs
cry to God, the mighty Lord of all folk. He does not sing the

Digitized by

Googk

268 SECULAR POETRY AFTER iELFRED chap, xvi

^ tale of his famous deeds, as Beowulf would have done ; he sings
thanksgiving for the joy he had in this world, and prayer that
his soul may fare forth in peace and forgiveness. It is the first
time in English war-song that the dying warrior ends his life, not
with the boast of the hero or his farewell to his folk, but with the

f prayer of a Christian man. It brings us near to that poetry of
Romance in which the knight dies with the name of Christ upon
his lips. Yet, though ByrhtnotKs Death has thus varied from
the ancient traditions of English song, the poem is as heroic and
northern in feeling as Beowulf, It uses the old motives, words, and
urgings. Its challenges sound like those in the Fight at Finnsburg,
And courage and honour before all things else, and faithfulness to
the oath of service, and the closeness of the tie between the thegn
and his lord, and the shame of cowardice, and death better than
a shamed life — these, with which English saga begins, are vital
in the last song it sings before the Conquest

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XVII

ENGLISH PROSE FROM -ALFRED TO THE CONQUEST

English prose-writing all but died with the death of ^Elfred,
and ninety years had passed away before the impulse he gave it
bore its full fruit in the work of ^Ifric whose first homilies ap-
peared in 991. But its blossoms began to appear more than ,
thirty years earlier in the founding of the school of Glastonbury I
by Dunstan, and of Abingdon and Winchester by ^thelwold, J
the scholar of Dunstan and the master of -^Ifric.

It is not difficult to say why JElfied failed to make England
learned, or even to make a literary class. He tried at first to
influence the parish clergy, who had now to do the work formerly
done by the mission preachers of the monasteries, and who did
not do it. The appeal he made to them by his Pastoral Care
fell dead. They were ignorant and demoralised, save the few
whom iElfred praises. They drank heavily, they hunted, they
sang rude songs and made them, they married (in the Danelaw
the marriage of the clergy was legalised), and they did worse than
marry. Their hungry sheep looked up and were not fed, and if
a few were bettered by iElfred, they fell back after his death into
their sturdy ignorance and ill-living. No literary work was done
by the secular clergy.

Nor can we say that the influence he brought to bear on the
bishops and higher clergy produced any lasting result. He
seems to have found only one man among them whom he thought
capable of good prose. He urged them to write, but WerfritW

(\\.*

Digitized by

Googk

270 ENGLISH PROSE FROM iELFRED chap.

-1 translation of Gregorys Dialogue s was the only book he dragged
^ out of his bishops. In fact, they had but little leisure, and
j were inevitably drawn into political life. When the king pressed
j them, they tried to do some learned business, but when ^Elfred's
successors urged them no more. Church and State were much
more interesting occupations. No great ecclesiastic, till Dunstan
came, did any work for literature in England ; and even Dunstan,
when he left Glastonbury, was soon completely involved in the
labours of the State.

Alfred's effort to make a cultivated laity also failed. He
tried to interest them in the history of their own country and in
the history of the world, but the interest he did awake was not
enough to induce any of them to leave their hunting and war
for literature. Even his own sons and grandson failed him in
this respect. They attended his schools along with the nobles,
but when they came to reign, they had far too much to do against
a host of foes to give any time to learning. They had to make
history, not literature ; to unite, not to educate England. They
listened to the bards who made poems on their great doings, and
gave them "rings," and in that lame conclusion ended ^Elfred's
hope to make a learned laity. Not till nearly a century after-
wards do we meet with educated nobles like -^thelweard and
his son, and they were more interested in, than capable of,
literature.

So, in the end, -Alfred took to writing English for his own
pleasure, and for the sake of the future England. His translation
of the De Consolatione may record not only his longing to comfort
himself for the troubles of the world, but for his failure to make
a learned class in England. However, his experience had taught
him, long before the date of this last translation, that at first
there was only one way to re-create literature in England. This
was to re-establish monasticism. What was left of the monasteries
in Wessex had become unmonastic. Malmesbury and Glaston-
bury were still abbeys, but were served by secular priests. A few
monks may have lived there under rule, but the rule was inopera- 1

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 271

tive. JEUred endeavoured to reorganise these abbeys, but in
vain. He established nunneries at Hyde and Shaftesbury, and
succeeded, with his own daughter as abbess, in getting Shaftes-
bury into some working order, but the place decayed. He set up
Athelney for monks, but the sturdy objection of English folk to
the monastic habit forced him to make a foreigner its abbot, and to
fill it with priests and deacons from beyond sea, with young Gauls
and Danes, even with children to be trained into monks ; but
before very long the abbey broke up in disorder. In this attempt
to revive monasticism for the sake of literature he also failed.
And the failure lasted a long time. Even in 955-959, during
Eadwig's reign, monasticism was still at a low ebb. " Sad and
pitiable," says William of Malmesbury, " was the face of monach-
ism. Even the monastery of Malmesbury, which had been
dwelt in by monks for 270 years, the king made a sty for secular |
canons." Yet in monastic leisure alone, while the country was \
harassed by wars and invaders, could any learned work be done. \
The tendency of monasteries was to do that work in Latin. But \
when it was started by Dunstan and carried on by iEthelwolcf^
and iElfric, a great deal of it was done in the English tongue,!
and in honest English prose. In ^Elfric's resolute use of the\
vernacular," ninety years after iElfred's death, we find the resur-
rection of iElfred's influence and of his principle — " Teach the
people in their own tongue ; make the English language the
language of literature." This is the story of iElfred's failure, of /
that apparent failure which befalls a genius who is before his time.
Only one man seems to have carried on after .Alfred's death
the tradition of his work. -Alfred's prose was chiefly secular, and
we might expect, at a time when the glory of the country grew,
that the impulse he gave to the history of that glory would con-
tinue in one at least of his band of scholars. We find him in the
writer who composed the narrative in the Chronicle of the wars
and work of Eadweard from 910 to 924. From 901, when Alfred
died, to 910, the story is but poorly recorded, but in 910 the pen
is taken up by probably the same hand which wrote the account j

Digitized by

Googk

272 ENGLISH PROSE FROM iELFRED chap.

[of the years from 894 to 897 with so much breadth, earnestness,
and power."^ Of course we cannot be sure of this, but from 910
to 924 we have the narrative of one who at least rivals the previous
writer. It is well composed, clear, individual in style, brief, but
not too brief to be effective. This is the sole piece of secular
prose of this date. From 925 to 940, during the reign of
iEthelstan, the meagreness of the Chronicle is only broken once by
the song of Brunanburh. From 940 to 946, during the reign of
Eadmund ; from 946, when Eadred came to the throne, to the
death of Eadgar in 975, the Chronicle ceases altogether to be
literary. Three short poems of no value only make the thinness
of its entries more remarkable. Secular prose, then, had died in
Winchester. But religious prose had begun to move again into
life with the restoration by Dunstan and Eadgar of the monastic
life of England.

Dunstan, "the chief of monks," was bom in the reign of
Eadward, iElfred's son,^ and died when ^Ethelred the Unwise had
been ten years on the throne, in 988. He lived, then, through
all the glorious reigns of the House of -Alfred, and saw the be-
ginning of its decay. He played a great part in politics and
in the Church. But our chief interest is in what he did for
learning and literature when he came to man*s 'estate. Even in his
boyhood and youth he was a good example of how far culture and

^ iEIfred's work, or his seeming work, on the Chronicle ended in 891.

^ The usual date is that of ^Ethelstan's accession, 924 or 925. But critics
have agreed to put it back a little. There are several biographies of Dunstan.
There is one, about 1000, by a Saxon priest whom Stubbs thinks was a
scholar from Li^e, living under Dunstan's protection at the time of his
death. Another is by Adelard, a monk of Blandinium, about the same date.
Osbem wrote another after the Conquest, shortly before Anselm*s arch-
bishopric. Eadmer, Anselm's biographer and writer of the Historia Novorutn^
composed another, deriving his information from St. Wulfstan of Worcester,
and from Nicholas, a learned monk of the same town, who treasured up and
cared for the English traditions. Both these biographers were precentors of
Christ Church, Canterbury. The next life of Dunstan was written by William
of Malmesbury, and Capgrave made a compilation from all of them in the
early part of the fifteenth century. — See Stubbs's Memorials of Dunstan.

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 273

the arts had under Alfred's House penetrated into the south of
England. Born in the fenland of Somersetshire, close by Athelney
and Wedmore whence the glory of Alfred shone into his eyes,
he grew up to boyhood in his father Heorstan's hall, under the
hill of the ancient Church of Glastonbury. His mother's name
was Cynethrythis, and she was connected with the royal house.
He went to school to the Irish pilgrims who, gathering round
the tomb of the younger Patrick, had set up something like a
colony at Glastonbury. The abbey, if it can be called such, for
its monastic life was now extinct, was served by secular priests
and clerks. They were ignorant men. Dunstan's real teachers
were the Irish scholars. The Celtic legends of Glastonbury were
no doubt instilled into his mind,^ and held an equal place therein
with the memories of Ine and Ealdhelm, and with the later
memories of ^Elfred. These traditions were likely to kindle the
imagination of a sensitive and ardent youth ; and how great his
imagination was we can clearly trace in the legends which cluster
round his youth at Glastonbury. They were his own record
of the visions he saw and the voices he heard, taken down
from his own lips; told, when he was an old man, to his
friends, to the children that stood at his knees — and they
reveal the noble and beautiful temper of his souL And he con-
tinued, all his life long, to see and hear these immortal sights
and sounds. Once, when his friend -^thelfleda was dying, he
saw a fair white dove descend from heaven, and heard of a spirit
who talked with her ; again, when he was designing a stole for
a certain matron, ^Ethelwynn, his harp, hanging on the wall,
began to play the sweetest music, and Dunstan, turning his eyes
to it, said : "The souls of the saints are now rejoicing in heaven."
When Eadred died, he heard a voice thundering over his head :
" Now King Eadred sleeps in the Lx>rd " ; and on a day when he
fell asleep in the church while waiting for Eadgar who had gone

^ A trace of these legends lingers in a Dunstan-story of a dish which fed
all those who dipped into it, like that Irish chaldron whose powers were after-
wards transferred to the Holy Grail,

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

274 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED chap.

out hunting, he heard in a dream a solemn service performed in
heaven, and waking, remembered the music, which he set to the
Cantus — ^^ Kyrie rex splendens,^^ long time sung in England.
These are a few of the visions which his poetic spirit made, and
of which he told the tale. Baeda saw no such visions, though
he loved to hear of similar stories. But Dunstan lived in a
world of religious faerie all his life, even to old age. And yet,
with another side of his nature, he was the safeguard of the
realm of England, managing with keen business capacity its
affairs for thirty years. Indeed, he sometimes mingled both
these powers, for many of his visions have directly to do with
state affairs.

But when he was young, he did not think much, though
always devout, of the graver things of life. He let the variety
and brightness of his nature have full play. The " vain ballads "
of the history of his own family, the gay songs and the
"foolish dirges" of the people were his delight; he sang them
to the harp which he always carried on his journeys. He was
passionately fond erf" music. He is said to have himself invented
a new instrument for Church melody which seems to have
had some resemblance to the virginals. He learned how to
paint and illuminate, and two manuscripts, one at Oxford and
another in London, contain pictures, in the first of which he has
painted himself adoring Christ, in the second Gregory the Great
sending to England two missionaries, Augustine and Mellitus,
while he kneels between both in the lower centre of the illumin-
ated page. As Abbot of Glastonbury he collected precious
crosses, crucifixes, cups and jewelled books, and practised him-
self in fine gold -working and engraving. He designed em-
broideries for noble ladies when he was still young, and he drew
to his charm the women of the valley. Fair-haired, not tall, but
with brilliant eyes, he rode well and hunted boldly. But his chief
love was learning, and his natural wit and clinging memory and
hot pursuit of books made him the marvel of the neighbourhood,
and all the more, because he was of a quick and ready speech,

Digitized by

Googk

XVII TO THE CONQUEST 275

ornate, inventive, and gay; swift to put all he had read into
attractive form. His fame grew till ^thelstan called him to the
court; but the jealousy of his rivals expelled him. He took
refuge at Winchester and there he became a monk. Thence,
full of eagerness for learning, he went back to Glastonbury,
where for some years he read and studied, and was well loved
by iEthelfleda, a woman of high rank, whom in all honour he
clave to and loved in a marvellous fashion. Again called to court
at the close of Eadmund's reign, he fell again into disfavour, but
Eadmund, chasing the stag one day near the Cheddar cliffs, all
but followed his quarry over a precipice, and the king imputed
his near approach to death to his injustice to Dunstan. " Saddle
your horse," he said to Dunstan, "and ride with me." And he
rode to Dunstan's home, kissed him with the kiss of peace, and
set him in the chair. Abbot of Glastonbury (946).^ Eadred,
Eadmund's successor, kept Dunstan constantly by his side, but
the Abbot found time, during the nine years of the king's reign,
to make the school at Glastonbury the first in England. He
taught his young pupils himself; he sang Psalms with them; he
developed Church music; he drew fresh Irish scholars to his
house ; he established a good library, books of which still existed
at the time of the Reformation ; he trained his studious monks
to be scholars in philosophy, in the Scriptures, and in the writ-
ings of the Fathers ; and then he sent them out to be centres
of learning in other parts of England. His first effort was the
refounding of the Abbey of Abingdon, and Kling Eadred gave it
to Dunstan's best scholar, ^thelwold. ^thelwold (who died
in 984) soon made Abingdon as good a school as Glastonbury.
Then Oswald, at Ramsey and afterwards as Bishop of Worcester,
dnd Odo the Archbishop of Canterbury assisted Dunstan's early
effort to establish monastic schools.

It was not, however, till Eadgar's reign of peace, 959-975,
that the monastic revival was fully developed. Dunstan himself

* See for a fuller account Stubbs*s Memorials of Dunstan and Green's
Conquest of England,

Digitized by

Googk

276 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED chap.

was not much of a monk till he had seen the Benedictine rule at
work during his exile in Flanders. Oswald owed his monasticism
to his study of the Benedictine rule at Fleury. iEthelwold,
anxious to get his monasteries into good order, sent Osgar from
Abingdon to Fleury to instruct himself fully in the Rule. But
Eadgar himself was the real founder of the new monasticism.
Dunstan suggested and advised it, Eadgar made it He is said
to have founded forty monasteries. We may doubt the number,
but we may not doubt the great influence the king had in this
way on education and on literature.

Dunstan, after Eadgar had made him Bishop of Worcester,
then of London, and then Archbishop of Canterbury, seems to
have taken littie personal interest in the movement He was
probably too busy. But iEthelwold, now Bishop of Winchester,
.^ 963, threw himself eagerly into the work. He re-established the
monastic rule in Chertsey and Milton. He acted with vigour in
Winchester. The cathedral was served by secular canons, who
disgraced their clerical profession. Frequently warned, they
were still bold and resolute in wrong. Then one Sunday in Lent
iEthelwold entered the choir, and sternly looking on them, threw
on the floor a bundle of cowls: "The time has come," he said,
"when you must make up your minds. Put on the monastic
habit, or go. There is no other choice for you." Thus he
cleared Winchester, and then turned his energy to other places.
Having money from the king, he rebuilt or repaired many ruined
monasteries. He restored the glories of Ely ; and the ruins of
Peterborough, overgrown with forest, were replaced by a new
abbey. He bid another rise on the ancient site of Thomey.

Oswald, nephew of Archbishop Odo of Canterbury, and Bishop
of Worcester, helped iEthelwold in this revival, but he did little
more than establish monasticism in the city of Worcester. He
did nothing for it in his diocese, and when he became Arch-
bishop of York he founded no monasteries in the North. The
king, in fact, was the head, the heart, and the hands of the move-'
ment, and English monasticism looks back to Eadgar as its patron.

Digitized by

Googk

XVII TO THE CONQUEST 277

The short poem in the Chronicle shows how the monks revered
him; and there is a manuscript of the tenth century in the British
Museum, made by one of the monks, in which a portrait of
Eadgar has been drawn with enthusiasm by the illuminator of the
monastery. It is the only picture we possess of an early English
king. Eadgar stands in the midst with both his arms extended
on high, and makes an offering to Christ, who is upheld by angels
at the top of the picture. Mary stands on one side of the king
and Peter on the other.

William of Malmesbury makes Eadgar himself record how he
felt and what he did. " In aid of my pious devotion, heavenly love
stole into my watchful care and urged me to rebuild all the holy
monasteries of my kingdom, which ruinous outwardly, with
mouldering shingles and worm-eaten beams, even to the rafters,
were, worse still, inwardly neglected, almost without any service
of God ; wherefore turning out the illiterate clerks, of no regular
order or discipline, I appointed pastors of a holier race, that is,
of the monastic order, supplying them with ample means out of
my royal revenues to repair their ruined churches."

This royal work was at this time the best thing that could
be done for literature. Where the monasteries were, learning
grew ; where they were not, learning and literature were silent.
Art also flourished where the minster rose. Architecture took
fresh forms; sculpture, still rude, became more individual;
painted glass and mosaic lived again ; music sought new ex-,
pression. The treasuries of the abbeys were filled with gold-
smith's work on cross and chalice, with richly illuminated
missals, with elaborate embroideries, with jewelled bindings, and
every abbot knew where to find in England skilled workmen.
We find iEthelwold charging Godeman, perhaps the Abbot of
Thorney, to write and illuminate with miniatures a Benedic-
tionale which we still possess.

Not only art, but science, the science of medicine, awakened
to a fresher life. The monks were good gardeners and herbalists,
and most monasteries had a room, where medicines and spices

Digitized by

Googk

278 ENGLISH PROSE FROM .ALFRED chap.

and perfumes were prepared, to which the sick folk of the
village or the city came to be cured. Collections of recipes
were made, and we probably owe the various Anglo-Saxon
\ Leech Books to the monks who presided over these early labora-
Itories. We have a medicine book — Loece Bdc — of the last
palf of the tenth century. The first two parts of the book
Tare taken from Greek and Latin recipes. Two Englishmen,
lOxa and Dun, are mentioned in the third part as medical
/authorities; Danish and even Gaelic sources are used, and some
I prescriptions are derived from Helias, patriarch of Jerusalem,
who, we are told, " caused them to be sent to King Alfred." A
number of other books of the same character, gathered together
^ by Cockayne in his Leechdoms, belong to this and the following
century. They are full of strange and interesting folk-supersti-
tions, and contain the ancient English Charms of which we have
already written.

Winchester, under ^thelwold, soon excelled Glastonbury and
Abingdon ; and English^in King iElfred's books, was as keenly
studied as Latin. iEthelwold taught his scholars to translate
Latin books into English; he "loved his native tongue," and
wrote in it a translation of the Rule of St Benedict which Eadgar
asked of him ; and, in an appendix to it, a treatise on the history
of the English Church. This was less a translation than an
epitome of the Eule^ and was made for the nunnery he set up
at Winchester. His Latin book on the Offices of the Church was
sent by Eadgar all over England. An eager, eloquent and
attractive man, he sent the love of education and learning with
his pupils into the monasteries, and from them to the people.
^. And he combined it with a love of English writing. But the best
j thing he did for English prose was his education of -^Ifric.

But before ^Elfric created the new school of English prose the
Blickling Homilies were brought together ; and prove into what
active work Dunstan, ^thelwold, and Oswald had awakened the
study of English prose. Wiilker thinks that the style of these
homilies belongs to the elder prose, their substance to the

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 279

younger. They represent, then, the transition between the prose
of iElfrcd and the prose of iElfric. There are nineteen of'
these homilies, and we may add to them, as probably of the
same time, the homilies in the Vercelli Book, Some are early
in date, and others later. One of them is dated 971, and
all appear to be well before the year 990. About the same
time as these Homilies^ and before 990, other books seem to
have existed in English, of which ^Elfric says, in the preface to
his HomilieSy that "they were full of errors, though unlearned
men, being simple, thought them to be full of wisdom." He
probably refers in this to books of -Alfred's time, or even before
iElfred. He mentions "Alfred's translations." He might even
refer to poems like Beowulf and other sagas then in existence.
But he certainly refers to books of his own time when he says —
" How can any one read the misrepresentations which they call
the Vision of Paul^ since he himself says that he heard unspeakable
words, not lawful for a man to utter?" When we think, however,
that this book must have been largely invented from a Latin
original, we feel with Ten Brink that its loss is far more to be re-
gretted than that of many homilies. JSXiiic also alludes to a book
on the Sufferings of St Peter and St, Paul, To this period may
belong the Anglo-Saxon version of the Life of St, Guthlac written
by Felix of Crowland in Latin about the middle of the eighth
century, a little book in a better and more natural style than its
original From these scattered things we pass to the steady work
of iElfric which begins with the last decade of the tenth century.
The first of his writings is dated 990-994.

What Baeda was to England in the eighth, iElfric was to
the eleventh century. He had no creative power ; nothing im-
aginative comes from his hand, but he had an aflfection for
imaginative work. Some have traced in his work that he had
read the poets, and he was always playing at poetry in his prose.
Not original in thought, he had a gentle eagerness in writing ;
he had warmth and moral dignity. His charity, his affectionate
friendship, his tact, his practised skill in the affairs of men.

Digitized by

Googk

28o ENGLISH PROSE FROM ^ELFRED chap.

appear in all his books and letters. He possessed the excellent
power of putting into popular form the thoughts of other men,
and of epitomising good books. He gathered together, absorbed
and well expressed the learning of his time ; he had a strong
sense of the duty of communicating it in English to the people,
and he passed all the years of his manhood in teaching and
writing. And as ^Elfred was the creator of the elder, so ^Ifric
was of the younger Anglo-Saxon prose.

He was a scholar from his earliest years. Bom about 955,
he was educated under ^Ethelwold at Winchester. He soon
became a monk, and was sent by -^Ifheah, ^thelwold's successor,
to teach and govern the new monastery of Cernel (Cerne Abbas
in Dorsetshire), built near Dorchester by the thegn-^Ethelmser.
While at Cernel, from 987 to 989, he began his work of trans-
lating Latin books into English for the use of the people.
Following in this the plan of King -Alfred, he addressed the laity
as well as the clergy, and at first he imitated the style of -Alfred,
whose books were his daily companions. In later years he
developed his own easier and more modem style, and he then
tumed his attention chiefly to religious books for the use of
monks and pupils in the monasteries.

His first work, Homiliae Catholicaey issued after he had returned
to Winchester, consists of two collections of homilies, each forty
in number. These are dedicated to Archbishop Sigeric, 990-994,
and are on the Sundays and Feast-days of the year. They borrow

/ ^most of their stuflf from Augustine, Jerome, Gregory, and Baeda.

/ A small number of them are in alliterative verse, written as prose.

^ All of them have alliterative passages; and this practice was

i almost new in English prose. His next works were the Grammar
and Glossary^ which he made up out of extracts from Donatus and
the Instituiiones Grammaticae of the Priscians. It is most likely

^ that these were followed by the Colloquium (we cannot precisely

< date it), and that it was written to help the pupils in the school

at Winchester. It is a discourse on the occupations of the

; monks, and on various other conditions of life ; and as the Latin

Digitized by

Googk

XVII TO THE CONQUEST 281

text of one of the manuscripts has an English translation over it,
it becomes a kind of vocabulary. We possess it in another
manuscript as it was redone by ^Ifric Bata, one of ^Ifric's
scholars — " Hanc sententiam latini sermonis olim JElfiicus Abbas
composuit, qui meus fuit magister, sed tamen ego, -^Ifric Bata,
multas postea huic addidi appendices." This is the only work
we have from iElfric Bata's hand.

The lives of the Saints — Passiones Sanctorum — ^another set
of homilies, followed in 996 the Grammar and Colloquium.
They were dedicated, not to Sigeric, who died in 995, but to
iEthelweard, the great thegn, at whose desire they were under-
taken. Two of them contain in alliterative prose the pith of
the books of Kings and of Maccabees, But they are chiefly on
special saints venerated at separate monasteries ; and those on
English saints not far from -^Ifric's own time — on Swithun, Oswald,
and iEthelthrith, Virgin ; and one on the false gods worshipped
by the English, are of greater interest than the rest. The other^
are in alliterative prose, and so are the homilies which follow them.
Only the first of the whole forty is in pure prose. I place here
a part of the translation of the Latin preface iElfric wrote to this
book of Homilies. It will serve to illustrate his style outside of
mere preaching. It does illustrate his character, and it is equally
curious to see the monk in it rebelling against English prose and
preferring Latin; and the friend somewhat weary with the
urgency of his friends, and the conviction, so early in our literary
history and so uncommon, that English was a more concise
vehicle of thought than Latin. Here is the passage ^ : —

This Book have I also translated from the Latin into the usual English
speech. . . . For I call to mind that in two former books I have set forth
the Passions or Lives of those saints whom that illustrious nation celebrates by
honouring their festivals, and it has (now) pleased me to set forth in this book
the Passions as well as the Lives of those saints whom not the vulgar but the
monks honour by special services. I do not promise, however, to write very

1 It is taken from Skeat's edition of the Passiones Sanctorum.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

282 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ifiLFRED chap.

\ many in this tongue, because it is not fitting that many should be put into oui
/ tongue, lest peradventure the pearls of Christ be had in disrespect.
' And therefore I hold my peace as to the book called Vi/M Fatrum, wherein

are contained many subtle points which ought not to be laid open to the laity,
nor indeed are we ourselves quite able to fathom them. . . . Nor am I able in
this translation to render everything word for word ; but I have, at any rate,
carefully endeavoured to give exact sense for sense, just as I find it in the Holy
Writing by means of such simple and obvious language as may profit them
that hear it. . . .

I abridge the longer narratives of the Passions, not as regards the sense,
but in the language, in order that no tediousness may be inflicted on the
fostidious, as might be the case if as much prolixity were used in our language
as occurs in the Latin. And we know that brevity does not always deprave
speech, but oftentimes makes it more charming. Let it not be considered as
a fault in me that I turn sacred narrative into our own tongue, since the
request of many of the faithful shall clear me in this matter, particularly that
of the governor iEthelwerd and of my firiend iEthelmer {^thelmeri nostri),
who most highly honour my translations by their perusal of them ; neverthe-
less, I have resolved at last to desist from such labours after completing the
iburth book, that I may not be regarded as too tedious.

An Anglo-Saxon preface follows, addressed directly to JEthel-
weard, and beginning —

iElfric humbly greeteth iEthelwerd, and I tell thee, beloved, that I have
now brought together in this'Took such Passions of the Saints as I have had
leisure to put into English, because that thou, beloved, and iEthelmaer
earnestly prayed me for such writings, and took them from my hands, for the
strengthening of your faith by means of this history, which ye never had in
your tongue before.

This set of homilies was probably followed by ^Ifric's English
I version of a part (69 out of the 280 questions) of the Questions
of Sigewulfy presbyter^ on Genesis^ which Alcuin at Sigewulf s wish
had written in Latin. Then came a translation, freely wrought, of
the Hexatneron of St Basil; then a homily On the Creation^ with
other homiliesmore or less alliterative. At last, he left this scattered
work for a worthier task, — the translation of the Bible ; but he
* was somewhat driven to this by thegn ^Ethelweard, who begged
him to undertake Genesis^ and who, when iElfric* objected, said
•*that he only wanted the first part done as far as Isaac, for

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST

283

the rest of the book, already translated by another hand, was
now in his possession." iElfric, thus urged, translated Genesis
up to chap. xxiv. The rest, as far as the end of Leviticus^ was not
his doing. He also translated Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, the
book oi Judges (but that may be a later insertion), and the books
of Esther, oijob, and oi Judith, All of them, except the Genesis, -
are not literal translations. Difficult passages, and others not
likely to interest the English people, are omitted. Some books,
like Judges, are put into an homiletic form. Others might be
described as heroic sketches of the lives of the heroes and kings
of Israel iElfric strives to paint them in vivid colours, to
sharpen their individuality ; it was an effort he made to interest
the people in Jewish history ; and it was this popular direction
of his homilies which drove him, I think, into ^j*^ pnfifjjpal
_grose. Certainly, the rhythmical form of alliterative prose which
he had already used in the Homilies is fully wrought out in this
book. It closes with a hymn of praise to God for all the great
chiefs and heroes in Roman, Byzantine, and English history,
whom God had made victorious over the enemies of the faith.
And it is with some patriotic pride that we read of the English
kings so long ago who fought and worked so well — "-Alfred, who
brought safety to his people from the Danes ; -^thelstan, who
fought with Anlaf; Eadgar, the noble king who most of all
English kings established the praise of God, whom all kings and
chieftains roimd about him served for the sake of his peace " —
phrases which almost repeat the words which describe Eadgar in
the Chronicle, It brings -^Ifric more clearly before us that he
gave to these translations a patriotic touch of his own. " I have
setyi^/'/i^," he says, "forth in English for an example to you men
that ye may defend your country against your foes." For now
the Danes were in the land. He used the Maccabees for the
same purpose.

These books may be said to belong to the laity as well as
the clergy. But the Canones ^Ifrici which followed them were
chiefly addressed to the needs of the clergy. His Grammar had

Digitized by

Googk

284 ENGLISH PROSE FROM iELFRED chap.

been made for the pupils in the monastic schools ; the Canones
were a pastoral letter in Latin for the instraction of priests, and,
in their two parts, dwelt on the clerical life and its duties, especi-
ally on the celibacy of the clergy ; on ritual and vestments, on
Baptism and the Eucharist and on some Feast Days. A Latin
preface dedicates the book to Bishop Wulfsige of Sherborne,
who had asked ^Ifric to write it This dates the book. Wulf-
sige was Bishop of Sherborne from about 998 to looi.

Shortly after he had finished this book at Winchester,
iiEthelmaer, son of iEthelweard, who had founded a monastery
for Benedictines at Egnesham (Eynsham), near Qxford, called
^Ifric to take charge of it as its abbot, in 1005. In this quiet
office he lived, always working and learning, till he died about
1020-25. His first book from Eynsham was a series of extracts
from his master -^thelwold's De Consuetudine Monachorum,
He calls himself Abbot of Egnesham in the preface. The book
was written, then, after 1005. The next year he sent an epistle
in the form of a homily to Wulfgeat of Ilmandune (Ilmington), a
royal thegn who had suffered the loss of his property under
process. The letter has as text — " Esto consentiens adversario,"
and it is chiefly on the duty of forgiveness. His English treatise
Concerning the Old and New Testament was composed some-
what later, about 1008, and is written for Sigweard at East
Healon in Mercia, a thegn who had often asked iElfric to tell
him about these writings. The book is, then, addressed to the
laity. Both parts have prefaces addressed to Sigweard. It is
practically an introduction to the study of the Bible; it tells
us what books of the Bible had already been translated into
English ; and though it uses a book of Isidore's on the Bible,
is an original work of much interest The three Appendices and
an introduction On the Creation are worthy of study. About
the same date as this book, he sent his letter to thegn Sigeferth
on the necessity of the chastity of the clergy — Emb Clcennysse,
We know it was written after he became abbot "-^Ifric,
Abbot," it begins, "greets Sigeferth with friendship."

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 285

He turned now from these English books to write again in
Latin, and produced an affectionate life of his master, full of
gratitude, the Vita ^theiwoldt^ about 1008. It was written for
and dedicated to Bishop Kenulf of Winchester, who died in
1007 or 1008. It was followed by his Sermo ad Sacerdotes^ a
pastoral letter written for Wulfstan as Bishop of Winchester,
between 10 14 and 1016. Wulfstan, when he stayed at Worcester
and not at York,^ lived not far from Eynsham, and when he
received this Latin letter made iElfric turn it into English. The
book repeats the matter of his Canones.

These are the books which internal evidence enables us to
date. We have other homilies from his hand; a compilation from
Baeda's De Temporum Ratione^ his De TemporibuSy and his De
Natura Rerum ; a sermon on the Sevenfold Gifts of the Holy
Ghost^ and an Admonition by a Spiritual Rather to a Son entering
the Religious Life. The writer of this admonition calls himself
a Benedictine monk, and says that he has written on St. Basilius.
There is a homily on Basil by ^Elfric, and it is the only Anglo-
Saxon homily on this saint. The style, the alliteration of the
preface, and the work are plainly -^Ifric's. He died at Eynsham
some time between 1020 and 1025.

Wulfstan, who called himself LupuSy and to whom -^Ifric^*
addressed his Sermo ad Sacerdotes^ was Archbishop of York from
1002 to 1023, and is most known as an English prose writer by
his Sermo Lupi ad Anglos quando Dani maxime persecuti sunt eos,
which was written in 1012. He had heard of and perhaps seen
the results of the terrible raids which Thurkill in 10 10 began to
make into East Anglia, which he soon extended to Oxfordshire
and Buckinghamshire, to Bedford, Northampton, and through
Wiltshire and Wessex — ravaging, slaying, and plundering ; till, at
last, "every English leader fled, and shire would not help shire" —
and King -^thelred, having no money to buy off Thurkill, left
Canterbury to be sacked, and Archbishop -^Ifheah to be murdered

* Wulfstan was Archbishop of York from ioo2 to 1023, and at the same
time Bishop of Worcester from 1002 to 1016,

Digitized by

Googk

286 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED chap.

by the drunken pirates in loii. As usual, Wulfstan imputes the
miseries of England to the sins of her people, and they are bid, a
strange consolation, to look forward to the greater punishment
which the reign of Antichrist and the Last Judgment will bring
upon them. The prose of this piece is not as smooth and culti-
vated as iElfric's, but the patriotic passion of the writer gives it
weight and vigour. Many other homilies, as many as fifty-three,
-are allotted to him, but of these fifty-three, Professor Napier has
selected only four as the work of Wulfstan. I give here a short
passage out of the Address to the English / —

For a long time now there has been no goodness among us, either at home
or abroad, but there has been ravaging and onset on onset on every side again
and again. The English have now for long been always beaten in battle,
and made great cowards, through God's wrath ; and the sea robbers so strong
by God*s allowance, that often in a fight one of them will put to flight ten of
the English, sometimes less, sometimes more, all for our sins. A thrall often
binds fast the thegn who was his lord and makes him a thrall, through the
wrath of God. ** W4U " for the wretchedness, and ** wali " for the world-shame
which now the English have, all through God's wrath ! Oflen two or three
pirates drive a drove of Christian men huddled together, from sea to sea, out
through the people, to the world-shame of us all, if we could in good sooth
know any shame at all, or if we would (ever) understand aright. But all the
disgrace we are always bearing we dutifully pay for to those who shame us.
We are for ever paying them, and they ill-use us daily. They harry and
they bum, they plunder and rob and carry off to ships ; and, lo, what is there
any other in all these happenings save the wrath of God clear and plain upon
this people ?

Another prose writer of this time, that is, up to the death of
iEthelred in 1016, was Byrchtfercth, who had been an acquaint-
ance of Dunstan's, a scholar- of Abbo of Fleury, and who now
lived in the monastery of Ramsey. A well-known mathematician
as well as scholar, he wrote in Latin several commentaries on
Baeda*s scientific works ; a book of his own, De principiis mathe-
maticis, and a Life of Dunstan. The extensive and varied know*
ledge he shows in these books makes it all but certain that he
^was the author of a contemporary Handboc or Manual^ which
treats of a number of subjects pertaining to natural philo-

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 287

sophy — on the Alphabet, on Weights, on Numbers; on the
Alphabets of the Anglo-Saxons, of the Latins, Greeks, and
Hebrews ; on the divisions of the year, and on some religious
subjects. They are in English, but to some of them a Latin
gloss is added.

These three persons to whom we can give names — ^^Ifric,-!
Wulfstan, and Byrchtfercth — are the chief writers in that revival I ^
of learning, which, begun by Dunstan at Glastonbury, continued 1 n;| —
by iEthelwold at Abingdon and Winchester, was raised to its
height by iiElfric at Winchester and Eynsham. They carry us
forward to a few years after the death of iEthelred the Unwise,
for -^Ifric died in 1020-25. The result of -^Ifric's work, for he .
was indeed the source of all that followed, was first the creation
of a new, clear, flexible, and popular prose, more fitted than
iElfred's to express for the people the number of new subjects of
a varied character which not only arose in England, but which
now began to enter England from the Continent, especially with
the influx of Normans before the Conquest. The fault of
this prose, that use of the alliterative rhythm which turns
so much of it into a semblance of bad poetry, may have had
its good in its attractiveness to the people. Congregations, falling
asleep while listening to prose, might well listen to a homily
in the alliterative metre they were accustomed to in the tales
sung on the village green. And ^Elfric, who was a very practical
person, may have purposely poetised his prose for educational ends.

The second result of -^Ifric's work was the extension of educa-4
tion and learning. The bishops, as we see from the demands '
made on ^Ifric by the Archbishops Sigeric and Wulfstan, by
the Bishops Wulfsige and Kenulf, desired to better the condition
of their clergy, and to instil into them at least the rudiments of
learning. And the impulse thus given by -^Ifric to the heads of
the Church did extend to the clergy. They were no longer quite
ignorant, as in iElfred's time. They gained and continued to
support a higher ideal of their duty ; they strove to know some-
thing of their Bible and their service books ; they lived a cleanlier

Digitized by

Googk

288 ENGLISH PROSE FROM iELFRED chap.

life ; and so many small books on the lives of saints, on Church
music, chronology, and various ritual matters, were set forth in the
eleventh century, that Ten Brink has good reason to say that the
English clergy at the Conquest were not so lazy and illiterate as
the Normans represented them to be.

It is also plain that in this revival of learning the class which
-Alfred had striven in vain to reach — the class of the nobles —
had now been reached, and that a certain number of them were
eager recipients and patrons of learning. We have seen that
JEthelwesLTd, a royal thegn, and son-in-law of Byrhtnoth who
died at Maldon, not only read what -^Ifric wrote, but urged him
into further writing, and had other writers than -^Ifric under his
patronage. It was he that projected the translation of the Bible.
He was probably himself the writer of the Chronicle which goes
under his name. His son, ^thelmaer, another royal thegn, and
a student of learning, almost lived with his friend iElfric when he
was at Eynsham, and brought him into contact with the thegns
Wulfgeat of Ilmandune between Warwickshire and Gloucester-
shire, with Sigeferth, and with Sigweard of Oxfordshire. These
nobles can scarcely be said to stand alone. They were probably
representatives of a small body of cultivated laymen, who, under
iiElfric's impulse, attached themselves to the society of the mon-
astic scholars.
1 The people, as well as the clergy and nobles, shared in the

; impulse which ^Ifric gave to England. He made for them a
j history of the Church in the host of homilies, more than 150,
! which he wrote on the Sunday services, on occasional sub-
jects, on the lives of the saints and martyrs of their own and
' foreign lands. These, to which he sometimes imparted a national
direction, were read to the people ; and instructed, entertained,
and warmed their minds. Sermons, especially those on the
legends of the Saints, were the companions of the saga and the
ballad and did the same kind of educating and kindling work.
\ Lastly, we know that the monasteries, under -^Ifric's impulse,

["again began to be the home of learned men — studious monks,

Digitized by

Googk

XVII TO THE CONQUEST 289

like Byrchtfercht, who wrote on science as well as theology. A \
whole set of medical books were set forth in the eleventh century,
The Herbarium Apuleii^ a Latin herbal, containing, under the
name of Apuleius, the doctrines supposed to be taught by Chiron
to Achilles, tracts on the virtues of the herb Betony and on
Medicina Animalium, and a continuation from a translation of
Dioskorides, was put into English and became a " popular Anglo-
Saxon text-book among physicians." Another English book,
Medicina de Quadrupedibus^ gives the use to which the thirteen
beasts it mentions may be put for medicinal purposes. The Lcece
BdCy already mentioned, belongs to the tenth century, but others —
A Catalogue of PrescriptionSy The School of Medicine^ and some col-
lections of observations on the best times to take medicine, or to
undertake businesses, on dreams and their interpretation, on the
origin of diseases, on pregnant women, on spells and charms —
full of strange and attractive siyperstitions, belong to this eleventh
century. Another set of books — a prose Dialogue between Salomo
and SatumuSy quite distinct from the prose pieces in the elder
Salomo and Satumus ; another prose Dialogue between Adrianus
(the Emperor Hadrian) and Ritheus ; a translation of a selection
from the Disticha of Cato — are examples of the ethical tendency
which, even before -Alfred, had taken root in England. Among
the religious books there is a Translation of the Four Gospels about
the year 1000, a Translation of Psalms and of the Pseudo-Gospels
of Nicodemus and of Matthew ; some biographies, some transla-
tions from the Lives of the Fathers^ certain legends of the saints,
as, for example, of Veronica and Margaret^ and a number of
sermons. On the whole, these belong to the first half of the
eleventh century. The Glossaries which appeared in this
century, and in which the Latin is explained by English words,
illustrate the new activity which ./Elfric had infused into learning.
Among these is the Ritual of Durham^ with a Northumbrian
gloss, a book precious to philologists. The magnificent MS. of
the Gospels, the Evangelium adorned at Lindisfarne in honour of
St. Cuthbert with pictures and illuminations by Eadfrith about

• Digitized by VjOOQ IC

290 ENGLISH PROSE FROM .ELFRED chap.

the year 700, was now added to by an interlinear version, and the
Rushworth Gospels were also interlineated. In this century also
Leofric, Bishop of Exeter, gave to his cathedral library the
Leofric Missal^ now in the Bodleian. It is *^one of the three
survivmg Missals known to have been used in the English Church
during the Anglo-Saxon period." ^

In this century the Danes had conquered England ^thel-
red had died in 10 16. With the battle of Assandun, where the
golden dragon of Edmund Ironside met the magic raven of Cnut,
Cnut finished what Swein had begun, and Edmund's death
shortly afterwards left Cnut king of all England. His conquest
settled rather than disturbed England The land, from the
Border to the south, was now under one king, and that king more
an Englishman than a Dane. He ruled his other possessions
from England ; he actually sent English bishops and preachers to
civilise his northern realms. H^ established Englishmen in all
places of authority in England. The official language of England
•nvas the West Saxon. He renewed, confirmed, and publicly

\ swore to Eadgar's laws. He protected and enriched the Church.
Hence, during his reign, the new life of learning and literature
in the monasteries and elsewhere went on undisturbed, and
though Godwine, whom we find Ealdorman of Wessex in 1020,
was always in opposition to the monks and never founded an
abbey, this was not the temper of Leofric, Ealdorman of Mercia,
or of the king, both of whom loved to see the abbeys flourish.
The pleasant story which tells how Cnut, boating on the marshes
near the knoll of Ely, heard the song of the monks and was
charmed with it, shows at least how kindly he felt to those who
made sweet music. And the lines he is said to have made are
the only scrap of poetry which has come down to us from the

^ traditions of his reign : ^ —

* Leofric Missal, edited by F. E. Warren, Clar. Press.

* Professor Stephens, however, assigns to the reign of Cnut the Lay of
Abgar, King of Edessa, an Anglo-Saxon fragment taken from the legend 0/
Abgar's letter to Christ praying the Healer to cure him of his illness.

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 291

Merrily sing the monks of Ely

When Cnut the King comes rowing by ;

Row nearer to the land, my men,

That we may hear the good monks' song.

We must not omit in a history of literature the long and noble
letter Cnut wrote from Rome to his people, in which, speaking as
gravely and worthily as Alfred of the duties of a king, he reveals
the greatness of his character. He had begun his kingship with
some of the savagery of his pirate ancestors, but he had now
grown into a wise, careful, generous, godly prince and law-giver,
open to strangers, just and kind to his people, a giver of gifts
to knowledge and religion. He died in Novemberio^i^ and
eight years after, Eadweard the Confessor came to the throne \
of England. He had been in Normandy, under the protection /
of its dukes, ever since 1014; and when he came to England he \
was Norman rather than English. He spoke the Norman tongue.
His Norman kinsmen accompanied him; Norman knights
crowded his court ; Norman chaplains looked after his religious
life. He made a Norman Archbishop of Canterbury, and set
Normans up as bishops and rulers in many places.

The first result of this foreign invasion was the strengthenings
of Latin as the vehicle of learned writings in place of English.
iElfric, with all his kindness for his own tongue, had done with
greater pleasure his Latin books. The Chronicle of -^thelweard
was in Latin. Wulfstan, a pupil of -^thelwold and monk of
Winchester, wrote his book De tonorum hamionia in Latin ; and,
to show his skill, translated into Latin hexameters a book which
had been written by Lanferht, another Latin scholar — the
Miracula sancti Swithunu Thus in the first half of the eleventh
century many Latin books were written, and the use of this tongue I
in monastic writings steadily increased. It is true that in I
Eadweard's reign, the national feeling which resented an alien
king in Cnut grew stronger under the influence of Godwine and
his family against the Norman foreigners, but the only English
writings that this patriotic feeling produced were the Annals of

Digitized by

Googk

292 ENGLISH PROSE FROM i^LFRED - chap.

\ Worcester, afterwards carried on to 1079; ^^^ ^^^ "^^ edition of
\ the Chronicle, which, begun in 1046 at Abingdon, was continued
\ to 1056; and which, after a few years of meagre reports, was

f taken up by one who wrote with warmth, vigour, even with pas-
sion, of the great deeds of Harold up to his victory at Stamford
Bridge. The Worcester annals then resumed the tale and told
of William and of Senlac. In this historical department Eng-

' lish did not cease to maintain its lead. But^lsewh ere it decayed.
Religious and scientific prose tended more and more to Latin,
and the disuse of the English language as the vehicle of learning
preluded that swiftly-coming time when the scholars who accom-
panied the Normans made Latin alone the tongue in which
prose on any worthy subject was written.

The second result was that some of the elements out of which

^the romantic tale was to emerge came for the first time into
England out of France. England had had her own sagas, but
she had as yet known nothing of that new and chivalrous romance
whose original basis was the delight in story-telling, but which
built on that foundation a poetry and tales in which the leading
conceptions of the Middle Ages were embodied, together with
its arts, its science, its theology, its allegory, its love of women,
of adventure, and of war. Already the Normans had begun to

/' throw the stories of the East into new forms ; already, following
i the great Frank sagas, they had made a new type of poetry in
' songs of Roland and of Charlemagne ; but nothing of this could
as yet take root in England ; and it is a curious question whether,
had the Normans been driven back by Harold, England would
ever have taken to her heart the purely romantic ideas. She could
not, however, have remained uninfluenced by France, and she
was so influenced before the Conquest The story of Apollordus of
Tyre, the story Shakespeare used in the play of Pericles, had been
translated into Latin from the late Greek romance, and the
! Latin translation was now rendered, sometimes word for word,
'Sometimes freely, into the easy and lissome English which JSMno,
had bequeathed to his countrymen. Our sole manuscript of this

Digitized by

Googk

are >
in

XVII TO THE CONQUEST 293

is unfortunately a fragment But it must have awakened a new
sense of pleasure in some English readers, so different it was in
spirit, colour, and atmosphere from the Old English poetry and
prose. It was followed by two other translations from the Latin
which introduced for the first time the wonders of the Alexander
romance to Englishmen. They were the Letters of Alexander toV^
Aristotle from India and the Wonders of the East, Both are
accurate translations, and done in excellent English. They are
the last books, save the Worcester Annals^ which were written
the literary language of Wessex. The breath of a new world
was in them, new thought, new manners, a new way of living, a
new imaginative range. I doubt whether the English priest or
layman of Eadward's reign, whether even an educated warrior
and king like Harold, would have read them without scorn.
Before the English could accept, as long afterwards they did with
eagerness, the romantic elements, all that made up their national
life needed to undergo the weary education in learning, thought,
literary form, love of poetic melody, in religion, in chivalric ideas,
in the manners of war and peace, which the presence, influence,
and pressure of the Norman drove into their national character.
And the work took nearly two centuries to accomplish.

When it was finished England had become a nation, and a
national literature was jfossible. Four national characters (the
Anglo-Saxon, the Celt, the Dane, and the Norman with his
French amalgam) mixed to make the beginnings, and to con-
tinue the life of that literature.

In the making and science of government, in establishing law
and organising order ; in consolidating a village, a town, a state ;
in the creation of freedom, in love of it, and in its development ;
in the founding of national life on the life of home ; in the sense
of duty; in the capacity of obedience to a leader; in holding
together in unity ; in the power and desire to sacrifice individual
aims to a collective cause ; in perseverance combined with en-
durance ; in the splendid conduct of war ; in a grim love of
adventure; in constant and even passionate desire to discover

Digitized by

Googk

294 ENGLISH PROSE FROM i^LFRED chap.

new worlds, to seize them, develop them, and to extend itself
over the world — the English national spirit excelled that of either
the Celt or the Dane. These are powers which make, keep, and
expand a vast and noble nation. But they do not of themselves
make a great and varied literature such as England made at last
The Anglo-Saxon was capable, and alone, of good prose on all
practical subjects, of excellent and accurate history, of practical
works on science; of close criticism; of religious, moral, or
philosophical discourse, touched often with a mystical, even an
ideal quality ; of a tender, deeply-felt religious poetry ; of narrative
poetry at disproportionate length; and he had a most natural
and happy turn for popular love-songs. But alone, the Anglo-
Saxon was quite incapable of producing the literature of England,
and the excited persons who proclaim that he has done so
cannot have looked into the facts of the matter. But two great
and important things he did secure for us. By his dominance
\in all the qualities which make a free and settled national life,
he secured, as a vehicle of literature, the English language — the
most capable and flexible instrument for all kinds of literature
which exists in the modern world. After a long struggle against
Prench, during which it absorbed and made its own a large
French vocabulary; after putting under contribution both the
Dane and the Celt; the English tongue, enriched from many
quarters, established itself as the most fitting means of represent-
ing the thoughts, emotions, and imaginative work of the mixed
people of England.

~ But the greatest thing the Anglo-Saxon did for literature was
a result of all those strong national powers of which we have
spoken. They made a sure and steadfast foundation for all
thought; they laid on all emotion a restraining, powerful, and
directing hand, under which its fires ceased to blaze, but grew
white-hot ; they acted on all the work of the imagination so as
to purify, chasten, educate, and guard it from extravagance.
They did for English literature what training does for the runner.
Again and again it ran wild, or ran into the exuberant weakness of

Digitized by

Googk

Jcvii TO THE CONQUEST 295

luxury. Again and again the English national powers brought it
back to the dignity, simplicity, and temperance of great Art.
They have, from the beginning, passed through our literature as
strength, penetrated it with the power of continuance, and, by
their mastery, enabled it to assimilate and transmute within
itself the excellences of other literatures into excellences of its
own. It is quite fair, then, to call the literary result, not Celtic
or Danish, French or Italian, but English. The dominant note
in the literature of these islands is the English note.

There are other persons, not less excited than those who
think English literature a purely Anglo-Saxon product, who
derive all its excellences from the Celt ; and this is as far apart
from the truth as the opposite opinion. The Celt, by himself,
is as incapable as the Anglo-Saxon of producing that magnificent
and varied literature. But he brought to the growth of that
great creation a number of elements without which it would never
have become what it is. The spirit of the Celt was intimately
mingled for long centuries with the spirit of the English, from
home to home, from town to town, from county to county, over\
the north, west, and south-west of England, over the whole of the
lowlands of Scotland; and even, by its admixture with the Danes,
it influenced the eastern and midland counties of England. It
brought with it into the English people, and wove into their
nature and literature, a sad ideality ; a penetrative and mystic
imagination, especially pleased with, and naturally abiding in
worlds beyond the senses ; copious inventiveness ; great love of I
melody and of its most subtle changes both in music and '
poetry; a fiery impulsiveness attended by a swift reaction into
depression; a root of cherished and romantic melancholy; a
passionate love of women ; a fury of adventure in war and love ;
a dreamy union with the life of nature ; a love of nature for her
own sake ; a great power of animating inanimate things, of filling j
the whole world with life, and of quick-shaping into form what /
was felt and thought ; a satiric vein which tended to be savage j
in expression and reckless of fact ; a capacity for self-mockery ;

Digitized by

Googk

296 ENGLISH PROSE FROM y*:LKRED chap.

a recklessness all round of the present and especially of the
future; a complete carelessness of the conventional; a fierce
and claiming individuality which in politics disliked law, and in
literature became a creative but far too great a self-conscious-
ness ; a general inattentiveness to criticism, whether good or
bad; a feeling as of one belonging to another world and half
lost in this, that there was nothing in this earth worth much
trouble, much work, or much intensity. Certain of these elements,
and especially the two last mentioned, kept the Celt from that
close study of the great models, that hard work and perseverance,
that boundless humility before the ideal of beauty, that rigid
rejection of the unnecessary, that resolution to possess, in what-
ever is done, great matter of thought as well as depth of emotion —
which are necessary for the attainment of perfect form in artistic
work. It was not till his powers were mixed with those of the
English that this was attained. Unmixed, they have not pro-
duced work of the finest kind in either prose or poetry. The
Celtic literature, alone, weakened down into poverty-stricken or
over-luxuriant expression. Alone, the Celt would have been as
incapable, as the Anglo-Saxon was alone, of producing the
English literature. But the powers the Celtic nature brought to
mingle with the Anglo-Saxon nature were of the highest value for
every class of poetry, for the melody of poetry, for its lyric
. changes, and for its inventive and subtle rhythms. A host of our

) rhythms are derived from Irish metres, sometimes directly, some-
times passed through France, sometimes through Italy, sometimes
through Latin hymns. To these powers our literature owes also
much of its fanciful charm, its love of adventurous life, legend
and faery, its quaint or magical surprises; its self-conscious
* melancholy, its satiric laughter ; its lavish use at times of colour ;
its love of nature and of lonely life with nature ; its impersona-
tion, with inventive detail, of both the monstrous and the graceful
powers of nature.
I The Celtic elements did nearly as much for prose. They
I gave to English prose its natural movement, its subtlety, its

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST 297

mystery, sadness, mockery, and colour. Stealing down, from
generation to generation, into the Anglo-Saxon people, these
powers made their way, till they were intimately inwoven into
the Anglo-Saxon powers; and these in turn gave the Celtic
powers the force, the intensity, the tenderness, the moral energy,
the perseverance, the solemnity, the serious humanity they
needed for permanent and finished art. Separately, the Celtic
or the Anglo-Saxon powers would have been inadequate to
create English literature. Together they made it, and together
they were adequate for its creation. , There is no mixture in
the world so good for the best work in poetry and in prose as
the mixture of the Celtic and the Teutonic spirit. And the
mixture, slowly made, like all natural mixtures destined for fine
and lasting use, was complete. The attempts made by English
and Irish nationalists who are literary critics to seclude what is
Celtic or what is Anglo-Saxon in English literature, are curiously
futile. There is no product of English poetry or prose in which
Anglo-Saxon and Celtic elements are not closely and fervently
mixed, and the proportions of each series of elements in any
literary work vary indefinitely. Those books are best in which the
admixture is most equalised throughout ; and when the admix-
ture is most unequal the book is, as literature, not so good as
it might otherwise have been. And this is as true of phases and
transient outbursts, as it is of periods, in English literature. At
no time was early English literature freed from Celtic influence
except perhaps during its revival in Wessex under ^Elfred, iElfric,
and the rest, a revival marked by absence of imaginative work
and by a swift decay. The Northumbrian literature before
iElfred arose in lands deeply imbued with Celtic thought and
feeling. When the Danes settled in England, their literature,
both of saga and of religious myth, had been strongly influenced
and changed by the Celtic. When the Normans came, the lays
of Roland and Charlemagne did not enter with any energy into
the literature of England. Of all the romantic cycles it least
interested England. The cycle which emerged first, and was

Digitized by

Googk

298 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED chap.

most developed in England, and which has clung to the heart of
English literature up to the present day is of Celtic origin ; and
steeped, through all its French, German, and English develop-
ments, in the Celtic spirit. It was brought by the Normans
from Brittany, ministered to from its source when the Normans
conquered South Wales; and finally, in the resurrection of
English literature at the beginning of the thirteenth century,
established a Celtic tale at the head of the literature of England.

But English literature is not the result only of the Anglo-
Saxon and the Celtic spirit. Like those atomic compounds which
are formed by the addition to their two main elements of a number
of other elements in much smaller proportions, English literature
added to itself Danish, Norse, Norman, French, Italian, Spanish,
Hebrew, and Oriental elements ; and owing to its incessant and
adventurous pushing into all parts of the world, took into itself a
host of heterogeneous matters which mixed with it from time to
time, and then ceased their slight and transient impulse.

The Dane and Norseman, both of whom made and cherished
a well-ordered literary class, brought to English literature their
sagas, both mythical and historical, and a passionate love for
recording in long stories the mighty deeds of war-leaders who
grew into mythical heroes. They not only told the tales of their
own folk, but their energy revivified, by absorbing them, the
stories of the countries they invaded. Where the Viking came,
life came ; and this intensity of life not only animated the folk-
tales of their conquered lands into resurrection, but added them
to its own, and then changed and developed them into a varied
host of adventurous narratives.

We cannot trace before the Norman conquest this influence
of the Norseman and the Dane on English literature. But no
one can doubt that the vital strength added to the large portion
of England occupied by the Danes had its potent influence on
the growth and work of English literature. But I have already
said — and it shows how complicated is the inquiry here sketched
— that by the time the Danes had settled in England the

Digitized by

Googk

TO THE CONQUEST

299

elements in their literary production had been closely mingled
with Celtic elements. The Danish contribution to the soil of
English literature was therefore almost as much a mixture of
Celtic and Teutonic matter as English literature itself became.

Into this river of varied waters flowed the Norman stream.
That literary stream itself was mingled of three other streams —
of the original Norse ; of the French (partly Gaulish and partly
Latin); and of the Celt. All these, together with an Eastern
strain, make up romance ; and this, vitalised through every vein
by the Norman energy, and enchanted by all the Celtic legend
and spirit of Armorica and Wales, poured in full stream into the
Anglo-Saxon and Celtic admixture, and for a century and a half
dominated English literature. Along with it, the new Latin
learning came into England with the Norman and added a great
body of fine historical and theological thought to the soil in
which English prose was afterwards to grow. Moreover, certain
purely French elements — the esprit Gaulois, the audacious gaiety;
the loose and lively talc of love ; a gross wit ; a strange mingling
of sexual love with the love of Christ and the Virgin ; a logical
persistence, especially in theological argument; an additional
affection for allegory, and a Latin love of philosophy, entered
English literature, but took no deep root therein.

What other influences added themselves afterwards to the
stream of English literature ; how the Italian waters poured into
it ; how other and varied streams came from France ; how Spain,
Italy, Germany, and France again and again brought novel and
animating impulses into its ever-increasing river, but were in all
cases not reproduced in English literature, till they had been
digested, absorbed and changed into individual English waters,
is not the work of this book ; but whatever changes took place,
whatever new stuff was added to the river, the main mass of it,
out of which English literature grew, both poetry and prose, was
the Anglo-Saxon and the Celtic admixture which began to be made
in the sixth century, and which has never ceased to swell in volume
and mingle its waters more and more up to the present day.

Digitized by

Googk

CHAPTER XVIIl

THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH

The Norman conquest put to the sword what was left in Wessex
of English literature. What was left was not indeed worth pre-
serving. It was as barren and unimaginative as a desert. But
though sorely wounded, English literature was not slain. It rested,
retired from the world, in country villages, in secluded monasteries,
slowly gathering strength, assimilating fresh influences, until Nor-
man and English were woven politically into one people ; and
then it raised its comely head, and stepped forth into activity
again. The Norman accepted it as his own, and chose its
language for his literary work. But when English became again
the tongue of literature, it was no longer the same in form
as it had been when the Song of Maldon and the Homilies of
iElfric were written. It was so changed that we call it by the
, new term of Middle English. It was even more changed in thought
\ and feeling, in the direction and form of the subjects of its
' literature. Its prose, which was almost entirely religious, had
been transfigured by the Norman theology and religious en-
thusiasm. The romantic impulse, bringing with it new melodies,
new metres, new grace and sweetness, had mastered and changed
its poetry. The Teutonic elements remained as its foundation,
but they were chiefly elements of national character. They
coloured with a manly roughness, a passion for freedom and
home, and a moral intensity, the translations of French romances.
They produced also in the middle of the fourteenth century a

Digitized by

Googk

CHAP. XVIII

THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH

301

reversion to the old English forms of poetical expression. As to
the Celtic elements, they passed through the Norman romance
and were dominant in the first literary effort of Middle English
— in the Brut of Layamon, with which, about 1205, the new
English story-telling begins.

There was then a transition period during which some English
prose and verse existed ; but none of its work, with the exception
perhaps of the continuation of the Chronicle^ can be given the
name of literature. A brief account of this transition will fitly
close this book.

The most important remnant of Old English prose after the
Conquest is the English Chronicle. TheJi^nchesfer Annals,
which form the Parker manuscript of the C^F^^K^^^ease to be
written in English in the year 1 070. They had been preserved
in Canterbury since 1005 , but the entries between 1005 and 1070
only number eleven, and are short statements of local events.
They were made at the election of Lanfranc to the Archbishopric.
The rest of these annals is written in Latin, and they close with
the consecration of Anselm.

The W^cester Annals, on the contrary, were carefully kept up
in Engfishtothe year loxft. They were probably continued up
to 1 107, but this continuation was merged, it is supposed, in the
Annals of Peterboro u^ Their English is still the English of
iElfric, the standard English of Wessex. Their concluding
portion was most likely written by Wulfstan, who held the See
of Worcester from 1062 to 1095. His chaplain, Colman, assisted
him in this work. Wulfstan, a man of learning, wisdom, and fine
character, held fast, amid the scoffing Normans, to his own
people and his own tongue; and Colman, called to write his
patron's biography, wrote it in a fine English, which it is in-
teresting to know was praised by William of Malmesbury.

The Peterborough Annals, which completed the work of
Worcester, were of little worth until after the burning of
the monastery in 11 16. When the minster was rebuilt in
1 121 a full edition of them was undertaken. The Annals of

Digitized by

Googk

302 THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH chap.

Winchester, Worcester, and Abingdon were used in this edition,
A full English Chronicle was thus put together, and continued,
probably by one hand, to the year 1131. Another hand, using a
more modern English, carried on the record fro m 11^2 to 11J 4,
when, with the accession of Henry IL, the English Chronicle
ceased to exist It began at Winchester; it ended at Peter-
- borough. Nor is its latest work at Worcester and Peterborough
unworthy of its royal beginning. The hand that wrote the wars
of Harold and the fight at Stamford Bridge is not so bold nor
so versed in public affairs as his who pictured the wars of -Alfred
with the Danes, or his who with a more practised and sturdier
pen recorded from 910 to 924 the mighty doings of King
Eadweard. But a breath of the ancient and steadfast power of
writing still inhabits it. After the Conquest the stark force
of William seems to drive the writer into abundant and

\ picturesque records ; he paints with sympathy the miseries of the
land, and he draws the aspect and character of William — ^for he
had known him and lived at 6is court — with a mastery and an
absence of prejudice which has been justly praised It is plain
that this writer has studied the Norman historians, for his work
is fuller of detail, more varied in the subjects chosen, more
interspersed with illustrative anecdote, more fluent, than that
grave, dignified, condensed writing of the Chronicle of the ninth
and tenth centuries, which was disdainful of ornament, con-
cerned about fact, but not about form and style. This writer
shapes each reign into a whole, the centre light of which
is the King and the condition of England under his govern-
ment He is followed by the first Peterborough writer, who,
though he tells the story of the land and people, is rather
a romantic than a national historian. His interest in the
Church is greater than his interest in the nation; his interest
in his own monastery greater than his interest in the Church.
We may think of him as living in retirement from the world, and
gathering from visitors and travellers the stories which enliven
his pages. At no time does he write so well as when he tells,

Digitized by

Googk

KViii THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH 303

with sincere and pleasant affection and pity, the history and
misfortunes of his own monastery.

The second writer of Peterborough, writing most probably
in 1150-54, begins his work from the year 1132. His vigorous
and compassionate account of the lawlessness and cruelty of the
nobles and of the dreadful misery of England under the rule of
Stephen is lifted into a semblance at least of fine literature by
the pathetic passion of an oppressed people which breathes and
burns in its pitiful sentences. The story of Stephen is the last
which the Chronicle tells. This ancient and venerable monument
of English prose gave way to the Norman historians, who had
now begun to take a vital, even an English, interest in the
country their Dukes had conquered.

In other monasteries than Worcester an4 Peterborough
English prose was written during the twelfth century, but it was
not original work. Invention, creation of any kind whatever, has
passed away from English prose. The old books, chiefly those
of iElfric and iElfred, were read, copied and reverenced There
was re-editing, but no making of books. The Homilies of
^Ifric were frequently copied, and the people still heard from
them in their own tongue the tales of the English saints
and martyrs and the praise of their great kings in a prose
which kept the rhjrthm and the manner of their old poetry
alive. The Hatton Gospels of this century are a new setting
forth in modernised language of the Translation of the Gospels
made in the eleventh century. The Rule of St. Benedict was
rewritten in the monastery of Wiveney. The Herbarium Apuleii^
with illustrations, was recopied, with new English explanations
of the words. The English Herbarium, whose appearance
in the last century has been mentioned, was re-edited with
several changes. A Leech Book, which opens with a preface —
" Concerning the Schools of Medicine " — was made out of the
older books of the same kind, and closes the prose activity of the
twelfth century. All we can then say is that the monks, in those
monasteries which were not Normanised, were the preservers of

Digitized by

Googk

304 THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH chap,

the old tongue, and continued its use in their annals, their religious
and their medical manuals. Moreover, the monasteries kept
their titles and charters in Anglo-Saxon, and were obliged during
this century to recopy them and modernise their language.
Earle speaks of the fresh importance given to these charters
under the strict Norman law which rested its decisions so much
on documentary evidence, and he quotes from Matthew Parker's
edition of Asser^ 1574, to prove that even in Elizabeth's time it
was the habit of the monastic fraternities for some of their num-
ber to master Old English, that they might understand the legal
documents, the venerable memorials, and the royal charters of
their several monasteries. Thus English prose was kept alive,
but its life resembled the life of those legendary men who are
buried, having eaten a root which suspends life, in the hope of
a far-off revival. It did revive, but even after its resurrection it
was long before it reached an active or a creative life. And
when it revived, it spoke no longer in the way it spoke of old.
Its language was not that which Alfred and ^Elfric wrote. It
was Middle English.

\ These remnants of prose, together with a little poetry of
\ which we are now to speak, prove that after 1066 and during
I the twelfth century, English, in spite of the tyranny of the French
I tongue, continued its struggle for the victory which it finally won.
like the troops at Waterloo, it did not know when it was beaten.
An onlooker, in the last years of the eleventh century, would have
thought that English was doomed as a literary language. The
court knew no tongue but French. In the castles, in the rich
/ monasteries, the nobles and the learned ecclesiastics spoke only
j French. Their songs, their romances, their religious books were
: in French. What was written in theology, in history, in science,
was in Latin. But the people of the towns, the villagers round
. the castles, the parish priest, the wandering minstrel, the monks
, in those remoter and poorer houses of God which did not engage
the greed of the invader ; a few learned ecclesiastics like Wulfstan

Digitized by

Googk

xviii THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH 305

of Worcester who loved the old times ; the outlaw in the forest
land, and bands of men like Hereward's troop ; all men who still
hoped to free their country — held fast not only to the old English
hand-books of religion in prose, but even more closely to the
ancient songs and sagas of England.

The songs which enshrined the glories of the past of
England, from the time of Ealdhelm down to the Confessor,
were sung openly and commonly in the streets of the towns,
in the village fairs, in the English franklin*s hall, at the bivouac
in the wood or in the fen. William of Malmesbury speaks
of those that were common in his time. Henry of Huntingdon
used them in his Chronicle, I^yamon embodied some of them in
his Brut Then, too, new songs were made in English whenever
a battle was fought, and many belong to the rebellion of the
North against the Conqueror. The great deeds of Hereward
in the eleventh century were the subject of popular lays. The
Latin book — Gesta Herewardi Saxonis — which probably dates
from the twelfth century, claims as its authority a history of
Hereward*s youth written by Leofric, his priest. This book is
partly made up out of heroic songs, some of which may have
been composed by Hereward himself.

The ancient sagas also survived. Beowulf may still have
been sung from hall to hall. The saga of Weland, always a
native English saga, never died out of memory. The local
tradition concerning Wayland's smithy in Berkshire shows — since
it has no connection with anything in Anglo-Saxon poetry — that
many English legends collected round this famous smith, and
were continuous in the folk-songs of England. And we need
not doubt that other lays and sagas belonging to the Teutonic
heroes of myth and legend were kept in the mouths of the people,
even in the twelfth century. The Middle English poem of
Wada, Weland^s father, which Chaucer mentions, and a few lines
of which have been lately found quoted in a homily, was based.
Ten Brink thinks, on songs which were in existence in the twelfth
century. The ancient Charms and Spells^ sung like nursery

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

3o6 THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH chap.

rhymes in every English home, retained in memory the character
of the old English gods, even the names of some of them ; and it
is quite possible that the change of Woden into Robin Good-
fellow began in folk-ballads of the twelfth century. The same may
be said of the creation, out of the deeds of the many leaders of
outlaw bands whom popular wrath with the Norman nobles and
the dreadful game-laws made into heroic characters, of that one
representative of what was best in them all, which has come down
to us in the saga, as we may fairly call it, of Robin Hood. It is
also probable that stories arising out of Engli^Tand Danish con-
nections, such as those sagas of Horn and Havelok which took an
original English form in the thirteenth century, existed as popular
lays in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and were sung by the
^gleemen over England wherever the Danish colonists were thickly
:lustered. And the distinctly English sagas of Bevis of Hampton^
Guy of Warwick and Waltheof popular local heroes whose stories
the Anglo-Normans put into French verse, may also have been
well known in English lays of the twelfth century.

Of the existence of these English lays we may fairly conjecture,
but we know nothing of those which must have been sung in the
North, over the wide hill-lands where English was spoken, between
Yorkshire and the Clyde and the Forth by a people partly English
in descent, partly Danish, partly Celtic, with intermixtures of
Pictish and other unknown elements. From this country came
in after-centuries the greater number of the ballads which add
so passionate, so archaic, so weird, so tender and so savage an
element to English poetry. They began, I believe, in ancient
days; they retain Neolithic, Celtic, Scandinavian remnants of
thought and feeling, but they took their happy form in the
English language, spoken all over this trackless waste of moun-
tain and of moor.

Amid all these heroic phantoms, dimly seen through the mist,
I one figure shines clear; and his image is handed down to us in an
' ethical poem, varying forms of which arose in the twelfth century.
^ We possess it in a manuscript of the thirteenth. This is a collection

Digitized by

Googk

THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH

307

of sententious sayings attributed to King -Alfred, the Proverbs of
^Ifred^ and the introduction to the poem takes a form which is
almost legendary. " Thegns, bishops and wise book-men sat at
Seaford, proud earls and warriors. Earl -^Ifrich was there, who *
well knew the laws, and -Alfred, shepherd of the English, English-
men's darling, King in England. And he began to teach, as ye
may hear, how they should lead their life. He was a strong
king, and clerk, and he loved well the work of God ; wise in word
and far-seeing in deed ; the wisest man in England." The verses
which follow record in separate divisions the sage sapngs of the
King, and each division begins with the words — "Thus quoth
Alfred." The things spoken of suit the character of ^Elfred, and
may well have been compiled from his works and from traditions
concerning him. They have no literary value, but they illustrate
the transition from the old alliterative metre to the short line,
which was so soon to invade English poetry from France. Rhyme,
even the rh3rming couplet, has stolen in. We are on the verge of
a new world.

In the Poema Morale^ which, with two Discourses of the soul to
the body^ forms the beginning of English religious poetry in the
twelfth century, the change has made further progress, and,
indeed, has gone so far in rhythm, in alteration of accent, in the
use of the end-rhyme, in the new form the writer gives to old
English religious matter, that we can scarcely say that it belongs
to Old English poetry. This, and another twelfth-century poem,
the Paternoster — ^a poetical expansion of the Lord's Prayer, written
in a short rhyming couplet, less English and more French in
form than the Poema Morale — are the prologue to, if they may
not even be called a part of, that Middle English poetry which
drew its new elements from the Normans and their French rela-
tionships in literature, both tiorthem and Provengal ; which when it
seized on the subjects of romance, curiously preferred — ^and the
preference has been carried on through English literature into
the poetry of the nineteenth century — the Celtic to the Teutonic
traditions as the subject-matter of its verse.

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

APPENDIX

THE STORM ON LAND

Riddle II

Who so wary and so wise of the warriors lives,

That he dare declare who doth drive me on my way,

When I start up in my strength I Oft in stormy wrath,

Hugely then I thunder, tear along in gusts,

Fare above the floor of earth, bum the folk-halls down,

Ravage all the rooms I Then the reek ariseth

Gray above the gables ! Great on earth the din,

And the slaughter-qualm of men. Then I shake the woodland,

Forests rich in fruit ; then I fell the trees ; —

I with water over-vaulted — by the wondrous Powers

Sent upon my way, far and wide to drive along 1

On my back I carry that which covered once

All the tribes of Earth's indwellers, spirits and all flesh,

In the sand togetheV I Say who shuts me in,

Or what is my name — I who bear this burden I

THE STORM ON SEA

Riddle III

Whiles, my way I take, how men ween it not,

Under seething of the surges, seeking out the earth,

Ocean's deep abyss : all a-stirred the sea is.

Urged the flood is then, whirled the foam on high.

Fiercely wails the whale-mere, wrathful roars aloud ;

Beat the sea-streams on the shore, shooting momently on high

Upon the soaring cliffs, with the sand and stones.

With the weed and wave. But I, warring on,

Shrouded with the ocean's mass, stir into the earth

Into vasty sea-grounds ! From the water's helm

I may not on journey loose me, ere he let me go

Digitized by

Googk

310 APPENDIX

Who my master is. — Say, O man of thought,

Who may draw me (like a sword) from the bosomed depths of ocean,

When the streams again on the sea are still.

And the surges silent that shrouded me before ?

THE HURRICANE

Riddle IV

Oftentimes my Wielder weighs me firmly down,
Then again he urges my immeasurable breast
Underneath the fruitful fields, forces me to rest
Drives me down to darkness, me, the doughty warrior,
Pins me down in prison, where upon my back
Sits the Earth, my jailor. No escape have I
From that savage sorrow — ^but I mightily shake then
Heirships old of heroes I Totter then the homM halls,
Village-steads of men ; all the walls are rocking
High above the house- wards. . . .

. . . Calm abideth.
O'er the land, the lift ; lullM is the sea ;
Till that I from thraldom outwards thrust my way,
Howsoe'er He leads me on, who had laid of old
At creation's dawning wreathen chains on me.
With their braces, with their bands, that I might not bend me
Out of his great Power who points me out my paths.
Sometimes shall I, from above, make the surges seethe
Stir up the sea-streamings, and to shore crush on
Gray as fiint, the flood ; foaming fighteth then
'Gainst the wall of rock, the wave 1 Wan ariseth now
O'er the deep a mountain-down ; darkening on its track
Follows on another, with all ocean blended.
Till they (now commingled) near the mark of land and sea
Meet the lofty linches. Loud is then the Sea-wood,
Loud the seamen's shout. But the stony cliffs,
Rising steep, in stillness wait of the sea the onset.
Battle-whirl of billows, when the high upbreak of water
Crashes on the clilffs. In the Keel is dread expecting.
With despairing striving, lest the sea should bear it
Full of living ghosts on to that grim hour (of death) ;
So that of its steering power it should be bereft ;
And of living crew forfoughten, foaming drift away
On the shoulders of the surges. Then is shown to men
Many of the terrors there of Those I must obey —

Digitized by

Googk

APPENDIX 311

I upon the storm-path strong ! Who makes me be still ?

Whiles, I rush along thorough that which rides my back,

Vats of water black : wide asunder do I thrust them

Full of lakes of rain ; then again I let them

Glide together. Greatest that is of all sounds,

Of all tumults over towns ; and of thimderings the loudest,

When one stormy shower rattles sharp against another.

Sword against a sword. See, the swarthy shapes,

Forward pressing o'er the peoples, sweat their fire forth ;

Flaring is the flashing 1 Onward fare the thunders.

Gloomed, above the multitudes, with a mickle din ;

Fighting fling along ; and let fall adown

Swarthy sap of showers sounding from their breast.

Waters from their womb. Waging war they go.

Grisly troop on troop ; Terror rises up 1

Mickle is the misery 'mid the kin of men ;

In the burgs is panic when the Phantom pale

Shoots with his sharp weapons, stalking (through the sky).

Then the dullard does not dread him of the deadly spears ;

Nathless shall he surely die, if the soothfast Lord

Right against him, through the rain-cloud.

From the upper thunder, let the arrow fly —

Dart that fareth fast ! Few are they that 'scape

Whom the spear doth strike of the Spirit of the rain.

I beginning make of this gruesome war

When I rush on high 'mid the roaring shock of clouds,

Through their thundering throng to press, with a triumph

great,
O'er the breast of torrents ! Bursts out with a roar
The high congregated cloud-band.

Then my crest again I bow.
Low the lift-helm under, to the land anearer ;
And I heap upon my back that I have to bear.
By the might commanded of my mastering Lord.

So do I, a strongful servant, often strive in war I
Sometimes under earth am I ; then again I must
Stoop beneath the surges deep ; then above the surface sea
Stir to storm its streams. Then I soar on high,
Whirl the wind-drift of the clouds. Far and wide I go,
Swift and strong (for joy). Say what I am called,
Or who lifts me up to life, when I may no longer rest ;
Or who it is that stays me, when I'm still again.

Digitized by

Googk

312 APPENDIX

SEAFARER
The Old Man—

Sooth the song that I of myself can sing,

Telling of my travels ; how in troublous days,

Hours of hardship oft Pve borne !

With a bitter breast-care I have been abiding :

Many seats of sorrow in my ship have known 1

Frightful was the whirl of waves, when it was my part

Narrow watch at night to keep, on my vessel's prow

When it rushed the rocks along. By the rigid cold

Fast my feet were pinched, fettered by the frost.

By the chains of cold. Care was sighing then

Hot my heart around ; hunger rent to shreds within ,

Courage in me, me sea-wearied 1 This the man knows not,

He to whom it happens happiest on earth.

How I, carked with care, on the ice-cold sea.

Overwent the winter on my wander- ways.

All forlorn of happiness, all bereft of loving kinsmen,

Hung about with icicles : flew the hail in showers.

Nothing heard I there save the howling of the sea.

And the ice-chilled billow, whiles the crying of the swan !

All the glee I got me was the gannet's scream,

And the swoughing of the seal, 'stead of mirth of men/;

* Stead of the mead-drinking, moaning of the sea-mew.

There the storms smote on the crags, there the swallow of the sea

Answered to them, icy-plumed ; and that answer oft the earn —

Wet his wings were — barked aloud.

. . . None of all my kinsmen
Could this sorrow-laden soul stir to any joy.
Little then does he believe who life's pleasure owns,
While he tarried in the towns, and but trifling balefulness, —
Proud and insolent with wine — how out-wearied I
Often must outstay on the ocean path 1

Sombre grew the shade of night, and it snowed from nor'rard,
Frost the field enchained, fell the hail on earth,
Coldest of all corns.

Young Man—

Wherefore now then crash together
Thoughts my soul within that I should myself adventure

Digitized by

Googk

APPENDIX 313

The high streamings of the sea, and the sport of the salt waves 1
For a passion of the mind every moment pricks me on
All my life to set a-faring ; so that far from hence
I may seek the shore of the strange outlanders.

Old Man —

Yes, so haughty of his heart is no hero on the earth,
Nor so good in all his giving, nor so generous in youth,
Nor so daring in his deeds, nor so dear unto his lord.
That he has not always yearning unto his sea-faring,
To whatever work his Lord may have will to make for him.
For the harp he has no heart, nor for having of the rings,
Nor in wcrman is his weal ; in the world he's no delight.
Nor in anything whatever save the tossing o'er the waves 1
O for ever he has longing who is urged towards the sea.

Young Man —

Trees rebloom with blossoms, burghs are fair again,
Winsome are the wide plains, and the world is gay —
All doth only challenge the impassioned heart
Of his courage to the voyage, whosoever thus bethinks him,
O'er the ocean billows, far away to go.

Old Man—

Every cuckoo calls a warning, with his chant of sorrow 1
Sings the sttmmer's watchman, sorrow is he boding.
Bitter in the bosom's hoard. This the brave man wots not of,
Not the warrior rich in welfare — what the wanderer endures.
Who his paths of banishment widest places on the sea.

Young Man —

For behold, my thought hovers now above my heart ;
O'er the surging flood of sea now my spirit flies,
O'er the homeland of the whale — hovers then afar
O'er the foldings of the earth I Now again it flies to me
Full of yearning, greedy 1 Yells that lonely flier ;
Whets upon the Whale-way irresistibly my heart,-
O'er the storming of the seas !

Digitized by

Googk

314 APPENDIX

THE WANDERER

Prologue I

Oft a lonely wanderer wins at last to pity, ,

Wins the grace of God, though, begloomed with care, i

He must o*er the water-ways, for a weary time, I

Push the ice-cold ocean, oaring with his hands, ^

Wade through ways of banishment ! For the weird is fully i

wrought I

Thus there quoth an Earth -stepper — of his troubles taking

thought.
Of the fall of friendly kinsmen, of the fearful slaughters.

Oft I must alone, at each breaking of the day.

Here complain my care I Of the Quick there is not one

Unto whom I dare me now declare with openness

All my secret soul. Of a sooth, I know

That for any Earl excellent the habit is

That he closely bind all the casket of his soul,

Hold his hoard-coffer secure — but think in heart his will t

Never will the weary spirit stand the Wyrd against,

Nor the heart of heaviness for its help provide ;

Therefore this unhappy heart oft do Honour-seekers

Closely bind and cover in the coffer of their breast.

So it happed that I — oft-unhappy me !

Far from friendly kinsmen, forced away from home —

Had to seal securely all my secret soul,

After that my Gold-friend, in the gone-by years.

Darkness of the earth bedecked 1 Dreary-hearted, from that time,

Went I, winter- wretched, o'er the woven waves of sea,

Searching, sorrow-smitten, for some Treasure-spender's hall.

Where, or far or near, I might find a man,

Who, amidst the mead-halls, might acquainted be with love,

Or to me the friendless fain would comfort give,

Pleasure me with pleasures.

He who proves it, knows,
What a cruel comrade careful sorrow is to him.
Who in life but little store of loved forestanders has I
His the track of exile is, not the twisted gold.
His the frozen bosom, not the earth's fertility I
He the Hall remembers then, heroes, and the treasure-taking,
How of yore his Gold- friend, when he but a youngling was,

Digitized by

Googk

APPENDIX 315

Customed him to festal days I Fallen is all that joy !
O too well he wots of this, who must long forego
All the lore-redes of his Lord, of his loved, his trusted friend,
Then when sleep and sorrow, set together at one time.
Often lay their bondage on the lonely wretched man.
And it seemeth him, in spirit, that he seeth his Man-lord,
Clippeth him and kisseth him ; on his knees he layeth
Hands and head alike, as when he from hour to hour,
Erewhile, in the older days, did enjoy the gift-stool.
Then the friendless man forthwith doth awaken.
And he sees before him nought but fallow waves,
And sea-birds a-bathing, broadening out their plumes ;
And the falling sleet and snow sifted through with hail —
Then the wounds of heart all the heavier are,
Sorely aching for One*s-own I Ever new is pain.

For the memory of kinsmen o*er his mind is floating,
With glee-staves he greeteth them, gladly gazes on them-—
These companionships of comrades swim away again !
Of the old ^uniliar songs few the spirits bring
Of these floaters in the air. Fresh again is care
For the exile who must urge, often, oh how often,
OJjer the welding of the waters his out-wearied heart J
Wherefore I must wonder in this world of ours
Why my soul should not shroud itself in blackness.
When about the life of earls I am wholly wrapt in thought,
How they in one instant gave their household up,
Mighty mooded thanes ! So this middle-earth,
Day succeeding day, droops and falls away I

Wherefore no one may be wise till he weareth through

Share of winters in the world-realm. Patient must the wise

man be,
Neither too hot-hearted, nor too hasty-worded.
Nor too weak of mind a warrior, nor too wanting in good heed.
Nor o'er-fearful, nor too glad, nor too greedy of possessions.
Never overfond of boasting till he throughly know himself.
Every son of man must wait ere he make a haughty vow
Till, however courage-hearted, he may know with certainty
Whither wills to turn its way the thought within his heart

A grave man should grasp this thought — how ghostlike it is
When the welfare of this world all a-wasted is — •

Digitized by

Googk

316 APPENDIX

Just as now, most manifold, o'er this middle-garth,
Walls of burgs are standing by the breezes over-blown,
Covered thick with chill frost, and the courts decayed.
Wears to dust the wine-hall, and its Wielder lies
Dispossessed of pleasure. All the peers are fallen.
Stately by the ramparts 1 War hath ravished some away,
Led them on the forth-way ; one the flying ship has borne
O'er high-heaving ocean — one the hoary wolf
Dragged to shreds when dead 1 Drear his cheek with tears,
One an earl has hidden deep in earthen hollow.

So the Maker of mankind hath this mid-earth desert made.

Till the ancient Ogres' work idle stood and void

Of its town-indwellers, stripped of all its joys.

Whoso then this Wall-stead wisely has thought over,

And this darkened Life deeply has considered,

Sage of soul within, oft remembers far away

Slaughters cruel and uncounted, and cries out this word,

" Whither went the horse, whither went the man ? Whithei

went the Treasure-giver ?
What befell the seats of feasting? Whither fled the joys in

hall?
Ea la I the beaker bright ! Ea la ! the bymied warriors !
Ea la ! the people's pride ! O how perished is that Time !
Veiled beneath night's helm it is, as if it ne'er had been ! "

Left behind them, to this hour, by that host of heroes loved,
Stands the Wall, so wondrous high, with worm -images

adorned !
Strength of ashen spears snatched away the earls.
Swords that for the slaughter hungered, and the Wyrd ,

sublime I
See the storms are lashing on the stony ramparts ;
Sweeping down, the snow-drift shuts up fast the earth —
Terror of the winter when it cometh wan 1
Darkens then the dusk of night, driving from the nor'rard
Heavy drift of hail for the harm of heroes.

All is full of trouble, all this realm of earth !

Doom of weirds is changing all the world below the skies ,*

Here our fee is fleeting, here the friend is fleeting.

Fleeting here is man, fleeting is the woman.

All the earth's foundation is an idle thing become.

Digitized by

Googk

APPENDIX 317

Epilogue

So quoth the sage in his soul as he sat him apart at the runing.
Brave is the hero who holdeth his troth : nor shall he too hastily

ever
Give voice to the woe in his breast, before he can work out its cure,
A chieftain, with courage to act I O well 'tis for him who comfort

doth seek
And grace from the Father in Heaven, where the Fastness stands

sure for us all.

GNOMIC VERSES

Cotton MS.

I. He, the King, shall hold the Kingdom. Cities shall afar be seen ;
Those that are upon this earth — artful works of giants.
Wondrous work of Wall-stones ! Wind in air is swiftest,
Thunder on its path the loudest. Mighty are the powers of

Christ !
Wyrd is strongest ! Winter coldest.
Most hoar-frosts has Spring, it is cold the longest I
Summer is sun-loveliest ; then the sky is hottest !
Autumn above all is glorious ; unto men it brings
All the graining of the year God doth send to them.

1 3 Woe is wonderfully clinging. Onward wend the clouds ;
Valiant comrades ever shall their youthful iEtheling
Bolden to the battle and the bracelet-giving !
Courage in the earl, sword-edge on the helm
Bide the battle through 1 On the cliff the hawk,
Wild, shall won at home. In the wood the wolf,
Wretched one, apart shall dwell ; in the holt the boar,
Strong with strength of teeth, abides.

50. Good shall with evil, youth shall with eld.

Life shall with death, light shall with darkness,
Army with army, one foe with another,
Wrong against wrong — strive o'er the land,
Fight out their feud ; and the wise man shall ever
Think on the strife of the world.

Digitized by

Googk

3i8 APPENDIX

Exeter MS. (B.)

I. Frost shall freeze ; fire melt wood,

Earth shall be growing, ice make a bridge,
The Water-helm bear, and lock wondrously up
The seedjings of earth. One shall unbind
The fetters of frost — God the Almighty.
Winter shall pass, fair weather return ;
Summer is sun-hot, the sea is unstill.
The dead depth of ocean for ever is dark.

82. A king shall with cattle, with armlets and beakers,
Purchase his queen ; and both, from the first.
With their gifts shall be free. The spirit of battle
Shall grow in the man, but the woman shall thrive,
Beloved, 'mid her folk ; shall light-hearted live,
Counsel shall keep, shall large-hearted be !
With horses and treasure, and at giving of mead,
Everywhere, always — she shall earliest greet
The prince of the nobles, before his companions.
To the hand of her lord, the first cup of all
Straightway she shall give ; and they both shall take rede,
House-owners, together.

126, Gold is befitting upon a man's sword ;
Good victory-gear I Gems on a queen ;
A good Sc6p for men ; for warriors the war-dart,
To hold in the fight the defences of home !
A shield for the striver, a shaft for the thief,
A ring for the bride, a book for the learner,
For holy men H ousel, and ills for the heathen.

THE BATTLE OF MALDON 1

Here follows a literal translation of the Battle of Maldon. It has
been made by Miss Kate Warren.

Then Byrhtnoth bade the men leave their horses, let them go, and
turn to warfare, think on strength and good courage. Then Offa's
kinsman found that the Earl would be4r with no faint-heartedness.

1 This translation only attempts to give the metrical effect of the original in
the speeches of the warriors. The whole poem is, of course, in the short
alliterative line.

Digitized by

Googk

APPENDIX

319

So be let his well-loved hawk fly away from his hand to the wood,
and strode to the battle. One might know, from that, that the
youth would not fail in the fight when once he had taken his weapons.
Eadric, too, would help his lord in the strife. He bore forth the
spear to battle ; he was bold of thought while he could hold the
shield and broadsword in his hands. He made good his boasting
when he had to fight before his lord.

Then Byrhtnoth began to put his men in array ; he rode about
and gave rede, he showed his warriors how they should stand and
keep the field, and bade them hold their spears aright, fast in their
hands, and fear nothing. When he had well arrayed his troop, then
he alighted amid his people, where it most pleased him, where his
most faithful hearth-companions ^ were.

Then on the other side of the shore stood the Vikings' herald,
who shouted mighty words ; boasting, he sent from the bank the
message of the sea-farers to the earl : —

" Swift sea-rovers have sent me unto thee,
Bade me say to thee — that thoii must send us quickly
Rings to ward us from you. And better 'twill be found
To turn away with tribute the onset of the spear
Than so dread a warfare to let us wage with you.
No need there is for slaughter, if ye can but settle that :
Firm the peace we'll make with you, if ye give the gold.
If thou so resplvest — thQju who here art ruler, —
That thou wilt (this instant) set thy people free ;
Giving to the rovers^ whatsoe'er they may decree
Of treasure for their friendship, taking from us peace :—
We, then, with the boqty, to our boats will turn again,
And passing o'er the water keep a peace with you."

Then Byrhtnoth spake and raised his shield, waving his slender
ashen spear he uttered words, ireful and steadfast, and gave him
answer : —

" Wilt thou hear, O sailor, what this people say ? —
Spears for their tribute will they give to you.
The venom-tipped point, and the ancient sword of war,
Naught shall that battle gear bring to you in warfare I
Herald of the seamen I Answer back again,
Telling to thy people tidings yet more dreadful :
That here an Ear] of honour standeth with his host.
Who, fearless, will defend this, our fatherl and,

* Heof^-werod, lit hearth-troop.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

320 APPENDIX

Kinsfolk and country, the realm of itthelred —
Whom I own as lord. Low shall now the heathen
Sink to earth in warfare ! Too shameful it meseemeth
That ye with our money should march aWiay to sea
All unfought by us now ye so far hither,
Right to our own land, here within, are come.
Nor shall ye all so easily treasure gather in,
Spear-point and sword-edge shall bring us, first, together,
Grim shall be the game of war ere we give you tribute."

Then he bade the warriors go forward, bearing their shields,
until they all stood on the river bank. Neither host could get at
the other for the water ; after the ebb had come the flowing flood-
tide. The waters parted them,^ and too long it seemed until their
spears could meet. There they stood in array about the Panta stream,
the East Saxons and the army from the ships, yet could neither harm
the other, unless the arrows' flight should fell any one of them.

The flood-tide went out, the seamen stood ready, the crowd of
Vikings eager for war. Then the lord of heroes bade a war-hardened
warrior hold the bridge. He was named Wulfstan, and was son of
Ceola, bold among his kinsmen. With his spear he struck down the
first man who most hardily stepped on the bridge. Beside Wulfstan
there stood fearless warriors, i^lfere and Maccus, a brave-mooded
twain, who would never flee the ford, but steadfastly warded them
against the foe as long as they could wield a weapon.

When the Vikings knew that, and surely saw that they had
found the bridge- warders bitter, then those hateful strangers began to
use their guile and asked that they might have passage, go across
the ford with their troops. So the Earl in his disdain gave too
much of the land to that hostile folk. Byrhthelm's son called to them
across the cold water, and the men listened : —

" Now here is room for you, quickly come ye over.
Warriors unto warfare. God alone foreseeth
Which of us shall win upon the battle-field."

Then the slaughter-wolves went across, west over Panta, the
Viking host recked not of the water. Over the shining water they
bore their shields, the seamen bore their linden shields to land.
Byrhtnoth and his men stood ready against the cruel, foe ; he bade
his men make the war-hedge with their shields, and hold themselves
firm against the foe.

* Lucon lagustreamas, or, perhaps, "the waters enclosed them."

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

APPENDIX

321

Then drew nigh the fighting, the glory of strife ; the time had come
for the doomed to fall.

" Then a cry was raised, round the ravens flew,
And the eagle, carrion-greedy ; there was shouting on the earth."

Then they let fly from their hands the sharp-filed javelin, the well-
ground spear ; the bows were busy, the shield caught the spear ; bitter was
the battle-rush, the warriors fell and the youths lay dead on every side.
Wulfmaer was wounded, he chose the bed of death ; he was Byrhtnoth's
kinsman, his sister's son ; sorely was he hewn about with the bills.

Then was given back payment to the Vikings. I heard that
Edward struck down one mightily with his sword, he withheld not
the blow, so that the doomed warrior fell at his feet. For that his
lord gave thanks to his " bower-thegn ** ^ when he found the time for
it So the strong-hearted men stood firm in the battle. They took
thought who among them could first reach the life of the doomed,
those warriors with weapons. The slain fell on the earth. They
stood steadfast ; Byrhtnoth urged them on, and bade every hero
think on war, would he win glory from the Danes.

Then the Hard-in-war went forward, holding aloft his weapon, his
sheltering shield, and strode towards a warrior. The steadfast Earl
stepped up to the man — each thought on ill to the other. Then the
seaman sent a southern * dart, wherewith the Lord of warriors was
wounded. He then thrust with his shield, that the shaft burst asunder
and the spear broke, so that it sprang back again. The warrior was
enraged ; with his spear he pierced the proud Viking who had dealt
him the wound. Skilful was the hero; he drove his spear through
the throat of the man *; he guided his hand so that he reached the
life of that scathing foe. Then quickly he shot another, which rent
the byrnie asunder ; the Viking was wounded in the breast through
the woven rings, at his heart stood the venomous point The Earl
was the blither ; the brave man laughed, gave his Maker thanks for
the day's work that the Lord had given him. Then a certain warrior
let a dart fly from his hands, from his fingers, so that it pierced the
noble thegn of i^thelred. There stood beside him in the battle an un-
waxenboy,the sonof Wulfstan,the young Wulfmaer, a youth in battle who
full quickly drew the bloody dart from the man and let that sharp spear
fly back again, so that its point drove in and he lay low on the earth
who before had sorely struck his lord. Then an armed warrior went
towards the Earl, he would seize the hero's bracelets, his armour, rings,
and graven sword. So Byrhtnoth drew his bill from its sheath, broad

^ BurHene, attendant, retainer.
• Southern may perhaps mesin foreign,

^ Digitized by CjOOQIC

322 APPENDIX

and brown-edged, and struck at his bymie — ^too quickly one of the
sea-folk hindered him when he maimed the Earl's arm. Then the
fallow-hilted sword fell to earth, no more could he hold the sharp
blade or wield the weapon. Yet still the hoary warrior spake words,
heartened his men, bade his good comrades go forward. He then
could stand no longer on his feet, he looked up to heaven : —

" To Thee I offer thanks, O Ruler of the peoples,
For all of the delightfulness I've found upon th§ earth.
Now, O Lord of mercy, utmost neecj have I
Grace upon my spirit that Thou grant me here ;
So my soul in safety may soar away to Thee,
Into Thine own keeping, O Thou Prince of angels,
Passing hence in peacefulness. Now I pray of Thee
That the harming fiends of hell may not hurt my soul."

Then the heathen wretches hewed him down, and both the men
who stood by him, yElfhoth and Wulfmaer, were brought low, when
they gave up their life beside their lord. Then th^e turned from
the battle ,those who would not bide the end. First in flight were
the sons of Odda ; Godric forsook the fight and left his lord who oft
had given him many a steed. He leaped on the horse that had been
his lord's, on those war-trappings, as was not right, and with him
fled both his brothers Godric and Godwig. They recked nought of
the battle but left the fight and sought the wood, fled to a' fastness to
save their life, and more men with them than was at all seemly hatd
they been mindful of all the good things which he had done for them.
Even so had Offa said, earlier in the day on the battlefield, ^ when he
had held a meeting, that many there had spoken bravely who after-
wards, when need was, would not bear it out.

Then the prince of the people, i^thelred's earl, had fallen ; all his
comrades saw that their lord lay dead. Then came forth proud
thegns, uncowardly men hastened up eagerly, all of them would' one
of two things, either lose their life or avenge their lord. So the son
of iElfric cheered them forth ; a warrior, young in winters, uttered
words ; bravely he spake, iElfwine said : —

" Remember now the words which at mead we often spafee,
When bold upon the bench we lifted up our boasting.
Warriors in the hall, about the warfare keen.
Now it can be tested who truly brave will be.

^ This seems to be the most probable meaning of the passage ' ' on dag or
asade, on fSam mc^lstede," etc., though it may perhaps refer more indefinitely
to a " certain day" some time before that of the battle.

Digitized by

Googk

APPENDIX 323

Here will I my lineage uphold before you all : —
Among the Mercian kindred I come of noble race,
Of my father's father, Ealdhelm was the name,
Wise, an alderman, worldly-wealthy, too.
Not among my tribesmen ever shall they twit me
That / from this warfare wished to turn away.
Wished to find my home, while my hero lieth
Hewn adown in war — worst of all is that to me —
He was both at once my kinsman and my lord."

Then he went forth^ mindful of the feud, so that he struck one of
the seamen with his spear that he lay dead on the earth, beaten down
with his weapon. Then he urged his fellows and comrades to go
forward.

Oifa spake, and shook his ashen spear : —

** Lo I thou, iElfwine, hast every one uprous^d.
All the thegns at need. Now our leader's low.
Our e^rl upon the earth, need is for us all
That every man among us embolden should the other
Warrior to the war, while he can his weapon
Have in hand and hold, the hardened battle brand,
Spear and goodly sword. All of us hath Godric,
Cowardly son of Offa, utterly Ijcwrayed.
Many a man believed, as he theiuJirse bestrode,
(Haughty was the stallion,) him to be our lord ;
So upon the battle-field the folk were scattered all ;
Broken was the shield-wall ! Cursed be his deed,
For that made he here so many a man to flee I "

Leofsunu spake, upraised his linden-wood, his sheltering shield,
and answered again that hero : —

" Here I vow it truly, that never will I hence
Flee away a foot's length, but will forward go.
Avenging in th'^ battle my beloved lord.
Neither round the Stourmere'need the sturdy heroes
Flout me in their words now my friend has feUen,
That from here I, lordless, homeward have returned.
Wending from the warfare ; but weapons shall me slay,
Spear and iron sword ! "

Full irefully he strode forth, and fought steadfastly, far too proud
for flight

Digitized by

Googk

324 APPENDIX

Then Dunnere spake, an aged man,^ he shook his spear and
called over them all, bidding every hero revenge Byrhtnoth : —

" Now he may not linger, nor be mindful of his life,
Who meaneth here his lord to avenge upon this folk.'*

Then they went forward, recked nothing of life ; the EarPs men
fought hardily, raging spear-bearers, and besought God that they
might avenge their beloved lord and work ruin on their foes. And
the hostage helped them, he was of a bold kindred in Northumbria,
the son of Ecglaf, and his name was iEscferth. He never flinched
in the war play, but often drove the arrow forth ; sometimes he shot
on a shield, sometimes he wounded a man ; ever from time to time he
gave a wound to some one, as long as he could wield a weapon. Still in
the front stood Edward the Long, alert and eager, and spake boasting
words that he would not flee a foot's space of the land or turn back-
ward while his Better * lay there dead. He broke the shield-wall
and fought the warriors until he had worthily avenged his Treasure-
giver on those seamen, ere he lay dead on the field. So also did
Etheric, a noble comrade, ready and eager in the fray, very zealously
he fought, that brother of Sibyrht, and many another too, who dove
the hollow shield and warded them boldly. The shield rim was
shattered and the bymie sang a gruesome song. Then in the battle
OfTa struck a seaman, so that he fell to earth, and there Gad's kinsman
sought the ground. Soon was Offa hewn down in the fight, yet he
had fulfilled what he promised his lord when he had boasted
before to his Ring-g^ver that they should both together ride into the
burg, unhurt, to their home, or fall in the battle, die of wounds on the
slaughter-field. Thegn-like he lay dead near his lord.

Then was there clashing of shields ; the seamen strode forth,
ireful in war. The spear often drove through the life-house of the
doomed. Then Wistan went forth, the son of Thurstan, he fought
with those warriors, he was the slayer of three in the throng ere he,
the son of Wigeline, lay dead on the field. There was fierce encounter ;
firm stood the warriors in the strife, the heroes sank down, weary
with wounds ; the slain fell on the earth. Both the brothers, Oswald
and Ealdwold, all the time encouraged the men, besought their dear
kinsmen to bear up in time of need and use their weapons strongly.
Byrhtwold spake, upraised his shield, shook his spear, he was an
aged comrade ; full boldly he urged on the heroes : —

" The mind must be the firmer, the heart must be the keener,
The mood must be the bolder, as our might lesseneth.

* CeorL • Betera — i.e. of course, his lord, Byrhtnoth.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

APPENDIX 325

Here our Lord lieth, all to pieces hewn,
Goodly on the ground. Ever may he grieve
Whoso from this war-play thinketh now to wend.
I am old in years, never hence will I,
But here, I, by the side of my- well-beloved lord,
By the man so dear, mean in death to lie."

So also Godric, the son of iCthelgar, emboldened them all to the
fighting. Often he let the dart forth, the slaughter spear fly among
the \^kings, as he went foremost amid his folk. He hewed down
and laid them low until he sank in the battle. That was not the
Godric who fled from the fight . .

Digitized by

Googk

BIBLIOGRAPHY

POETRY

I. The Manuscripts

1. BeownlH

The MS. is in the Cottonian Library in the British Museum
(Codex Vitellius, A. xv.). It is a parchment codex in quarto,
and was probably written in the tenth century. Two hand-
writings may be detected in it ; one goes to the middle of 1.
1939 ; ^^® other, a less skilful handwriting, runs on to the end.
The MS. was originally kept in Deans Yard, Westminster, and
was slightly injured in the fire which, in 1731, destroyed so
many MSS. In 1753, having spent some time in the old
dormitory at Westminster, it was transferred to the British
Museum. Wanley, employed by Hickes, the Anglo-Saxon
scholar, to make a catalogue of the old northern books in the
kingdom, first drew attention to this MS. in 1705, and called it
a tractatus nobilisstmus poetice scriptus, Grimr. J6nsson Thor-
kelin, an Icelandic scholar, had two copies made of it in 1786,
and published the whole of it for the first time in 181 5.
Through this edition the poem became known in England,
Germany, and Denmark. But Sharon Turner gave the first
account of it in 1805. In 1833 (2nd edition, 1835) Jol"* M.
Kemble issued a complete edition of the text of Beowulf, and
in 1837 translated the whole of it into English.

The Beowulf MS. contains also the poem oi Judith.

2. The Exeter Book (Codex Exoniensis).

This MS. formed part of the library which Leofric, the first
Bishop of Exeter, left to his Cathedral Church in 107 1. He
catalogued it himself as a mycel Englise boc be gehwilcum
Jnngum on leodwisan geworht: " A mickle English book on all
kinds of things wrought in verse." It is still kept in Exeter

Digitized by

Googk

BIBLIOGRAPHY 327

Cathedral. It has lost the first seven pages, and the eighth has
suffered sorely, as well as the last page. The handwriting is
clear, and is of the beginning of the eleventh century ; it was
probably written by a single hand. It was first mentioned
in Wanley's Catalogue in 1705. It contains a varied an-
thology of poems in the following order: i. The Christ. 2.
Guthlac. 3. Azarias. 4. Phoenix. 5. Juliana. 6. Wanderer.
7. Gifts of Men. 8. The Father's Teaching. 9. Seafarer.
10. Spirit of Men. 11. WidsiS (The Singer's Wandering).
12. Fates of Men. 13. Gnomic Verses. 14. Wonders of
Creation. 15. Rhyme Song. 16. Panther. 17. Whale.
18. Partridge. 19. Address of the Soul to the Body. 20.
Deor (The Singer's Consolation). 21. Riddles, 1-60. 22.
The Wife's Complaint. 23. The Last Judgment. 24. A
Prayer.- 25. Descent into Hell. 26. Alms. 27. Pharaoh.
28. Fragments of a Paternoster. 29. Fragment of a Didactic
Poem. 30. Another Form of Riddle 31, and Riddle 61. 31.
The Husband's Message. 32. The Ruin. 33. Riddles, 62-89.
The Vercelli Book (Codex Vercellensis).

This is a large MS. volume of Anglo-Saxon homilies,
among which are interspersed six poems. It was discovered in
1822, at Vercelli, in North Italy, by a German scholar, Dr.
Blum. The handwriting is of the eleventh century, and the poems
contained in this MS. are : i. The Andreas. 2. Fates of the
Apostles. 3. Address of the Soul to the Body, 4. Falseness
of Men (a fragment). 5. Dream of the Rood. 6. Elene.

The MS. is still at Vercelli, in the Capitular Library, but
an excellent photographic reproduction of it has been issued by
Professor Wulker.
The Junian MS. of the (so-called) Csedmonian Poems.

This MS. was bequeathed to the Bodleian by Junius (Francis
Du Jon). It was edited by him, and printed, in 1655, at
Amsterdam. (For an account of it see p. 135.)

The Fight at Finsbnrg.

This fragment was discovered by Hickes, in the seventeenth
century, on the cover of a MS. of Homilies in the Lambeth Palace
Library. The MS. of the poem has since been lost, and the
original only now exists in the copy of it made by Hickes.
(See vol. i. pp. 192, 193 of George Hickes's great work on
the Northern languages — commonly called his "Thesaurus,"
but the full title runs, "Linguarum Vett. Septenlrionalium
Thesaurus Grammatico-Criticus et Archaeologicus, Oxford, 1 703-
1705.")

Digitized by

Googk

328 BIBLIOGRAPHY

6. Waldhere.

This fragment is written upon two vellum leaves which were
discovered by Professor WerlaufF, librarian at the King's
Library, Copenhagen. , They were published, with a translation,
by Prof. George Stephens, in i860.

7. TheOharms.

These exist in MSS. at the British Museum and the Library
of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.

8. Gnomic Verses.

Three sets of these proverbs are found in the Exeter Book,
but there is a fourth in the MS. of the Abingdon Chronicle —
one of the Cotton MSS. in the British Museum.

In the same MS; is found the Menologium,

9. The Bune Song exists only in a copy of the original MS. made

by Hickes (voL i. p. 135 of Hickes's Thesaurus).

10. Of the two metrical dialogues of Salomo and Saturn there are

two MSS., both at Corpus Christi Library, Cambridge.

11. The Battle of Bmnanburh is found in the Parker MS. of the

Chronicle (Corpus Christi, Cambridge).

12. The Battle of Maldon exists only in a copy of the original MS.

made by Thomas Heame. (See vol. ii. pp. 570-577,
**Johannis Glastoniensis Chronica sive Historia de Rebus
Glastoniensibus," ed. Th. Heamius, Oxonii, 1726.)

II. Editions and Translations

For a full bibliography of these, including foreign publications,
the student is referred to Wiilker's Grundriss zur Geschichte der
Angelsdchsischen Utteratur^ and also to the same scholar's edition
of Grein's Bibliothek der Angelsdchsischen Poesie (3 vols. Leipzig,
1 883-1 897). The original edition, by Grein himself, was issued in
1857-58, but is now out of print

The complete text of all the old English poetry may be found
in the above editions of Grein's Bibliothek,

A German translation of most of the poems in his Bibliothek
was issued by Grein in 1857 — "Dichtungen der Angelsachsen "
(Gottingen).

Conybeare's "Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry" appeared in
1826. It contains selections from A.S. Poetry (text and free
translation). It is now out of print, but its early date and its
scholarship make it worthy of mention.

The (^so-called) GsBdmonian Poems were edited and translated

Digitized by

Googk

BIBLIOGRAPHY 329

by Benjamin Thorpe in 1832, under the title of " Caedmon's Metrical
Paraphrase," etc

.The Exeter Book was also edited and translated by the same
scholar in 1842. These are now out of print, and both text and
translation are antiquated, but are still useful for reference.

The poems of the Vercelli Book were edited and translated by
J. M. Kemble in 1843. This book, too, is somewhat antiquated
beside the work of modem scholarship, but of great use for reference.

A new edition of the Exeter Book (edited and translated by
Israel Gollancz, M.A.) is being issued by the Early English Text
Society, of which Part I. has already appeared. (In the list below,
reference is made to the poems contained in Part I.)

Some other useful editions and translations of separate poems are
named in the following list : —

1. Beowulf, edited by Harrison and Sharp. (Founded on Heyne's

edition, below ; and forming vol. i. of the Library of

Anglo-Saxon Poetry. Ginn and Company, Boston, 1^888.)
Beowulf^ edited by A. J. Wyatt (Camb. Univ. Press, 1894).

Two valuable German editions of "Beowulf" are those of M,

Heyne (Paderbom, 1879) and A. Holder (Freiburg L B.

und Tubingen, 1884).
The Early English Text Society has issued an autotype

facsimile of the Beowulf MS., with transliteration and

notes by Zupitza (London, 1882).
The Tale of Beowulf done out of the old English tongue by

William Morris and A. J. Wyatt (Kelmscott Press, 1895).
The Deeds of Beowulf a prose translation by Prof. J. Earle

(1892, Clar. Press).
Beowulf and the Fight at Finsburg^ literally translated by J. M.

Gamett (1882, Boston). Other translations of " Beowulf"

have been issued by Thorpe, Kemble, T. Arnold, Lumsden-

Hall, etc.

2. The (so-called) GsBdmonian Poems.

Exodus and Daniel^ edited by T. W. Hunt (Boston, 1888 ; form-
ing vol. ii. of the Library of Anglo-Saxon Poetry).

The only complete translation of the " Caedmonian Poems " is the
ancient one by Thorpe in his edition of " Caedmon's Metrical
Paraphrase" (Soc of Antiquaries, London, 1832).

That part of the Genesis relating to the " Fall of Man " has been
translated into verse by W. H. F. Bosanquet : " The Fall of
Man or Paradise Lost of Csedmon " (London, 1 860).

Digitized by

Googk

330 BIBLIOGRAPHY

3. Juditlu

Judith^ edited, with a free translation, by A. S. Cook (Boston, 1889).
The fiill Old English text is also given in Sweet's Anglo-Saxon

Reader.
Judith^ literally translated by J. M. Gamett (Boston, 1889).

4. The Elegies.
The Ruin.

" An ancient Saxon poem of a city in ruins, supposed to be

Bath." Text and translation by J. Earle (Bath, 1872).
In Thorpe's Exeter Book will also be found a translation.

The Wanderer,

The text may be found in Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader, and

in Bright's Anglo-Saxon Reader.
A Translation on p. 314 of this book.
Text and translation also in GoUancz's Exeter Book.

The Seafarer.

Text in Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader (7th edition).
Translation, p. 312 of this book.

Of the Wifis Complaint and the Husband's Message^ a
translation may be found in Thorpe's Exeter Book.

5. The Poems of Gynewnlf, or attributed to him.
The Riddles.

There is no separate text or full translation of these in
English. For a German translation see A. Prehu's
"Ratsel" (Paderbom, 1883).

The text of seven of them is given in Sweet's Reader.

Riddles 2, 3, and 4 will be found translated on pp. 309,.
310 of this book, and many others in " Early English
Literature" (Stopford A. Brooke, London, 1892).

Juliana.

Text and translation in GoUancz's Exeter Book.
The Christ

Edited with a modem rendering by I. Gollancz (D. Nutt,
London, 1892).

Text and translation also in GoUancz's Exeter Book.

The Phcenix.

Text in Bright's Anglo-Saxon Reader.

Text and translation in GoUancz's Exeter Book.
Guthlac.

Text and translation in GoUancz's Exeter Book.

Digitized by

Googk

BIBLIOGRAPHY 331

Fates of the Apostles,

Text and translation in J. M. Kemble's "Poetry of the

Vercelli Book."
Elene,

Elene^ edited by J. Zupitza (Berlin, 1877, 1883), a German

edition.
Elene^ edited by C. W. Kent (Boston, 1889 ; forming voL

iii. of the Library of Anglo-Saxon Poetry).
Elene^ translated by J. M. Gamett (Boston, 1889).
A text and translation appear also in J. M. Kemble's

"Poetry of the Vercelli Book" (1856).
Andreas,

Andreas, edited by W. M. Baskerville (Boston, 1889).

A text and translation are also to be found in J. M. Kemble's

Vercelli Book.
Grimm's edition of Andreas and Elene (Preface and notes

in German), though issued in 1 840, and now out of print,

is still of exceptional value to the student.
Dream of the Rood,

Text in Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader.

Text and translation in Kemble's Vercelli Book.

. Other poeniB or fragments.
Widsf6, translated in Guest's "English Rhythms," p. 375.
Deor, translated in Thorpe's Exeter Book.
Finsburg, literal translation in Gamett's " Beowulf."
Waldhere, edited and translated by Prof. George Stephens, "Two

Leaves of King Waldere's Lay."
The Battle of Brunanburh, edited by C. L. Crow (Boston, 1897 ;
forming vol. iv. of the Library of Anglo-Saxon Poetry).
Text also in Bright's Reader.

Tennyson's translation will be found on p. 256 of this book.
A literal translation by J. Gamett (Boston, 1889).
The Battle of Maldon, edited by C. L. Crow (Boston, 1897;
forming voL iv. of the Library of Anglo-Saxon Poetry).
Text also in Sweet's Reader and in Bright's Reader.
Translation on pp. 264 and 318 of this book.
Translation (and suggestive article) by Lumsden in Mac-

millan's Magazine, March 1887.
Translation by E. Hickey in "Verse Tales" (Liverpool, 1 889)
A literal translation by J. Gamett (Boston, 1889).
The Charms,

Text of two of these in Sweet's Reader.

Digitized by

Googk

332 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Full text and translation in Cockayne's "Leechdoms" (3
vols. Lond. 1864-66, Rolls Series).

Translation also of several of these in "Early English
Literature" (Stopford A. Brooke, 1892).
The Rune Song,

Text and translation in French, by L. Botkine (Havre, 1879).

Grimm's work, " Ueber Deutsche Runen" (1821), contains
a German translation.

Csedmon's Hymn and Bseda's Death Song^ together with
the text of other fragments, will be found in Sweet's
" Oldest English Texts " — an invaluable book, " intended
to include all the extant Old English texts up to about
900 that are preserved in contemporary MSS., with the
exception of the Chronicle and the Works of AlfredJ*

PROSE
L The Manuscripts

The Manuscripts in which the old English prose is handed down
to us are numerous, and many of them still remain unedited. It
is only necessary to mention those of importance.
I. JElfired's traoislations, etc: —

The Cura Pastoralis. Three MSS., dating from the end of

the ninth or beginning of the tenth century; one in the

Bodleian, two in the British Museum.
Baeda's Historia Ecclesiastica. Five MSS., two at Oxford,

two at Cambridge, one in the British Museum.
Orosius' History of the World, Two MSS., one at Helming-

ham Hall, Suffolk, in the possession of the Tollemache

family ; one in the British Musetun.
Boethius' De Consolaiione Philosophiae, Two MSS., one at the

Bodleian, one in the British Museum.
The so-called Metra are in Anglo-Saxon verse in the MS. of

this work in the British Museum. In the. later MS. at

Oxford they are in prose.
The Soliloquies of Augustine only exist in the MS. which

contains the poems of Beowulf.
The Laws of JElfred. Foiu* MSS., two at Cambridge, one at

the British Museum, and the fourth, the Textus RofTensis.
The Dialogues of Gregory^ a translation made at Alfred's

instance by Bishop Werfrith of Worcester, is in the three

MSS. at Oxford, Cambridge, and the British Museum.

Digitized by

Googk

BIBLIOGRAPHY 333

The other works attributed to Alfred are of slight importance,
and the places of their MSS. need not be detailed.

3. Of JElfidc's works, and of the few Homilies now allotted to
Archbishop Wulfsian, we have a great number of MSS.
in Oxford, Cambridge, and London, but of the earlier
Blickling Homilies only one MS. exists. The Homilies in
the Vercelli Book^ twenty-two in number, are followed by a
prose Life of S. Gt/SlaCy and we possess another Anglo-
Saxon Life of Gt^lac in a MS. in the Cottonian Library,
which is an adaptation of the Latin life of the saint by
Felix of Croyland. We need not record the MSS. of
the large number of short works produced in the eleventh
century (see Chap. XVI I. of this book).

3. Of the Old English Chronicle seven MSS. exist. The first
(MS. A) was written at Winchester, and continuing to the
year looi was preserved in the Library of the Monastery
of Christ's Church, Canterbury; thence falling into the
hands of Archbishop Parker in the sixteenth century, it was
finally transferred to Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.
This is the Parker MS.

MS. B is in the British Museum, and was produced in
the Monastery of S. Augustine at Canterbury.

MS. C, an Abingdon Chronicle, is in the Museum.

MS. /?, written at Worcester, is also in the Museum.

MS. iE was kept at Peterborough. It is in the Bodleian,
and is known as the Laud MS.

MS. F was probably kept at Canterbury, and was
written partly in English, partly in Latin, and some French
words intrude into it. It is now in the British Museum.

MS. (7, probably a Canterbury Chronicle, apparently a
copy of MS. A. It is in the Museum.

The Chronicle (MS. G) was first printed by Wheloc in
1643, as an appendix to iElfred's Baeda.

II. Editions and Translations

For 2Lfull bibliography see, as before. Winker's Grundriss.
I. Works by JSBlfred, or attributed to him.

A complete trans lationoi these (without the Old English text)
will be found in the Jubilee Edition of -/Elfred's Works,
1852.53.
In addition see the following : —

Digitized by

Googk

334 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Cura Pastoralis,

Edited by Henry Sweet, with a translation (Early Eng.

Text Soc, 1 87 1).
A translation of Alfred's Preface to this will be found on
p. 221 of this book.
Badass Ecclesiastical History.

Text and translation by T. Miller (Early Eng. Text Soc,
1890-98). Translation of Baeda's Latin text by J. A.
Giles, in Bohn's Antiquarian Library.
Orosiu^ History.

Text with Latin original, edited by H. Sweet (Early Eng.

Text Soc).
Extracts from Orosius (text only), H. Sweet (Clar. Press,

1893).
Text and translation also in Bohn's Antiquarian Library.
Bdethius,

Text and translation by J. S. Cardale (London, 1829;

translation by S. Fox, in Bohn's Series).
A new edition of the Old English text is promised shortly
by the Clar. Press.
Soliloquies of Augustine,

Text by Wiilker, in Paul and Braune's " Beitrage zur Ge-
schichte der Deutschen Sprache und Literatur," vol. iv.
Another and earlier text will be found in Cockayne's
Shrine.
The Lenvs of jElfred.

" Extracts from the Anglo-Saxon Laws," ed. by A. Cook
(New York, 1880).
The Dialogues of Gregory,

iElfred's Preface to this work, text and translation, may

be found in Prof. Earle's ** Anglo-Saxon Literature."
A new edition of the Dialogues is to be issued shortly.

Works of JElfidc.

Homilies of the Anglo-Saxon Churchy ed., with translation,

by B. Thorpe (2 vols. London, 1844-46).
Lives of the Saints, ed. by W. W. Skeat (London, 1881).
Selections from the Homilies, H. Sweet (Clar. Press, 1 896).

Homilies of Wul&tan.

Edited by Prof. Napier (Berlin, 1883), forming vol. iv. of
Sammlung englischer Denkmdler in kritischen Ausgaben,

BlicMing Homilies.

Edited by R. Morris, with translation (Early Eng. Text
Soc, 1874-80).

Digitized by

Googk

BIBLIOGRAPHY 335

. One of the Blickling Homilies may be found in Blight's
Reader.

5. Old English Chronicle.

Two of the Saxon Chronicles parallel^ revised text, edited

by Plummer, on the basis of J. Earle's edition, 1892.
This contains the complete texts of MSS. A and E^ with

extracts from the others.
The complete text of all the MSS., with a translation (by

B. Thorpe), will be foond in the Rolls Series (Chronicles

of Great Britain and Ireland)^ Longmans, 1 861.

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

INDEX

Acca, Bishop of Hexham, encouraged
learning, 115

Adamnan, his account of Arculfs voyage,
114 and note

Address of a Father to a Son, didactic
poem, 206

iElfred the Great, the fiather of English
prose, 212 ; his early life and reign,
212-214 : ^is wars, 214, 216 ; his
work in education, law, literature, 217-
241, 269-271 ; Proverbs of Alfred, 307

^Ifric, Abbot, his life and literary work,
251. 279-288 ; his Homilies often
copied, 303

i£lfric Bata, his edition of iElfric's
Colloquium, 281

iEthelberht, Archbishop, his work and
scholarship, 121, 122

iEthelwold, Bishop of Winchester, takes
part in monastic revival, 276 ; his
literary work, 278

Aidan, preached and taught in North-
umbria, 21, 23, 113

Alcuin, his work in education and litera-
ture, 122, 123

Aldfrith, King of Northumbria, en-
couraged literature, 22, 114

Alexander, Romance of, in Old English,
292

Andreas, poem of, sea-passages in, 94,
95 ; war-spirit in, 102, 103 ; is it by
Cynewulf? 187-189 ; described, 189-
197

Aneurin, a Cymric poet, 29, 30, 32

Angles, tribe of the, 36 ; their home on
the continent, 36, 37 ; their coming
to Britain, 84, 85

Apollonius of Tyre, Old English version
of, 292

Armorica (Brittany), emigration of
Britons to, 26

Arthur, King, his story not native to

Brittany, 27, 28 ; its appearance in
English literature, 34, 35

Asser, his friendship with King iElfred,
218 ; his Life of the King, 237

Augustine, St, his preaching of Chris-
tianity in England, 107

Axarias, the Prayer of, 134; natural
description in, 103 ; part of it found
in the Daniel, 149

Baeda, his hfe and literary work, 115-
120 ; his Ecclesiastical History, 1 17-
119 ; translated by^Elfred, 223, 224 ,
his Letter to Ecgberht, 119 ; his
verse-making, 23 ; his English verses,
120

Benedict Biscop, the founder of Latin
learning in Northumbria, 113, 114

Beowulf ( I ) the hero : how far historical,
58,59, 60 ; his character, 61-64

Beowulf (2) the poem : allusions to
heathen sagas or poems in, 53-57 ;
historic lays in, 59 ; mythical and
folk-lore elements in, 59, 65-67, 68,
69 ; the poem described, 68-80 ; its
date, 81 ; its form narrative rather
than epic, 81-83

Bevis of Hampton, 306

Bible, translation of the, by^Elfric, 282,
283

B tickling Homilies, the, 75, 278, 279

Boadicea, written of in English poetry, 13

Boethius, his Consolation of Philosophy,
translated by iElfred, 228, 229-234 ;
his Metra, translated by whom ? 234,

235

Boniface, St., no

Book of Martyrs, compiled by wish of
iElfred (?), 237

Britain, early races in, 1-8 ; early con-
dition of, 9-11 ; bearing of this on
literature, 11, 12; Roman occupa-

Digitized by

Googk

338

INDEX

tionof, 13 ; its influence on literature,

14, l6-20

Brunanburh, poem of the Battle of,
355, 356; Tennyson's translation,
256-260

Brythons, a Celtic people, settle in
Britain, 6, 7; driven out by the
English, 8; their settlements, 8; their
influence on English literature, 25-34.
See also Gildas^ Nennius, Cymry

Byrchtfercth, the scholar, his literary
work, 286, 287

Byrhtnotht poem on Death of. See
Maldon

Caedmon, his name. 127 ; life at Whitby,
127, 128 ; Bseda's account of his
vision, 128- 131 ; his hymn, 129 and
note; character of his work. 131-133 ;
poems of the School of dedmon, 134-
151 ; Junian MS. of these, 135, 136.
See also Genesis, Exodus, Daniel

Canones ^l/rici, pastoral letter of
iElfric, 283

Celts, the; their early migrations to
Europe, 5,6; their love of wild nature,
XI, 12 ; their influence on Old English
literature, 96, 292-299

Ceolfrid, successor of Benedict Biscop,^
his encouragement of learning, 114
and note

Charms, Old English, 42-46

Christ, Cynewulf s poem of the, 167-175

Christ and Satan, the collection of
poems known as, 248

Christianity, influence on English litera-
ture of British. 14-16 ; Irish Chris-
tianity in England, 16, 21, 23, 113;
influence of Christianity on English
poetry, 86, 87, 98-105 ; 149-151

Chronicle, the Old English, iElfred's
work on, 224, 225, 227, note; poems
and fragments of poems in the, 253,
261 ; iElfred's work carried on later
in, 271, 272 ; Winchester Annals
in, 301 ; Worcester Annals in, 292,
301-303 ; Peterborough Annals in,
301. See also the Bibliography, pp.
333, 335

Cnut, King, his encouragement of
literature in England, 290, 291

Columba, St. , founded lona, 21 ; wrote
Xyncs and encouraged learning, 21,
22 ; Life of, 114 and note

Crafts of Men. See Gifts of Men
Cuthbert, Baeda's Life of St , 117
Cymry, the (Welsh), 28, 29 ; their
poetry, records of English war, 29-32 ;
their relations with the English, 33, 34
Cynewulf, the poet, his love of nature,
96, 97 ; his Riddles ^ 159-162 ; who
and what was he ? 160-162 ; where
did he live? 163-165; his signed
poems, 163-179

Dalian Forgaill, Irish poet, 20
Daniel, Bishop of Winchester, 108
Daniel, poem of, described, 148, 149
Danish influence on English literature,

297, 298
Deor, Complaint of. Old English heathen

poem, 42, 48
Descent into Hell, fragment of poem of,

186, 187
Discourse of the Soul to the Body. See

Soul
Dream of the Rood, war spirit in, loi ;
relates conversion of C)mewulf (?),
165 ; poem described, 197-202
Dunstan, his early life and education,
272, 273 ; biographies of, 272, note;
his love of learning and art, 274,
275 ; his connection with the court,
275 ; his school at Glastonbury,
275 ; his share in the monastic
revival, 275, 276

Eadgar, King, ballads concerning, 261,
262 ; his encouragement of English
monasticism, 276, 277, and of litera-
ture and education, 277, 278

Eadmund, King, song of his Over-
coming of the Five Towns, 261

Ealdhelm, his education, 108 ; his life
and literary work, 23, 108-110

Ecclesiastical History of the English
people. See Bada

Ecgberht, Archbishop of York, Baeda's
Letter to, 117 ; encourages art and
learning, 121

Elegies in Old English poetry, 152-159

Elene, description of battle in Cyne-
wulf s poem of, 90 ; the poem de*
scribed, 176-179

English Literature, the mingling ol
elements in, 293-299

Exeter Book. See Bibliography, pp.
326, 327

Digitized by

Googk

INDEX

339

Exodus, description of battle in poem of
the, 89; the poem described, 143-146

Fallen Angels, poem of the, 248, 249
FcUes of the Apostles, Cynewulfs poem

of the, 163, 165, 166, 175
Felix of Crowland. See Guthlac, St.
Finsburg, the Battle of, Old English

fragment on, 51-53

Genesis {A), nature in poem of, 103,

X04 ; the poem described, 136-142
Genesis (B), the Later Genesis; the

poem described, 242, 243
Gifts of Men, poem of the, 207
Gildas, the historian, 35 ; his Epistola,

25, 26
Glossaries of eleventh century, Latin

and English, 289, 290
Gnomic Verses, the, 207, 208, 317-318
Grammar and Glossary, iElfric's, 280
Gregory the Great, his Cura Pastoralis,

tran^ated by iElfred, 219-223 ; his

Dialogues, translated by iElfred, 237
Goidels, the, a Celtic tribe, 6, 7 ; their

influence on English literature, 20-25
Guthlac, poem of St., 183-186; prose

Life of, 112, 184, 279
Guy of Warwick, 306

Haduhrand and Hildebrand, Lay of, 81
Handbook, King ^Elfred's, 218, 219
Harrowing of Hell, war spirit in, loi,

102 ; poem described, 249, 350
Hatton Gospels, the, 303
Havelok, the saga of, 306
Heathen poetry. Old English, 41-57
Heliand, poem of the, 242
Hereward, lays concerning, 305 ; Latin

history of, 305
Homilia Catholicce, iElfric's, 280
Horn, the saga of, 306
Husbands Message, poem of the, 153,

154. T^SS^ 156

Ine, King of Wessex. See Lxnos
lona, monastery and school at, 21, 22
Irish poetry, early, its influence on
English literature, 20. See also Celts

John of Beverley, his life and school, 115
Judith, description of battle in poem of,

89 ; the poem described, 146-148
Juliana, Cynewulfs poem of, 166, 167,

169

Jutes, the tribe of the, 26 ; their home in
Europe, 37, 38 ; conquest of Kent, 84

Kent, the cradle of English learning, 107

Last Judgment, poem of the, 252
Latin prose in Old English literature,

106-125
Tuiw-Book, compiled by iElfred, 219
Laws, of iEthelberht of Kent, 107,

219 ; of Ine of Wessex, 109, 110,

219 ; of Ofia, 219
Leech Books, Old English, 278, 289, 303
Leofric Missal, the, 290
Lindisfame Gospels, the, 289
Llywarch Hen, Cymric poet, 29, 30, 31
Lost Soul to its Body, the. See Soul
Lullus, Archbishop of Mainz, no

Maldon, poem of the Battle of, 355,

256, 2632.268, 318-325 ^
Malmesbury; school at, 108, 109
Menologium, the, an Old English

calendar, 251
Mercia, learning and literature in, in,

IZ2, 134
Merddin, Cymric poet, 39

Natural description in Old English

poetry, 90-97, 103-105
Nature myths in Old English poetry, 41
Nennius, the historian, his Historia

Britonum, 27, 28
Neolithic tribes in Britain, 2 ; the Picts

of history, 7
Northumbria, literature in, 112- 125;

Danes destroy learning in, 124, 125

Ofia, King of Mercia, 112, 219

Ohthere relates his vo3^age to JEXtted,
236, 227

Orosius, his History of the World trans-
lated by iElfred, 225, 226

Ossian, Celtic spirit in Macpherson's, 24

Oswald, King of Northumbria^ com-
panion of Aidan, 21

Oswin, King of Deira, follower of Aidan,
21

Oswiu, King of Northumbria, encour-
ages Irish Christianity in England,

21, 23

Paleolithic tribes in Britain, 2
Panther, fragment of poem on the, 204
Paris Psalter, the, 236 and note

Digitized by

Googk

340

INDEX

Partridge, fragment of poem on the,

304
PasHon€S Sanctorum, idfric's, 381, 282
PatemosttTt twelfth - century poem on

the, 307
Phctnix, nature in poem of the, 104,

105 ; the poem described, 180-183
Physiologus, the English, 203, 204
Poema Morale, 307
Pre-Cdtic peoples in Britain, 1-5

RJ^me Song, the, 209, 254

Riddles, Old English: on weapons of
war, 87-89 ; on birds and animals,
91, 92 ; on the sea, 93-95 ; on the
Sun and Moon, 96 ; their vsilue and
authorship discussed, 159 - 162 ;
Riddles on the Storm and Hurricane
(translated in full), 309-311

Ritual of Durham, the, 289

Romans, the, their occupation of Britain
and its influence on English literature,
13-20

Ruined Burg, poem of the, 85, 86

Rune Song, the, 209

Runes in poems of Cjmewulf, 168, 175

Rushworth Gospels, the, 290

Ruthwell Cross, the, 132, 13^

Salomo and Saturn, poems of, 210, 211 ;

prose dialogue of, 289
Saxons, tribe of the, their home in

Europe, 36, 37, 38 ; a general name

for English tribes, 39 ; their conquests

in Britain, 84
Scdp, the, or Old English poet, 40.

See Widsith, Deor
Seafarer, poem of the, 152, 153, 154,

155. 157. 312-313

Sigmund the Wselsing, the oldest
form of his story in Beowulf, 54, 55

Skallagrimsson, Egill, in England, 254

Soliloquia, the, of St. Augustine, trans-
lated by iElfred, 235, 236

Song of the Three Children, poem of,
134. 149

Soul to the Body, Discourse of the, 206,
207

Taliessin, Cymric poet, 29, 30, 31, 32
Tatwine, Archbishop, his yEnigmata,

108
Theodore of Tarsus, his school at

Canterbury, 107; the work of his

successors, 108

VercelH Book, Homilies in the, 279.

For full description of the Book see

Bibliography, p. 327
Vision of the Rood, See Dream of the

Rood

Wada, Middle English poem of, 305
Waldhere, firagment of poem of, 50
Waltheof, saga of, 306
Wimderer, poem of the, 153, 154, 155,

157. 158. 314-317
War in Old English poetry, 87-90;

how a£fected by Christianity, 100-103
Weirds of Men, poem on the, 208
Weland, Elnglish saga of, 305
Wessex, literary life of, before iElfred's

time, 107-111
Whale, fragment of poem on the, 204,

205
Whitby (Streoneshalh), an educational

centre, 22 ; synod of, 22. See Ccedmon
Widsith, poem of, 42, 46-48
Wife*s Complaint, poem of the, 91, 92,

153. 154. 155. 156. 157
Wilfrid, leader of Latin Christianity in

Northumbria, 113 ; his biography, Z14
Willibald, his travds as missionary, zio
Winfrid. See Boniface
Winwsed, verses on battle at the, iii
Wulfstan, ▼03rage of, written down by

iElfred, 224
Wulfstan, Archbishop, his Homilies,

251, 285, 286
Wulfstan, monk of Winchester, literary

work of, 291

York, School of, 120, 125

THE END

Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

Digitized by

Googk

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
BERKELEY

Return to desk from which borrowed.
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.

JAN 21194b

;»'^

PEB 7 1955

28MarS2lU

«B5 195ALU
IN STACKS

NOV 3 ^954

U) 21-100m-e,'47(A5702al6)4'

'''^'Seac

REC'D UD
JUN6 1957

REC'D Ut5

28Mar'60jL

^lun'fiOftT

o V-O

I960

JUL 1 2 1960

REC'D i-u> f

OCT 5 1961

JUL 3 1976 3 ^
IN STACKS.^

ye 3i375

6^7/y/'^

■A\-

THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

Digitized by

Googk

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "English Literature from the Beginning to the Norman Conquest: From the ..."

See other formats