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ENGLISH LITERATURE 

FROM THE BEGINNING TO THE NORMAN 
CONQUEST 



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ENGLISH LITERATURE 



FROM THE BEGINNING 
TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST 



BY 

STOPFORD A. BROOKE 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. 
1898 

All rights reserved 



Copyright, 1898, 
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



TTH3 







Mnti RECEIVED. 




Nortoooti $rts8 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U. S. A. 






PREFACE 



This book is necessarily, as far as the chapter on King Alfred, 
a recast of my previous book on Eai'ly English Literature up to 
the Days of Alfred. That book, in two volumes, was too expen- 
sive 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 mat- 
ters ; shortened the whole of the history up to Alfred ; 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 ^Elfred at a length somewhat out of pro- 
portion 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 chap- 
ters from " Alfred " 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 



VI PREFACE 

to thank Miss Kate Warren for her excellent translation in full of 
the " Battle of Maldon," as well as for the Index and the Bibliog- 
raphy, 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, iyd August 1898. 






CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

The Relation of Early Britain to English Literature . . i 



CHAPTER II 
Old English Heathen Poetry : . . . . . . . .36 

CHAPTER III 
Beowulf 58 

CHAPTER IV 
Beowulf — The Poem 68 

CHAPTER V 
Semi-heathen Poetry . . . 84 

CHAPTER VI 
The Coming of Christianity .98 

CHAPTER VII 

Latin Literature — From the Coming of Augustine to the 

Accession of /Elfred 106 

vii 



vi u CONTENTS 

CHAPTER VIII 

PAGE 

Oedmon [650-680] 126 

CHAPTER IX 
Poems of the School of Oedmon 134 

CHAPTER X 

The Elegies and the Riddles .152 

CHAPTER XI 
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 
Alfred. . . . . . • 212 

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

CHAPTER XVI 
Secular Poetry after Alfred to the Conquest .... 253 



CONTENTS ix 



CHAPTER XVII 

PAGE 

English Prose from Alfred to the Conquest .... 269 



CHAPTER XVIII 

The Passing of Old English 300 

APPENDIX 308 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 325 

INDEX 335 



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 
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 could 
make the fire by which they cooked the beasts they slew, but they 
had no domestic animals. Nor were they, after some centuries had 

B " I 



THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN 



gone by, without pleasure in the work of their hands. They drew, 
incising the handles of bone and horn, the figures of the beasts 
they hunted — the stag, the reindeer, the hairy mammoth, and the 
bison. These were the Paleolithic tribes of pre-historic 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 
their civilisation grew, they learnt how to build. It is possible 
that the people we call Neolithic were the direct and developed 
descendants of the Palseolithic 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 va'st 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. They were hunters, but 
they mingled the mere hunting life of the savage with pastoral 



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, 1 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 race, but they are of a very enduring 
type. Even now, we meet their 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 out-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 

1 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. 



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- 
posed, established settlements from Sweden to Spain, were tall 
men, round faced, with short round skulls, stoutly 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 bronze age 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- 



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 vari- 
ous parts of England to the present day. 1 

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 

1 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 quaternary 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 
f uner aires {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 burn his dead was to do them dishonour. (6) The Ro- 
man 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. 



6 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 pre-historic times. 
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 B.C., and fell upon the Goidels of the south-eastern shores. 
We call this second people 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 Belgae. 
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 a.d., 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 



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 no tribes 
existed in England and Wales speaking the Goidelic tongue. 

North of the Solway and the Tweed 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 colored 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- 
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 (844-860) King of the Picts introduced 
again the Goidel 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- 



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, 1 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, 
and thence westward over more than half of Northern England 
and the Lowlands to the borders of the kingdom of Strathclyde. 
Their policy of destruction was then followed by a policy of 
amalgamation, whenever they took any new portions of the Bry- 
thonic lands into their power. At last the pure Brythons were 
isolated into three places — into Cornwall, into our Wales, and 
into Cumbria — and the name adopted 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. 

( Questions of race are often questions of literature. They 
cannot, it is true, provide us with certainties, only with conject- 
ures ; 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 Wessexor Mercia ; 
the remarkable development of the ballad poetry of the sixteenth, 

1 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 
strain. The admixture increased to the west and north. 



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 
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 b^efly treated in this introduction, (i) The y 
first of these is the early condition of the country, and how far irv 
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, 1 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 

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



- 



V 



io 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 Britain. 
In fact, whatever civilisation the Gauls had reached 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 stage. 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 further 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. 

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, 






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. 

f 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 



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. The 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 
G-awayne 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 Lancashire 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. 

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 of 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 born which has never left our literature. 
A ^ ut °^ 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 
influencing 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. I 






I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 13 

(2) The second subject of which a sketch is here to be given V 
is the Roman occupation, and how far it influenced our literature. 
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 Caratacos 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 defeated and died of poison. 
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. 

The better government of Agricola, under Vespasian, redeemed 
the cruelties of Paulinus and drew all the British chieftains below 
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' 



t 



14 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap. 

quartered the land, were marvels to the Britons. They were still 
. ; more wonderful to the English. Early English poetry is full of 
I 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. 

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 Wtilker 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- 
tullian 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, 
Athat 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 the story unrepresented 
in the later literature of England. 

But, on the whole, the influence of British Christianity on 
English literature is all but imperceptible. The slaughter the 



, 



TO. ENGLISH LITERATURE 



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 Holy 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 



16 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap. 

doctrine of the Roman Church into those imaginative affections 
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. Irish influence thus came into England, not only from 
the north through Iona, 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 themselves 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 .^Ethelwold, and 
bore such copious fruitage in ^Elfric, 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 English 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 



TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 



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 Ierne 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 ; and in an evil hour for the 
Britons Gvverthigern (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 



THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN 



quarrelled with Vortigern ; the land pleased them better than their 
Jutish flats ; they sent with fraternal pleasure for more of their 
bands ; and in 45 1 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. 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, 
Latin, 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 



TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 



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 generation or two 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 government 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 civ- 
ilisation, 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 Y 
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 and 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, 



THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN 



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 Alfred to the prose of to-day. And this 
A 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, in Ireland, 
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 ; and the learning and the literature were 
brought to the west coast of Scotland by Columba in 563. There 
he founded the monastery of Iona, and for twenty years evangel- 
ised the mainland from his lonely island. He died in the very 
year, 597, in which Augustine landed 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 mul- 
titudinous Irish bards. From his monastery, where Irish poetry 
was loved and honoured, Northumbria, after Paulinus' flight, was 
evangelised by Irish-speaking, Irish-hearted monks ; and all the 
elements of religion and devotion which move and pierce the sou 1 



TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 



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 difference 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 Iona and the court of Northumbria. Oswald, with 
twelve princely companions, six of whom were sons of ^Ethelfrith, 
was trained at Iona. He came to that monastic school when he 
was thirteen years of age, about 616. He lived at Iona for seven- 
teen years. He and the rest of the vEthelings 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 with 
the Irish spirit. He summoned Iona 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 Iona ; 
and after the battle of Winwsed, 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 Lindisfarne and its 



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 of 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 Iona, 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 
the Latin influence entirely prevailed over the Celtic in Northum- 
bria. 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 

A into the northern English character of a more emotional atmos- 

* phere 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 

">l of a direct love of nature for her own sake which the German 
'people did not at this time possess at all. To this we owe Cyne- 
wulf s passion for the sea, for the changes of the sky, for the 
storms and the wild scenery of the eastern coast. To this we 
owe the vivid personification and description of natural objects in 
the Riddles of Cynewulf, the 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 



I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 23 

has suffused his picture in the Phoenix 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 Baeda differs as a writer 
from Alfred or JElfric. Lastly, it is not improbable that the 
eagerness of the Irish feeling for sagas had something to do with 
the preservation of Beowulf in 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 in 
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 
towards the making of religious poetry in the vernacular rather X 
than in Latin, was owing to the Irish influence, which, carrying 
with it the Irish passion for the use of the national tongue, bore 
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 
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 
Latin schools of Theodore, of Ealdhelm, of Baeda, of Egcberht of 
York. Baeda, 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 triviale. But the Northumbrian poets, with the Irish 
tradition behind them, wrote on the great subjects of the Old 
Testament, on the mysteries of redemption, on the lives of apostles 
and martyrs, in their own tongue. When Caedmon began to sing 



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 every trace of it perished in the Danish 
invasion. I believe, however, that it continued in Scotland when 
*St had died 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 
Dunbar may be said to be the direct descendants of the satirical 
poems of the Irish bards. And Ferguson and Burns, both in 
their love of nature and their satire, share in the Irish spirit. But 
the full Celtic spirit did not re-assert itself until the prose poems 
published under the name of Ossian by Macpherson in the last 
century drew again the heroic imagination of Europe around the 
adventures of the Feinne and the gests and sorrows of Cucullainn. 
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 re-awakened 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 






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 Eng- 
lish conquests, a movement which had in the end a good deal to do 
with English literature. They also produced about the same time 
one writer, whose Latin book — De Excidio, and his Epistola — 
have come down to us. The movement was the emigration of 
many of the Britons to Armorica : the writer was Gildas. 

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 
Annales Cambriae make the date 516), and died in 5 70 ? 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 
English " whelps ofthe barbarian lioness " is worthy of a priest. 
It is strange to think that two hundred years after he wrote of 
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. 

His 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. 
Its denunciations are those natural to a man who lived apart from 
the stress of life in a cloister, and we gather from their violence 



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 unrelent- 
ing accumulation of prophetic angers has a weight and menace in 
it which at last 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 last word in this writer. 

As to the movement now begun, it was the emigration of the 
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 sitos), that is, north 
of the Loire, in Armorica. This was the beginning of an emigra- 
tion which so steadily continued, as the English pushed their con- 
quests farther to the west, that, in the middle of the sixth century, 
Armorica is altogether Brittany — name, language, manners en- 
tirely 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, 



I TO ENGLISH LITERATURE 27 

the old traditions, legends, myths, customs, and the imaginative 
spirit of the Brythonic Celt, both in poetry and in tale-telling, 
were supported and developed : and even Wales was less purely 
Brythonic than Brittany. Of 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 
?dded its power afterwards to the literature of England. The 
best illustration of this is the Arthur story. As a story it was not 
indigenous to Brittany. It had not developed in the seventh 
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. 

This seems the best place to say a word about the Historia 
Britonum which goes under the name of Nennius, and which 
is a phantom-companion of the book of Gildas. Gildas has 
weight as an historical authority. But we know nothing of Nen- 
nius, and the book which goes under his name is a compila- 
tion 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 Britannia. 
The first of these is judged from 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, 1 " 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 
1 Origines Celtics, vol. ii. p. 157. 



28 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap. 

the 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 Welsh 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 Som- 
ersetshire, 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 Goidelic 
traditions and legends, and handed them on unbroken to the Eng- 
lish, so that they stole into English thought ; secondly, that when 
Devonshire 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 imagina- 
tive 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 are 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 



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 iEthelfrith cut into two parts the Cymric 
kingdoms, seized on the tract of land between the Dee and'lthe 
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 
sieges and feasts. Four great bards are said to have flourished 
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 



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 Bernicia 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 English 
eagles, "eager for the flesh of Kyndylan," came down from 
Shrewsbury and Eli, burnt the town and slew the chieftain. Y. 
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. 



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. 1 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 Y 
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 Rhys ap Tewdwr, who 
was slain in 1090. At his death the Normans occupied Glamorgan- 
shire, and the kingdom of South W 7 ales 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., 

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



32 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap. 

some of the ancient poems were first transcribed in a manuscript 
of the twelfth century — the Black 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 Herges t ; 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, and 
they are many, ranging from the sixth to the twelfth century, are 
employed only on subjects belonging to the Cymry, 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 



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, 
from 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 Nor- 
thumberland were in constant touch with the Cymry of Lancashire, 
Westmoreland, and Cumberland, with Dumfries, Roxburgh, and 
Berwick; and, when Westmoreland and Cumberland were con- 
quered by the Danes and afterwards taken into England, the 
Cymry infused their spirit into their Danish and English con- 
querors. In ^Elfred's time Wessex was in full relation with 
Wales. The story of Asser and Alfred shows how close and 



34 THE RELATION OF EARLY BRITAIN chap. 

frequent was this inter-communication. Many of the Welsh kings 
took Alfred for their overlord. Many charters of ^Ethelstan 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 speed, 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." 1 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 better 
1 J. Loth, Les Romans Arthuriens, Revue Celtique, vol. xiii. 



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 imagi- 
nation of the Celt, the romance of France, and the strength, of 
England. 



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 Ohthere'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. 

36 



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 Traveller'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 
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 



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 stif- 
fened 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 de- 
structiveness, 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 



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 Saxons, 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 Hrothgar in Beowulf, was himself a singer. The 
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. Alfred 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 Csedmon 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 
canied 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 Alfred. A legend makes Alfred 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." 



40 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY ^ chap. 

The art itself, thus widely spread, was greatly honoured. It 
came from the gods. Saga was Odin's daughter among the north- 
men. There was a god of song, 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 Csedmon'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 \s 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. 

But we must not mix up the Christian poet with the Scop. 
When Caedmon began to write, he changed the position of the 
poet. The Scop, that is, the shaper, had a fixed position. He 
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 Csedmon 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 Cynewulf's. 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 sea. The Christian poets transfused their own 
matter with the spirit of the ancient song. 



n OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 41 

As far as we can go back with certainty 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 per- 
sonating 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 



42 OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY chap. 



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

This was the origin of the early unhistoric sagas, like that of 
Beowulf, and such a saga was the highest form of the oral 
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. It 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 origi- 
nal 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, 
were 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, that 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 : — 



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 corn and plenteous in strength; 
Hosts of grain-shafts and of glittering plants ! 
Of broad 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 fare-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 modern 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. 

1 " These grounds " or " fields." 



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 ! 



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 Cha?-m, 
they come riding over the hill, whirling their spears, as Wagner 
has drawn them in music. The charm is against a stitch or 
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 may'st escape thee. 

Out, little spear, if herein thou be ! 
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 Cha7-m, a most curious piece, we come on 
full heathendom in four lines about Woden : — 

These nine herbs did work nine poisons against. 

A snake kept 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 ; 
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 



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 cliffs 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 reli- 
gion, as we see from these songs of the earth, were homely and 
noble, reverent and simple. There were dark and dreadful ele- 
ments 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 Longobards 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 
Guthhere (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 iEtla (Attila), who was 
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 



ii 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 Hnaef, 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 which date our manuscript 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 in hall. Of 
the tribe of the Myrgings, 1 he went as Scop with Ealdhild, the 
weaver of peace, to visit Eormanric, King of the Hrethen, who 
lived east from Ongle. Then ^Etla 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 
87 th line, when the personal matter again begins : — 

For a longish time lived I with Eormanric ! 

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, 

x They dwelt between the Elbe and the Eyder. 



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 unworthy 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, 
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- 
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 
his rival Heorrenda, and he writes this poem to console his heart. 
We see from it that the saga of Weland was known to the earlier 



II OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 49 

English, as it was known to ^Elfred, and to the carver of the 
ivory casket in the British Museum. 1 

The poem also alludes to the sagas of Theodoric and of 
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 Deofs Coniplaint, though its manu- 
script dates from the eleventh century, and though it contains a 
Christian interpolation, is plainly of the old heathen time. None 
of its examples are Christian ; all are from the heroic sagas. Its 
form also is remarkable. It has a " refrain," elsewhere unknown 
in Anglo-Saxon verse. And it is a true lyric, with one constant, 
dominant motive, varied 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, for 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 ! 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 ! 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 Scop; 
Dear unto my Lord, Deor was my name. 
Well my service was to me, many winters through; 
Loving was my Lord, 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 I. 

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



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 
Copenhagen. 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 German form 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 al- 
ways, iEtla's foremost fighter." "This points," says Wulker, " to 
a high antiquity," and indeed the lines I quote have all the ring 
of the earliest warrior times. Not a Christian thought intrudes. 
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, courag- 
ing him greatly : — 



ii OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 51 

Truly of Weland the work ne'er deceiveth 

Any of men who Mimming can wield, 

Hoary of edges ! Oft fail in the war 

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

But thou, who art iEtla's forefighter, O, let not thy force 

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

Now is the hour, 
That thou shalt have one thing, or else another, 
Or lose thy life, or long-lived dominion, 
Make thine among men — ^Elfhere's Son ! 
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-byrny 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 (Elfwine 
lays, and (Elfwine is Alboin, King of the Lombards, who died in 
572. The original German Waldhere 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 Finn, 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 1 seems equally probable. 

1 Grein makes the fragment in Beowulf follow the fragment of Finns- 
burg ; Wiilker makes the Beowulf 'fragment precede the fragment of Binnsburg, 
so that this latter comes in between the lines 1145 and 1146 in Beowulf. 



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 Hnsef. Finn invited Hnsef, much 
as ^Etla invites the Niblungs, to stay with him, desiring to slay 
him. Hnaef, 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 Hnasf, 1 who has 
leaped to his feet, young and warlike, 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-burning ; 

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 ! 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 Secga's 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 

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



OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 



53 



Burg seemed aflame. Never did sixty swains of war better pay 
their due to Hnsef 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 Hnsef 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 hi Beowulf. Beside the pyre of 
Hnsef 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 of, or allusions to, 
s/gas older or later than the time of the historic Beowulf, and 
(rhese are heathen sagas. The myth of Scyld begins the poem, a 
thing hoary with antiquity. The rivalry of Breca and Beowulf in 



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 
in youthful rivalry with the great water-beasts of the sea. The 
story of Heremod was in vogue when Beowulf 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 
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 to Ingeld's halls, one of her 
seven brothers (of whom seven sagas were written) carries the 
sword of Froda by his side, and a gray-haired warrior knows the 
jewelled hilt and turns to Ingeld : " Know'st thou not the sword? 
Dear was that blade when the Danes murdered Froda ; thyself of 
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 of Beowulf but from 
that of Widsith. 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 



ti 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 the Burgundian story of Gunther 
and Hagen, or with any women. The singer sings only " of 
Sigmund'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 ^Etheling-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 Waels 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 to 
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 



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-born race 
— the heaped-up rings and gold cups, jewels, helms, swords, and 
byrnies, 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, 
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 ! On thee long ago 
Warriors good had gotten it. Ghastly was the life-bane, 
And the battle-death that bore every bairn of man away, 
All my men, mine own, who made yielding of this life ! 
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 ! 
So alike the battle-sark that abode on stricken field 
O'er the brattling of the boards biting of the swords, 
Crumbles, now the chiefs are dead ! . . . 

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 Beowulf of 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 






ii OLD ENGLISH HEATHEN POETRY 57 

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



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- 
dition, the death of Grendel' s 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 mingling of myth and heroic 
story of which we have spoken, of the clothing of an historical 
personage with mythical garments. There was an historical 
Beowulf, a Geat who was a nephew of Hygelac. Hygelac is the 
Chochilaicus whom Gregory of Tours in his history of the Franks 
(Bk. iii. ch. hi.) 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 

58 



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- 
urnbria 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 
Beowulf of the mythical deeds of Beowa, who is here the god of 
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 seacoast ; 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. Ettmuller'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 Grendel's 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 



6o BEOWULF 






between the winter and summer, between the frost-giants and the 
beneficent beings who brought life to men and fruitfulness 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 treas- 
ures 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 that this episode means that the wind and the sun with 
rival powers fight the winter. But this is one of the instances, it 
seems, when the nature-myth is driven too hard. All we have 
here to say is that lays which told of Beowa, conceived of as the 
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 



Ill BEOWULF 61 

— 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 Bernicia, Deira, and Mercia, and probably 
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 arid 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 the West-Saxon dialect, 
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 chief's 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 



62 BEOWULF 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 
the 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 the son 
of Ecgtheow, 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 coat 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. 
This loneliness is one of the pathetic points of the hero's char- 
acter. He speaks of it again and again. It is his last 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 
the saga. 

Then, Ecgtheow is known for his wisdom — "All the wise men 
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 of Hrothgar, begs him to be of 



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 Beowulf is dying, he 
thinks more of his wisdom as a ruler than of his great deeds in war. 
Even in his youth he speaks to Hrothgar who might be his 
father, with 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 resoluteness. 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 
wholly unknown to him, and he has inspired his comrades with 
his own courage. 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 swift generosity. 
This also is in Nelson's character. But the boastfulness of 
Beowulf did not belong to Nelson. He is as boastful of 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 
take personal 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." 
When 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 generosity and courtesy 
were part of his honour. He gave away the gifts he received ; 



64 BEOWULF 



women loved his gentleness 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 
wouldst 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- 
less his soul had conquered fate. This double aspect of life was 
deepened in colour by his belief in Wyrd, the 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 
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, the 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 



in 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 my- 
thologists of the legends in Beowulf — of 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 advanced for such conceptions, and when actual savage 



66 BEOWULF chap. 

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 mad- 
ness 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 blood, 



in 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 story of Grendel and Beowulf 
is thus a mixture of the folk-tale, the Nature myth, the heroic 
legend, and the poet's imagination of a noble character. 



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, ^Ethelweard, William of Malmesbury, Simeon 
of Durham, and Matthew of Westminster, as well as Beowulf, 
record it. Their stories, which differ 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 corn. 
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. 

This is the same story as that in the beginning of Beowulf, but 
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- 

68 



chap, iv BEOWULF. — THE POEM 69 

myth of the man who first taught them agriculture — the father of 
the sheaf. The lines in Beowulf 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 born 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 j 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 ^Ethelings it was ! 

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 ! 

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. 



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. More- 
over 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. 
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. 
Beowulf's 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 



rv BEOWULF. — THE POEM 71 

Bright and carved 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 
Reached the sea-way'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 the 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, 
O'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, setheling 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 glittered in the sun. Out- 
side of the hall the houses clustered, each with its garden ; and 
in the midst of the town was a wide meadow, where in the morn- 
ing 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 



BEOWULF. — THE POEM 



wild 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 Scop 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 



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 
can scarcely overcome him .5 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 of the winter 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 wan 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 Grendel's arm from its 
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 Grendel's arm hung over the dais ; fine gifts are given to the 
rescuers ; the feast is set, the hall is cleansed ; the bards, even 



74 BEOWULF.— THE POEM 



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 Grendel's 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. 
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 
her son drives her to Heorot, and she bursts into the hall, where 
Beowulf is not that night, and rends iEschere, 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, "/Eschere 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. J 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." 

So they rode to the cliffs, and found themselves above a deep 
sea-gorge with a narrow entrance from the sea, where many 
'' nickers " pr sea-monsters were stretched upon the rocks, and in 



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. Land- 
ward the moor sloped downwards, and a stream fell over an arm 
of gray rock, under ice-nipt trees, into the pool below. The de- 
scription, often quoted, is the first of those natural descriptions for 
which English poetry is famous, and which, frequent in old Eng- 
lish poetry, are so remarkable at this early time. It seems to have 
impressed the English writers, for there is a passage in the Blick- 
ling Homilies of the tenth century which reads almost like a quota- 
tion of this description. 1 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-horned 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 ! 

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 dark 
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 were 
hanging with bound hands and the devils in shape of wolves seized on them 
like hungry wolves, and the flood under the cliff was black. And twelve miles 
beneath the cliffs 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." 



76 BEOWULF.— THE POEM chap. 

They ride down to the shelving rocks, and find ^schere'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 Grendel's dam seized Beo- 
wulf 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-wolf's 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 Beowulf's 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 Gren- 
del 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 Hy- 
gelac, 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 Beo- 



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 £)f 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, Hronesmes and Earnanses, 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 



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 
Nsegling, his sword, slid off the bone, and in a moment Beowulf 
was 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 Naegling 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 from 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 cave. And he brought 
forth the treasure. " I thank the glorious king," cried Beowulf, 



iv 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 Hronesnses; 

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

Call it Beowulf's 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 ! 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 
prophesies 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 



80 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, 
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 their 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 ^Ethelings, 

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! 

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 



BEOWULF. — THE POEM 



used by the writer, the poem was composed as a whole by one 
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 
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 of 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 modern 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 or dignity of an epic poem, 



(• 



82 BEOWULF. — THE POEM chap. 

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



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 in character with us. It 
is our Genesis, the book of our origins. 



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 49.1. 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 seiz- 
ing 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 

84 



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 — took about 150 years. During 
this period the poetry of England was altogether heathen, un- 
broken 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. 1 
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 century — 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 — imagi- 

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 
not Bath, but Camelot. 



86 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY chap. 

native 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 gray as goat, 
Under storm-skies steady. Steep the Court that fell; 
Brilliant were the burg-steads: burn-fed houses many; 
High the heap of horned 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 ! 
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 597, 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 



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 
" 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 Cynewulf, the 
Elegies, the passages concerning war in the Csedmonic poems and 
in the Christian poems of Cynewulf, are all heathen in tone and 
manner. The same may be said of even so late a poem as the 
Song of Brunanburh. It is not till we come to the Battle of 
Maldon, 991, that 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 



SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 



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 spear 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 



v SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 89 

him on adventure, that he calls the haughty heroes to the wine- 
feast and makes the plundering pirates fly to their ships with his 
shouting. These are all sketches from CynewulPs 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 ! 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 ; 
Horny-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 ! Glittering the hosts ! 
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 ! 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 ! 



90 SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY chap. 

When in the Elene Constantine joins battle with the Huns, 
Cynewulfs description is 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 ! 
There was the 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-well, 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 
O'er the field of fight; till there fell the heathen, 
Mercilessly slain, in death ! 

These are but a few examples of the pagan keenness in the war- 
song lasting on into the Christian poetry, and they 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 poetry, 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. 



v SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 91 

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 Phoenix, and it is not done from nature, but from im- 
agination. 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, 
however, of these descriptions, the Riddles of Cynewulf insert 
deliberate and careful descriptions of natural scenery, not as a 
background for human interest, but for the sake of nature alone, 
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 above; 
Bitter my burg-hedges, with wild briars overwaxen. 



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 : — 

Here the air beareth wights that are little, 

O'er the hill-summits, and deep black are they, 

Swart, sallow-coated ! 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 : — 

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 : — 

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. 



v SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 93 

Wheresoe'er the craft 1 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 field 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 PQiver, 



SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 



CHAP. 



ocean in the bitterest of weathers and fought with the tusked 
nickers of the deep. 

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 poe- 
try after Csedmon 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 
deep." The crew in the Riddle on the Hurricane are aghast with 
fear. The companions of Andreas on his voyage are terrified 
when the storm begins. It is always the merchant sailor and 
not the Viking who speaks in the later poems. But the imagi- 
native 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 [11. 369 ; 441] : — 

Then was sorely troubled, 
Sorely wrought the Whale-mere. Wallowed there the Horn-fish, 
Glided through the great deep; and the gray-backed gull 
Wheeled in air, of slaughter greedy ! 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 ! 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, 



v SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 95 

and also from the Andreas, this description of the coming of 
winter on the land : — 

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 — ! locked the granges up 
Of the heroes, and folk-hamlets ! Frozen hard was all the land 
With the chill of icicles; shrunk the courage of the water; 
O'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 in the second Riddle, 
and the storm at sea in the third, and the whole progress 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 to 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. 



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. 

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

Bearing up a booty in between his horns ! 

'Twas a Lift-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 ! 

Dust arose to Heaven, dew fell on the earth, 

Onward came the Night ! 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 of 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 Nor- 
thumbria where these poems were written, and the Celtic feeling 
for natural scenery is always strong. But the feeling here is 
different from the Celtic ; and it is rather in the imaginative 
quality of the verse and in certain charmed expressions that we 
detect the Celtic spirit. It has been said, again, that these Riddles 



v SEMI-HEATHEN POETRY 97 

were nothing more than imitations of the Latin ALnigmata 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. 



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 
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 

98 



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 dedi- 
cated 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 C/iarms to which 
I have drawn attention are an example of this intermingling. 
Other things also passed over from heathenism, 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 



THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 



man's thought," is a phrase in the Seafarer, and it may be matched 
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 
the splendour and mirth and fame of men. It is the note of the 
Prince'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, 
of dear companions, and of personal happiness, such regret as we 
find in Deor's Complaint. This too continues, but it was changed 
and modified by the Christian hope. " One thing is sure," cries 
the Epilogue to the Wanderer, " the Fortress in Heaven ; " and 
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 
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 ^Ethelfrith 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 Winwsed. 



THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 



The battle in Judith is sung with the same delight with which 
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 terms of 
war. The heathen rapture in battle is transferred to the Chris- 
tian warfare. The contest between Light and Darkness, between 
Summer and Winter, becomes the contest between Christ 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 was 
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 
of the war began, of which Jesus is the divine king. It is by his 
being the great warrior that he becomes the great Saviour ; and 
round his victory the force of the Christian poetry was concen- 
trated. In the Vision of the Rood, the young Hero girded him- 
self for the battle. He was almighty God, strong and high-hearted, 
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 fall 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 Harrowing 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 



102 THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY chap. 

tomb in the poem on the Descent into Hell are yEtheling women. 
Christ's tomb and death are those of an ^Etheling. He is " the 
joy of ^Ethelings, 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 
of 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 byrnie- 
bearing warriors would he lead with him to the gates of Hell." 

Down before him fell the bars; 

Down the doors were dashed, inwards drove the King his way. 

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 bat- 
tle-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 



vi THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 103 

bond by cowardice or by betrayal was transferred to the relation 
of the apostles and saints to Christ. And the fame given to the 
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, passed on into Chris- 
tian out of heathen poetry. But there were also other ideas, new 
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 of 
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 Csedmon 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 — 



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 Phcenix 
lives that this new delight is best expressed. The writer took a 
great part of it from the poem of Lactantius which he adopts. 
But he added largely to that poem, and I think that into the 
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 Celtic 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 of fire, 

Nor the headlong squall of hail, nor the hoar-frost's fall, 

Nor the burning of the sun, nor the bitter cold, 

Do their wrong to any wight; . . . 



THE COMING OF CHRISTIANITY 



Calm and fair the glorious field, flashes there the sunny grove : 
Happy is the holt of trees; never withers fruitage there ! 
In the winter, in the summer, is the wood for ever 
Hung with blossomed boughs; nor can ever break away 
Leaf below the lift ! . . . 

. . . 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 turf of earth, 
Surge up as the sea-foam cold, 
That the mirth of rivers, every month that goes, 
All about the fame-fast land, should o'erflow 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. 



CHAPTER VII 



LATIN LITERATURE 



From the Coming of Augustine to the Accession of JElfred 

The history of literature written in Latin prose in Early England 
might,, if we were rigid, be wholly excluded from our history, 
but it is scarcely possible to shut out from our view the School of 
Canterbury and the School of York, or men like Ealdhelm, Baeda, 
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 ^Elfred 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 
history of it lasts from 597, when Augustine landed in England, to 
the destruction of the monasteries by the Danes in the ninth cen- 
tury ; or, if we wish to be more accurate, from the founding of the 
Canterbury School by Theodore in 671 to the battle of Ashdown 
in 871. By 871 almost every 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. 

106 



LATIN LITERATURE 107 



1. 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 
iEthelberht of Kent. iEthelberht, partly influenced by his 
Christian wife Bertha, 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 iEthelbriht, King, 
ordained in Augustine's days." They were written in Roman 
letters j 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 Wihtrsed 
"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-dedit) succeeded him, and 
then Theodore of Tarsus was enthroned in 669. He ha 1. 
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 



LATIN LITERATURE 



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 Canterbury. "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," Baeda 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 sEnigmata 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 his 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. 
He was born 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 



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 
Malmesbury 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 Lie, the oldest West Saxon laws. They date from about 690, 
and we possess them in an appendix to the Laws of SElfrcd 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- 
tatis. 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 composed 
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 — flores ecclesice, he calls them, Christi margaritce, paradisi 



LATIN LITERATURE chap. 



gemmcB. Nor did he wholly neglect the literature of his own 
tongue. He made songs in English, some of which ^Elfred 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 nocking 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 Lullus 
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. Lullus, 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 Lullus. 

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 



vii LATIN LITERATURE 



metropolitan See set up at Lichfield by Offa left no leisure for 
the work of its school. Archbishop yEthelhard 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, 
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 
in 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 Ashdown by ^Ethelred and Alfred, and 
defeated with great carnage. But in the course of this raiding 
and invasion the centres of literature in Wessex were destroyed, 
and there is no more to say of learning and literature in the 
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 Winwaed's stream of which it was sung : — 

At the Winwede was venged 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, 



LATIN LITERATURE chap. 



and fable has made him the builder of many more. Under 
iEthelred who followed him, the Mercian Church was organised ; 
and under yEthelbald, 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 vEthelbald'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 yEthelbald. 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 



LATIN LITERATURE 113 



school — the tale of Baeda, 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 by Paullinus. 
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 
Iona to his help in 634. Aidan, the gentle Irish monk whom 
Oswald loved, set up his bishop's seat on the wild rock of Lindis- 
farne, 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 Lindisfarne, Wilfrid, who followed the Latin rule, led 
its cause against that of the Celtic 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 of 
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. 



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 Nor- 
thumbria at the time, and Aldfrith, educated in Ireland and at 
Canterbury, and the friend of Ealdhelm and Wilfrid, may be 
called a scholar. He too was a collector of books, and gave to 
Abbot Ceolfrid, Benedict's successor at Wearmouth and JarroAv, 
support and affection. Ceolfrid's school became famous. Men 
as far asunder as the Pope and Naiton the King of the Picts asked 
his advice on ecclesiastical and theological subjects. Baeda him- 
self 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 Iona gave at this 
time an account of Arculf's journey to the Holy Land. Arculf, 
shipwrecked on the west coast, found his way to Iona 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. 1 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 
his friend, Eddius Stephanus. This book, in an excellent style, 
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 
Bseda borrowed from Lindisfarne when he was inditing his genial 
story of St. Cuthbert. Another well-known name must not be 

1 " These two men, Adamnan and Ceolfrid, met at Wearmouth. 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 of 
the seventh century." 



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 generalised 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. 



u6 LATIN LITERATURE chap. 

As to the means of education in Baeda'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 monastic 
learning, strictly Benedictine, came through Benedict Biscop, 
through Lerins, and 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, Albinus, Hadrian's pupil ; Nothelm who worked 
for him among the libraries at Rome \ Daniel of Winchester, and 
Forthhere of Malmesbury, who brought to 'him, I suppose, the 
works of Ealdhelm which had their own influence on Nor- 
thumbrian 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; 



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 metrica, the De Natura Rerum, and the De Temporibus, 
written between 700 and 703. These scientific manuals were 
followed by the De sex cetatibus sceculi, 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 



n8 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 



LATIN LITERATURE 119 



truth of my narrative." But the qualities which add literary 
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 tender- 
ness, the delight with which he entered into those legends es- 
pecially which breathed of human affections, make us love the 
writer, and there is no greater proof of a book being fine litera- 
ture. 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 ceil 
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 



LATIN LITERATURE 



English tongue. " Go on swiftly," he said to his scribe as he 
dictated the words of the gospel, " I know 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 Caedmon ; 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. More- 
over, 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 Baeda died in 735, the seat of letters was transferred from 
Jarrow to York, where Ecgberht, Baeda' s pupil, had already es- 
tablished 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 



LATIN LITERATURE 121 



years. The long history of 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 Paullinus, over which 
rose the rich cathedral of iEthelberht ; 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 
the centre of European learning. Scholars flocked to it from 
Germany, Gaul, Italy, and Ireland. 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 birth. 
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 classi- 
cal literature. The Roman poets, orators, and grammarians were 
read, and some of the Greek fathers. Rhetoric, logic, law, astron- 
omy, 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 Penitentiale — standard authori- 
ties 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, 
^Ethelberht or ^Elberht. A better scholar than Ecgberht, he was 
the chief administrator and improver of the famous library. 
Ale inn, his fellow-scholar, travelled with him to Gaul and Rome, 



LATIN LITERATURE chap. 



seeking for manuscripts, and in 770 no library outside of Rome 
could be compared with that of York. Under their direction the 
number of students increased, and missionary enterprise was not 
forgotten. Nor was art neglected. In 741 the minster was burnt. 
T^Ethelberht 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, vitae spes maxima nostrae, 
Te sine nos ferimur turbata per aequora mundi, 

wrote his greatest friend, Alcuin, who, born about 735, and brought 
up from childhood at York, had taught the school during ^Ethel- 
berht's latest days. 

Of all these men Alcuin was the finest scholar. Ecgberht and 
^Ethelberht 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 ^Ethelberht's death, and from that date the school 
decays. He had met Charles the Great at Pa via 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, 



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 and Sanctis Ecclesiae Eborace?icis — 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 zEthelberht. 
But the most important of his writings, both as literature and for 
the uses of history, is the collection of his Lette?s, 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 off 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 ^Elfred. They pursued the same aims, they worked 
on similar lines. But Charles had more power to enforce his 
will. Where ^Elfred failed, he succeeded. 



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 Paullinus 
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 off, 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 con- 
quest of York. Then the Danes, setting out from York, utterly 
destroyed every monastery in Deira. A few years afterwards they 
rooted out all the abbeys of Bernicia. There was not one home 
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 of Wedmore ; in Wessex ^Elfred's victory enabled him to 
build the foundations of a new learning ; but Northumbria, where 



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 Alfred 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 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 es- 
caped from the Danish hurricane of fire. 

This then brings to a close the history of the literature of Latin 
prose before the time of Alfred. 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. 



CHAPTER VIII 

CEDMON [65O-680] 

The Christian poetry of England began in Northumbria, and 
the story of its origin is told by Bseda. The place of its birth 
was the double monastery of Hild. Hild was a princess of the 
royal blood, grand-niece of King Eadvvine, 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 

126 



\ 



chap, viii CEDMON [660-680] 127 

of the nation which has ruled and loved the sea. Caedmon 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 
Baeda'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 him 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 



128 C^EDMON [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. /Elfleda, the daughter of Oswiu, was dedicated to Christ 
by her father and sent to Hild at Hartlepool after the battle of 
Winwsed, where Oswiu slew the heathen Penda and avenged the 
death of Oswald. yElfleda — 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. Paullinus 
had baptized the abbess ; Aidan was her friend, Aidan, who, when 
Paullinus fled, re-converted 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. Colman of Lindisfarne, 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' companions, represented the overmas- 
tering 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 



OEDMON [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?" Csedmon 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 
Baeda gives in his Latin prose the sense of the words of this 
first English hymn." 1 " When Caedmon awaked, he remembered 

1 A happy chance has left us at the end of an old MS. of the Historia 
Ecclesiastica the words of this hymn of Caedmon's, in 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 maecti end his modgidanc, 
Uerc uuldurfadur ; sue he uundra gihuaes 
Eci Dryctin or astelidae. 
He aerist scop selda barnum 
Heben til hrofe; haleg scepen ! 
Tha middungeard; moncynnaes uard! 
Eci Dryctin ! ^Efter tiadae 
Firum foldu; frea allmectig ! 



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! 
He at the very first formed for the 

bairns of men, 
He, Holy Shaper ! Heaven for their 

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

mankind the Ward ! 
Lord everlasting He ! 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 is not impossible that the hymn may have been written 
later than the list, to fill up the blank space. But the hand is evidently 
contemporary." " 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." 

K 



130 CEDMON [660-680] chap. 

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 to Hild. 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, ' let 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 



viii CAEDMON [660-680] 



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 Baeda, 
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 man 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 Caedmon 



132 CLEDMON [660-680] chap. 

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 noth- 
ing of Csedmon's in the Junian manuscript, and of others, who 
think that Csedmon wrote, not long poems like the Genesis but 
short, 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 mo- 
notonous 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. Csedmon, then, if 
he made this poem, had 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 in runes upon 
the Ruth well Cross in Annandale close to the Solway Firth. 






viil CLEDMON [660-680] 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 
" Csedmon 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 Csedmon 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 
born a heathen, and his work bridged the river between the pagan 
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 name. Though perhaps of Celtic descent, 
his tongue was English and his poems English. He wrote — in 
sua, id est, Anglorum lingua, says Bseda. 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 Wulker 
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. 



CHAPTER IX 

POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CLEDMON 

The poetry which we may collect under the name of the School of 
Ccedmon 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 the Exeter 
Book. Three long ones — Genesis A, Exodus, and Daniel — are 
in the Junian manuscript. Another considerable fragment is the 
last three books of the Judith. Whether we can add to these 
the poems in the Junian manuscript, entitled Christ and Satan, 
is still, I think, a matter under judgment. 

In the Exeter Book (to take these sources in turn) there is a 
seventh-century adaptation of the Song 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, 

J 34 



chap, ix POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CLEDMON 135 

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 and 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 Eald- 
helm, 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 
Caedmon, are some of those contained in the Junian manuscript. 
That manuscript, of which a short account is necessary, was found 
in England by Archbishop Ussher, and was sent to Francis du Jon 
(whose name in literature is Junius), a scholar of Leyden, and 
librarian to Lord Arundel. When Junius left England, in 1650, 
he had the manuscript printed at Amsterdam, and published it as 
the work of Csedmon. He based this opinion on the substantial 
agreement of its first lines with Baeda's abstract of the verses sung 
by Caedmon in his dream, and on the harmony of its contents 
with Baeda'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 
hand-writing 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 hand-writing, includes poems and frag- 



136 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^EDMON chap. 

ments of poems — the Fall of the Rebel Angels, the Harrowing 
of Hell, the Resurrection, Ascension, Pentecost, and the Temp- 
tation. They are generally classed under the title of Christ 
and Satan. Since the time of Junius, the critics have 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 hesi- 
tated to attribute a single line of it to Caedmon. 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 
85 1 ( Genesis B) contain a second account of the Fall of Man, and 
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 
Csedmon 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. 1 But God 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 
and bowed their pride," and, like Beowulf with Grendel, "gripped, 
stern and grim, his foes 

With cruel clutch and crushed them in his grasp. 

1 Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain. 

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



IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^EDMON 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 
for the empty seats of Heaven, looked forth on the vast abyss — the 
Norse ginnunga gap, the chasm of dark mist, where broods the 
heolster-sceado, the shadow that hides the unfathomable caverns, 
Milton's hollow dark — and 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; all divided from the Lord, 

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, 1 till the world became. 

Then the everliving Lord at the first created — 

He the Helm of every wight — Heaven and the Earth; 

Reared aloft the Firmament, and this roomful land 

Stablished steadfast there. 

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

This 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," " the 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 II. 
Most of these phrases — so receptive was Milton — belong to the Teutonic 
and not to the classical conception of the dark beyond. 



138 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF (LEDMON chap. 

But as yet the Earth — 
E'en the grass 1 — ungreen was now ! 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 Measurer 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 " blithe 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 
have dwelt, and which the novel tenderness of Christianity had 
induced. The fierce weather and storm-tossed seas and ice-clad 
trees of Beoivulf 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 made fair. 

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

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



ix POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF OEDMON 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 I'll 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 ! 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 



140 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CtEDMON 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 
their 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 ! 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 ! Sadly sang the wan fowl, 
With her feathers dank with clew, midst the darting of the shafts, 
Hoping (crying), for the carrion. 



IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C/EDMON 141 

Then was hard play there, 
Interchanging of corpse-darts, miclde 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 sethelings, 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 Northum- 
brian 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 



142 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CJEDMON 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 
story 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 A abruptly 
ends. Homely northern touches enter into it — the bale-fire for 
the bairn ; 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 in 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 



ix POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CEDMON 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-born 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 ! 

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 ! 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 ! 

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



144 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CLEDMON 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 



IX POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF C^DMON 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 poem, 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 far 
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-wailings ! 
Loudly howled the hated foes, and the heaven grew black above; 
Blood was borne the flood along, with the bodies of the doomed. 

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

L 



146 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CFDMON 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, 1 jewels, treasures old, 
Bucklers and breast armour. Justly fell to them 
Gold and goodly webs, Joseph's store of riches, 
Glorious wealth of warriors ! 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 fashion. 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 Bseda. 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 

1 That is, the shore. 



POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CEDMON 



[ 47 



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 of Judith, and 
the listeners did not care about preserving it. The scribe there- 
fore only preserved the main interests : the feast, the slaughter of 
Holofernes, 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 
veiled, 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 xi. 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 j fit ye for the 
fighting. When God makes rise the blaze of day, bear your 
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 ! " 



148 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CLEDMON 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 of 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 
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 
abruptly with the story of Belshazzar (Daniel v.), as if the writer 
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, 



ix POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CEDMON 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 Azarias, with- 
out taking any pains, says WuTker, 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. 

The Christian poetry which succeeded it in the latter half of 



150 POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF CdEDMON chap. 

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 of 
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 and 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, 
but it sounds ever weaker and weaker ; it is succeeded by the 



ix POEMS OF THE SCHOOL OF OEDMON 151 

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, 
and Judith. 

All these 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. 



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 Wife's Coi?iplaint, 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 exultation. 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 765 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 and 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 

152 



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 Wife'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 Chris- 
tian sentiment, and from the presence in them of certain heathen 
elements, 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 



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 Wife's Complaint and the Husband's 
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 deso- 
late 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 



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 Wife's Complaint describes the wild wood 
cave in the steep downs overgrown with briars and sheltered by 
the roots of a great oak ; the overhanging cliff, storm-beaten, white 
with frost; and the Husband's Message sings of the cuckoo cry- 
ing 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 accord- 
ance 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 psycho- 
logical element which is startling in poetry 1100 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, 
O'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 modern 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. 



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 mes- 
sage 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 
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 begin 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 
their 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 Wife's Complaint, in Anglo-Saxon poetry. 

The Wife'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 Oifa, 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- 
run with briars, 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 ! 

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



X THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES 157 

In that dreary dwelling! 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 ! " 

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? 



158 THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chap. 

Ea la ! the beaker bright, Ea la ! the byrnied warriors ! 
Ea 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, some- 
what later 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 primeval 
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 



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 mas- 
ter 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 
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 Riddles. They are therefore not written 
earlier than the eighth century. They are of various lengths, from 



160 THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES chap. 

four to more than a hundred lines. The best of them escape 
altogether from the Latin 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 
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 
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- 
ever, the only one in Latin, has the name Lupus, and this has 
been used as the Latin translation of the name Cynewulf. We 
may, therefore, though this evidence is vague, allow that he was 



x THE ELEGIES AND THE RIDDLES i6r 

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 Elene, 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 
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 Scop 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 Scop, 
but also that of the wandering singer. It is a revelation of 
Cynewulf s 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 ; 

M 



162 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 
with the knowledge that the poet of the Riddles has of the seas 
and of war and of the scenery of rockbound coasts. Cynewulf is 
at home in all these matters ; and when he is writing of them 
there are certain passages which parallel others 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. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 

There are four poems signed by Cynewulf, — the Fates of the 
Apostles, the Crist, the Juliana, and the Elene. And this is the 
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 
as good as his signature. 

The question as to where he lived and wrote has been elaborately 
argued to and fro, and Wulker has decided, against Ten Brink, that 
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, 

163 



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 
Cynevvulf. 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. 1 Again, if Cynewulf wrote the second 
part of St. Guthlac, 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 Lindisfarne, between Lindisfarne 
and Coldingham. In truth, the atmosphere of the Riddles, the 
Crist, 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 

1 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 
English sailor, and special English sea-touches are continually inserted. 



xi THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 165 

Northumbria, and the work of Cynewulf touches it at many points. 
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 ^Ethelbald 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 the 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 



166 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 "^Ethelings going forth to war, as heroes hard in 
battle, in the play of shields," are the remains of CynewulPs 
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. Gollancz 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 ! Then, befiecked with sins 
E and V and U, must await in fear 



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 ! 

All too late I shamed me 
Of my evil deeds. 

This fits a time of contrition and change. 

The Juliana is in the Exeter Book. Its source is the Acta S. 
Julianae, virginis, 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 form of dialogue, 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 Crist, 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 
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 



1 68 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 yearning pain, and their Need, 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 JFinsomeness 
Of the Earth's adornments ! What to Us as men belonged 
Of the joys of life was locked, long ago in Zake-floods, 2 
All the Zee 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 further this lovely strain appears, full of peace ; a passage as 
personal in its pathetic religion as anything in Cowper, and of a 

1 The runes in the Juliana have only the value of the letters of his name. 
But here and in the Elene 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 [//] stands for Cene, the keen, the courageful warrior. 

Y \_fft~\ stands for Yfel, which as a masculine adjective is wretched ; or 
as an abstract noun misery. 

N [>] stands for Nyd, necessity, hardship. 

E [/7] stands for Eh, horse. 

W \_P\ stands for Wyn, joy. 

U [n] stands for Ur, our. 

L [f*] stands for Lagu, water. 

F [/*] stands for Feoh, wealth. 

1 have accepted, it will be seen, Mr. Gollancz' explanation of the runes 
Y and U as Yfel and Ur. He discovered Ur glossed as nosier in a Runic 
alphabet. 

2 Lagu — the great water of the Flood. 



xi THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 169 

higher hopefulness. The man who wrote it has passed far beyond 
the fears in the Juliana : — 

Mickle is our need 
That, in this unfruitful time, ere that fearful Dread, 
On our spirits' fairness we should studiously bethink us ! 
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 ! 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 ^Ether 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 
Juliana is clearly marked. The Crist is full of quiet joy. 

In this poem Cynewulf attains originality and his true line of 
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- 
wulf has recovered, with a difference, his youthful imagination, 
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 mournfulness 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 Crist, and so does his pictorial 



170 



THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 



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 
sections from 8a to 32^, which were held to be separate, are one 
connected whole of three parts. The first part celebrates the 
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' 
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 judicii, 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 
the poem, and the invocation which follows to Christ as the Wall- 
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 ! 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, 



XI THE SIGNED POEMS OE 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." 
Mary 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 ! 

Ask no more ; the mystery is not known, but the curse is over- 
come," and a chorus to Christ closes the dialogue. In the sixth 
cantata, the poem becomes for a time a true dramatic conversa- 
tion between Joseph and Mary. Joseph arrives on the scene, sad 
and troubled : — 

Mary. " Ea la ! 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 ! oh, young girl ! 

Maid Maria ! " 



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 further 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 



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 
Burn within the bale-fire. 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. 

At line 866, the third part of the poem, The Day of Judgment, 
begins with the gathering of the angels and the faithful on Mount 
Zion ; and Cynewulf, as if suddenly smitten with a vision, breaks 
into a noble description of the summoning angels : — 

Therewith from the four, far-off corners of the world, 
From the regions uttermost of the realm of earth, 
All a-glow the Angels blow with one accord 
Loudly thrilling trumpets. Trembles Middle-garth; 
Earth is quaking under men ! 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, 
sun and moon depart, and the stars " shower down from heaven, 



74 



THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 



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 ! 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 'gainst the ocean billow, 

And the winding water. Then on every wight 

P'astens 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, 
are 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 
it is red, wet with the blood of the King of Heaven. It brings 
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, 



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. Guthlac, 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." Y 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 Cynewulf's 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 ./Ethelings ; 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 Hi battle, Simon and Thaddeus warred in the 
Persian lands ; they were quick in the shield-play." Wiilker, as I 
1 These three last are Mr. Gollancz' restoration. 



176 



THE SIGNED POEMS OF CYNEWULF 



CHAP. 



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 Elene ; and 
Mr. Gollancz' opinion that the Fates belongs to the And?-eas 
accords with my view of the place of this poem in Cynewulf s 
life. 1 

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 
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 
True Cross ; and the action passes on steadily to the close. The 
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, 



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 
C Y, and U, also meaning himself : — 

Beaten by care-billows, C 1 began to fail, 

Though he in the mead-hall took of many treasures 

Of the appled gold. Y was wailing sorely, 

JVwas 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. W was weakened soon ! 

After years, my pleasures and my youth all passed away, 

And my ancient pride. £7 was in the times of old 

All one gleam of youth ! Now the gone-by days, 

Far away, to fading came, when the fated hour rose; 

And delight of living passed, as when L doth glide away, 

Flood that follows flood, F io\ every soul 

Is but lent below the lift; and the land's adornments 

1 C = Cynewulf as Cene, the keen warrior. 
Y = Cynewulf as Yfel, the " wretched one." 
N = Nyd, hardship, need. 
E = Eh, his horse. 
W = Wyn, joy. 

U = Ur, our — that is, " I Cynewulf." 
L = Lagu, water. 
F = Feoh, wealth. 



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 upsteps the sky, 

Hunts the clouds along, hurries, raging onward, 

Till all suddenly again silent it becomes, 

In its clamped 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 
melancholy 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 Beozuulf. 

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 1 

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, 

1 The Mediterranean. 



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 invention than in imitation, or as a lyric 
than as a narrative poet. In this poem also the metrical move- 
ment 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 un- 
common. These things point to a time when the poets had con- 
sciously adopted rules in their art, when metrical freedom was 
strictly limited. Had English poetry lasted, it might have be- 
come as rigidly scientific as the Icelandic. 



CHAPTER XII 

POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 

The most important of these poems are the Phoenix, the second 
part of the St. Guthlac, the Harrowing of Hell, 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 Phoenix is in the Exeter Book, and runs to 677 lines. Its 
source is a Latin poem by Lactantius. 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 Am- 
brose 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 Phcenix dwells, 
and I have already translated a part of this famous piece. The 
second describes the enchanting life the Bird lives from morn 
to evening in that deathless land of joy. A translation of them 
will best express the careful imagination of Cynewulf, and his 

180 



chap, xii POEMS OF CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 181 

delight in the doings of the sun and in the waters of the earth 
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, 

O'er the Ocean wave, from the East a-glitter, 

Gleaming with his glories, God the father's work of old; 

Beacon bright of God ! — 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-born fowl at the fountain-head, 

At the well-streams wonneth, in a winsomeness unfailing ! 

There a twelve of times, he, the joy-triumphant one 

In the burn doth bathe him, ere the beacon cometh, 

Candle of the ^Ether; 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 ! 



182 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap. 

This is the repetition, and very well done it is. Then Cynewulf 
describes the Phoenix' life till evening falls, and its wondrous 
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 blissfulness 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' singing — 
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 
Sunken 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 



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 
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 Phoenix, 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 the 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 



1 84 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, 
but 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 Life 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 
Christian 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 sun plays his part in the contest. Night 
darkens with her shadowy helm the battle-field; 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 



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 ! Then of Lights the greatest 
Holy from the heavens came, shining high, serenely, 
Bright above the Burg-halls ! 

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. 



1 86 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 Crist, 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 Crist, 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 Guthlac, 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 
God, his death a king's death, his burial the burial of a hero-king. 
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 ^Etheling's corse 
Took the spirit of life. Shivered all the earth, 
High rejoiced Hell's burghers, for the Hero had awakened, 
Full of courage from the clay. Conquest-sure, and wise, 
Rose on high his majesty ! 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 ! 
No helm-bearing heroes he would have for battle then; 
None of warriors wearing byrnies did he wish to bring 
To the doors of hell ! Down before him fell the bars, 
Down the hinges dashed, inwards drove the king his way ! 



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 off in the midst, and this heroic 
fragment closes. 

If we allow that Cynewulf wrote the Andreas, 1 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 rather, 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 con- 
ceive 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 

1 "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. 



188 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, com- 
bined with the great excellence of the Atidreas, that makes the 
difficulty 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 them of a capacity and imagination able 
to write the Phcznix, 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 like 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 
Apostles, as the epilogue to the Andreas, would settle these diffi- 
culties, and allot the Andreas to Cynewulf. " The Fates of the 
Apostles" he says, " consists of little more than a hundred lines; 
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 ' unit,' 
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 Christ, Elene, 
Juliana, and Andreas.'''' 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 Cynewulfs best period, for it is 
then not a separate poem, but a mere epilogue which we may 



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 Vercetti Book along with the Elene, 
and runs to 1724 lines. The source of the legend is the Acts of 
Andrew and Matthew, a 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 Eng- 
lish sailors, and the scenery is also English. 1 

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 Glory 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 
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 upon 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 the Andreas. 
Its end is then linked to its beginning. 



190 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chai\ 

away, behind it came the light, the trumpet-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 I. The Earls of Elsewhere are 
unknown to me, and the highways over the cold water." 

" ' Alas, Andrew ! ' answered the Lord, ' that thou shouldst 
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 skulker 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 very 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 Bam- 
borough 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." 



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." 1 

" 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 Professor 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 steersman 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 journeying into the country of the man-eaters.' " 

That is enough for comparison with the text above (see Cook's First 
Book in Old English) . 



192 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap. 

beaten gold, nor treasure, nor lands, nor rings, to whet hereto 
your will." — " How then," said the King, " wouldst 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. 1 

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. 

1 1 translate these passages from the Andreas 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. 



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 
Fearful 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 land-stead 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 bathway 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 hast grace of the Holy Ghost. The surging waves went 
back ; a fear stilled the deep-bosomed wave." 

Andrew, hearing this, broke into a song of praise, and this 
o 



i 9 4 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 — a 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 
^Etheling," he says, " that led us to cross 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 ! 
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 ^Etheling 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?" Andrew 
answers. "That was a sin." 



xii CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 195 

"Not so great," replies Christ, "as when in Achaia thou 
saidst thou couldst 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 to devour 
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 ^Etheling, 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. 



196 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap. 

Then was the Holy One, the stark-souled Earl, 
Beset with wisdom'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 1 — locked closely up 
The homes of heroes and the peoples' seats ! 
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 Bseda 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. 



xi CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL 197 

And weeping after him, stood on the beach, 
As long as they could see that /Ethelings' 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 ^Etheling, our King." 

The Dream of the Rood is in the Vercelli 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 Csedmonian 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 Cynewulf are written in the short 
epic line, his use of which is almost invariable in the Efefie. 

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 Elene, 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 Csedmon, and which described 
the ascent of Christ upon the Cross, His death and burial. He 



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 man- 
ner 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 the most important hour of his life, and leave it as a legacy to 
the friends of whom he speaks so 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 upsoaring, then I saw, methought, 

All enwreathed with light, wonderful, a Tree; 

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. 



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 joys 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 1 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 running 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 hewed down where the holt had end ! 
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 Cynewulf '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 : — 

1 That is, the Rood and the Saviour on it. 



200 POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO chap. 

Then the Hero young, 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 the Champion clipped 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 



xii 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 long and weary days." Then he 
turns from the past to the present — " Now I have hope of life to 
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 ! 
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 His 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 ! 

At last, with a happy reversion to that earlier theme he loved — 
the deliverance 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 fresh blossoming and bliss, in the souls who'd borne the fire ! 
Strong the Son with conquest was, on that (soaring) path, 



202 POEMS OF CYNEWULF OR HIS SCHOOL chap, xn 

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. We 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 
crush 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- 
brated Christ as the Saviour of men, as the Hero of the New 
Testament. 



CHAPTER XIII 

OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED 

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 
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 
Rune Song. 

The three first must be taken together, and form part or the 
whole of an English Physiologies. A Physiologies 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 these was 
followed by a religious or moral allegory based on the description. 
We have already seen an example of this in the Phcenix. 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 

203 



204 OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED chap. 

mediaeval literature. Our Physiologus has this special interest, 
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 sup- 
posed 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 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 



xiil OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED 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 ! 
Like it is in aspect to the unhewn stone, 
Such as moved is, at the margent of the sea, 
By sand-hills surrounded, thickly set with sea-weeds; 1 
So the sailors of the surge in their souls imagine 
That upon some island with their eyes they look. 
Then they hawser fast their high-stemmed 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." 2 

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 

1 " 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. 

2 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 under the lee, while night 
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays. 
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay, 
Chained on the burning lake. — Par. Lost, Book I. 

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." 



206 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 
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 
soul 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 
year 700, if we take the phrase used in it — " that the spirit shall 
draw 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 



xiti 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 above, 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. 



208 OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED chap. 

The Weirds of Men is different. 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 81) 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. 



Xin OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED 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, 
Edge 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. 1 

The Rune So?ig 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 2 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 1 have put in an Appendix the most interesting and oldest of these Gnomic 
verses. 

2 Ing is, as Tacitus tells us, the Father of all the German tribes dwelling 
on the sea-board of the Ingcevones ; he is the old German god of the Heavens. 
According to Rydberg (see Teutonic Mythology, Eng. trans, p. 180), the 
waen ( = wain) of the third line is to be read Vagn, the proper name of the 
giant foster-father of Hadding, whose folk are the Heardings of the text. 
P 



210 OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED 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 
[11. 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- 
and-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. 1 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 

1 These Solomon dialogues became common in Western literature, but 
under the title of Dialogues betiveen Solo?non 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 
again Marculf s native wit has the better of Solomon. But in this early Anglo- 
Saxon dialogue no such levity is allowed. 



OTHER POETRY BEFORE ALFRED 



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. 



CHAPTER XIV 



ALFRED 



Alfred, 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 Winchester. There, 
yElfred 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 born in 849, at Wantage in Berkshire, the youngest 
son of Y^Ethelwulf 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 early Christian life, the spiritual power of 



chap, xiv ALFRED 213 

the Roman Church, even the temporal power which flowed from 
it into Charles the Great of whom iElfred 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 Alfred never for- 
got 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. ./Ethelstan and ^Ethelred had no care for 
book or poetry, but ^Elfred, delighted by the beauty of the illu- 
minated letters, eagerly turned over the pages. " Whoever of 
you first learns the songs," said the Queen, "shall have the 
book," and vElfred 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 



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 
OrTa 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 libra- 
ries 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 vElfred's sword when, on the height of Ashdown, around 
the stunted and lonely thorn-tree, he and his brother ^Ethelred 
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, yElfred, 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 ^Etherings' 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 Alfred 
watching and forgetting the burning loaves ; and it was here that 



Xiv ALFRED 215 

the famous jewel of gold and enamel was found, with the inscrip- 
tion — "^Elfred 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 of 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 
iElfred ; 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 the 
Danelaw. 

Over the Danelaw — to interrupt for a moment the tale of 
^Elfred — Danish customs, religion, and commerce prevailed ; the 
Danish sagas were sung, 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. 



2i 6 ALFRED chap. 

When Alfred was forced to leave the Danelaw in Danish hands, 
he little thought that he was making Englishmen. 

But at present the English and the Danes were two, not one ; 
and Alfred had to keep the English elements uppermost. It was 
well then, having this stern 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 yElfred 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. ^Elfred 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 ^Elfred, 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 



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 Werwulf, who were his 
chaplains and teachers (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 j 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 office 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 ^Ethelstan 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 



2i 8 ALFRED 



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 Alfred'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 forty-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 
Alfred or Asser — "divinorum testimoniorum scientiam — multi- 
modos 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 Alfred'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. 



xiv ALFRED 219 

Else William of Malmesbury would have used the whole book." 
This remark of Wulker's seems to settle the matter. This Hand- 
book, 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 ^Ethelberht, Ine, and Offa. It 
had an introduction, followed by three parts — (1) 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 collation 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 divi- 
sions 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 



ALFRED 



was first made Archbishop in 890. The translation then was 
probably done in 889, and sent to the bishops in 890. 1 

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 Alfred'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 Bseda'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. Bseda's translation of St. John's gospel, 
that portion also of the English Chronicle which already existed 
up to the death of yEthelwulf, 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 
Alfred'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. 2 

1 There are many different arrangements made by critics of the dates of 
Alfred's translations. I have adopted the arrangement I think the best. 

2 For the text of this preface, see Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader, pp. 4-7. 



xiv ALFRED 



This Book is for Worcester 

King Alfred biddeth greet Bishop Wseferft 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 were 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 books, 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 wish to turn any part of them 
into 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 of 
languages. 



222 ALFRED CHAP. 

Then I remembered how the Law was first given in the Hebrew tongue, 
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 writing; 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 fallen 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 Grimbald, 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 give 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 " aestel " (indi- 
catoriuni) 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 is 
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 /Elfred 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, 



/ELFRED 



223 



because some who least knew the Latin tongue were in need of 
them.' f 

The translation follows, and at the end /Elfred has added 
some verses of his own. They have a faint touch of imagination ; 
their 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 (890-9 1 ) was Baeda's Eccle- 
siastical History of the English, and this was addressed not 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, to 
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 B?eda is weak and 
less accurate than usual. That Alfred did not do this is 



224 ALFRED chap. 

probably owing to the fact that about the year 891 he had begun 
to work the Chronicle up into a national history, and saw no need 
to put forth two accounts of the same matters. The loss is 
indeed all but repaired in his editing of the English Chronicle. 
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 
Winchester. Professor Earle has skilfully wrought out when the 
various recensions were made before the reign of Alfred. 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 
to Hengest, combined them with the Canterbury Chronicle, made 
a genealogy of the West Saxon kings from ^Ethewulf to Cerdic, 
from Cerdic to Woden, and from Woden to Adam; and then, 
having inserted new matter throughout, told at some length the 
wars and death of ^Ethelwulf. This part of the Chronicle, running 
to 855, was found by Alfred 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 Alfred did it himself. As historical prose it is 
rude, but also condensed and vigorous. 1 In this recension 
many fresh entries were made from the Latin writers and 
Bseda'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 ^Ethelwulf's death, but now. 



ALFRED 225 



Winchester which, written by a single hand, was presented by 
Archbishop Parker to Corpus Christi College at Cambridge ; and 
it is the source of the historical prose of England. 1 

The new book Alfred now translated, 2 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- 

1 Alfred'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. 

2 Not only does William of Malmesbury mention the book as vElfred's, 
but the following allusion can only be to the history by Orosius : — 
II [/Elfred] fist escrivere un livre Engleis 
Des aventures e des leis 
E de batailles de la terre 



E des reis ki firent la guere 
E maint livre fist il escrivere 
U li bon clerc vont sovent lire. 



Geffrey Gaimar's Trans, or the Estorie des Engles, 11. 3451-56. 



226 



ALFRED 



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 Alfred, that of all the North- 
men he dwelt the furthest north," and he told how he had 
sailed along the cost 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 Alfred's hand. 



Ohthere told his lord, King yElfred, 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 summer, 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 days. Then he had to wait for a 
wind right from the north, because the land bent due south. 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 bone 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 



xiv 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 Alfred 
listened to these rough sea-farers, and how much he sympathised 
with their spirit of discovery. This is the first record in English 
of the mighty roll of great adventures upon the ocean, and 
yElfred 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 
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. Bseda'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, 1 

1 We find in the English Chronicle, 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 yElfred in a boat without oars from 
Hibernia" (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 



228 ALFRED 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 nourished, 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 
classes 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 Alfred. Thus 
were they named — Dubslane, Maccbethu, and Maelinmum. And Swifneh, 
the best teacher that was among the Scots, died." 



ALFRED 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 power 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 of 
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. Alfred 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. 
From that date till his death in 901 Alfred had peace ; and he 
returned, worn out but a conqueror, to his literary work. 

The book he now undertook was Boethius' De Consolatione 
Philosophic?. 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 Alfred'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 Alfred 
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 



230 ALFRED 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 Alfred himself. 

King yElfred was the translator of this book, and turned it from Latin into 
English 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 
this book and turned it from Latin into the English tongue, he then wrought 
it afterwards into verse, as it is now done. And now he begs, 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. 

The De Consolatione was written by Boethius in the prison 
where Theodoric, King of the East Goths, had laid him on a 
charge of conspiracy. Composed to comfort his heart in trouble, 
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 ; everything else is 
indifferent. The wise and virtuous man is master of himself 
and of events. The book is the last effort of the heathen philos- 
ophy, 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. 



xiv ALFRED 231 

Its serious and sorrowful note harmonised well with the 
spiritual life of ^Elfred. He expands, but does not improve, the 
grave ethical paragraphs. He does not wear the stoic robes with 
grace. Sometimes, leaving his original aside, he 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 
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 life 
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 yields 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 



ALFRED 



:hap. 



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 7 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 or 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 
will 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 7 ] 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 over 



xiv ALFRED 233 

a free people. \_In a discussion on Free Will, Reason says .•] " 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? " 

sElfred : " 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 says, "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 Alfred 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 



234 ALFRED 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 
of 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. 

In the De Consolatione, Boethius interspersed his prose with 
verses, 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 1 — 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 Alfred'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 Alfred us an old-spell told, 

Set forth his song-craft, used a maker's skill, 

King of West Saxons he ! 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. 



xiv 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 Alfred's 
authorship, are interesting ; moreover, though one does not care 
for the poetry, yet, were it ^Elfred'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 Soliloquia of St. Augustine has been 
imputed to him, and is very probably his. There is a preface, 
which, if this book belong to the end of Alfred'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 ; x and its personal feeling and imagina- 
tive form — the first so common, the second so rare in JElfred's 
writing — make it worth quoting. 

Then I gathered me darts 2 and pillar-shafts 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 wayfaring, while I am in this world, and also in the 

1 The suggestion of the parable is Wulker's. The houses /Elfred 
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. 

2 "Darts," "javelins," must mean here poles sharpened at one end like 
spears, for driving into the ground. 



236 ALFRED 



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 Augustine's De Videndo Deo is 
added. The letter is thrown into a dialogue, and this is done in 
order to harmonise it with the Soliloqitia, 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 
end the blossoms of this book" ; and this flower-title is given 
also to the second book. The third book (that derived from 
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 finera 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 ; 1 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. 

1 This is a suggestion, merely a suggestion, of Wiilker's. Wichmann has 
endeavoured to prove Alfred'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 Alfred'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. 



xiv ALFRED 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 Alfred's instance by Werfrith of Worcester, 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. Alfred's preface, 
given in full by Earle in his Anglo-Saxon Literature, brings us, 
as usual, close to his character. 

I, yElfred, 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, after 
Cockayne's arguments, to date from Alfred's time, and was prob- 
ably compiled at his desire. It begins with the 31st 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 Alfred'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. Asser's Life of the King 1 was written in Latin. 
Plegmund and John the Old Saxon seem to have been quite 

1 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 .Elfred. 



238 



ALFRED 



silent. The writer of the king's wars with the Danes in the 
English Chronicle was probably ^Elfred 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 
intimate personality of the king, that tender, naif, simple, humble, 
self- forgetful nature, which played like a child with the toys of 
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 
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 satisfied. 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 lay 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 



ALFRED 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 imi- 
tate 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, ^Elfred 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 Bseda'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. 



240 ALFRED 



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 Alfred 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 



xiv ALFRED 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 Consolatione Philosophic. 
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 Asser's 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. 

R 



CHAPTER XV 

THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY IN AND AFTER ALFRED'S TIME 

I have said that the remains of the English poetry of North- 
umbria 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. 
Among the poems translated in his reign we may surely count 
those of Csedmon, one fragment of which ^Elfred himself put 
into English in his translation of the Ecclesiastical History. 
Genesis A also, whether attributed then to Csedmon 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 canta- 
tas which once bore the title of Christ and Satan, and which are 
contained in the second half of the manuscript of the "Junian 
Csedmon." 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 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 have lately been discovered), 
either by the author of the Heliand himself, or more probably by 
some imitator of the Heliand} Some English scholar (an Old 

1 The Heliand is an almost heroic poem of the ninth century on the life 
of the Healer, the Saviour; and Genesis B closely resembles it in language 

242 



ch. xv. OLD ENGLISH POETRY AFTER ALFRED'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 Later Genesis. This theory is held to account 
for the difficulties of language, of metre, of manner, of senti- 
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 Later 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 
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 me to have a master ! With these hands of mine I may 

Work as many wonders ! Mickle force to wield have I 

For the setting up of a goodlier stool than He, 

And a higher in the Heaven ! For His favour why should I be of Him the 

slave, 
To Him bow in such a bondage? I can God become, like Him ! 
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. 



244 THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY chap. 

Far-famed fighters they ! 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. I'll 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. In his claim to build a kingdom for himself, 
to be God if he please ; in his sense of the close comradeship 
between his brothers in arms and himself, and in 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 
dun ; where Satan lies on his bed of death, hafted down with 
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 ! " * 

1 This also, like some passages in Genesis A, 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 Caedmon 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. 



xv IN AND AFTER ALFRED'S TIME 245 

This is my greatest sorrow — that a man, 1 

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 ! 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 ! 

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 abyss ! 

O shall we not have vengeance, and pay back 

Our debt to 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 ! And then he wheeled 

1 I have put the rest of the quotations in this chapter into blank verse for 
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. 



246 THE OLD ENGLISH POETRY chap. 

His flight, uplifted, 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 ! 

" 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 Csedmon 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, u 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 
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 



xv IN AND AFTER ALFRED'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 whole 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 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 ! 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 ! O Thou, who liest in sorrows, 
Rejoice, thou needest no mourning now. Be blithe, 
Laugh in thy heart. All is paid back again ! 
For me, my heart is healed, my thought enlarged, 
Our harms are well avenged ! 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, 



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. 1 

The second part of the poems which pass under the name of 
Caedmon, and which are in a handwriting different from and later 
than the first part, were given the name of Christ and Satan. 
They are now divided into three poems or fragments of poems — 
the 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 
follower 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 diners 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. 



xv IN AND AFTER ALFRED'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 hall, 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 vemon 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 JMaker ! 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 366: "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, 



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 under- 
stand that thou tightest 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 



xv IN AND AFTER ALFRED'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 Csedmon. 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 altogether replaced by prose. 
Then prose — and this is common when poetry decays — tended, 
in order to satisfy man's desire for musical movement, to become 
rhythmical, ^lfric, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, wrote 
much of his prose in a jingle of alliteration. The versing then of 
the eleventh century was often bad prose. About 10 10, 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 longer 
poems, there is a Saints' Kalendar entitled the Menologium, 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 



252 OLD ENGLISH POETRY AFTER ALFRED'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 iooo, 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 Alfred, that it was written somewhere at 
the beginning of the tenth ceutury. 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, 
religious song of any literary value in our tongue may be said to 
be silent. 



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, ion ; the Wooing of Margaret, 1067 ; the Baleful 
Bride- Ale, 1076 ; and the High-handed Conqueror, 1086." The act- 
ual verses in the Chronicle are the Battle of Brunanburh, 937 ; the 
Overcoming of the Five Towns} 942 ; the Coronation of Eadgar at 
Bath, 973 ; Eadgar 1 s Death and his Good Times, 975 • the Slaying 
at Corfe, 979 ; Alfred the sEthling's Slaughter, 1036 ; the Son of 
Ironside, 1057 ; and the Dirge of King Eadward the Confessor, 

1 These were the Danish boroughs in Mercia — Leicester, Lincoln, Not- 
tingham, Stamford, and Derby. 

253 



254 SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED chap. 

1065. 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 Ead- 
gar. 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 country 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 between 
940 and 950. The reason for that date is this. The poem is 
the only one 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 
the verse with the last word of the second half. This is the 
form used by Egill Skallagrimsson, the Icelandic skald and 
warrior, in the poem Hofu^lausn, by which he saved his life in 
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 
^Ethelstan. 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 Ettmuller 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. 



xvi 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 
Brunanbic7'h to the Song of Maldon. In the years between 
Alfred'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 ^Ethelflaed, 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 Alfred'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 Steadfast 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, 
Alfred, 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 ^Elfred gave him a purple cloak, over which 
./Ethelstan'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 



256 SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED chap 

gleeman to spy out the camp of Athelstan 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 ^Ethelstan. " 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 
praised the answer and the man. The next day the battle was 
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 

Con stan tinus, King of the Scots, after having sworn allegiance to Athelstan, 
allied 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. 

1 Athelstan King, 
Lord among Earls, 

1 I have more or less availed myself of my son's prose translation of this 
poem in the Conte7nporary Review (November, 1876). 



xvi TO THE CONQUEST 257 

Bracelet-bestower and 
Baron of Barons, 
He with his brother, 
Edmund Atheling, 
Gaining a lifelong 
Glory in battle, 
Slew with the sword-edge 
There by Brunanburh, 
Brake the shield-wall, 
Hew'd the lindenwood, 1 
Hack'd the battleshield, 
Sons of Edward with hammer'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. 



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 morningtide, 

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. 

1 Shields of lindenwood. 



258 SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED 



We the West-Saxons, 

Long 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. 



VI. 

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. 



Five young kings put asleep by the sword-stroke, 
Seven strong Earls of the army of Anlaf 
Fell on the war-field, numberless numbers, 
Shipmen and Scotsmen. 

VIII. 

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 again, 

Hoar-headed hero ! 



XVI TO THE CONQUEST 259 



x. 

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 ! 



XI. 

Slender reason had 

He to be glad of 

The clash of the war-glaive — 

Traitor and trickster 

And spurner 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, 1 

The wielding of weapons — 

The play that they play'd with 

The children of Edward. 



Then with their nail'd prows 

Parted the Norsemen, a 

Blood-redden'd relic of 

Javelins over 

The jarring breaker, the deep-sea billow, 



1 Lit. " the gathering of men." 



SECULAR POETRY AFTER yELFRED 



Shaping their way toward Dyflen 1 again, 
Shamed in their souls. 



XIII. 

Also the brethren, 
King and Atheling, 
Each in his glory, 
Went to his own in his own West-Saxonland, 
Glad of the war. 

XIV. 

Many a carcase they left to be carrion, 
Many a livid one, many a sallow-skin — 
Left for the white-tail'd eagle to tear it, and 
Left for the horny-nibb'd raven to rend it, and 
Gave to the garbaging war-hawk to gorge it, and 
That gray beast, the wolf of the weald. 

xv. 

Never had huger 
Slaughter of heroes 
Slain by the sword-edge — 
Such as old writers 
Have writ of in histories — 
Hapt in this isle, since 
Up from the East hither 
Saxon and Angle from 
Over the broad billow 
Broke into Britain with 
Haughty war-workers who 
Harried the Welshman, when 
Earls that were lured by the 
Hunger of glory gat 
Hold of the land. 



The unity of England which this battle vindicated, and which 
was a necessity for a national literature, was not established by it. 
The country was as yet too heterogeneous to be ruled by one 
man, and the system, which now began, of the great Ealdormanries, 

1 Dublin. 



TO THE CONQUEST 26] 



divided England again, and lasted even through the Danish kings 
until the Norman Conquest. That conquest did finally for Eng- 
land what Eadward and ^Ethelstan had temporarily done. It made 
one kingdom, and in doing so made a national literature possible. 
Eadmund succeeded ^Ethelstan 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 sElfthryth a?id ' sEthelwold 
and of the King, and it has many relations in the folk-tales of all 
countries, ^lfthryth was so fair a woman that the king heard of 
her loveliness and sent his friend ^Ethelwold to her father, saying, 
"Give me thy daughter to wife." But ^Ethelwold, made foolish 
by her fairness, told the king that she was unworthy of her fame, 
and married her himself. When the king heard the truth, his 
anger was deep, but hiding his heart he played the friend with 
^Ethelwold, and said, " I will come and see thee and thy 
wife." ^Ethelwold 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 ^Ethelwold'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 ^Elfthryth, and the 



262 SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED chap. 

woman had her way. Afterwards she feared for herself, and 
founded a nunnery. 

In later days Eadgar, leaving his wild passions, was a strong 
and wise king, who loved honour and was ready with his hands. 
Another ballad, made into Latin prose by William of Malmes- 
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, bade 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 
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 



xvi TO THE CONQUEST 263 

never ceased in England. Even in the next reign, of ^Ethelred 
the Unwise 1 (979-1016), during which the Danish conquest of 
England by Svvein 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 Chronicle 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, but which his expulsion from Denmark had let loose, 
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. 2 

1 1 take the word " Unready," the uncounselled, to mean one who would 
not take good rede, that is, who was unwise. 

2 A literal translation of the whole is placed in the Appendix. 



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 ! 
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, 
Sword of old time, venomed edges, 
Battle-gear that brings no gaining ! 
Seamen's herald, take the message ! 
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. 



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 ! 
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 ! " 
Then the first who strode the ford x 
Wulfstan smote him with his spear. 
Fearless warriors were with Wulfstan, 
Maccus, .-Elfere, 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 scornfulness, 
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, 



1 The word is bridge — but there was no bridge in our sense of the word. 



266 



SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED 



" 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, Byrhtnoth 1 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 ; 
Edward 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 ! 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. 



xvi TO THE CONQUEST 267 

Then another Viking sent 

Flying from his hands a spear, 

And it pierced the ^Etheling, 

Byrhtnoth, thegn of ^Ethelred ! 

There beside him stood a youth, 

Yet a boy, who forth withdrew 

From his Lord the bloody spear, 

Son of Wulfstan, young Wulfmser ! 

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 byrnie 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, 

.iFdfnoth and Wulfmaer, lay dead ; 

Life they yielded with their Lord. 

Thus ends the first part of the battle with the great earl's 
cry to God, the mighty Lord of all folk. He does not sing the 



26S SECULAR POETRY AFTER ALFRED 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 
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 Byrhtnoth's 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. 



CHAPTER XVII 

ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED TO THE CONQUEST 

English prose-writing all but died with the death of Alfred, and 
ninety years had passed away before the impulse he gave it 
bore its full fruit in the work of ^Elfric, 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 
by Dunstan, and of Abingdon and Winchester by ^Ethelwold, the 
scholar of Dunstan and the master of ^lfric. 

It is not difficult to say why Alfred 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 Alfred 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 Alfred, 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 Werfrith's 

269 



270 



ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED 



CHAP. 



translation of Gregory's Dialogues was the only book he dragged 
out of his bishops. In fact, they had but little leisure, and 
were inevitably drawn into political life. When the king pressed 
them, they tried to do some learned business, but when Alfred'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 Alfred's 
hope to make a learned laity. Not till nearly a century after- 
wards do we meet with educated nobles like ^Ethelweard and 
his son, and they were more interested in, than capable of, 
literature. 

So, in the end, iElfred 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 recreate 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- 



xvn TO THE CONQUEST 271 

tive. Alfred 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 ^Ethelwold 
and JElfric, a great deal of it was done in the English tongue, 
and in honest English prose. In yElfric's resolute use of the 
vernacular, ninety years after Alfred's death, we find the resur- 
rection of yElfred'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 vElfred's failure, of 
that apparent failure which befalls a genius who is before his time. 
Only one man seems to have carried on after yElfred's death 
the tradition of his work. ^Elfred'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 Clwonicle 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 



272 



ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED 



CHAP. 



of the years from 894 to 897 with so much breadth, earnestness, 
and power. 1 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 
^Ethelstan, 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 born in the reign of 
Eadward, Alfred's son, 2 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 learn- 
ing and literature when he came to man's estate. Even in his boy- 
hood and youth he was a good example of how far culture and 

1 Alfred's work, or his seeming work, on the Chronicle ended in 891. 

2 The usual date is that of iEthelstan'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 Liege, living under Dunstan's protection at the time of his 
death. Another is by Adelard, a monk of Blandinium, about the same date. 
Osbern wrote another after the Conquest, shortly before Anselm's arch- 
bishopric. Eadmer, Anselm's biographer and writer of the Historia Novorum, 
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. 



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 Wedraore 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, 1 and held an equal place therein 
with the memories of Ine and Ealdhelm, and with the later 
memories of Alfred. 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 zEthelfleda 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 Lord " ; and on a day when he 
fell asleep in the church while waiting for Eadgar who had gone 

1 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. 

T 



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. Bseda 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 pas- 
sionately fond of 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 send- 
ing to England two missionaries, Augustine and Mellitus, while 
he kneels between both in the lower centre of the illuminated 
page. As Abbot of Glastonbury he collected precious crosses, 
crucifixes, cups, and jewelled books, and practised himself in 
fine gold-working and engraving. He designed embroideries 
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, 



TO THE CONQUEST 275 



ornate, inventive, and gay; swift to put all he had read into 
attractive form. His fame grew till JEthelstan 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 ^Ethelrleda, 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). 1 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 King Eadred gave it 
to Dunstan's best scholar, ^Ethelwold. ^Ethelwold (who died 
in 984) soon made Abingdon as good a school as Glastonbury. 
Then Oswald, at Ramsey and afterwards as Bishop of Worcester, 
and 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 

1 See for a fuller account Stubbs's Memorials of Dunstan and Green's 
Conquest of England. 



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. ^Ethelwold, 
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 little personal interest in the movement. He was 
probably too busy. But ^Ethelwold, 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 
^Ethelwold 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 Thorn ey. 

Oswald, nephew of Archbishop Odo of Canterbury, and Bishop 
of Worcester, helped ^Ethelwold 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. 



TO THE CONQUEST 277 



The short poem in the Chro?iicle 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 



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- 
tories. We have a medicine book — Lcece Boc — of the last 
half of the tenth century. The first two parts of the book 
are taken from Greek and Latin recipes. Two Englishmen, 
Oxa and Dun, are mentioned in the third part as medical 
authorities ; Danish and even Gaelic sources are used, and some 
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 ^Ethelwold, soon excelled Glastonbury and 
Abingdon ; and English, in King Alfred's books, was as keenly 
studied as Latin. ^Ethelwold 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 Rule, 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 
thing he did for English prose was his education of yElfric. 

But before ^Elfric created the new school of English prose the 
Blickling Homilies were brought together ; and prove into what 
active work Dunstan, yEthelwold, and Oswald had awakened the 
study of English prose. Wulker thinks that the style of these 
homilies belongs to the elder prose, their substance to the 



xvii TO THE CONQUEST 279 

younger. They represent, then, the transition between the prose 
of Alfred and the prose of ^Elfric. 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 Homilies, 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 
Alfred. 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. JElfric 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 ^Elfric 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, ^Elfric was to 
the eleventh century. He had no creative power ; nothing im- 
aginative comes from his hand, but he had an affection 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, 



280 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED 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 Alfred was the creator of the elder, so .^Elfric 
was of the younger Anglo-Saxon prose. 

He was a scholar from his earliest years. Born about 955, 
he was educated under ^Ethelwold at Winchester. He soon 
became a monk, and was sent by ^Elfheah, ^Ethelwold'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 yElfred, 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 modern style, and he then 
turned his attention chiefly to religious books for the use of 
monks and pupils in the monasteries. 

His first work, Homilice Catholicce, 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 stuff from Augustine, Jerome, Gregory, and Bseda. 
A small number of them are in alliterative verse, written as prose. 
All of them have alliterative passages ; and this practice was 
almost new in English prose. His next works were the Grammar 
and Glossary, which he made up out of extracts from Donatus and 
the Institutiones Grammaticce 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 



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 JElfric Bata, one of ^Elfric's 
scholars — " Hanc sententiam latini sermonis olim ^Elfricus Abbas 
composuit, qui meus fuit magister, sed tamen ego, yElfric Bata, 
multas postea huic addidi appendices." This is the only work 
we have from _Elfric 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 
^-Ethelweard, 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 _Elfric's own time — on Swithun, Oswald, 
and ^Ethelthrith, Virgin ; and one on the false gods worshipped 
by the English, are of greater interest than the rest. The others 
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 JElfric 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 1 : — 

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. 



FROM ALFRED 



CHAP. 



many in this tongue, because it is not fitting that many should be put into our 
tongue, lest peradventure the pearls of Christ be had in disrespect. 

And therefore I hold my peace as to the book called Vitce Patrum, 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 
fastidious, 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 ^Ethelwerd and of my friend ^Ethelmer (sEthelmeri 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 
fourth book, that I may not be regarded as too tedious. 

An Anglo-Saxon preface follows, addressed directly to ^Ethel- 
weard, and beginning — 

iElfric humbly greeteth /Ethelwerd, and I tell thee, beloved, that I have 
now brought together in this book such Passions of the Saints as I have had 
leisure to put into English, because that thou, beloved, and ^Ethelmser ear- 
nestly 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 ^Elfric's English 
version of a part (69 out of the 280 questions) of the Questions 
of Sigewulf, presbyter, on Genesis, which Alcuin at Sigewulf s wish 
had written in Latin. Then came a translation, freely wrought, of 
the Hexameron of St. Basil; then a homily On the Creation, with 
other homilies more 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 ^thelweard, who begged 
him to undertake Genesis, and who, when ^Elfric objected, said 
" that he only wanted the first part done as far as Isaac, for 



xvii TO THE CONQUEST 283 

the rest of the book, already translated by another hand, was 
now in his possession." ^Elfric, 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 of Judges (but that may be a later insertion), and the books 
of Esther, of Job, and of 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. ^Elfric 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 his poetical 
prose. 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 — " yElfred, who 
brought safety to his people from the Danes ; iEthelstan, who 
fought with Anlaf; Eadgar, the noble king who most of all 
English kings established the praise of God, whom all kings and 
chieftains round about him served for the sake of his peace " — 
phrases which almost repeat the words which describe Eadgar in 
the Chronicle. It brings ^Elfric more clearly before us that he 
gave to these translations a patriotic touch of his own. " I have 
set Judith," 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 ALlfrici which followed them were 
chiefly addressed to the needs of the clergy. His Grammar had 



ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALLFRED 



CHAP. 



been made for the pupils in the monastic schools ; the Canones 
were a pastoral letter in Latin for the instruction of priests, and, 
in their two parts, dwelt on the clerical life and its duties, espe- 
cially 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 yElfric to write it. This dates the book. Wulf- 
sige was Bishop of Sherborne from about 998 to 1001. 

Shortly after he had finished this book at Winchester, 
.^Ethelmser, son of yEthelweard, who had founded a monastery 
for Benedictines at Egnesham (Eynsham), near Oxford, called 
^Elfric 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 fi rst book from Eynsham was a series of extracts 
from his master ^Ethelwold'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 y^Elfric 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. " ^Elfric, 
Abbot," it begins, "greets Sigeferth with friendship." 



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 sFthelwoldi, about 100S. 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 1014 and 1016. Wulfstan, when he stayed at Worcester 
and not at York, 1 lived not far from Eynsham, and when he 
received this Latin letter made /Elfric 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 Tempo rum Ratio ne, his De Temporibus, and his De 
Natura Rerum ; a sermon on the Sevenfold Gifts of the Holy 
Ghost, and an Admonition by a Spiritual Father to a Son entering 
the Religions 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 ^Elfric's. He died at Eynsham 
some time between 1020 and 1025. 

Wulfstan, who called himself Lupus, and to whom iElfric 
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 1010 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 ^Elfheah to be murdered 

1 Wulfstan was Archbishop of York from 1002 to 1023, and at the same 
time Bishop of Worcester from 1002 to 1016. 



286 ENGLISH PROSE FROM yELFRED chap. 

by the drunken pirates in ion. 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 ^Elfric'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. " Wala " for the wretchedness, and " wala " for the world-shame 
which now the English have, all through God's wrath! Often 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 burn, 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 
^Ethelred 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 
Bseda's scientific works ; a book of his own, De piincipiis mathe- 
maticis, and a Life of Duns tan. 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 philos- 



xvii TO THE CONQUEST 2S7 

ophy — 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 — yElfric, 
Wulfstan, and Byrchtfercth — are the chief writers in that revival 
of learning, which, begun by Dunstan at Glastonbury, continued 
by ^Ethelwold at Abingdon and Winchester, was raised to its 
height by ^Elfric at Winchester and Eynsham. They carry us 
forward to a few years after the death of ^Ethelred the Unwise, 
for JElfric died in 1020-25. The result of ^Elfric'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 
Alfred'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 iElfric, who was a very practical 
person, may have purposely poetised his prose for educational ends. 

The second result of ^Elfric's work was the extension of edu- 
cation and learning. The bishops, as we see from the demands 
made on ^Elfric 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 ^Elfric to the heads of 
the Church did extend to the clergy. They were no longer quite 
ignorant, as in Alfred'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 



288 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED chap. 

life : and so many small books on the lives of saints, on Chuich 
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 
^Elfred 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 
yEthelweard, a royal thegn, and son-in-law of Byrhtnoth who 
died at Maldon, not only read what ^Elfric wrote, but urged him 
into further writing, and had other writers than ^Elfric 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, ^Ethelmaer, another royal thegn, and 
a student of learning, almost lived with his friend ^Elfric 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 
iElfric's impulse, attached themselves to the society of the monas- 
tic scholars. 

The people, as well as the clergy and nobles, shared in the 
impulse which ^Elfric gave to England. He made for them a 
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 ^Elfric's impulse, 
again began to be the home of learned men — studious monks, 



TO THE CONQUEST 289 



like Byrchtfercth, 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 
Boc, already mentioned, belongs to the tenth century, but others, — 
A Catalogue of Presc7'iptions, 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 superstitions, belong to this eleventh 
century. Another set of books — a prose Dialogue between Salomo 
and Saturnus, quite distinct from the prose pieces in the elder 
Salomo and Saturnus ; another prose Dialogue betiueen 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 Evangelhim adorned at Lindisfarne in honour of 
St. Cuthbert with pictures and illuminations by Eadfrith about 



290 



ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED 



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 
surviving Missals known to have been used in the English Church 
during the Anglo-Saxon period." 1 

In this century the Danes had conquered England. ^Ethel- 
red had died in 1016. 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. He established Englishmen in all 
places of authority in England. The official language of England 
was 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 : 2 — 



1 Leofric Missal, edited by F. E. Warren, Clar. Press. 

2 Professor Stephens, however, assigns to the reign of Cnut the Lay of 
Abgar, King of Edessa, an Anglo-Saxon fragment taken from the legend of 
Abgar's letter to Christ praying the Healer to cure him of his illness. 



xvii 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 November 1035, 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 strengthening 
of Latin as the vehicle of learned writings in place of English. 
^Elfric, with all his kindness for his own tongue, had done with 
greater pleasure his Latin books. The Chronicle of -yEthelweard 
was in Latin. Wulfstan, a pupil of iEthelwold and monk of 
Winchester, wrote his book De tonorum harmonia 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 Swithuni. Thus in the first half of the eleventh 
century many Latin books were written, and the use of this tongue 
in monastic writings steadily increased. It is true that in 
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 



292 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED chap. 

Worcester, afterwards carried on to 1079 ; and the new edition of 
the Chronicle, which, begun in 1046 at Abingdon, was continued 
to 1056 ; and which, after a few years of meagre reports, was 
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 elsewhere 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 
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 Apollonius 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 ^lfric 
had bequeathed to his countrymen. Our sole manuscript of this 



TO THE CONQUEST 293 



is unfortunately a fragment. But it must have awakened a new 
sense of pleasure in its 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 to 
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 in 
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 Eadvvard'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 possible. 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 



294 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED 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 whiph 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 
French, 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 



xvii 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 
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 
the whole world w r ith life, and of quick-shaping into form what 
was felt and thought ; a satiric vein which tended to be savage 
in expression and reckless of fact ; a capacity for self-mockery ; 



296 ENGLISH PROSE FROM ALFRED 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. 

The Celtic elements did nearly as much for prose. They 
gave to English prose its natural movement, its subtility, its 



xvn 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 interwoven 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 admixt- 
ure 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 Alfred, ^Elfric, 
and the rest, a revival marked by absence of imaginative work 
and by a swift decay. The Northumbrian literature before 
Alfred 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 



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 



xvii 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 Gatilois, the audacious gaiety ; 
the loose and lively tale 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. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

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 
yElfric 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 enthu- 
siasm. 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 

300 



chap, xvin 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. The Winchester Annals, 
which form the Parker manuscript of the Chronicle, cease to be 
written in English in the year 1070. They had been preserved 
in Canterbury since 1005, but the entries between 1005 and 1070 
number only 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 Worcester Annals, on the contrary, were carefully kept up 
in English to the year 1079. They were probably continued up 
to 1 107, but this continuation was merged, it is supposed, in the 
Annals of Peterborough. Their English is still the English of 
^Elfric, 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 



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 from 1132 to 115 4, 
when, with the accession of Henry II., the English Ch?-onicle 
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 his 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 the 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, 



THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH 303 



with sincere and pleasant affection and pity, the history and mis- 
fortunes 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 coun- 
try their Dukes had conquered. 

In other monasteries than Worcester and 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 ^Elfric and iElfred, were read, copied, and reverenced. There 
was re-editing, but no making of books. The Homilies of 
^Elfric 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 rhythm 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 



304 THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH 



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 
the twelfth century, English, in spite of the tyranny of the French 
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 
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 



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 Eng- 
land, 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. Layamon 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 Heretvardi 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 Way land'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 



306 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 English and 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 
clustered. 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, 
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 



xviii THE PASSING OF OLD ENGLISH 307 

of sententious sayings attributed to King Alfred, the Proverbs of 
sElfred, 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 ^Efrich 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 sayings of the 
King, and each division begins with the words — "Thus quoth 
yElfred." 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 rhyming 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 northern and Provencal ; 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 nineteeth century — the Celtic to the Teutonic 
traditions as the subject-matter of its verse. 



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 1 start up in my strength ! Oft in stormy wrath, 

Hugely then I thunder, tear along in gusts, 

Fare above the floor of earth, burn the folk-halls down, 

Ravage all the rooms! 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! 

On my back I carry that which covered once 

All the tribes of Earth's indwellers, spirits and all flesh, 

In the sand together ! Say who shuts me in, 

Or what is my name — I who bear this burden! 

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 
308 



APPENDIX 309 



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 ! Totter then the horned halls, 
Village -steads of men ; all the walls are rocking 
High above the house-wards. . . . 

. . . Calm abideth, 
O'er the land, the lift ; lulled 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 flint, the flood ; foaming fighteth then 
'Gainst the wall of rock, the wave ! 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 cliffs. 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 — 



3io APPENDIX 



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 thunderings 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 ! 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 ! 

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 ! 
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. 



APPENDIX 311 



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 I've borne ! 
With a bitter breast-care I have been abiding : 
Many seats of sorrow in my ship have known ! 
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 ! 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 ! 

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 



312 APPENDIX 



The high streamings of the sea, and the sport of the salt waves ! 
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 woman is his weal ; in the world he's no delight, 
Nor in anything whatever save the tossing o'er the waves ! 
O for ever he has longing who is urged towards the sea. 



Yotmg Man — 

Trees rebloom with blossoms, burgs 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 ! 
Sings the summer'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 ! 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 ! 



APPENDIX 313 



THE WANDERER 

Prologue 

Oft a lonely wanderer wins at last to pity, 

Wins the grace of God, though, begloomed with care, 

He must o'er the water-ways, for a weary time, 

Push the ice-cold ocean, oaring with his hands, 

Wade through ways of banishment ! For the weird is fully 

wrought. 
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 ! 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! 

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 happened 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 ! 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 forestan ders has ! 
His the track of exile is, not the twisted gold, 
His the frozen bosom, not the earth's fertility ! 
He the Hall remembers then, heroes, and the treasure-taking, 
How of yore his Gold-friend, when he but a youngling was, 



3H APPENDIX 



Customed him to festal days ! 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 ! 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 familiar 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, 
O'er the welding of the waters his out-wearied heart ! 
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 ! 

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 thoroughly 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 — 



APPENDIX 315 



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 ! 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 ! 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 ? Whither went 

the Treasure-giver ? 
What befell the seats of feasting ? Whither fled the joys in 

hall? 
Ea la ! the beaker bright ! Ea la ! the byrnied 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 ! 
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 ! 
Darkens then the dusk of night, driving from the nor'rard 
Heavy drift of hail for the harm of heroes. 



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. 



316 APPENDIX 



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 ! 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! 
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. 

13. Woe is wonderfully clinging. Onward wend the clouds ; 
Valiant comrades ever shall their youthful yEtheling 
Bolden to the battle and the bracelet-giving ! 
Courage in the earl, sword-edge on the helm 
Bide the battle through ! 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. 



APPENDIX 317 



Exeter MS. (B.) 

1 . Frost shall freeze ; fire melt wood, 

Earth shall be growing, ice make a bridge, 
The Water-helm bear, and lock wondrously up 
The seedlings 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! Gems on a queen ; 
A good Scop 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 Housel, 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 bear 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. 



318 APPENDIX 



So he 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 1 were. 

Then on the other side of the shore stood the Vikings 1 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 thou 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 resolvest, — thou 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 booty, 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! 
Herald of the seamen! Answer back again, 
Telling to thy people tidings yet more dreadful : 
That here an Earl of honour standeth with his host, 
Who, fearless, will defend this, our fatherland, 

1 Heor5-werod, lit. hearth-troop. 



APPENDIX 319 



Kinsfolk and country, the realm of ^Ethelred — 
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 away 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. 1 ' 

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, 1 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, yElfere 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. 

1 Lucon lagustreamas, or, perhaps, " the waters enclosed them," 



320 APPENDIX 



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. 11 

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 iay dead on every side. 
Wulfmser was wounded, he chose the bed of death ; he was ByrhtnotrTs 
kinsman, his sisters 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 " 1 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 2 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^ 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 yEthelred. There stood beside him in the battle an un- 
waxen boy, the son of 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^ bracelets, his armour, rings, 
and graven sword. So Byrhtnoth drew his bill from its sheath, broad 

1 Burfiene, attendant, retainer. 
2 Southern may perhaps mean foreign. 



APPENDIX 321 



and brown-edged, and struck at his byrnie — 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 ail of the delightfulness I've found upon the earth. 
Now, O Lord of mercy, utmost need have I 
Grace upon my spirit that Thou grant me here ; 
So my soul in safety may soar aw r ay 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, ^lfnoth and Wulfmaer, were brought low, when 
they gave up their life beside their lord. Then there 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 had 
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 battle-field, 1 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, yEthelred'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 ^Elfric cheered them forth ; a warrior, young in winters, uttered 
words ; bravely he spake, y£lfwine said : — 

" Remember now the words which at mead we often spake 
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. 

1 This seems to be the most probable meaning of the passage "on dceg cer 
ascede, on fiam mceftehtede" etc., though it may perhaps refer more indefinitely 
to a " certain day " some time before that of the battle. 
Y 



322 APPENDIX 



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. 1 ' 

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. 

Offa spake, and shook his ashen spear : — 

" Lo! thou, ^Elfwine, hast every one uproused, 
All the thegns at need. Now our leader's low, 
Our earl 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 bewrayed. 
Many a man believed, as he the horse 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 ! " 

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 the battle my beloved lord. 
Neither round the Stourmere need the sturdy heroes 
Flout me in their words now my friend has fallen, 
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. 



APPENDIX 323^ 



Then Dunnere spake, an aged man, 1 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 Earl's 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 ./Escferth. 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 2 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 clove 
the hollow shield and warded them boldly. The shield rim was 
shattered and the byrnie sang a gruesome song. Then in the battle 
Offa 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-giver 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. 

1 Ceorl. 2 Betera — i.e. of course, his lord, Byrhtnoth. 



324 APPENDIX 



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 yEthelgar, emboldened them all to the 
fighting. Often he let the dart forth, the slaughter spear fly among 
the Vikings, 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. . . . 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

POETRY 

I. The Manuscripts 
i. Beowulf. 

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; the 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 nobilissimus poetice scriptus. Grimr. Jonsson 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) John 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 of 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 1071. He 
catalogued it himself as a my eel Englise boc be gehwilcum 
\>ingum on leodwisan gezvorht : " A mickle English book on all 
kinds of things wrought in verse. 11 It is still kept in Exeter 
325 



326 BIBLIOGRAPHY 



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: 1. The Christ. 2. 
Guthlac. 3. Azarias. 4. Phoenix. 5. Juliana. 6. Wanderer. 
7. Gifts of Men. 8. The Fathers 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. 

3. 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: 1. The Andreas. 2. Fates of 
the Apostles. 3. Address of the Soul to the Body. 4. False- 
ness 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. 

4. The Junian MS. of the (so-called) Caedmonian 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.) 

5. The Fight at Finsburg. 

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. Septentrionalium 
Thesaurus Grammatico-Criticus et Archaeologicus, Oxford, 1703- 
1705.") 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 327 



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. The Charms. 

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 Rune 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 Brunanburh 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 Hearne. (See vol. ii. pp. 570-577, 
"Johannis Glastoniensis Chronica sive Historia de Rebus 
Glastoniensibus," ed. Th. Hearnius, Oxonii, 1726.) 

II. Editions and Translations 

For a full bibliography of these, including foreign publications, 
the student is referred to Wulker's Grundriss zur Geschichte der 
Angelsdchsischen Litteratur, and also to the same scholar's edition 
of Grein's Bibliothek der Angelsachsischen 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) Caedmonian Poems were edited and translated 



328 BIBLIOGRAPHY 



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 modern 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, 1888.) 
Beowulf, edited by A. J. Wyatt (Camb. Univ. Press, 1894). 

Two valuable German editions of "Beowulf" are those of M. 

Heyne (Paderborn, 1879) an ^ A. Holder (Freiburg i. 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. 

Garnett (1882, Boston). Other translations of "Beowulf" 

have been issued by Thorpe, Kemble, T. Arnold, Lumsden- 

Hall, etc. 

2. The (so-called) Caedmonian 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 Caedmon" (London, i860). 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 329 



3. Judith. 

Judith, edited, with a free translation, by A. S. Cook (Boston, il 
The full Old English text is also given in Sweet's Anglo-Saxon 

Reader. 
Judith, literally translated by J. M. Garnett (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 Gollancz's Exeter Book. 

The Seafarer. 

Text in Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader (7th edition) . 
Translation, p. 312 of this book. 

Of the Wife's Complaint and the Husband's Message, a 
translation may be found in Thorpe's Exeter Book. 

5. The Poems of Cynewulf, 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" (Paderborn, 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 Gollancz's Exeter Book. 

The Christ. 

Edited with a modern rendering by I. Gollancz (D. Nutt, 

London, 1892). 
Text and translation also in Gollancz's Exeter Book. 

The Phoenix. 

Text in Bright's Anglo-Saxon Reader. 

Text and translation in Gollancz's Exeter Book. 

Guthlac. 

Text and translation in Gollancz's Exeter Book. 



33° BIBLIOGRAPHY 



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. Garnett (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 1840, 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. 

6. Other poems or fragments. 

Widsi^S, translated in Guest's " English Rhythms," p. 375. 

Deor, translated in Thorpe's Exeter Book. 

Finsburg, literal translation in Garnett'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. Garnett (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, 1889). 
A literal translation by J. Garnett (Boston, 1889). 

The Charms. 

Text of two of these in Sweet's Reader. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 331 



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 1 ' (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. 

Caedmon's Hymn and Basda'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 Alfred." 



PROSE 

I. 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. 
1. Alfred's translations, etc. : — 

The Cur a Pastor alts. Three MSS., dating from the end of 

the ninth or beginning of the tenth century ; one in the 

Bodleian, two in the British Museum. 
Basda'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 Museum. 
606^^5' De Consolatione 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 exists in the MS. which 

contains the poems of Beowulf. 
The Laws of sElfred. Four MSS., two at Cambridge, one at 

the British Museum, and the fourth, the Textus Roffensis. 
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. 



332 BIBLIOGRAPHY 



The other works attributed to Alfred are of slight importance, 
and the places of their MSS. need not be detailed. 

2. Of iE If ric's works, and of the few Homilies now allotted to 

Archbishop Wulfstan, 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. GuSlac, and we possess another Anglo- 
Saxon Life of Guftlac 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. XVII. 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 1001 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. D, written at Worcester, is also in the Museum. 

MS. E 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. G, 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 Alfred's Baeda. 



II. Editions and Translations 

For a full bibliography see, as before, Wulker's Grundriss. 

I. Works by Alfred, or attributed to him. 

A complete translation of these (without the Old English 
text) will be found in the Jubilee Edition of Alfred's Works, 
1852-53. 

In addition see the following : — 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 333 



Cur a Past or alis. 

Edited by Henry Sweet, with a translation (Early Eng. 

Text Soc, 1871). 
A translation of Alfred's Preface to this will be found on 
p. 221 of this book. 
BcBcid's 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 Bonn's Antiquarian Library. 
Or os ills'* 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 Bonn's Antiquarian Library. 
Boethius. 

Text and translation by J. S. Cardale (London, 1829; 

translation by S. Fox, in Bonn'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 Laws of sElfred. 

"Extracts from the Anglo-Saxon Laws," ed. by A. Cook 
(New York, 1880). 
The Dialogues of Gregory . 

Alfred'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 ^lfric. 

Homilies of the Anglo-Saxo?i Church, 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, 1896). 

Homilies of Wulfstan. 

Edited by Prof. Napier (Berlin, 1883), forming vol. iv. of 
Sajnmlung englischer Denkmaler in kritischen Ausgaben. 

Blickling Homilies. 

Edited by R. Morris, with translation (Early Eng. Text 
Soc, 1874-80). 



334 BIBLIOGRAPHY 



One of the Blickling Homilies may be found in Bright'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 found in the Rolls Series (Chronicles 
of Great Britain and Irela?id), Longmans, 1861. 



INDEX 



Acca, Bishop of Hexham, encouraged 
learning, 115 

Adamnan, his account of Arculf s voyage, 
114 and note 

Address of a Father to a Son, didactic 
poem, 206 

iElfred the Great, the father of English 
prose, 212; his early life and reign, 
212-214; h^ wars, 214, 216; his work 
in education, law, literature, 217-241, 
269-271 ; Proverbs of ALlfred, 307 

./Elfric, Abbot, his life and literary work, 
251, 279-288; his Homilies often 
copied, 303 

^Elfric Bata, his edition of ^lfric's Collo- 
quium, 281 

^Ethelberht, Archbishop, his work and 
scholarship, 121, 122 

^Ethelwold, 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 Alfred, 
218; his Life of the King, 237 

Augustine, St., his preaching of Chris- 
tianity in England, 107 

Azarias, the Prayer of, 134; natural 
description in, 103; part of it found 
in the Daniel, 149 



Bseda, his life and literary work, 115- 
120; his Ecclesiastical History, 117- 
119; translated by yElfred, 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 (1) 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 
Blickling Homilies, the, 75, 278, 279 
Boadicea, written of in English poetry, 13 
Boethius, his Consolation of Philosophy, 

translated by ^Elfred, 228, 229-234; 

his Metra, translated by whom ? 234, 

235 
Boniface, St., no 
Book of Martyrs, compiled by wish of 

Alfred (?), 237 
Britain, early races in, 1-8 ; early con- 

335 



336 



INDEX 



dition of, 9-1 1; bearing of this on 
literature, 11, 12; Roman occupa- 
tion of, 13 ; its influence on literature, 
14, 16-20 

Brunanburh, poem of the Battle of, 
2 55> 2 56 ; 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 

Byrhtnoth, poem on Death of. See 
Maldon 

Caedmon, his name, 127 ; life at Whitby, 
127, 128 ; Baeda's account of his 
vision, 128-131 ; his hymn, 129 and 
note; character of his work, 131-133; 
poems of the School of Ccednion, 134- 
151 ; Junian MS. of these, 135, 136. 
See also Genesis, Exodus, Daniel 

Canones /Elfrici, pastoral letter of 
yElfric, 283 

Celts, the ; their early migrations to 
Europe, 5, 6 ; their love of wild nature, 
11, 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, Cynewulfs 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, Alfred's 
work on, 224, 225, 227, note; poems 
and fragments of poems in the, 253, 
261 ; Alfred'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 Iona, 21 ; wrote 
lyrics 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, 101 ; 
relates conversion of Cynewulf (?), 
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 Bceda 

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- 
wulfs poem of, 90; the poem de- 
scribed, 176-179 



INDEX 



337 



English Literature, the mingling of 

elements in, 293-299 
Exeter Book. See Bibliography, pp. 

326, 327 
Exodus, description of battle in poem of 

the, 89 ; the poem described, 143-146 

Fallen Angels, poem of the, 248, 249 
Fates 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, 

104; 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, 25; 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, 

translated by yElfred, 219-223 ; his 

Dialogues, translated by Alfred, 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 

Hadnbratid and Hildebrand, Lay of, 81 
Handbook, King Alfred's, 218, 219 
Harrowing of Hell, war spirit in, 101, 

102; poem described, 249, 250 
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, ^Elfric's, 280 
Horn, the saga of, 306 
Husband's Message, poem of the, 153, 

154, 155, 156 

Ine, King of Wessex. See Laws 
Iona, monastery and school at, 21, 22 
Irish poetry, early, its influence on 
English literature, 20. See also Celts 
z 



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 
Lazv-Book, compiled by iElfred, 219 
Laws, of ^Ethelberht of Kent, 107, 

219; of Ine of Wessex, 109, no, 

219 ; of Offa, 219 
Leech Books, Old English, 278, 289, 303 
Leofric Missal, the, 290 
Lindisfarne 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, 255, 

256, 263-268, 318-325 
Malmesbury, school at, 108, 109 
Menologium, the, an Old English 

calendar, 251 
Mercia, learning and literature in, in, 

112, 124 
Merddin, Cymric poet, 29 

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 

Offa, King of Mercia, 112, 219 

Ohthere relates his voyage to Alfred, 
226, 227 

Orosius, his History of the World trans- 
lated by yElfred, 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 



338 



INDEX 



Oswiu, King of Northumbria, encour- 
ages Irish Christianity in England, 



Paleolithic tribes in Britain, 2 
Panther, fragment of poem on the, 204 
Paris Psalter, the, 236 and note 
Partridge, fragment of poem on the, 

204 
Passiones Sanctorum, ./Elfric's, 281, 282 
Paternoster, twelfth-century poem on 

the, 307 
Phoenix, nature in poem of the, 104, 

105 ; the poem described, 180-183 
Physiologus, the English, 203, 204 
Poema Morale, 307 
Pre-Celtic peoples in Britain, 1-5 

Rhyme 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 value 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 Cynewulf, 168, 175 

Rushworth Gospels, the, 290 

Ruthwell Cross, the, 132, 133 

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 
Scop, 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 Alfred, 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 Ainigmata, 108 
Theodore of Tarsus, his school at 

Canterbury, 107 ; the work of his 

successors, 108 

Vercelli 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, fragment of poem of, 50 
Waltheof saga of, 306 
Wanderer, poem of the, 153, 154, 155, 

157, 158, 314-317 
War in Old English poetry, 87-90; how 

affected by Christianity, 100-103 
Weirds of Men, poem on the, 208 
Weland, English saga of, 305 
Wessex, literary life of, before Alfred's 

time, 107-111 
Whale, fragment of poem on the, 204, 205 
Whitby (Streoneshalh), an educational 

centre, 22; synod of, 22. See Ccedtnon 
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, 114 
Willibald, his travels as missionary, no 
Winfrid. See Boniface 
Winwsed, verses on battle at the. in 
Wulfstan, voyage of, written down by 

Alfred, 224 
Wulfstan, Archbishop, his Homilies, 251, 

285, 286 
Wulfstan, monk of Winchester, literary 

work of, 291 

York, School of, 120, 125 



THE END 



THE HISTORY 

OF 

Early English Literature 

Being the History of English Poetry from its Beginnings 
to the Accession of King /Elf red. 

BY THE 

REV. STOPFORD A. BROOKE. 

WITH MAPS. 

Large i2mo. Gilt top. $2.50. 



NOTICES. 

" I had been eagerly awaiting it, and find it on examination distinctly the best 
treatise on its subject." — Prof. Charles F. Richardson, Dartmouth College. 

" I know of no literary estimate of Anglo-Saxon poetry that in breadth of view 
and sympathetic appreciation can be compared with this." — Prof. W. E. Mead, 
Wesley an University. 

" In this work we have the view of a real lover of literature, and we have its 
utterance in a diction graceful enough to make the reading an intellectual pleasure 
in itself." — The Christian Union. 

" No other book exists in English from which a reader unacquainted with 
Anglo-Saxon may gain so vivid a sense of the literary quality of our earliest poetrv." 

— The Dial. 

"A delightful exposition of the poetic spirit and achievement of the eighth 
century." — Chicago Tribune. 

" In Mr. Stopford Brooke's monumental work he strives with rare skill and 
insight to present our earliest national poetry as a living literature, and not as a 
mere material for research." — London Times. 

"It is a monument of scholarship and learning, while it furnishes an authentic 
history of English literature at a period when little before was known respecting it." 

— Public Opinion. 

" It is a comprehensive critical account of Anglo-Saxon poetry from its begin- 
nings to the accession of King Alfred. A thorough knowledge of the Anglo-Saxon 
language was needed by the man who undertook such a weighty enterprise, and 
this knowledge is possessed by Mr. Brooke in a degree probably unsurpassed by 
any living scholar." — Evening Bulletin. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 



A HISTORY 



OF 



Elizabethan Literature 



BY 



GEORGE SAINTSBURY. 



Price, $1.00, net. 



NOTICES. 



" The work has been most judiciously done and in a literary style and perfection 
which, alas, the present era has furnished too few examples." — Christian at Work. 

" Mr. Saintsbury has produced a most useful, first-hand survey — comprehensive, 
compendious, and spirited — of that unique period of literary history when 'all the 
muses still were in their prime.' One knows not where else to look for so well- 
proportioned and well-ordered conspectus of the astonishingly varied and rich 
products of the turning English mind during the century that begins with Tortel's 
Miscellany and the birth of Bacon, and closes with the restoration." — The Dial. 

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yet comprehensive, so judicious, weighty, and well written a review and critique of 
Elizabethan literature. But the analysis generally is eminently distinguished by 
insight, delicacy, and sound judgment, and that applies quite as much to the esti- 
mates of prose writers as to those of the poets and dramatists. ... A work which 
deserves to be styled admirable." — New York Tribune 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 



VALUABLE WORKS OF REFERENCE ON ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

A HISTORY 

OF 

Eighteenth Century 
Literature. 

(1660-1780.) 

BY 

EDMUND GOSSE, M.A., 

Clark Lecturer in English Literature at Trinity College, Cambridge. 



Price, $1.00, net. 



NOTICES. 

" Mr. Gosse's book is one for the student because of its fulness, its trustworthi- 
ness, and its thorough soundness of criticisms ; and one for the general reader 
because of its pleasantness and interest. It is a book, indeed, not easy to put down 
or to part with." — OSWALD CRAWFURD, in London Academy. 

" Mr. Gosse has in a sense preempted the eighteenth century. He is the most 
obvious person to write the history of its literature, and this attractive volume ought 
to be the final and standard work on his chosen theme." — The Literary World. 

" We have never had a more useful record of this period." 

— Boston Evening Traveler. 

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tion made from one style of writing to another. The plan is distinct and well-pre- 
served, but the continuity between parts is so close that unity and coherence mark 
the work in a material degree." — Boston Journal. 



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66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.