The use of the first person throughout and the opposing sentiments expressed have caused several scholars to consider the first part of the poem a dialogue between a young man eager to go to sea and an old sailor. The divisions of the speeches suggested have been as follows:

(By Hoenncher) (By Kluge) (By Rieger) 1-33a Sailor 1-33 Sailor 1-38a Sailor 33b-38 Youth 34-64 or 66 Youth 33b-38 Youth 39-43 Sailor 39-47 Sailor 44-52 Youth 48-52 Youth 53-57 Sailor 53-57 Sailor 58-64a Youth 58-71 Youth 71-end Sailor

Sweet, in his Anglo-Saxon Reader, objects to these theories since there are not only no headings or divisions in the manuscript to indicate such divisions, but there are no breaks or contrasts in the poem itself.

"If we discard these theories," he says, "the simplest view of the poem is that it is the monologue of an old sailor who first describes the hardships of the seafaring life, and then confesses its irresistible attraction, which he justifies, as it were, by drawing a parallel between the seafarer's contempt for the luxuries of the life on land on the one hand and the aspirations of a spiritual nature on the other, of which the sea bird is to him the type. In dwelling on these ideals the poet loses sight of the seafarer and his half-heathen associations, and as inevitably rises to a contemplation of the cheering hopes of a future life afforded by Christianity."

The dullness and obscurity of the last part of the poem, however, and the obvious similarity to the homilies of the time make it very unlikely that the whole poem was written by one author.]

I will sing of myself a song that is true, Tell of my travels and troublesome days, How often I endured days of hardship; Bitter breast-care I have borne as my portion, 5 Have seen from my ship sorrowful shores, Awful welling of waves; oft on watch I have been On the narrow night-wakes at the neck of the ship, When it crashed into cliffs; with cold often pinched Were my freezing feet, by frost bound tight 10 In its blighting clutch; cares then burned me, Hot around my heart. Hunger tore within My sea-weary soul. To conceive this is hard For the landsman who lives on the lonely shore— How, sorrowful and sad on a sea ice-cold, 15 I eked out my exile through the awful winter . . . . . . . . deprived of my kinsmen, Hung about by icicles; hail flew in showers. There I heard naught but the howl of the sea, The ice-cold surge with a swan-song at times; 20 The note of the gannet for gayety served me, The sea-bird's song for sayings of people, For the mead-drink of men the mew's sad note. Storms beat on the cliffs, 'mid the cry of gulls, Icy of feather; and the eagle screamed, 25 The dewy-winged bird. No dear friend comes With merciful kindness my misery to conquer. Of this little can he judge who has joy in his life, And, settled in the city, is sated with wine, And proud and prosperous— how painful it is 30 When I wearily wander on the waves full oft! Night shadows descended; it snowed from the north; The world was fettered with frost; hail fell to the earth, The coldest of corns. Yet course now desires Which surge in my heart for the high seas, 35 That I test the terrors of the tossing waves; My soul constantly kindles in keenest impatience To fare itself forth and far off hence To seek the strands of stranger tribes. There is no one in this world so o'erweening in power, 40 So good in his giving, so gallant in his youth, So daring in his deeds, so dear to his lord, But that he leaves the land and longs for the sea. By the grace of God he will gain or lose; Nor hearkens he to harp nor has heart for gift-treasures, 45 Nor in the wiles of a wife nor in the world rejoices. Save in the welling of waves no whit takes he pleasure; But he ever has longing who is lured by the sea. The forests are in flower and fair are the hamlets; The woods are in bloom, the world is astir: 50 Everything urges one eager to travel, Sends the seeker of seas afar To try his fortune on the terrible foam. The cuckoo warns in its woeful call; The summer-ward sings, sorrow foretelling, 55 Heavy to the heart. Hard is it to know For the man of pleasure, what many with patience Endure who dare the dangers of exile! In my bursting breast now burns my heart, My spirit sallies over the sea-floods wide, 60 Sails o'er the waves, wanders afar To the bounds of the world and back at once, Eagerly, longingly; the lone flyer beckons My soul unceasingly to sail o'er the whale-path, Over the waves of the sea.

64. At this point the dull homiletic passage begins. Much of it is quite untranslatable. A free paraphrase may be seen in Cook and Tinker, Translations from Old English Poetry, p. 47.



THE WIFE'S LAMENT

[Text used: Kluge, Angelsaechsisches Lesebuch, p. 146.

The meaning of some parts of this poem is very obscure—especially lines 18-21 and 42-47. No satisfactory explanation of them has been given. There is probably no relation except in general theme between it and The Husband's Message.]

Sorrowfully I sing my song of woe, My tale of trials. In truth I may say That the buffets I have borne since my birth in the world Were never more than now, either new or old. 5 Ever the evils of exile I endure! Long since went my lord from the land of his birth, Over the welling waves. Woeful at dawn I asked Where lingers my lord, in what land does he dwell? Then I fared into far lands and faithfully sought him, 10 A weary wanderer in want of comfort. His treacherous tribesmen contrived a plot, Dark and dastardly, to drive us apart The width of a world, where with weary hearts We live in loneliness, and longing consumes me. 15 My master commanded me to make my home here. Alas, in this land my loved ones are few, My faithful friends! Hence I feel great sorrow That the man well-matched with me I have found To be sad in soul and sorrowful in mind, 20 Concealing his thoughts and thinking of murder, Though blithe in his bearing. Oft we bound us by oath That the day of our death should draw us apart, Nothing less end our love. Alas, all is changed! Now is as naught, as if never it were, 25 Our faith and our friendship. Far and near I shall Endure the hate of one dear to my heart! He condemned me to dwell in a darksome wood, Under an oak-tree in an earth-cave drear. Old is the earth-hall. I am anxious with longing. 30 Dim are the dales, dark the hills tower, Bleak the tribe-dwellings, with briars entangled, Unblessed abodes. Here bitterly I have suffered The faring of my lord afar. Friends there are on earth Living in love, in lasting bliss, 35 While, wakeful at dawn, I wander alone Under the oak-tree the earth-cave near. Sadly I sit there the summer-long day, Wearily weeping my woeful exile, My many miseries. Hence I may not ever 40 Cease my sorrowing, my sad bewailing, Nor all the longings of my life of woe. Always may the young man be mournful of spirit, Unhappy of heart, and have as his portion Many sorrows of soul, unceasing breast-cares, 45 Though now blithe of behavior. Unbearable likewise Be his joys in the world. Wide be his exile To far-away folk-lands where my friend sits alone, A stranger under stone-cliffs, by storm made hoary, A weary-souled wanderer, by waters encompassed, 50 In his lonely lodging. My lover endures Unmeasured mind-care: he remembers too oft A happier home. To him is fate cruel Who lingers and longs for the loved one's return!



THE HUSBAND'S MESSAGE

[Text used: Kluge, Angelsaechsisches Lesebuch.

The piece of wood on which the message is written speaks throughout the poem. It is impossible to tell whether the sender of the message is husband or lover of the woman addressed.

Some scholars consider the riddle on "The Reed," number LX, as the true beginning of this poem. It precedes the "Message" in the manuscript. Hicketeir (Anglia, xi, 363) thinks that it does not belong with that riddle, but that it is itself a riddle. He cites the Runes, in lines 51-2, especially as evidence. Trautmann (Anglia xvi, 207) thinks that it is part of a longer poem, in which the puzzling relation would be straightened out.]

First I shall freely confide to you The tale of this tablet of wood. As a tree I grew up On the coast of Mecealde, close by the sea. Frequently thence to foreign lands 5 I set forth in travel, the salt streams tried In the keel of the ship at a king's behest. Full oft on the bosom of a boat I have dwelt, Fared over the foam a friend to see, Wherever my master on a mission sent me, 10 Over the crest of the wave. I am come here to you On the deck of a ship and in duty inquire How now in your heart you hold and cherish The love of my lord. Loyalty unwavering I affirm without fear you will find in his heart. 15 The maker of this message commands me to bid thee, O bracelet-adorned one, to bring to thy mind And impress on thy heart the promises of love That ye two in the old days often exchanged While at home in your halls unharmed you might still 20 Live in the land, love one another, Dwell in the same country. He was driven by feud From the powerful people. He prays now, most earnestly That you learn with delight you may launch on the sea-stream When from the height of the hill you hear from afar 25 The melancholy call of the cuckoo in the wood. Let not thereafter any living man Prevent thy voyage or prevail against it. Seek now the shore, the sea-mew's home! Embark on the boat that bears thee south, 30 Where far over the foam thou shalt find thy lord,— Where lingers thy lover in longing and hope. In the width of the world not a wish or desire More strongly stirs him (he instructs me to say) Than that gracious God should grant you to live 35 Ever after at ease together, To distribute treasures to retainers and friends, To give rings of gold. Of gilded cups And of proud possessions a plenty he has, And holds his home far hence with strangers, 40 His fertile fields, where follow him many High-spirited heroes— though here my liege-lord, Forced by the fates, took flight on a ship And on the watery waves went forth alone To fare on the flood-way: fain would he escape, 45 Stir up the sea-streams. By strife thy lord hath Won the fight against woe. No wish will he have For horses or jewels or the joys of mead-drinking, Nor any earl's treasures on earth to be found, O gentle lord's daughter, if he have joy in thee, 50 As by solemn vows ye have sworn to each other. I set as a sign S and R together, E, A, W, and D, as an oath to assure you That he stays for thee still and stands by his troth; And as long as he lives it shall last unbroken,— 55 Which often of old with oaths ye have plighted.

1-6. The text here is so corrupt that an almost complete reconstruction has been necessary.

51. In the manuscript these letters appear as runes. For illustrations of the appearance of runes, see the introductory note to "Cynewulf and his School," p. 95, below. What these runes stood for, or whether they were supposed to possess unusual or magic power is purely a matter of conjecture.



THE RUIN

[Text used: Kluge, Angelsaechsisches Lesebuch.

This description of a ruin with hot baths is generally assumed to be of the Roman city of Bath. The fact that the poet uses unusual words and unconventional lines seems to indicate that he wrote with his eye on the object.]

Wondrous is its wall-stone laid waste by the fates. The burg-steads are burst, broken the work of the giants. The roofs are in ruins, rotted away the towers, The fortress-gate fallen, with frost on the mortar. 5 Broken are the battlements, low bowed and decaying, Eaten under by age. The earth holds fast The master masons: low mouldering they lie In the hard grip of the grave, till shall grow up and perish A hundred generations. Hoary and stained with red, 10 Through conquest of kingdoms, unconquered this wall endured, Stood up under storm. The high structure has fallen. Still remains its wall-stone, struck down by weapons. They have fallen . . . . . . . . . Ground down by grim fate . . . . . . . . 15 Splendidly it shone . . . . . . . . The cunning creation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . from its clay covering is bent; Mind . . . . . . the swift one drawn. The bold ones in counsel bound in rings 19 The wall-foundations with wires, wondrously together. 20 Bright were the burgher's homes, the bath halls many, Gay with high gables —a great martial sound, Many mead-halls, where men took their pleasure, Till an end came to all, through inexorable fate. The people all have perished; pestilence came on them: 25 Death stole them all, the staunch band of warriors. Their proud works of war now lie waste and deserted; This fortress has fallen. Its defenders lie low, Its repairmen perished. Thus the palace stands dreary, And its purple expanse; despoiled of its tiles 30 Is the roof of the dome. The ruin sank to earth, Broken in heaps —there where heroes of yore, Glad-hearted and gold-bedecked, in gorgeous array, Wanton with wine-drink in war-trappings shone: They took joy in jewels and gems of great price, 35 In treasure untold and in topaz-stones, In the firm-built fortress of a far-stretching realm. The stone courts stood; hot streams poured forth, Wondrously welled out. The wall encompassed all In its bright embrace. Baths were there then, 40 Hot all within —a healthful convenience. They let then pour . . . . . . . . . . Over the hoary stones the heated streams, Such as never were seen by our sires till then. Hringmere was its name . . . . . . . . . . 45 The baths were there then; then is . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That is a royal thing In a house . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

14-18. The text is too corrupt to permit of reconstruction. A literal translation of the fragmentary lines has been given in order to show the student something of the loss we have suffered in not having the whole of this finely conceived lament for fallen grandeur. The line numbers are those of Kluge's text.



II. CHRISTIAN POETRY



1. CAEDMONIAN SCHOOL

[Concerning the man Caedmon, we have nothing but Bede's account in his Ecclesiastical History (see p. 179 below) and Caedmon's Hymn.

Genesis was first published in Amsterdam 1655, next in 1752. The first editions brought Genesis under Caedmon's name, because of Bede's account. There is, however, no such clue in the manuscript. The assignment of Genesis to Caedmon was questioned by Hicks as early as 1689. The Caedmonian authorship was defended in the early part of the nineteenth century by Conybeare and Thorpe. It is now agreed that all the Caedmonian Paraphrases are probably by different authors.

Cf. A. S. Cook, "The Name Caedmon," Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, vi, 9, and "Caedmon and the Ruthwell Cross," Modern Language Notes, v, 153.]

CAEDMON'S HYMN

[Text used: Kluge, Angelsaechsisches Lesebuch.

Prose translation: Kennedy, The Caedmon Poems, p. xvii.

The poem is interesting in that it is found in two texts, the Northumbrian and the West Saxon. It is the only thing we have that was undoubtedly written by Caedmon.]

Now shall we praise the Prince of heaven, The might of the Maker and his manifold thought, The work of the Father: of what wonders he wrought The Lord everlasting, when he laid out the worlds. 5 He first raised up for the race of men The heaven as a roof, the holy Ruler. Then the world below, the Ward of mankind, The Lord everlasting, at last established As a home for man, the Almighty Lord. Primo cantavit Caedmon istud carmen.

6. The many synonyms (known as "kennings") make this passage impossible to translate into smooth English. This fact is true in a measure of all old English poetry, but it is especially the case with this hymn.

BEDE'S DEATH SONG

[Text used: Kluge, Angelsaechsisches Lesebuch.

This poem was attributed to Bede, who died in 735, by his pupil, Cuthbert, who translated it into Latin. The Northumbrian version is in a manuscript at St. Gall.

These verses are examples of gnomic poetry, which was very popular in Old English literature. Miss Williams, in her Gnomic Poetry in Anglo-Saxon (Columbia University Press, 1914), p. 67, says that this is the earliest gnomic expression in Old English for which a definite date may be set.

Text criticism: Charlotte D'Evelyn, "Bede's Death Song," Modern Language Notes, xxx, 31.]

Before leaving this life there lives no one Of men of wisdom who will not need To consider and judge, ere he sets on his journey, What his soul shall be granted of good or evil— 5 After his day of death what doom he shall meet.

1. Bede, the author of the Ecclesiastical History of England, was the greatest figure in the English church of the seventh and eighth centuries.



SELECTIONS FROM GENESIS

[The poem readily divides itself into two parts: Genesis A, the bulk of the poem, and Genesis B, lines 235-853. The latter is a translation from the Old Saxon. The passage here translated is from Genesis A.



GENESIS A

Critical edition of Genesis A: F. Holthausen, Die aeltere Genesis, Heidelberg, 1914.

Translation: C. W. Kennedy, The Caedmon Poems, New York, 1916, p. 7.

Partial translation: W. F. H. Bosanquet, The Fall of Man or Paradise Lost of Caedmon, London, 1869.

Date and place: Early eighth century; Northern England. The author was obviously acquainted with Beowulf.

Source: Vulgate Bible; first twenty-two chapters.]

The Offering of Isaac

2845 Then the powerful King put to the test His trusted servant; tried him sorely To learn if his love was lasting and certain. With strongest words he sternly said to him: "Hear me and hasten hence, O Abraham. 2850 As thou leavest, lead along with thee Thy own child Isaac! As an offering to me Thyself shalt sacrifice thy son with thy hands. When thy steps have struggled up the steep hill-side, To the height of the land which from here I shall show you— 2855 When thine own feet have climbed, there an altar erect me, Build a fire for thy son; and thyself shalt kill him With the edge of the sword as a sacrifice to me; Let the black flame burn the body of that dear one." He delayed not his going, but began at once 2860 To prepare for departure: he was compelled to obey The angel of the Lord, and he loved his God. And then the faultless father Abraham Gave up his night's rest; he by no means failed To obey the Lord's bidding, but the blessed man 2865 Girded his gray sword, God's spirit he showed That he bore in his breast. His beasts then he fed, This aged giver of gold. To go on the journey Two young men he summoned: his son made the third; He himself was the fourth. He set forward eagerly 2870 From his own home and Isaac with him, The child ungrown, as charged by his God. Then he hurried ahead and hastened forth Along the paths that the Lord had pointed, The way through the waste; till the wondrous bright 2875 Dawn of the third day over the deep water Arose in radiance. Then the righteous man Saw the hill-tops rise high around him, As the holy Ruler of heaven had shown him. Then Abraham said to his serving-men: 2880 "O men of mine, remain here now Quietly in this place! We shall quickly return When we two have performed the task before us Which the Sovereign of souls has assigned us to do." The old man ascended with his own son 2885 To the place which the Lord had appointed for them, Went through the wealds; the wood Isaac carried— His father the fire and the sword. Then first inquired The boy young in winters, in these words of Abraham: "Fire and sword, my father, we find here ready: 2890 Where is the glorious offering which to God on the altar Thou thinkest to bring and burn as a sacrifice?" Abraham answered (he had only one thing That he wished to perform, the will of the Father): "The Sovereign of all himself shall find it, 2895 As the Lord of men shall believe to be meet." Up the steep hill struggled the stout-hearted man, Leading the child as the Lord had charged, Till climbing he came to the crest of the height, To the place appointed by the powerful Lord, 2900 Following the commands of his faithful Master. He loaded the altar and lighted the fire, And fettered fast the feet and hands Of his beloved son and lifted upon it The youthful Isaac, and instantly grasped 2905 The sword by the hilt; his son he would kill With his hands as he promised and pour on the fire The gore of his kinsman. —Then God's servant, An angel of the Lord, to Abraham loudly Spoke with words. He awaited in quiet 2910 The behests from on high and he hailed the angel. Then forthwith spoke from the spacious heavens The messenger of God, with gracious words: "Burn not thy boy, O blessed Abraham, Lift up the lad alive from the altar; 2915 The God of Glory grants him his life! O man of the Hebrews, as meed for thy obedience, Through the holy hand of heaven's King, Thyself shall receive a sacred reward, A liberal gift: the Lord of Glory 2920 Shall favor thee with fortune; his friendship shall be More sacred than thy son himself to thee." The altar still burned. Abraham was blessed By the King of mankind, the kinsman of Lot, With the grace of God, since he gave his son, 2925 Isaac, alive. Then the aged man looked Around over his shoulder, and a ram he saw Not far away fastened alone In a bramble bush— Haran's brother saw it. Then Abraham seized it and set it on the altar 2930 In eager haste for his own son. With his sword he smote it; as a sacrifice he adorned The reeking altar with the ram's hot blood, Gave to his God this gift and thanked him For all of the favors that before and after 2935 The Lord had allowed him in his loving grace.

1. This selection is based directly on the biblical account of the offering of Isaac. The clearness with which the picture is visualized by the poet, and the fine restraint in the telling of the dramatic incident make this passage a fitting close for the paraphrase of Genesis.

2928. Haran, the brother of Abraham, is mentioned in Genesis, 11:26, ff.



SELECTIONS FROM EXODUS

[Critical edition: Francis A. Blackburn, Exodus and Daniel, Boston and London, 1907, Belles-Lettres Series.

Translation: Kennedy, The Caedmon Poems, p. 99.

There can be no doubt that both Exodus and Daniel are by different hands from Genesis A or Genesis B, and they are themselves by different authors.]

The Crossing of the Red Sea

When these words had been uttered the army arose; 300 Still stood the sea for the staunch warriors. The cohorts lifted their linden-shields, Their signals on the sand. The sea-wall mounted, Stood upright over Israel's legion, For day's time; then the doughty band 305 Was of one mind. The wall of the sea-streams Held them unharmed in its hollow embrace. They spurned not the speech nor despised its teaching, As the wise man ended his words of exhorting And the noise diminished and mingled with the sound. 310 Then the fourth tribe traveled foremost, Went into the waves, the warriors in a band Over the green ground; the goodly Jewish troop Struggled alone over the strange path Before their kinsmen. So the King of heaven 315 For that day's work made deep reward, He gave them a great and glorious victory, That to them should belong the leadership In the kingdom, and triumph over their kinsmen and tribesmen. When they stepped on the sand, as a standard and sign 320 A beacon they raised over the ranks of shields, Among the godly group, a golden lion, The boldest of beasts over the bravest of peoples. At the hands of their enemy no dishonor or shame Would they deign to endure all the days of their life, 325 While boldly in battle they might brandish their shields Against any people. The awful conflict, The fight was at the front, furious soldiers Wielding their weapons, warriors fearless, And bloody wounds, and wild battle-rushes, 330 The jostling of helmets where the Jews advanced. Marching after the army were the eager seamen, The sons of Reuben; raising their shields The sea-vikings bore them over the salt waves, A multitude of men; a mighty throng 335 Went bravely forth. The birthright of Reuben Was forfeited by his sins, so that he followed after In his comrade's track. In the tribes of the Hebrews, The blessings of the birthright his brother enjoyed, His riches and rank; yet Reuben was brave. 340 Following him came the folk in crowds, The sons of Simeon in swarming bands, The third great host. With hoisted banners Over the watery path the war-troop pressed Dewy under their shafts. When daylight shone 345 Over the brink of the sea, —the beacon of God, The bright morning,— the battle-lined marched. Each of the tribes traveled in order. At the head of the helmeted host was one man, Mightiest in majesty and most renowned; 350 He led forward the folk as they followed the cloud, By tribes and by troops. Each truly knew The right of rank as arranged by Moses, Every man's order. They were all from one father. Their sacred sire received his land-right, 355 Wise in counsel, well-loved by his kinsmen. He gave birth to a brave, bold-hearted race, The sage patriarch to a sacred people, To the Children of Israel, the chosen of God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The folk were affrighted with fear of the ocean; Sad were their souls. The sea threatened death; The sides of the hill were soaked with blood; 450 Gory was the flood, confusion on the waves, The water full of weapons; the wave-mist arose. The Egyptians turned and journeyed backward; They fled in fright; fear overtook them; Hurrying in haste their homes they sought; 455 Their pride had fallen; they felt sweep over them The welling waters; not one returned Of the host to their homes, but behind they were locked By Wyrd in the waves. Where once was the path The breakers beat and bore down the army. 460 The stream stood up; the storm arose High to the heavens, the harshest of noises. Dark grew the clouds. The doomed ones cried With fated voices; the foam became bloody. The sea-walls were scattered and the skies were lashed 465 With the direst of deaths; the daring ones were slain, The princes in their pomp— they were past all help In the edge of the ocean. Their armor shone High over the hosts. Over the haughty ones poured The stream in its strength. Destroyed were the troop 470 And fettered fast; they could find no escape. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Egyptians were For that day's work deeply punished, Because not any of the army ever came home; Of that mighty multitude there remained not a one 510 Who could tell the tale of the traveling forth Who could announce in the cities the sorrowful news To the wives of the warriors of the woeful disaster. But the sea-death swallowed the sinful men, And their messengers too, in the midst of their power, 515 And destroyed their pride, for they strove against God.

299. Moses has just finished telling the children of Israel that he has been able to make the sea part its waves so that they may walk across unharmed.

307, 308. This passage is obscure in meaning.

310. The tribe of Judah lead the way. They are followed by the tribe of Reuben (v. 331) and then by the tribe of Simeon (v. 340). This order is perhaps taken from Numbers, chapter ii.

331. The Children of Israel are called "sailors" in the poem, but no satisfactory explanation has been made of the usage.

335, 336. See Genesis 49:4.

354. This refers to God's promise to Abraham. See Genesis 15:18; 22:17.



2. CYNEWULF AND HIS SCHOOL

[Aside from Caedmon's Hymn, the only Old English poems whose author we know are four bearing the name of Cynewulf, Christ, Juliana, Elene, and The Fates of the Apostles. In these he signs his name by means of runes inserted in the manuscript. These runes, which are at once letters of the alphabet and words, are made to fit into the context. They are [image: Anglo-Saxon runes: cen,yr,nyd,eoh,wynn,ur,lagu,feoh]

Several other poems have been ascribed to Cynewulf, especially Andreas, The Dream of the Rood, Guthlac, The Phoenix, and Judith. Except for internal evidence there is no proof of the authorship of these poems. The Riddles were formerly thought to be by Cynewulf, but recent scholars have, with one notable exception, abandoned that theory.

Many reconstructions of the life of Cynewulf have been undertaken. The most reasonable theories seem to be that he was Cynewulf, Bishop of Lindisfarne, who died about 781; or that he was a priest, Cynewulf, who executed a decree in 803. There is no real proof that either of these men was the poet. For a good discussion of the Cynewulf question, see Strunk, Juliana, pp. xvii-xix, and Kennedy, The Poems of Cynewulf, Introduction.

Of the signed poems of Cynewulf, selections are here given from Christ and Elene.]



a. CYNEWULF



SELECTIONS FROM THE CHRIST

[Critical edition: Cook, The Christ of Cynewulf, Boston, 1900. Text and translation: Gollancz, Cynewulf's Christ, London, 1892. Translation: Kennedy, The Poems of Cynewulf, pp. 153, ff. The poem consists of three parts:

1. Advent, largely from the Roman breviary. 2. Ascension, taken from an Ascension sermon of Pope Gregory. 3. Second coming of Christ, taken from an alphabetical Latin hymn on the Last Judgment, quoted by Bede.

Is there enough unity to make us consider it one work? Cook thinks we can. The differences in the language and meter are not so striking as to make it unlikely. The great objection to it is that the runes occur at the end of the second part, which is not far from the middle of the entire poem. In the three other poems signed by Cynewulf the runes occur near the end.]

1. Hymn to Christ

. . . . . . . . . . . to the King. Thou art the wall-stone that the workmen of old Rejected from the work. Well it befits thee To become the head of the kingly hall, 5 To join in one the giant walls In thy fast embrace, the flint unbroken; That through all the earth every eye may see And marvel evermore, O mighty Prince, Declare thy accomplishments through the craft of thy hand, 10 Truth-fast, triumphant, and untorn from its place Leave wall against wall. For the work it is needful That the Craftsman should come and the King himself And raise that roof that lies ruined and decayed, Fallen from its frame. He formed that body, 15 The Lord of life, and its limbs of clay, And shall free from foemen the frightened in heart, The downcast band, as he did full oft. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

2. Hymn to Jerusalem

50 O vision of happiness! holy Jerusalem! Fairest of king's thrones! fortress of Christ! The home-seat of angels, where the holy alone, The souls of the righteous, shall find rest unceasing, Exulting in triumph. No trace of sin 55 Shall be made manifest in that mansion of bliss, But all faults shall flee afar from thee, All crime and conflict; thou art covered with glory Of highest hope, as thy holy name showest. Cast now thy gaze on the glorious creation, 60 How around thee the roomy roof of heaven Looks on all sides, how the Lord of Hosts Seeks thee in his course and comes himself, And adopts thee to dwell in, as in days agone In words of wisdom the wise men said, 65 Proclaimed Christ's birth as a comfort to thee, Thou choicest of cities! Now the child has come, Born to make worthless the work of the Hebrews. He bringeth thee bliss; thy bonds he unlooseth; He striveth for the stricken; understandeth their needs,— 70 How woeful men must wait upon mercy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1. This poem begins in the fragmentary manner indicated by the translation.

2. See Psalms 118:22.

3. Joseph and Mary

[Mary] "O my Joseph, O Jacob's son, 165 Kinsman of David, the king renowned, Dost thou plan to turn from thy plighted troth, And leave my love?" [Joseph] "Alas, full soon I am oppressed with grief and deprived of honor. I have borne for thee many bitter words, 170 Insulting slurs and sorrowful taunts, Scathing abuses, and they scorn me now In wrathful tones. My tears I shall pour In sadness of soul. My sorrowful heart, My grief full easily our God may heal, 175 And not leave me forlorn. Alas, young damsel, Mary maiden!" [Mary] "Why bemoanest thou And bitterly weepest? No blame in thee, Nor any fault have I ever found For wicked works, and this word thou speakest 180 As if thou thyself with sinful deeds And faults wert filled." [Joseph] "Far too much grief Thy conception has caused me to suffer in shame. How can I bear their bitter taunts Or ever make answer to my angry foes 185 Who wish me woe? 'Tis widely known That I took from the glorious temple of God A beautiful virgin of virtue unblemished, The chastest of maidens, but a change has now come, Though I know not the cause. Nothing avails me— 190 To speak or to be silent. If I say the truth, Then the daughter of David shall die for her crime, Struck down with stones; yet still it were harder To conceal the sin; forsworn forever I should live my life loathed by all people, 195 By men reviled." Then the maid revealed The work of wonder, and these words she spoke: "Truly I say, by the Son of the Creator The Savior of souls, the Son of God, I tell thee in truth that the time has not been 200 That the embrace of a mortal man I have known On all the earth; but early in life This grace was granted me, that Gabriel came, The high angel of heaven, and hailed me in greeting, In truthful speech: that the Spirit of heaven With his light should illumine me, that life's Glory by me 205 Should be borne, the bright Son, the blessed Child of God, Of the kingly Creator. I am become now his temple, Unspoiled and spotless; the Spirit of comfort Hath his dwelling in me. Endure now no longer Sorrow and sadness, and say eternal thanks 210 To the mighty Son of the Maker, that his mother I have become, Though a maid I remain, and in men's opinion Thou art famed as his father, if fulfillment should come Of the truth that the Prophets foretold of his coming." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

164. This passage is especially interesting in being one of the first appearances of the dialogue form in old English. Some scholars have gone so far as to think that we have here the germ from which English drama comes, but there does not seem reason to believe that the scene ever received any kind of dramatic representation.

4. Rune Passage

Not ever on earth need any man 780 Have dread of the darts of the devil's race, Of the fighting of the fiends, whose defense is in God, The just Lord of Hosts. The judgment is nigh When each without fail shall find his reward, Of weal or of woe, for his work on the earth 785 During the time of his life. 'Tis told us in books, How from on high the humble one came, The Treasure-hoard of honor, to the earth below In the Virgin's womb, the valiant Son of God, Holy from on high. I hope in truth 790 And also dread the doom far sterner, When Christ and his angels shall come again, Since I kept not closely the counsels my Savior Bade in his books. I shall bear therefore To see the work of sin (it shall certainly be) 795 When many shall be led to meet their doom, To receive justice in the sight of their Judge. Then the Courageous shall tremble, shall attend the King, The Righteous Ruler, when his wrath he speaks To the worldlings who weakly his warning have heeded 800 While their Yearning and Need even yet could have easily Found a comfort. There, cowering in fear, Many wearily shall wait on the wide plain What doom shall be dealt them for the deeds of their life, Of angry penalties. Departed hath Winsomeness, 805 The ornaments of earth. It Used to be true That long our Life-joys were locked in the sea-streams, Our Fortunes on earth; in the fire shall our treasure Burn in the blast; brightly shall mount, The red flame, raging and wrathfully striding 810 Over the wide world; wasted shall be the plains; The castles shall crumble; then shall climb the swift fire, The greediest of guests, grimly and ruthlessly Eat the ancient treasure that of old men possessed While still on the earth was their strength and their pride. 815 Hence I strive to instruct each steadfast man That he be cautious in the care of his soul, And not pour it forth in pride in that portion of days That the Lord allows him to live in the world, While the soul abideth safe in the body, 820 In that friendly home. It behooveth each man To bethink him deeply in the days of his life How meekly and mildly the mighty Lord Came of old to us by an angel's word; Yet grim shall he be when again he cometh, 825 Harsh and righteous. Then the heavens shall rock, And the measureless ends of the mighty earth Shall tremble in terror. The triumphant King Shall avenge their vain and vicious lives, Their loathsome wickedness. Long shall they wallow 830 With heavy hearts in the heat of the fire bath, Suffer for their sins in its surging flame.

779. The passage following contains the runes from which we obtain the name Cynewulf. The runes are at once a word and a letter, in the same way that our letter I is also the symbol for the first personal pronoun. In the places where the meaning fits, Cynewulf has written the runes that spell his name.

804. In this passage the runes omit the e of the poet's name, although it is found in the other runic passages.



SELECTIONS FROM THE ELENE

[Critical edition: Holthausen, Kynewulf's Elene, Heidelberg, 1905.

Translation: Kennedy, The Poems of Cynewulf, pp. 87 ff.; Kemble, The Poetry of the Codex Vercelliensis, with an English translation, London, 1856.

Source: Acta Sanctorum for May 4.

The first passage describes the vision of the cross by the Emperor Constantine, the second the finding of the true cross by his mother, Helena, in Old English, "Elene."

The poem is usually regarded as Cynewulf's masterpiece.]

1. The Vision of the Cross

. . . . . . . . Heart-care oppressed The Roman ruler; of his realm he despaired; He was lacking in fighters; too few were his warriors, His close comrades to conquer in battle 65 Their eager enemy. The army encamped, Earls about their aetheling, at the edge of the stream, Where they spread their tents for the space of the night, After first they had found their foes approach. To Caesar himself in his sleep there came 70 A dream as he lay with his doughty men, To the valiant king a vision appeared: It seemed that he saw a soldier bright, Glorious and gleaming in the guise of a man More fair of form than before or after 75 He had seen under the skies. From his sleep he awoke, Hastily donned his helmet. The herald straightway, The resplendent messenger spoke unto him, Named him by name —the night vanished away: "O Constantine, the King of angels bids— 80 The Master Almighty, to make thee a compact, The Lord of the faithful. No fear shouldst thou have, Though foreign foes bring frightful war, And horrors unheard of! To heaven now look, To the Guardian of glory: Thou shalt gain there support, 85 The sign of victory!" Soon was he ready To obey the holy bidding, and unbound his heart, And gazed on high, as the herald had bade him, The princely Peace-weaver. With precious jewels adorned, He saw the radiant rood over the roof of clouds, 90 Gorgeous with gold and gleaming gems. The brilliant beam bore these letters Shining with light: "Thou shalt with this sign Overcome and conquer in thy crying need The fearsome foe." Then faded the light, 95 And joining the herald, journeyed on high Unto the clean-hearted company. The king was the blither, And suffered in his soul less sorrow and anguish, The valiant victor, through the vision fair. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

92. This is a translation of the famous Latin motto in hoc signo vinces.

2. The Discovery of the Cross

Striving in strength and with steadfast heart, 830 He began to delve for the glorious tree Under its covering of turf, till at twenty feet Below the surface concealed he found Shut out from sight, under the shelving cliff, In the chasm of darkness —three crosses he found, In their gloomy grave together he found them,— 835 Grimy all over, as in ancient days The unrighteous race had wrapped them in earth, The sinful Jews. Against the Son of God They showed their hate as they should not have done Had they not harkened to the behests of the devil. 840 Then blithe was his heart and blissful within him. His soul was inspired by the sacred tree. His heart was emboldened when he beheld that beacon Holy and deep hidden. With his hands he seized The radiant cross of heaven, and with his host he raised it 845 From its grave in the earth. The guests from afar And princes and aethelings went all to the town. In her sight they set the three sacred trees, The proud valiant men, plain to be seen Before Elene's knee. And now was joy 850 In the heart of the Queen; she inquired of the men On which of the crosses the crucified Lord, The heavenly Hope-giver, hung in pain: "Lo! we have heard from the holy books It told for a truth that two of them 855 Suffered with him and himself was the third On the hallowed tree. The heavens were darkened In that terrible time. Tell, if you can, On which of these roods the Ruler of angels, The Savior of men suffered his death. 860 In no wise could Judas —for he knew not at all— Clearly reveal that victory tree On which the Lord was lifted high, The son of God, but they set, by his order, In the very middle of the mighty city 865 The towering trees to tarry there, Till the Almighty King should manifest clearly Before the multitude the might of that marvelous rood. The assembly sat, their song uplifted; They mused in their minds on the mystery trees 870 Until the ninth hour when new delight grew Through a marvelous deed. —There a multitude came, Of folk not a little, and, lifted among them, There was borne on a bier by brave-hearted men Nigh to the spot —it was the ninth hour— 875 A lifeless youth. Then was lifted the heart Of Judas in great rejoicing and gladness. He commanded them to set the soulless man, With life cut off, the corpse on the earth, Bereft of life, and there was raised aloft 880 By the proclaimer of justice, the crafty of heart, The trusty in counsel, two of the crosses Over that house of death. It was dead as before The body fast to the bier: about the chill limbs Was grievous doom. Then began the third cross 885 To be lifted aloft. There lay the body, Until above him was reared the rood of the Lord, The holy cross of heaven's King, The sign of salvation. He soon arose With spirit regained, and again were joined 890 Body and soul. Unbounded was the praise And fair of the folk. The Father they thanked And the true and sacred Son of the Almighty With gracious words. —Glory and praise be his Always without end from every creature.

829. After Constantine has accepted Christianity, his mother Helena (Elene) undertakes a pilgrimage to the Holy Land for the purpose of discovering the true cross. After many failures she finally learns where it is hidden. The passage here translated relates the discovery of the cross.



b. ANONYMOUS POEMS OF THE CYNEWULFIAN SCHOOL



THE DREAM OF THE ROOD

[Critical edition: Cook, The Dream of the Rood, Oxford, 1905.

Author: "Making all due allowance, then, for the weakness of certain arguments both pro and con, the balance of probability seems to incline decidedly in favor of Cynewulfian authorship."—Cook.

Translations: English Prose: Kemble. Verse: Stephens, 1866; Morley, 1888; Miss Iddings, 1902.

The poem has much in common with Elene, especially the intimate self-analysis. Portions of it are on the Ruthwell Cross in Dumfriesshire. It is claimed as Cynewulf's, but there is nothing to indicate this except the beauty of style, which has caused it to be called "the choicest blossom of Old English Christian poetry."]

Lo, I shall tell you the truest of visions, A dream that I dreamt in the dead of night While people reposed in peaceful sleep. I seemed to see the sacred tree 5 Lifted on high in a halo of light, The brightest of beams; that beacon was wholly Gorgeous with gold; glorious gems stood Fair at the foot; and five were assembled, At the crossing of the arms. The angels of God looked on, 10 Fair through the firmament. It was truly no foul sinner's cross, For beholding his sufferings were the holy spirits, The men of the earth and all of creation. Wondrous was that victory-wood, and I wounded and stained With sorrows and sins. I saw the tree of glory 15 Blessed and bright in brilliant adornments, Made joyous with jewels. Gems on all sides Full rarely enriched the rood of the Savior. Through the sight of that cross I came to perceive Its stiff struggle of old, when it started first 20 To bleed on the right side. I was broken and cast down with sorrow; The fair sight inspired me with fear. Before me the moving beacon Changed its clothing and color. At times it was covered with blood Fearful and grimy with gore. At times with gold 'twas adorned. Then I lay and looked for a long time 25 And saw the Savior's sorrowful tree Until I heard it lift high its voice. The worthiest of the wood-race formed words and spoke: "It was ages ago —I shall always remember— When first I was felled at the forest's edge, 30 My strong trunk stricken. Then strange enemies took me And fashioned my frame to a cross; and their felons I raised on high. On their backs and shoulders they bore me to the brow of the lofty hill. There the hated ones solidly set me. I saw there the Lord of Mankind Struggling forward with courage to climb my sturdy trunk. 35 I dared not then oppose the purpose of the Lord, So I bent not nor broke when there burst forth a trembling From the ends of the earth. Easily might I Destroy the murderers, but I stood unmoved. "The Young Hero unclothed him —it was the holy God— 40 Strong and steadfast; he stepped to the high gallows, Not fearing the look of the fiends, and there he freed mankind. At his blessed embrace I trembled, but bow to the earth I dared not, Or forward to fall to the ground, but fast and true I endured. As a rood I was raised up; a royal King I bore, 45 The Lord of heavenly legions. I allowed myself never to bend. Dark nails through me they drove; so that dastardly scars are upon me, Wounds wide open; but not one of them dared I to harm. They cursed and reviled us together. I was covered all over with blood, That flowed from the Savior's side when his soul had left the flesh. 50 Sorrowful the sights I have seen on that hill, Grim-visaged grief: the God of mankind I saw And his frightful death. The forces of darkness Covered with clouds the corpse of the Lord, The shining radiance; the shadows darkened 55 Under the cover of clouds. Creation all wept, The king's fall bewailed. Christ was on the rood. Finally from afar came faithful comrades To the Savior's side, and I saw it all. Bitter the grief that I bore, but I bowed me low to their hands; 60 My travail was grievous and sore. They took then God Almighty, From loathsome torment they lifted him. The warriors left me deserted, To stand stained with blood. I was stricken and wounded with nails. Limb-weary they laid him there, and at their Lord's head they stood. They beheld there the Ruler of heaven; and they halted a while to rest, 65 Tired after the terrible struggle. A tomb then they began to make, His friends in sight of his foes. Of the fairest of stone they built it, And set their Savior upon it. A sorrowful dirge they chanted, Lamented their Master at evening, when they made their journey home, Tired from their loved Lord's side. And they left him with the guard. 70 We crosses stood there streaming with blood, And waited long after the wailing ceased Of the brave company. The body grew cold, The most precious of corpses. Then they pulled us down, All to the earth —an awful fate! 75 They buried us low in a pit. But the loved disciples of Christ, His faithful friends made search and found me and brought me to light, And gorgeously decked me with gold and with silver. "Now mayst thou learn, my beloved friend, That the work of the wicked I have worthily borne, 80 The most trying of torments. The time is now come When through the wide world I am worshipped and honored, That all manner of men, and the mighty creation, Hold sacred this sign. On me the Son of God Death-pangs endured. Hence, dauntless in glory, 85 I rise high under heaven, and hold out salvation To each and to all who have awe in my presence. "Long ago I was the greatest and most grievous of torments, Most painful of punishments, till I pointed aright The road of life for the race of men. 90 "Lo, a glory was given by the God of Creation To the worthless wood —by the Warden of heaven— Just as Mary, his mother, the maiden blessed, Received grace and glory from God Almighty, And homage and worship over other women. 95 "And now I bid thee, my best of comrades, That thou reveal this vision to men. Tell them I am truly the tree of glory, That the Savior sorrowed and suffered upon me For the race of men and its many sins, 100 And the ancient evil that Adam wrought. "He there tasted of death; but in triumph he rose, The Lord in his might and gave life unto men. Then he ascended to heaven, and hither again Shall the Savior descend to seek mankind 105 On the day of doom, the dreaded Ruler Of highest heaven, with his host of angels. Then will he adjudge with justice and firmness Rewards to the worthy whose works have deserved them, Who loyally lived their lives on the earth. 110 Then a feeling of fear shall fill every heart For the warning they had in the words of their Master: He shall demand of many where the man may be found To consent for the sake of his Savior to taste The bitter death as He did on the cross. 115 They are filled with fear and few of them think What words they shall speak in response to Christ. Then no feeling of fright or fear need he have Who bears on his heart the brightest of tokens, But there shall come to the kingdom through the cross and its power 120 All the souls of the saved from the sorrows of earth, Of the holy who hope for a home with their Lord." Then I adored the cross with undaunted courage, With the warmest zeal, while I watched alone And saw it in secret. My soul was eager 125 To depart on its path, but I have passed through many An hour of longing. Through all my life I shall seek the sight of that sacred tree Alone more often than all other men And worthily worship it. My will for this service 130 Is steadfast and sturdy, and my strength is ever In the cross of Christ. My comrades of old, The friends of fortune, all far from the earth Have departed from the world and its pleasures and have passed to the King of Glory, And high in the heavens with the holy God 135 Are living eternally. And I long for the time To arrive at last when the rood of the Lord, Which once so plainly appeared to my sight, Shall summon my soul from this sorrowful life, And bring me to that bourne where bliss is unending 140 And happiness of heaven, where the holy saints All join in a banquet, where joy is eternal. May He set me where always in after time I shall dwell in glory with God's chosen ones In delights everlasting. May the Lord be my friend, 145 Who came to earth and of old on the cross Suffered and sorrowed for the sins of men. He broke there our bonds and bought for us life And a heavenly home. The hearts were now filled With blessings and bliss, which once burned with remorse. 150 To the Son was his journey successful and joyful And crowned with triumph, when he came with his troops, With his gladsome guests into God's kingdom, The Almighty Judge's, and brought joy to the angels, And the host of the holy who in heaven before 155 Dwelt in glory when their God arrived, The Lord Most High, at his home at last.

39. The lines that follow appear with some changes on the Ruthwell Cross in Dumfriesshire.

44. This and the following line form the basis of an inscription on a reliquary containing a cross preserved in the Cathedral at Brussels.



JUDITH

[Critical edition: Cook, Judith, Boston, 1904.

Translation: Hall, Judith, Phoenix and Other Anglo-Saxon Poems.

Manuscript: The same as the one containing Beowulf. It was injured by a fire in 1731. It had been printed by Thwaites in 1698 before the injury.

Authorship and date: The mixture of dialect forms seems to indicate that a northern original passed through one or more hands and that at least the last scribe belonged to the late West Saxon period. Cook thinks that it is not earlier than about 825 nor later than 937, and that it is possibly by Cynewulf.

Source: Apocryphal book of Judith.]

1. The Feast

. . . . . . . . . . She doubted [not] the gifts In this wide world. There worthily she found Help at the hands of the Lord, when she had the highest need, Grace from God on high, that against the greatest of dangers 5 The Lord of Hosts should protect her; for this the Heavenly Father Graciously granted her wish, for she had given true faith To the holy Ruler of heaven. Holofernes then, I am told, Called his warriors to a wine-feast and a wondrous and glorious Banquet prepared. To this the prince of men 10 Bade the bravest of thanes. Then with bold haste To the powerful prince came the proud shield-warriors, Before the chief of the folk. That was the fourth day Since the gentle Judith, just in her thoughts, Of fairy-like beauty, was brought to the king. 15 Then they sought the assembly to sit at the banquet, Proud to the wine-pouring, all his partners in woe, Bold burnie-warriors. Bowls large and deep Were borne along the benches; beakers also and flagons Full to the feasters. Fated they drank it, 20 Renowned shield-knights, though he knew not their doom, The hateful lord of heroes. Holofernes, the king, Bestower of jewels, took joy in the wine-pouring, Howled and hurled forth a hideous din That the folk of the earth from afar might hear 25 How the stalwart and strong-minded stormed and bellowed, Maddened by mead-drink; he demanded full oft That the brave bench-sitters should bear themselves well. So the hellish demon through the whole of the day Drenched with drink his dear companions, 30 The cruel gold-king, till unconscious they lay, All drunk his doughty ones, as if in death they were slain, Every good gone from them.

1. Although the fragment begins in the middle of a line, it presents the appearance of being practically complete. Certainly, as it stands it makes an artistic whole: we begin and end the poem by showing how Judith was favored of God. Within a very short space after the opening lines we are in the midst of the action: Judith has come from her beleaguered city of Bethulia and enchanted Holofernes by her beauty, and Holofernes has finished his great feast by summoning her to him. All this is put before us in the first 37 lines. The rest of the poem is vividly conceived, from the slaying of the Assyrian king to the final victory and rejoicing.

2. The Slaying of Holofernes

He gave then commands To serve the hall-sitters till descending upon them Dark night came near. The ignoble one ordered 35 The blessed maiden, burdened with jewels, Freighted with rings, to be fetched in all haste To his hated bedside. His behest they performed, His corps of retainers —the commands of their lord, Chief of the champions. Cheerfully they stepped 40 To the royal guest-room, where full ready they found The queenly Judith, and quickly then The goodly knights began to lead The holy maiden to the high tent, Where the rich ruler rested always, 45 Lay him at night, loathsome to God, Holofernes. There hung an all-golden Radiant fly-net around the folk-chief's Bed embroidered; so that the baleful one, The loathed leader, might look unhindered 50 On everyone of the warrior band Who entered in, and on him none Of the sons of men, unless some of his nobles, Contrivers of crime, he called to his presence: His barons to bring him advice. Then they bore to his rest 55 The wisest of women; went then the strong-hearted band To make known to their master that the maiden of God Was brought to his bower. Then blithe was the chief in his heart, The builder of burg-steads; the bright maiden he planned With loathsome filth to defile, but the Father of heaven knew 60 His purpose, the Prince of goodness and with power he restrained him, God, the Wielder of Glory. Glad then the hateful one Went with his riotous rout of retainers Baleful to his bedside, where his blood should be spilled Suddenly in a single night. Full surely his end approached 65 On earth ungentle, even as he lived, Stern striver for evil, while still in this world He dwelt under the roof of the clouds. Drunken with wine then he fell In the midst of his regal rest so that he recked not of counsel In the chamber of his mind; the champions stepped 70 Out of his presence and parted in haste, The wine-sated warriors who went with the false one, And the evil enemy of man ushered to bed For the last time. Then the Lord's servant The mighty hand-maiden, was mindful in all things 75 How she most easily from the evil contriver His life might snatch ere the lecherous deceiver, The creature crime-laden awoke. The curly-locked maiden Of God then seized the sword well ground, Sharp from the hammers, and from its sheath drew it 80 With her right hand; heaven's Guardian she began To call by name, Creator of all The dwellers in the world, and these words she spoke: "O Heavenly God, and Holy Ghost, Son of the Almighty, I will seek from Thee 85 Thy mercy unfailing to defend me from evil, O Holiest Trinity. Truly for me now Full sore is my soul and sorrowful my heart, Tormented with griefs. Grant me, Lord of the skies, Success and soundness of faith, that with this sword I may 90 Behead this hideous monster. Heed my prayer for salvation, Noble Lord of nations; never have I had More need of thy mercy; mighty Lord, avenge now Bright-minded Bringer of glory, that I am thus baffled in spirit, Heated in heart." Her then the greatest of Judges 95 With dauntless daring inspired, as he doth ever to all The sons of the Spirit who seek him for help, With reason and with right belief. Then was to the righteous in mind, Holy hope renewed; the heathen man then she took, And held by his hair; with her hands she drew him 100 Shamefully toward her, and the traitorous deceiver Laid as she listed, most loathsome of men, In order that easily the enemy's body She might wield at her will. The wicked one she slew, The curly-locked maiden with her keen-edged sword, 105 Smote the hateful-hearted one till she half cut through Severing his neck, so that swooning he lay Drunken and death-wounded. Not dead was he yet, Nor lifeless entirely: the triumphant lady More earnestly smote the second time 110 The heathen hound, so that his head was thrown Forth on the floor; foul lay the carcass, Bereft of a soul; the spirit went elsewhere Under the burning abyss where abandoned it lay, Tied down in torment till time shall cease, 115 With serpents bewound, amid woes and tortures, All firmly fixed in the flames of hell, When death came upon him. He durst not hope, Enveloped in blackness, to venture forth ever From that dreary hole, but dwell there he shall 120 Forever and aye till the end of time, In that hideous home without hope of joy.

52. Here begins a series of extended lines which some critics think are intended to lend an air of solemnity to the passage. A study of the occurrence of these long lines in this and other poems, such as The Wanderer, The Charms, or Widsith, does not seem to bear out this contention. Usually these long lines have three accents in each half. The rules for the alliteration are the same as for the short verses.

3. The Return to Bethulia

Great was the glory then gained in the fight By Judith at war, through the will of God, The mighty Master, who permitted her victory. 125 Then the wise-minded maiden immediately threw The heathen warrior's head so bloody, Concealed it in the sack that her servant had brought— The pale-faced woman, polished in manners— Which before she had filled with food for them both. 130 Then the gory head gave she to her goodly maid-servant To bear to their home, to her helper she gave it, To her junior companion. Then they journeyed together, Both of the women, bold in their daring, The mighty in mind, the maidens exultant, 135 Till they had wholly escaped from the host of the enemy, And could full clearly catch the first sight Of their sacred city and see the walls Of bright Bethulia. Then the bracelet-adorned ones, Traveling on foot, went forth in haste, 140 Until they had journeyed, with joy in their hearts, To the wall-gate. The warriors sat Unwearied in watching, the wardens on duty, Fast in the fortress, as the folk erstwhile, The grieved ones of mind, by the maiden were counselled, 145 By the wary Judith, when she went on her journey, The keen-witted woman. She had come once more, Dear to her people, the prudent in counsel. She straightway summoned certain of the heroes From the spacious city speedily to meet her 150 And allow her to enter without loss of time Through the gate of the wall, and these words she spoke To the victor-tribe: "I may tell to you now Noteworthy news, that you need no longer Mourn in your mind, for the Master is kind to you, 155 The Ruler of nations. It is known afar Around the wide world that you have won glory; Very great victory is vouchsafed in return For all the evils and ills you have suffered." Blithe then became the burghers within, 160 When they heard how the Holy Maid spoke Over the high wall. The warriors rejoiced; To the gate of the fortress the folk then hastened, Wives with their husbands, in hordes and in bands, In crowds and in companies; they crushed and thronged 165 Towards the handmaid of God by hundreds and thousands, Old ones and young ones. All of the men In the goodly city were glad in their hearts At the joyous news that Judith was come Again to her home, and hastily then 170 With humble hearts the heroes received her. Then gave the gold-adorned, sagacious in mind, Command to her comrade, her co-worker faithful The heathen chief's head to hold forth to the people, To the assembly to show as a sign and a token, 175 All bloody to the burghers, how in battle they sped. To the famed victory-folk the fair maiden spoke: "O proudest of peoples, princely protectors, Gladly now gaze on the gory face, On the hated head of the heathen warrior, 180 Holofernes, wholly life-bereft, Who most of all men contrived murder against us, The sorest of sorrows, and sought even yet With greater to grind us, but God would not suffer him Longer to live, that with loathsomest evils 185 The proud one should oppress us; I deprived him of life Through the grace of God. Now I give commands To you citizens bold, you soldiers brave-hearted, Protectors of the people, to prepare one and all Forthwith for the fight. When first from the east 190 The King of creation, the kindest of Lords, Sends the first beams of light, bring forth your linden-shields, Boards for your breasts and your burnie-corselets, Your bright-hammered helmets to the hosts of the scathers, To fell the folk-leaders, the fated chieftains, 195 With your fretted swords. Your foes are all Doomed to the death, and dearly-won glory Shall be yours in battle, as the blessed Creator The mighty Master, through me has made known."

4. The Battle

Then a band of bold knights busily gathered, 200 Keen men at the conflict; with courage they stepped forth, Bearing banners, brave-hearted companions, And fared to the fight, forth in right order, Heroes under helmets from the holy city At the dawning of day; dinned forth their shields 205 A loud-voiced alarm. Now listened in joy The lank wolf in the wood and the wan raven, Battle-hungry bird, both knowing well That the gallant people would give to them soon A feast on the fated; now flew on their track 210 The deadly devourer, the dewy-winged eagle, Singing his war-song, the swart-coated bird, The horned of beak. Then hurried the warriors, Keen for the conflict, covered with shields, With hollow lindens— they who long had endured 215 The taunts and the tricks of the treacherous strangers, The host of the heathen; hard was it repaid now To all the Assyrians, every insult revenged, At the shock of the shields, when the shining-armed Hebrews Bravely to battle marched under banners of war 220 To face the foeman. Forthwith then they Sharply shot forth showers of arrows, Bitter battle-adders from their bows of horn, Hurled straight from the string; stormed and raged loudly The dauntless avengers; darts were sent whizzing 225 Into the hosts of the hardy ones. Heroes were angry The dwellers in the land, at the dastardly race. Strong-hearted they stepped, stern in their mood; On their enemies of old took awful revenge, On their mead-weary foes. With the might of their hands 230 Their shining swords from their sheaths they drew forth. With the choicest of edges the champions they smote— Furiously felled the folk of Assyria, The spiteful despoilers. They spared not a one Of the hated host, neither high nor low 235 Of living men that they might overcome. So the kinsmen-companions at the coming of morning Followed the foemen, fiercely attacking them, Till, pressed and in panic, the proud ones perceived That the chief and the champions of the chosen people 240 With the swing of the sword swept all before them, The wise Hebrew warriors. Then word they carried To the eldest officers over the camp, Ran with the wretched news, arousing the leaders, Fully informed them of the fearful disaster, 245 Told the merry mead-drinkers of the morning encounter Of the horrible edge-play. I heard then suddenly The slaughter-fated men from sleep awakened And toward the bower-tent of the baleful chief, Holofernes, they hastened: in hosts they crowded, 250 Thickly they thronged. One thought had they only, Their lasting loyalty to their lord to show, Before in their fury they fell upon him, The host of the Hebrews. The whole crowd imagined That the lord of despoilers and the spotless lady 255 Together remained in the gorgeous tent, The virtuous virgin and the vicious deceiver, Dreadful and direful; they dared not, however, Awaken the warrior, not one of the earls, Nor be first to find how had fared through the night 260 The most churlish of chieftains and the chastest of maidens, The pride of the Lord. Now approached in their strength The folk of the Hebrews. They fought remorselessly With hard-hammered weapons, with their hilts requited Their strife of long standing, with stained swords repaid 265 Their ancient enmity; all of Assyria Was subdued and doomed that day by their work, Its pride bowed low. In panic and fright, In terror they stood around the tent of their chief, Moody in mind. Then the men all together 270 In concert clamored and cried aloud, Ungracious to God, and gritted their teeth, Grinding them in their grief. Then was their glory at an end, Their noble deeds and daring hopes. Then they deemed it wise To summon their lord from his sleep, but success was denied them. 275 A loyal liegeman, —long had he wavered— Desperately dared the door to enter, Ventured into the pavilion; violent need drove him. On the bed then he found, in frightful state lying, His gold-giver ghastly; gone was his spirit, 280 No life in him lingered. The liegeman straight fell. Trembling with terror, he tore at his hair, He clawed at his clothes; he clamored despairing, And to the waiting warriors these words he said, As they stood outside in sadness and fear: 285 "Here is made manifest our imminent doom, Is clearly betokened that the time is near, Pressing upon us with perils and woes, When we lose our lives, and lie defeated By the hostile host; here hewn by the sword, 290 Our lord is beheaded." With heavy spirits They threw their weapons away, and weary in heart, Scattered in flight.

205. The picture of the birds of prey hovering over the battle field is one of the constant features of Anglo-Saxon battle poetry. Note its occurrence in The Fight at Finnsburg and The Battle of Brunnanburg especially.

5. The Pursuit

Then their foemen pursued them, Their grim power growing, until the greatest part Of the cowardly band they conquered in battle 295 On the field of victory. Vanquished and sword-hewn, They lay at the will of the wolves, for the watchful and greedy Fowls to feed upon. Then fled the survivors From the shields of their foemen. Sharp on their trail came The crowd of the Hebrews, covered with victory, 300 With honors well-earned; aid then accorded them, Graciously granted them, God, Lord Almighty. They then daringly, with dripping swords, The corps of brave kinsmen, cut them a war-path Through the host of the hated ones; they hewed with their swords, 305 Sheared through the shield-wall. They shot fast and furiously, Men stirred to strife, the stalwart Hebrews, The thanes, at that time, thirsting exceedingly, Fain for the spear-fight. Then fell in the dust The chiefest part of the chosen warriors, 310 Of the staunch and the steadfast Assyrian leaders, Of the fated race of the foe. Few of them came back Alive to their own land. The leaders returned Over perilous paths through the piles of the slaughtered, Of reeking corpses; good occasion there was 315 For the landsmen to plunder their lifeless foes, Their ancient enemies in their armor laid low, Of battle spoils bloody, of beautiful trappings, Of bucklers and broad-swords, of brown war-helmets, Of glittering jewels. Gloriously had been 320 In the folk-field their foes overcome, By home-defenders, their hated oppressors Put to sleep by the sword. Senseless on the path Lay those who in life, the loathsomest were Of the tribes of the living.

6. The Spoil

Then the landsmen all, 325 Famous of family, for a full month's time, The proud curly-locked ones, carried and led To their glorious city, gleaming Bethulia, Helms and hip-knives, hoary burnies, Men's garments of war, with gold adorned, 330 With more of jewels than men of judgment, Keen in cunning might count or estimate; So much success the soldier-troop won, Bold under banners and in battle-strife Through the counsel of the clever Judith, 335 Maiden high-minded. As meed for her bravery, From the field of battle, the bold-hearted earls Brought in as her earnings the arms of Holofernes, His broad sword and bloody helmet, likewise his breast-armor large, Chased with choice red gold, all that the chief of the warriors, 340 The betrayer, possessed of treasure, of beautiful trinkets and heirlooms, Bracelets and brilliant gems. All these to the bright maid they gave As a gift to her, ready in judgment.

7. The Praise

For all this Judith now rendered Thanks to the Heavenly Host, from whom came all her success, Greatness and glory on earth and likewise grace in heaven, 345 Paradise as a victorious prize, because she had pure belief Always in the Almighty; at the end she had no doubt Of the prize she had prayed for long. For this be praise to God, Glory in ages to come, who shaped the clouds and the winds, Firmament and far-flung realms, also the fierce-raging streams 350 And the blisses of heaven, through his blessed mercy.



THE PHOENIX

[Text used: Bright's Anglo-Saxon Reader. The Latin source is also printed there.

Alliterative translations: Pancoast and Spaeth, Early English Poems; William Rice Sims, Modern Language Notes, vii, 11-13; Hall, Judith, Phoenix, etc.

Source: First part, Lactantius, De Ave Phoenice; second part, application of the myth to Christ based on Ambrose and Bede.

In summing up scholarly opinion up to the date of his own writing (1910) Mr. Kennedy says [The Poems of Cynewulf, pp. 58-59]: "In general, however, it may be said that, while the question does not submit itself to definite conclusions, the weight of critical opinion leans to the side of Cynewulf's having written the Phoenix, and that the time of its composition would fall between the Christ and the Elene."

The first part of the poem is among the most pleasing pieces of description in Anglo-Saxon.]

I.

I have heard that there lies a land far hence A noble realm well-known unto men, In the eastern kingdoms. That corner of the world Is not easy of access to every tribe 5 On the face of the earth, but afar it was placed By the might of the Maker from men of sin. The plain is beautiful, a place of blessings, And filled with the fairest fragrance of earth; Matchless is that island, its maker unequalled, 10 Steadfast and strong of heart, who established that land. There are often open to the eyes of the blessed, The happiness of the holy through heaven's door. That is a winsome plain; the woods are green, Far stretching under the stars. There no storm of rain or snow, 15 Nor breath of frost nor blast of fire, Nor fall of hail nor hoary frost, Nor burning sun nor bitter cold, Nor warm weather nor winter showers Shall work any woe, but that winsome plain 20 Is wholesome and unharmed; in that happy land Blossoms are blown. No bold hills nor mountains There stand up steep; no stony cliffs Lift high their heads as here with us, Nor dales nor glens nor darksome gorges, 25 Nor caves nor crags; nor occur there ever Anything rough; but under radiant skies Flourish the fields in flowers and blossoms. This lovely land lieth higher By twelve full fathoms, as famous writers, 30 As sages say and set forth in books, Than any of the hills that here with us Rise bright and high under heaven's stars. Peaceful is that plain, pleasant its sunny grove, Winsome its woodland glades; never wanes its increase 35 Nor fails of its fruitage, but fair stand the trees, Ever green as God had given command; In winter and summer the woodlands cease not To be filled with fruit, and there fades not a leaf; Not a blossom is blighted nor burned by the fire 40 Through all the ages till the end of time, Till the world shall fail. When the fury of waters Over all the earth in olden times Covered the world, then the wondrous plain, Unharmed and unhurt by the heaving flood, 45 Strongly withstood and stemmed the waves, Blest and uninjured through the aid of God: Thus blooming it abides till the burning fire Of the day of doom when the death-chambers open And the ghastly graves shall give up their dead. 50 No fearsome foe is found in that land, No sign of distress, no strife, no weeping, Neither age, nor misery, nor the menace of death, Nor failing of life, nor foemen's approach, No sin nor trial nor tribulation, 55 Nor the want of wealth, nor work for the pauper, No sorrow nor sleep, nor sick-bed's pain, Nor wintry winds, nor weather's raging, Fierce under the heavens; nor the hard frost Causeth discomfort with cold icicles. 60 Neither hail nor frost fall from the heavens, Nor wintry cloud nor water descendeth Stirred by the storms; but streams there flow, Wondrously welling and watering the earth, Pouring forth in pleasant fountains; 65 The winsome water from the wood's middle Each month of the year from the mould of earth, Cold as the sea, coursing through the woods, Breaketh abundantly. It is the bidding of the Lord That twelve times yearly that teeming land 70 The floods shall o'erflow and fill with joy. The groves are green with gorgeous bloom, And fairest of fruits; there fail not at all The holy treasures of the trees under heaven, Nor falleth from the forests the fallow blossoms, 75 The beauty of the trees; but, bounteously laden, The boughs are hanging heavy with fruit That is always new in every season. In the grassy plain all green appear, Gorgeously garnished by God in his might, 80 The forests fair. Nor fails the wood In its pleasing prospect; a perfume holy Enchanteth the land. No change shall it know Forever till he ends his ancient plan, His work of wisdom as he willed it at first.

II

85 In that wood there dwelleth a wondrous bird, Fearless in flight, the Phoenix its name. Lonely it liveth its life in this place, Doughty of soul; death never seeks him In that well-loved wood while the world shall endure. 90 He is said to watch the sun on his way And to go to meet God's bright candle, That gleaming gem, and gladly to note When rises in radiance the most royal of stars Up from the east over the ocean's waves, 95 The famous work of the Father, fair with adornments, The bright sign of God. Buried are the stars, Wandering 'neath the waters to the western realms; They grow dim at dawn, and the dark night Creepeth wanly away. Then on wings of strength, 100 Proud on his pinions, he placeth his gaze Eagerly on the streams, and stares over the water Where the gleam of heaven gliding shall come O'er the broad ocean from the bright east. So the wondrous bird at the water's spring 105 Bideth in beauty, in the brimming streams. Twelve times there the triumphant bird Bathes in the brook ere the beacon appears, The candle of heaven, and the cold stream Of the joy-inspiring springs he tasteth 110 From the icy burn at every bath. Then after his sport in the springs at dawn, Filled full of pride he flies to a tree Where most easily he may in the eastern realm Behold the journey, when the jewel of heaven 115 Over the shimmering sea, the shining light, Gleameth in glory. Garnished is the land, The world made beautiful, when the blessed gem Illumines the land, the largest of stars In the circle of the seas sends forth its rays. 120 Soon as the sun over the salt streams; Rises in glory, then the gray-feathered bird Blithely rises from the beam where he rested; Fleet-winged he fareth and flieth on high; Singing and caroling he soareth to heaven. 125 Fair is the famous fowl in his bearing With joy in his breast, in bliss exulting; He warbles his song more wondrously sweet And choicer of note than ever child of man Heard beneath the heavens since the High King, 130 The worker of wonders, the world established, Heaven and earth. His hymn is more beautiful And fairer by far than all forms of song-craft; Its singing surpasseth the sweetest of music. To the song can compare not the sound of trumpet, 135 Nor of horn; nor of harp, nor of heroes' voices On all the earth, nor of organ's sound, Nor singing song nor swan's fair feathers, Nor of any good thing that God created As a joy to men in this mournful world! 140 Thus he singeth and carolleth crowned with joy, Until the bright sun in a southern sky Sinks to its setting; then silent he is And listeneth and boweth and bendeth his head, Sage in his thoughts, and thrice he shaketh 145 His feathers for flight; the fowl is hushed. Twelve equal times he telleth the hours Of day and night. 'Tis ordained in this way, And willed that the dweller of the woods should have joy, Pleasure in that plain and its peaceful bliss, 150 Taste delights and life and the land's enjoyments, Till he waiteth a thousand winters of life, The aged warden of the ancient wood. Then the gray-feathered fowl in the fullness of years Is grievously stricken. From the green earth he fleeth, 155 The favorite of birds, from the flowering land, And beareth his flight to a far-off realm, To a distant domain where dwelleth no man, As his native land. Then the noble fowl Becometh ruler over the race of birds, 160 Distinguished in their tribe, and for a time he dwelleth With them in the waste. Then on wings of strength, He flieth to the west, full of winters, Swift on his wing; in swarms then press, The birds about their lord; all long to serve him 165 And to live in loyalty to their leader brave, Until he seeketh out the Syrian land With mighty train. Then turneth the pure one Sharply away, and in the shade of the forest He dwells, in the grove, in the desert place, 170 Concealed and hid from the host of men. There high on a bough he abides alone, Under heaven's roof, hard by the roots Of a far stretching tree, which the Phoenix is called By the nations of earth from the name of that bird. 175 The King of glory has granted that tree, The Holy One of heaven, as I have heard said, That it among all the other trees That grow in the glorious groves of the world Bloometh most brightly. No blight may hurt it, 180 Nor work it harm, but while the world stands It shall be shielded from the shafts of evil.

III

When the wind is at rest and the weather is fair, And the holy gem of heaven is shining, And clouds have flown and the forces of water 185 Are standing stilled, and the storms are all Assuaged and soothed: from the south there gleameth The warm weather-candle, welcomed by men. In the boughs the bird then buildeth its home, Beginneth its nest; great is its need 190 To work in haste, with the highest wisdom, That his old age he may give to gain new life, A fair young spirit. Then far and near, He gathers together to his goodly home The winsomest herbs and the wood's sweet blossoms, 195 The fair perfumes and fragrant shoots Which were placed in the world by the wondrous Lord, By the Father of all, on the face of the earth, As a pleasure forever to the proud race of men— The beauty of blossoms. There he beareth away 200 To that royal tree the richest of treasure. There the wild fowl in the waste land On the highest beams buildeth his house, On the loftiest limbs, and he liveth there In that upper room; on all sides he surrounds 205 In that shade unbroken his body and wings With blessed fragrance and fairest of blooms, The most gorgeous of green things that grow on the earth. He awaiteth his journey when the gem of heaven In the summer season, the sun at its hottest, 210 Shineth over the shade and shapeth its destiny, Gazeth over the world. Then it groweth warm, His house becomes heated by the heavenly gleam; The herbs wax hot; the house steameth With the sweetest of savors; in the sweltering heat, 215 In the furious flame, the fowl with his nest Is embraced by the bale-fire; then burning seizeth The disheartened one's house; in hot haste riseth The fallow flame, and the Phoenix it reacheth, In fullness of age. Then the fire eateth, 220 Burneth the body, while borne is the soul, The fated one's spirit, where flesh and bone Shall burn in the blaze. But it is born anew, Attaineth new life at the time allotted. When the ashes again begin to assemble, 225 To fall in a heap when the fire is spent, To cling in a mass, then clean becometh That bright abode— burnt by the fire The home of the bird. When the body is cold And its frame is shattered and the fire slumbers 230 In the funeral flame, then is found the likeness Of an apple that newly in the ashes appeareth, And waxeth into a worm wondrously fair, As if out from an egg it had opened its way, Shining from the shell. In the shade it groweth, 235 Till at first it is formed like a fledgling eagle, A fair young fowl; then further still It increaseth in stature, till in strength it is like To a full-grown eagle, and after that With feathers fair as at first it was, 240 Brightly blooming. Then the bird grows strong, Regains its brightness and is born again, Sundered from sin, somewhat as if One should fetch in food, the fruits of the earth, Should haul it home at harvest time, 245 The fairest of corn ere the frosts shall come At the time of reaping, lest the rain in showers Strike down and destroy it; a stay they have ready A feast of food, when frost and snow With their mighty coursing cover the earth 250 In winter weeds; the wealth of man From those fair fruits shall flourish again Through the nature of grain, which now in the ground Is sown as clear seed; then the sun's warm rays In time of spring sprouts the life germ, 255 Awakes the world's riches so that wondrous fruits, The treasures of earth, by their own kind Are brought forth again: that bird changeth likewise, Old in his years, to youth again, With fair new flesh; no food nor meat 260 He eateth on the earth save only a taste Of fine honey-dew which falleth often In the middle of night; the noble fowl Thus feedeth and groweth till he flieth again To his own domain, to his ancient dwelling.

IV

265 When the bird springs reborn from its bower of herbs, Proud of pinion, pleased with new life, Young and full of grace, from the ground he then Skillfully piles up the scattered parts Of the graceful body, gathers the bones, 270 Which the funeral fire aforetime devoured; Then brings altogether the bones and the ashes, The remnant of the flames he arranges anew, And carefully covers that carrion spoil With fairest flowers. Then he fares away, 275 Seeking the sacred soil of his birthplace. With his feet he fastens to the fire's grim leavings, Clasps them in his claws and his country again, The sun-bright seat, he seeks in joy, His own native-land. All is renewed— 280 His body and feathers, in the form that was his, When placed in the pleasant plain by his Maker, By gracious God. Together he bringeth The bones of his body which were burned on the pyre, Which the funeral flames before had enveloped, 285 And also the ashes; then all in a heap This bird then burieth the bones and embers, His ashes on the island. Then his eyes for the first time Catch sight of the sun, see in the heaven That flaming gem, the joy of the firmament 290 Which beams from the east over the ocean billows. Before is that fowl fair in its plumage, Bright colors glow on its gorgeous breast, Behind its head is a hue of green, With brilliant crimson cunningly blended. 295 The feathers of its tail are fairly divided: Some brown, some flaming, some beautifully flecked With brilliant spots. At the back, his feathers Are gleaming white; green is his neck Both beneath and above, and the bill shines 300 As glass or a gem; the jaws glisten Within and without. The eye ball pierces, And strongly stares with a stone-like gaze, Like a clear-wrought gem that is carefully set Into a golden goblet by a goodly smith. 305 Surrounding its neck like the radiant sun, Is the brightest of rings braided with feathers; Its belly is wondrous with wealth of color, Sheer and shining. A shield extends Brilliantly fair above the back of the fowl. 310 The comely legs are covered with scales; The feet are bright yellow. The fowl is in beauty Peerless, alone, though like the peacock Delightfully wrought, as the writings relate. It is neither slow in movement, nor sluggish in mien, 315 Nor slothful nor inert as some birds are, Who flap their wings in weary flight, But he is fast and fleet, and floats through the air, Marvelous, winsome, and wondrously marked. Blessed is the God who gave him that bliss! 320 When at last it leaves the land, and journeys To hunt the fields of its former home, As the fowl flieth many folk view it. It pleases in passing the people of earth, Who are seen assembling from south and north; 325 They come from the east, they crowd from the west, Faring from afar; the folk throng to see The grace that is given by God in his mercy To this fairest fowl, which at first received From gracious God the greatest of natures 330 And a beauty unrivalled in the race of birds. Then over the earth all men marvel At the freshness and fairness and make it famous in writings; With their hands they mould it on the hardest of marble, Which through time and tide tells the multitudes 335 Of the rarity of the flying one. Then the race of fowls On every hand enter in hosts, Surge in the paths, praise it in song, Magnify the stern-hearted one in mighty strains; And so the holy one they hem in in circles 340 As it flies amain. The Phoenix is in the midst Pressed by their hosts. The people behold And watch with wonder how the willing bands Worship the wanderer, one after the other, Mightily proclaim and magnify their King, 345 Their beloved Lord. They lead joyfully The noble one home; but now the wild one Flies away fast; no followers may come From the happy host, when their head takes wing Far from this land to find his home.