The Complete Old English Poems

by Craig Williamson

  Undone by evil—so it wanes and waxes.

  Our old enemy watches day and night, 35

  Deceives and disturbs, confounds and torments,

  Mixes compassion with cruelty, mercy with malice,

  Trust with torment, piety with persecution,

  Expectation with enmity. No one loves

  His neighbor in his heart as our Holy Lord 40

  Commanded except the rare sinless soul.

  Most men unwisely choose worldly hopes

  Because they know nothing of the spirit.

  Their craft is cunning, their gift is guile.

  Let’s put our trust in a better truth, 45

  Set our souls’ hopes on spiritual goods,

  Now that we have a remedy in God’s grace,

  His redemptive mercy, so that we may rise

  In the radiant light of our loving Lord

  To a homeland in heaven in the embrace of angels, 50

  Our comfort and consolation, when almighty God

  Discerns our faith and determines our doom.

  THE DREAM OF THE ROOD

  The Dream of the Rood is the first dream vision poem in a vernacular language in western Europe. It transforms Christ into an unconventional, self-sacrificing warrior and endows the cross with human consciousness and feeling. As both stand-in for Christ and witness to the crucifixion, the cross suffers and laments to the dreamer, while Christ remains stoically silent. As persecutor, the cross represents the human torturers. The poem translates the distance between God and man into the nearness and shared suffering of Christ and cross and mediates the gap between nature and humankind. It shows us the power of the resurrection: the greatest warrior can embrace death and then rise up to slay it. A tree in the forest can be cut down and carried into consciousness as it moves from slayer to celebrant, from gallows to glory. Portions of the poem are found carved in runes on a stone cross in Ruthwell, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, and two lines are also found on a reliquary of the True Cross in Brussels (see “Minor Poems” in this collection).

  At the heart of the poem is the device of endowing an inanimate object with consciousness and feeling and enabling the object to speak. This tradition is partly derived from the classical tradition of prosopopoeia, “discourse by inanimate objects,” and partly from the medieval riddling tradition (see Schlauch, 23 ff., and Donoghue, 75 ff.). There are several medieval Latin cross riddles and some (with solution debated) in Old English in the Exeter Book. The Dream of the Rood makes use of both of the basic Old English riddle types: the third-person descriptive riddle (“I saw a creature”) and the first-person persona riddle (“I am a creature”). It challenges us to say both who the cross is and what its identity and history mean. The dreamer begins by describing the cross as a wondrous creature whose nature shifts back and forth in the dream—sometimes drenched with blood, sometimes dressed in gold. When the cross begins to speak, it recounts its history from its homeland in the woods to its transformation into a gallows at the hands of man. With these riddlic devices, the poet creates a rood that shifts shapes, recounts its history, and participates in the wonder of human perception and the enigmatic miracle of the crucifixion and resurrection. At lines 86b–87, I have restored the sense of missing lines on the discovery of the cross.

  The Dream of the Rood

  Listen! I will speak of the best of dreams,

  The sweetest vision that crossed my sleep

  In the middle of the night when speech-bearers

  Lay in silent rest. I seemed to see

  A wondrous tree lifting up in the air, 5

  Wound with light, the brightest of beams.

  That radiant sign was wrapped in gold;

  Gems stood gleaming at its feet,

  Five stones shining from its shoulder-beam.

  A host of angels beheld its beauty, 10

  Fair through the ordained, ongoing creation.

  That was not an outlaw’s gallows, a criminal’s cross.

  Holy spirits, angels, men on earth—all creation

  Stood watching that wondrous tree.

  The victory-beam was beautiful, bright 15

  And shining—but I was stained with sin.

  I saw the tree of glory sheathed in gems,

  Clothed in gold—jewels gleaming

  On the Lord’s tree; yet through that gold

  I could see the ancient agony of the wretched— 20

  The suffering and struggle—since it first began

  To sweat blood from its right side.

  I was seized with sorrow, tormented by the sight

  Of that beautiful cross. I saw that creature

  Changing its shape, its form and colors— 25

  Sometimes it was stained with sweat,

  Drenched with blood, sometimes finely

  Dressed with gold. Lying there a long time,

  Sadly gazing at the Savior’s tree,

  I heard the best of woods begin to speak: 30

  “Many years ago—I still remember the day—

  I was cut down at the edge of the forest,

  Severed from my trunk, removed from my roots.

  Strong enemies seized me, shaped me into a spectacle,

  Ordered me to lift their outlaws, crucify their criminals. 35

  Men bore me on their shoulders, set me on a hill,

  Fastened their foes on me, enough of enemies.

  Then I saw the Lord of mankind hasten to me,

  Eager to climb up. I dared not bow down

  Against God’s word. I saw the earth tremble— 40

  I might have slaughtered his foes, yet I stood fast.

  The warrior, our young Savior, stripped himself

  Before the battle with a keen heart and firm purpose,

  Climbed up on the cross, the tree of shame,

  Bold in the eyes of many, to redeem mankind. 45

  I trembled when the Hero embraced me

  But dared not bow down to earth—I had to stand fast.

  A rood was I raised—I raised the mighty King,

  Lord of the heavens. I dared not bend down.

  Men drove their dark nails into me, piercing my skin— 50

  You can still see my open malice-wounds—

  But I dared not injure any of those enemies.

  Men mocked us both—I was drenched with blood

  From the side of the Man after he sent forth his spirit.

  I endured much hostile fortune on that hill. 55

  I saw the Lord of hosts stretch out his arms

  In terrible suffering. Night-shadows slid down,

  Covering in darkness the corpse of the Lord,

  Which was bathed in radiance. The dark deepened

  Under the clouds. All creation wept, 60

  Lamenting the Lord’s death: Christ was on the cross.

  Yet eager ones came, believers from afar,

  To be with the Lord. I beheld it all.

  I was seized with sorrow, humbling myself

  To men’s hands, bowing down with bold courage. 65

  They lifted up almighty God, raising his body

  From its burden of woe. Those brave warriors

  Left me alone, covered with streams of blood—

  I was wounded with arrows, pierced with pain.

  They laid down the limb-weary Lord of heaven, 70

  Gathering near his head, guarding his body.

  He rested there awhile, weary after his struggle.

  Men made him an earth-house, shaping a sepulcher

  In the sight of the slayer, carved of bright stone.

  Inside they laid the Lord of victories and started to sing 75

  A long lament, a sorrow-song at evening,

  As they began to depart, drained by the death

  Of their glorious Prince. He rested in the tomb

  With few friends, but we stood by weeping,

  Unquiet crosses, when the cries of men 80

  Had drifted off. The corpse grew
cold,

  The soul’s fair house. Then men came along,

  Cut us down to earth, carried us off.

  That was a terrible fate. They buried us

  Deep in a pit in the ground, a grave for crosses, 85

  But servants of the Lord [learned of my tomb;

  Friends hauled me out, offered me healing,]

  Sheathed me in gems, in silver and gold.

  Now you have heard, my dear dreamer,

  How I have endured such sorrow and strife 90

  From wicked men. The time is come

  For all men on earth and throughout creation

  To honor me and offer prayers to the sign of the cross.

  The Son of God suffered on me for awhile—

  Now I rise up high in heaven, a tower of glory, 95

  And I can heal any man who holds me in awe.

  Long ago I became hateful to man, hardest of woes,

  A terrible torturer. Then I was transformed.

  Now I offer the true way of life to speech-bearers,

  A road for the righteous. The Lord of glory, 100

  The Guardian of heaven, has honored me

  Above all trees, just as he also honored

  His mother Mary above all women.

  Now I command you, my dear friend,

  To reveal this dream to other men, 105

  Disclose to them that the tree of glory

  Was Christ’s cross where he suffered sorely

  For the sins of man and the old deeds of Adam.

  He tasted death, a bitter drink, yet rose again

  In his strength and power to save mankind. 110

  He ascended into heaven. Our almighty God

  Will return to middle-earth on Judgment Day

  With all of his angels to judge each man

  In his wisdom and power according to how

  Each man has lived his life on earth, 115

  Spent the precious loan of his days.

  No man can flee from the fear of God

  Or the weight of his words. He will ask

  Before the multitudes where the man is

  Who would taste bitter death in his name, 120

  Just as he did on the cross, the true tree.

  Then they will fear and think a little

  How they might answer Christ on that day.

  No man needs to fear who wears on his breast

  And bears in his heart the best of signs. 125

  Each soul that longs to live with the Lord

  Must make a journey from earth to heaven,

  Seeking God’s reward through the rood.”

  Then I prayed to the cross with an eager heart

  And a zealous spirit where I was left alone 130

  In such small company. My spirit was lifted,

  Urged and inspired, to travel that long road.

  I endured an endless time of longing.

  Now my life’s great hope is to see again

  Christ’s cross, that tree of victory, 135

  And honor it more keenly than other men.

  The cross is my hope and my protection.

  I have few powerful friends left on earth—

  They have passed on from the joys of the world,

  Seeking the greater glory of God, 140

  Longing to live with their Heavenly Father.

  I live each day, longing for the time

  When the Lord’s cross that I saw before

  In a wondrous dream will come back again

  To carry me away from this loan of life 145

  To the joys of heaven, to an everlasting bliss,

  To the Lord’s table where the company of Christ

  Feasts together forever and ever, where I can dwell

  In glory with the holy saints, sustained in joy.

  I pray for God to be my friend, the Savior 150

  Who suffered sorely on the gallows-tree

  For the sins of men, who rose and redeemed us

  With life everlasting and a heavenly home.

  Hope was renewed with grace and glory

  For those who before had suffered burning flames. 155

  The Son and Savior was mighty and victorious

  In his harrowing of hell when the Lord Almighty

  Came back home to the kingdom of heaven,

  Leading a band of spirits to the saints and angels,

  To their homeland in heaven where they dwell in bliss. 160

  ELENE: HELENA’S DISCOVERY OF THE TRUE CROSS

  Elene: Helena’s Discovery of the True Cross is the longest of the OE poetic saints’ lives, which include Andreas in the Vercelli Book and Guthlac A, Guthlac B, and Juliana in the Exeter Book. It is also one of four poems with a Cynewulfian runic signature, including The Fates of the Apostles in the Vercelli Book and Christ II: The Ascension and Juliana in the Exeter Book. Elene is a poetic treatment of the discovery of the true cross of Christ by St. Helena, the mother of the emperor Constantine. Fulk and Cain note that the poem “is a translation of some recension of the acta of Cyriac (or Quiriac), bishop of Jerusalem … a version of the Inventio sanctae crucis [Finding of the Holy Cross]” (98, 247). Gradon says that “this legend is probably of eastern origin and combines the story of the finding of the True Cross by St Helena, a legend springing from the discovery of the Holy Sepulchre in 326, with the story of the hostility and ultimate conversion of a Jew called Judas” (15), noting further that “the development of the Helena legend can be clearly traced in patristic writings of the fourth and fifth centuries, while the history of Judas appears in the writings of the eastern fathers after about the middle of the fifth century” (15). Bjork points out that the poet “reshapes his Mediterranean source and adds striking and memorable scenes to make the poem both decidedly Anglo-Saxon and clearly his” (2013, xvii).

  The poem contains a number of narrative episodes, including Constantine’s auspicious vision of the cross before his victory over the Huns and Germanic troops, his conversion to Christianity, his mother Helena’s quest to find the true cross in Jerusalem, her questioning of the Jewish elders and tormenting Judas to reveal its location, the discovery of Christ’s cross along with the other two crosses from Calvary, the miracle of a dead man revived by the true cross, and the conversion of Judas and Satan’s subsequent lament over the loss of a follower. It also includes the building of a church on the place of discovery, the renaming of Judas as Cyriacus, who is made Bishop of Jerusalem, and the miraculous discovery of the nails from the cross, which are refashioned into a bit for the bridle of Constantine’s horse (thus fulfilling a prophecy in Zecharias 14:20). The poem concludes with an epilogue in which the poet laments his former sinful ways and solicits prayers for forgiveness in his old age, and then closes with a vision of the bliss and bale handed out to the saved and damned on Judgment Day.

  The presentation of gender and the presence of anti-Semitism in this poem have been the subjects of much recent debate (see Fulk and Cain, 99; M. Nelson, 191 ff.; Klein, 53 ff.; and the articles in chapter 5 of Bjork, 2001). Helena is sometimes seen in psychological or naturalistic terms as a hard-hearted warrior of Christ, determined to discover the cross concealed by the Jewish peoples at all costs, including the grim torture of Judas. Others see Helena as a more passive agent of Constantine, or in more abstract, typological terms, as a representative of the new faith, who stands in contrast to the Jews in the poem, who are representative of the old wisdom. The play between the personal and the typological may be part of the deliberate and often delicate balance in the poem that sometimes subsumes the actor into the larger allegory of providential purposes, and sometimes invites us to question the troubling ease with which this is done by those characters who may be prone to mystification or misreading in order to reaffirm an order or achieve an end.

  There is much debate about the runes at the end of the poem (indicated by bold capital letters in the translation), which spell out the name of the supposed poet Cynewulf. The reading of the runes
here follows the suggestions of Elliott (1953a). Little is known about the identity of Cynewulf, although there is much critical speculation on this account (see the headnote to The Fates of the Apostles above). Each runic name in OE is given in the text in parenthesis with the letter value in bold; the name translated is part of the text itself. For example, “bow (Yr),” means that the Y rune, called Yr, means bow.

  The OE form of the saint’s name is Elene, the traditional title of the poem. This is variously translated into modern English as Elene, Helena, and Helen. Along with Gradon (118), I have translated the name as Helena, following my practice elsewhere of using the most recognizable form of the name for an English-reading audience. The accent falls on the initial syllable of the name.

  Elene: Helena’s Discovery of the True Cross

  Two hundred thirty-three winter-cold years

  After almighty God, the glory of kings,

  Had come into the world in flesh and blood,

  Spirit and sinew, breath and bone,

  As the living Christ, the Light of the righteous— 5

  It was the sixth year in the reign of Constantine,

  After that holy hero and battle-lord

  Had become the leader of the Roman kingdom.

  The great shield-warrior and people’s protector

  Was an honorable man, bold and beneficent, 10

  Generous and just. God granted him glory,

  Increased his power, made him a great prince,

  An emperor on earth, a triumphant king.

  He was a conqueror to some, a consolation to others,

  A scourge to his enemies, a shield to his friends. 15

  Battle was brought to him, terror and tumult,

  The hard clash and confrontation of troops,

  When the Huns and Hrethgoths gathered their forces,

  And the fierce Franks and Hugas began to threaten

  The peace of his people. They wanted war. 20

  Their spears were shining, their mail-coats gleaming

  With woven iron. They raised their voices,

  Swords and shields, and their bold battle-flag.

  This collection of clans had a plain purpose,

  To kill Constantine and conquer his lands 25

  As they came forward in their fierce strength.

  The ravenous wolf sang his savage song,

  An unholy howl—his hunger was no secret.

  The wild eagle soared on dew-damp wings,