Youth without age, the splendor of the Son, 820
Health without sickness, rest without toil
For all of the righteous, a bright and glorious
Day without darkness, joy without sorrow,
Love without hate, friendship without feud,
Peace without envy from that time on— 825
No hunger or thirst, sleep or sickness,
Radiant sunlight or reflective moonbeams,
No scorching heat, no cold or care—
Only the comfort and community of the blessed,
Where the most beautiful of hosts shall live and thrive 830
In the arms of grace and the keep of heaven’s King.
GUTHLAC A
The two Guthlac poems in the Exeter Book were once thought to be part of the same poem, but most editors now agree that the poetic styles are sufficiently different to argue for the existence of two separate poets. Fulk and Cain point out that Guthlac B is similar to the signed poems of Cynewulf (Christ II: The Ascension, Fates of the Apostles, Elene: Helena’s Discovery of the True Cross, and Juliana), while Guthlac A is “metrically more like conservative (and therefore presumably earlier) compositions such as Genesis A, Exodus, Daniel, and Beowulf” (103–4). Guthlac B is clearly based on a chapter from Felix’s Vita S. Guthlaci, but whether Guthlac A also draws upon the Vita is still much debated. Roberts, in her edition, notes that although much of the poem follows loosely the details of the Vita, there were probably many sources for the poem (19–28). The opening lines of Guthlac A were once thought to be part of the end of the previous poem, Christ III: Judgment, or a separate poem or poems, but now most editors accept these lines as an appropriate prologue to the poem (see Krapp and Dobbie, 1936, xxx–xxxi; Muir, 435–36).
The following details of Guthlac’s life are reported by Roberts (1–12) and Bradley (248–49). He was born in 673 into a noble Mercian family and served as a soldier and commander for some nine years in the Mercian army. His biographer Felix reports that his reflection upon the deaths of ancient Mercian kings converted him into a soldier of Christ, and at the age of twenty-four he became a monk at Repton, where two years later he withdrew into the wilderness at Crowland in the Lincolnshire fens. He spent fifteen years in isolation, until he died on April 11, 714, and was buried there. One year later, because of his virtuous life and the fact that his body was found incorrupt, he was confirmed a saint. A shrine was constructed in Crowland in his honor, around which an abbey developed dedicated to St. Bartholomew, who is said in various accounts of Guthlac’s life to have saved him from the torment of demons. The Latin Vita was probably composed shortly after his death, and the poet of Guthlac A notes that his poem is composed within the living memory of the saint. Bradley points out that that “Guthlac did not die for the faith but he was, in a sense then popular, a martyr, for in the words of St. Jerome: ‘It is not the shedding of blood alone that is counted as suffering witness, but the impeccable service of a faithful mind is also a daily martyrdom’” (249; for the St. Jerome quote, see Rhodes, 208).
In the opening lines of the poem, it is clear where the angel begins speaking, but there is debate about where the speech ends. I have followed Roberts, who admits that “as the poet expands on the great happiness the soul will have, he loses sight of the angel” (31). Other editors (Krapp and Dobbie, Muir, and Clayton) mark the end of the speech earlier, after line 15a (line 10a in the original).
Guthlac A
That will be the dearest of delights
When the blessed soul sheds its body,
Finally forsaking all earthly pleasures,
As it encounters the fairest of angels
In an exultation of air, a lift of light. 5
That higher being, a heavenly brightness,
Will sing sweet welcome, one spirit to another,
Greeting the soul with God’s good news:
“Now you can follow your deepest desire,
Your heart’s yearning, homeward to heaven, 10
A timely traveler on the glory-road.
Let me lead you now on that pleasant path.
The way will be smooth, the light of heaven
Radiantly revealed, the place as promised,
Filled with joy. You are a timely traveler 15
To that holy home. In that perfect paradise,
You will never know suffering or sorrow,
Poverty or peril. There will be endless blessings,
Hymns of praise in the harmony of angels,
The rapture and rest of eternal souls 20
Rejoicing with the Lord. All who have obeyed his laws
And fulfilled his commands in their earthly lives
Will find their righteous reward in heaven,
Where the King of kings rules the cities.
The joy-halls there will never decay, 25
Never slide into darkness. The hosts in those halls
Will never know misery, never lack mercy.
They will never taste time or drink bitterness
From death’s cup. They will live forever,
Enjoying God’s favors. The steadfast souls 30
Who hold to the truth will find their way home
To heaven after they shed their mortal robes.
These are the disciples who practice and teach
Christ’s holy commandments, the Lord’s laws,
Proclaiming his promise, singing his praise. 35
The virtuous will vanquish the cursed spirits,
The devils of damnation, and rise victorious
To a holy repose, eternal rest in heaven.”
Every human heart longs for the holy light;
Everyone’s unique spirit strives for this, 40
A place in paradise where the cleansed soul
Can pass into the power and presence of God.
There are many degrees of holiness in the world
Considered saintly. We can join these ranks
By following God’s holy commandments. 45
A wise man knows he cannot seek good times
In this life and hope that his soul will journey
Homeward into heaven. The world is troubled;
The love of Christ cools. The age of anxiety
Comes upon us—time is torment. 50
The promise of the prophets gathers to a head.
The world wanes, blooms wither,
Seedlings wilt, fruit falters—
Virtue vanishes. There is no abundance
Except of unease, no hope except of escape, 55
No belief except in dread. All creation shaped
In six days is hapless, heading toward its end.
Middle-earth is split. The Lord sees dwindling
The faithful few who keep his commandments.
Doom draws near. Wise ones know the Lord 60
Will meet with many but offer mercy to few.
Some hope to gain glory or attain status
In their order or rank by words without works.
Some hope for worldly wealth, not eternal joy.
They despise the souls of the holy saints 65
Whose good works serve God’s purpose,
Whose hearts are longing for life in heaven,
Whose promise is not encrusted in prosperity;
Nor their holy grace, inlaid with gold.
They fear and follow God, keep his commandments, 70
Trade wealth for the soul’s surety,
Acquire glory by giving alms, purchase a place
In holy paradise by aiding the meek,
Sustaining the poor, sheltering the wretched.
They serve God daily—he sees their deeds. 75
Some sacred souls willingly inhabit
The wilderness, house-keeping in dark caves,
Waiting for a heavenly home. The proud demon
Who envies life, who lost his own privileged
Place in heaven, harasses their hearts 80
Wi
th visions of terror or false splendor—
That savage demon is skilled at both.
With his cunning craft he persecutes hermits,
But angels stand watch, guarding God’s own,
Shielding their virtue, sustaining their strength, 85
Preserving his saints, those sacred warriors
Who serve their heavenly King, whose souls
Will be saved. For their deep love of God,
They will be lifted above the multitudes,
Reaping a just and generous eternal reward. 90
Now we can tell the holy truth made known to us,
How Guthlac trained his heart and mind
To know and follow the will of God,
To renounce both wickedness and wealth,
Shun earthly nobility and set his hopes 95
On a home in heaven. He did this faithfully
Once God, who prepares the pathway of souls,
Had enlightened him, giving him angelic grace,
A wealth of truth, a treasure of trust,
So that he climbed up crags, gathered stone 100
And wood, built a simple mountain-house
Where he lived alone, offering all he owned,
The wealth he once spent on worldly pleasures,
To his beloved Lord. A guardian from heaven
Watched over him, strengthened his soul, 105
Empowered his spirit, endowed his will.
Now we have often heard that this holy man
Lived a passionate and perilous life
In the days of his youth until God sent an angel
Into his heart’s hold to still his lust, 110
Quiet his cravings, and keep him free from sin.
His time was near—two guardians kept watch,
Each anathema to the other—a dread demon
And an angel of the Lord. Often they entered
The mind of Guthlac, offering ideas 115
In no way alike. One said all earthly life
Was unfirm and fleeting, and praised the perfect
Goodness and grace of heaven’s eternal home,
Where holy men bathe in God’s endless bliss,
Where the Lord rewards the righteous, 120
Who suffer the world and seek heaven.
The other urged him to seek a society
Of scoundrels and thieves, outlaws and exiles,
To prowl the night-lanes to plunder wealth
And care nothing for his victims’ lives. 125
Demon and angel incited and urged him
Until the Lord of hosts ended that strife,
Gave virtue the victory, and flung the demon
Back into darkness, exalting the angel.
That comforting spirit who occupied the air 130
Stayed with Guthlac to shield and protect him,
Teach and train him, embracing him always
With the Lord’s love and also showing him
The deep delight of each day on the mountain.
Often terror stalked the high hill, an alien anger, 135
An unholy hatred, the enmity of ancient foes,
The old fierce fiends, demons of the dark,
Who were cunning and crafty in their quiet scheming,
Subtle in their sinful beauty. They had hidden lairs
In that land, places to which evil was exiled 140
After the Lord drove the demons from heaven.
No one knew where they had holed up,
Grotesque bundles of malice in hills and mounds,
Until God made them manifest to Guthlac,
The holy builder who crafted a home— 145
Not because he cared for worldly wealth,
But because he wanted to defend the land
For his holy Lord and devote himself to it,
After Christ’s champion had overcome
The unholy fiend. He was tested and tempted, 150
Even in the early days of those still living,
Those who now remember his saintly wisdom,
His heroic courage, when he settled down
In the secret and dangerous home alone,
Where he praised God, extolling his glory. 155
Often he proclaimed God’s messages there
To those who loved and feared the Lord,
And he always revered the blessed martyrs,
When the blessed Spirit had revealed to him
Life’s mortal truth, its hidden meanings, 160
Making plain the power and presence
That binds the world, that succors and sustains
Each living being. So Guthlac held faith,
Turned wisely aside from feasts and flesh,
The comforts of the hall, the gather and greeting 165
Of human company, the vain delights
Of carousing song, the sweetest sights
Of dawn and dusk, and the dross of ostentatious dress.
He feared and revered God too much in heart
And mind to want to gather worldly glory. 170
Guthlac was good. He hoped for heaven’s
Healing in his heart, salvation for his soul.
His guardian angel was always nearby,
Protecting that rare warrior of the wasteland.
This blessed man was a model to many in Britain 175
When he climbed the mountain, armed only
With a spiritual sword. He sanctified that land
After planting Christ’s cross in the ground
To consecrate the space with his Maker’s mark.
The holy man outlived a host of perils 180
In a place that God’s martyrs would later brave.
Guthlac’s purpose we attribute to God,
Who gave him strength and prudence, craft
And courage, a might beyond that of other men.
When the demons shot their tiny spears, 185
Their devious darts, to assail his soul
With subtle doubts, they honed their points
To a fine hatred—they could not hold back.
But Guthlac had some heavenly help:
The angel shielded him, strengthening his courage 190
When they threatened him with fire and fury.
They surrounded his body, screaming in heat
That his flesh would be devoured by flames,
His body burned, his bone-house turned
To ash and grit on that once-holy hill, 195
Causing great suffering and sorrow to his kin
If he would not amend his arrogant ways,
Return home from his remote dwelling,
Reclaim his old habit of earthly delights,
Discharge his duties to kith and kin, 200
Keep faith in family, embrace the joyful life,
And forget this feud with his demon neighbors.
The fallen lord who led those dark demons
Uncoiled his words, but good Guthlac
Felt no dread that day—his soul was secure 205
In the guardianship of God. No unholy terror
Could touch him, so that host of devils,
Satan’s servants, suffered agony and shame.
They writhed in wrath, twisted in torment,
Saying that besides God himself, Guthlac 210
Had caused them more misery than anyone
Since brashly entering their cherished wasteland,
Where they had once fled from heaven’s harrowing
Feud with that ungracious, ungenerous god
To seek a respite from suffering, a relief from radiance, 215
A place of peace in exchange for paradise
In their hidden lairs in the gravelike ground.
That secret spot, that unholy hideout
Was far from any ancestral domain,
Barren and abandoned, dismal and desolate, 220
But it was not forgotten by God, who held
That remote place deep in h
is memory
And waited for the claim of a better keeper.
So his old enemies grew livid with the Lord—
Their suffering and shame became unbearable. 225
They had no home on earth, no place in the air
To rest their limbs or lay their heads.
Their time was frozen, their pain permanent,
Their exile endless. They lamented their loss
And wished for death, an end to endlessness. 230
They could not scathe Guthlac’s spirit
Or sever his soul from his brave body
By battering his bone-house, but they could cast
Subtle snares with their lying minds,
Cause trouble and torment with their cunning ways. 235
They laid down laughter and sighed in sorrow
On that wide plain that was not paradise
When a better being with a saintly bearing
Overpowered them. They were doomed to depart,
To give up their homes in those green hills. 240
The fierce fiends threatened Guthlac,
Saying he would not thrive but experience
The throes of death if he hunkered down
In their hills because a far greater host of demons
Would soon come calling like grim guests, 245
Violent visitors who cared little for his life.
Guthlac threw their dark words back down
Their wicked throats—they had no need
To boast and brag about their devilish deeds
Against almighty God. The brave man said: 250
“You may promise pain and death to me,
But God will shield me from your hateful spite.
He protects my life and shapes your affliction.
This is the truth—I can hold this home alone,
Keep my promised place easily among you. 255
I am poor in company but powerful in spirit.
A might beyond man’s reckoning or a demon’s
Subtle grasp dwells within my soul,
A spiritual mystery sustaining me,
So I will build a peaceful home in these hills. 260
I will lift up my house and hymns with hands
And heart in harmony with heaven. A holy angel
Will be my architect. The Lord will craft
My words and works. In God’s name
Be gone, damned and despicable demons, 265
To your desolate home. Here I will have peace
With the everlasting Lord. I will not entertain
Your evil ideas, your subtle temptations.
God’s hand will guard me, his power preserve me.
This is my homeland. It’s yours no longer.” 270
Suddenly a clamor arose, a screeching chaos,
The Complete Old English Poems Page 47
