Widsith
Widsith the wandering singer spoke,
Unlocked his word-hoard, unpacked his memory.
He had traveled along many earth-roads,
Known many peoples among the races of men.
He was often rewarded with gems in the hall 5
For his fund of stories, his stash of memories.
His ancestors hailed from the tribe of Myrgings;
He first came out of the east from Angel
With Ealhhild, a trusted and gracious peace-weaver,
To the home of Eormanric, the Gothic king, 10
That savage promise-breaker, betrayer of men.
Widsith was rich with his many recollections.
With his resonant voice, he began to speak:
“I have learned these lessons about the rulers of men:
Each prince should live properly, each lord honorably; 15
One lord after another should rule the land,
So the throne can thrive, the people prosper.
Hwala was best for awhile, Alexander mightiest
Among the races of men, prospering most
Of all the peoples I’ve heard talked about. 20
Ætla ruled the Huns, Eormanric the Goths,
Becca the Banings, Gifica the Burgundians.
Caesar ruled the Greeks, Cælic the Finns,
Hagena the Island-Rugians, Heoden the Glommas.
Witta ruled the Swabians, Wade the Hælsings, 25
Meaca the Myrgings, Mearchealf the Hundings.
Theodric ruled the Franks, Thyle the Rondings,
Breoca the Brondings, Billing the Wærnas.
Oswine ruled the Eowan, Gefwulf the Jutes,
Fin Folcwalding the race of the Frisians. 30
Sigehere ruled the Sea-Danes for a long time.
Hnæf ruled the Hocings, Helm the Wulfings,
Wald the Woingas, Wod the Thuringians,
Sæferth the Secgan, Ongendtheow the Swedes,
Sceafthere the Ymbras, Sceafa the Longobards, 35
Hun the Hætwere, and Holen the Wrosnas.
Hringweald was called king of the pirates.
Offa ruled Angel, Alewih the Danes—
He was the bravest and boldest of all these men.
Yet he was no greater hero than Offa, 40
Unsurpassed among men, who as a boy in battle,
A youth in arms, accomplished much,
Gained for himself the greatest of kingdoms,
As no one his age had ever done.
With his lone sword, he fixed the boundary 45
Firmly against the Myrgings at Fifeldor.
Afterwards the Angles and Swabians held it
As Offa had won it with a striking sword.
For a long time Hrothwulf and Hrothgar together,
Uncle and nephew, kept a careful peace, 50
When they had driven off the Viking tribes
And vanquished Ingeld’s army of spears,
Slew at Heorot that host of Heathobards.
So I have traveled through many foreign lands
In this wide world, learning much 55
Of both good and evil. I served and suffered,
Separated from family, cut off from kin.
So I can chant and sing, telling my story,
Making clear in the meadhall before many men
How nobles were generous, magnanimous to me. 60
I was with the Huns and the glorious Ostrogoths,
The Swedes and Geats, and also the South-Danes,
The Wendlas, the Wærnas, and also the Vikings,
The Gefthas, the Wends, and also the Gefflegas.
I was with the Angles, the Swabians, and the Ænenas, 65
The Saxons, the Secgan, and also the Sweordweras,
The Hronas, the Danes, and also the Heathoreamas,
The Thuringians, the Throwendas, and also the Burgundians,
Where I received an arm-ring, a beautiful bracelet.
Guthhere gave me a bright, shining gem 70
In reward for my song—he was no hoarding king.
I was with the Franks, the Frisians, and also the Frumtings,
The Rugas, the Glommas, and also the Romans.
Likewise I was there in Italy with Ælfwine.
He had, as I’ve heard, a commendable hand. 75
He was generous and quick to pass out gifts
And win men’s praise, offering rings
And arm-bands, the best of benefactors,
The son of Eadwine. Still I traveled.
I was with the Saracens and also the Serings, 80
The Greeks, the Finns, and also with Caesar,
Who held festive cities in his great power,
Riches and rings and other desirables;
He also held the kingdom of the Welsh.
I was with the Scots, the Picts, and the Scride-Finns, 85
The Lidwicings, the Leonas, and also the Longobards,
With heathens and brave men, also with the Hundings.
I was with both Israelites and Asyrians,
Hebrews and Jews, and also Egyptians.
I was with the Medes, the Persians, the Myrgings, 90
And the Mofdings, and against the Myrgings,
And with the Amothingas; with the East Thuringians,
The Eolas, the Iste, and also the Idumingas.
I was with Eormanric all this time:
The king of the Goths treated me well— 95
He was kind and generous. He gave me gifts,
This lord of the cities, prince of the peoples,
A beautiful neck-ring cunningly crafted
Out of six hundred pieces of pure gold,
Counted in shillings. I gave it to Eadgils, 100
My lord and protector when I came home,
A precious reward for my beloved prince
Since the lord of the Myrgings gave me land,
My father’s estate, my family’s home.
Then Ealhhild, the dear daughter of Eadwine, 105
Noble and majestic, queen of her people,
Gave me another precious gift.
Her praise was passed on to many places,
As it was my dear duty to tell in song
Of the best and most beautiful gift-giving 110
Queen under great heaven’s realm.
She was gracious and gold-adorned.
When Scilling and I, harp and harper,
With a clear voice raised a victory-song
Before our lord—the sound and song 115
Made music together—then proud-hearted men,
Whose minds were sharp, whose skills were honed,
Said they had never heard a better song.
Afterwards I passed into the land of the Goths,
Always seeking the best of companions, 120
The firmest of friends, the retainers of Eormanric.
I sought Hethca, Beadeca, and also the Harlungs,
Emerca, Fridlal, and also Ostrogotha,
The good and wise father of Unwen.
I sought Secca, Becca, Seafola, and Theodric, 125
Heathoric, Sifeca, Hlithe, and Incgentheow,
Eadwine, Elsa, Ægelmund, and Hungar,
And the proud band of Withmyrgings.
I sought Wulfhere and Wyrmhere, where war
Rarely ceased when the army of Goths 130
Had to defend their ancient hereditary
Homeland with hard-biting swords
Against the people of Ætla by Vistula wood.
I sought Rædhere, Rondhere, Rumstan, and Gislhere,
Withergield, Frederick, Wudga, and Hama. 135
They were not the worst, though I named them last.
Often the whistling, screaming spear
Flew fast from those people at their enemies.
Wudga and Hama, wanderers and exiles,
Commanded there, held sway over both 140
Men and women with twi
sted gold.
So I have always found in my far wandering
That people hold dearest whoever is able
To rule the land as long as he lives,
Through God’s granting him that power.” 145
Thus minstrels, story-tellers, song-shapers,
Wander about the world as fortune demands,
Singing their needs, speaking their thanks.
Wherever they go, south or north,
They always find someone skilled in song, 150
Marvelous in measures, wise in words,
Generous in giving from his noble treasure-hoard,
Who wants to raise up his glory before his warriors,
To do great deeds that exalt his honor,
Till time takes its toll and everything transient, 155
Both life and light, passes finally away.
So he gains high praise and everlasting glory
In his storied exploits under the heavens.
THE FORTUNES OF MEN
Like The Gifts of Men and the two Maxims poems, this poem is a kind of catalogue poem. It begins with a storied family setting, where loving parents nurture and teach their son. But the boy must eventually “walk out of youth” into the adult world, where only God knows what his fate will be. The poet begins his list of possible fortunes with a catalogue of dire fates, then turns to a few more positive fortunes, emphasizing various human crafts, implying that the answer to an inhospitable world might be hard work and a traditional place in the social fabric. The poet concludes by saying that every man should give thanks to God for fixing his fate and measuring out mercy to mankind, but the presence of mercy in the catalogue is muted. Shippey says that the poem “presents us with a particularly teasing opposition of pain and providence, so detached as to be almost bland, and yet showing clearly that the poet is able to imagine the reality of suffering, even if he chooses not to comment on it” and concludes that “the impression finally left is not heartlessness, but a determination to look on the bright side of a dark situation; a second recognition of the fact that mourning does no good, whether to the poet or to the nameless mothers of doomed children [so] the poet’s wisdom is a blend of recognition and wilful optimism” (11).
The Fortunes of Men
Often it happens through the glory of God
That a man and woman bring into the world
A child by birth, give him colorful clothes,
Cuddle and coax him, teach and train him,
Till the time comes when his young limbs 5
Are strong, lithe, and fully grown.
His father and mother first carry him,
Then lead him, and finally walk beside him.
They feed and clothe him, but God alone knows
What the years will bring the growing boy. 10
One walks out of youth to a woeful end,
A misery to mankind. Out on the moor
A gray wolf will eat him and his mother mourn—
His fierce fate is beyond man’s wielding.
Hunger haunts one, the sword slays one, 15
The storm drowns one, the spear guts one—
War is his stalker, battle his bane.
Blind-eye gropes with his hands through life,
Lame-foot crawls sinew-sick through pain,
Bird-man flies wingless from the tree, 20
Doing wind-tricks as he soars down.
On the ground he rots like dead fruit—
Root-sick, his bloom is done.
One shall walk on a far-winding road,
Bear his food and home on his back 25
Into foreign lands, leaving a damp track
On dangerous ground. He has few friends
To offer him greeting as they gather round.
A friendless man finds no welcome—
Men fear his long trail of misfortune. 30
One man rides the high gallows-tree,
Dangling in death till the raven swoops
Down on his bone-house, his bloody flesh,
Scoops out his eyeballs, pecks at his head,
Tears at his corpse. He can’t keep at bay 35
That dark-coated bird, ward off the black flier
With his useless hands. His life has fled.
He feels nothing on the gallows-tree—
His face is pale, his fate is fixed.
He swings in death’s shrouded mist— 40
Outlaw and alien, his name is cursed.
Another sleeps on a funeral pyre—
The fierce flame, the red fire
Will devour the doomed. He leaves life quickly.
The woman will wail who loses her son 45
To the flames’ embrace, his last kiss.
Sometimes the sword’s edge steals the life
Of an ale-drinker or a wine-weary man
At the mead-bench. His words are too quick.
Another drinks beer from the cup-bearer’s hand, 50
Grows drunk as a mead-fool, forgets to check
His mouth with his mind, seeks suffering,
Finds fate, life’s joyless end.
Men call him a mead-wild self-slayer,
Give him an unholy name in words. 55
One will be lucky with God’s help,
Leave the wrack and ruin of youth,
The spilling of fortune, the heft of hardship,
Find days of joy and the treasure of gems,
Mead-cups and crafted gifts in old age, 60
The camaraderie of kin—all worth keeping.
So mighty God gives out destinies,
Deals out fortunes to all men on earth.
One finds wealth, another finds woe,
One finds gladness, another finds glory, 65
One shoots arrows, another throws dice,
One is crafty at the gaming table,
One chooses chess, another wise words.
One has skill as a great goldsmith—
He hardens rings, adorns kings, 70
Who reward his craft with gifts of land.
One shall gladden hearts in the hall,
Delight the drinkers, delivering joy.
One sits with his harp at his lord’s feet,
Takes his treasure, a reward of rings, 75
Plucks with his harp-nail, sweeps over strings,
Shapes song: hall-thanes long for his melody.
One will tame the proud, fierce bird,
Hold hawk in hand, till that sword-swallow
Gentles down to the arm’s delight— 80
He gives the bird food and foot-rings,
Until that savage slayer in its hooded grace
Humbles himself to his trainer’s hand.
So God gives out varied fortunes,
Fixes fates, shapes our endings, 85
Creates our crafts, decides the destiny
Of every man throughout middle-earth.
So every man should give thanks to him
For the mercy he measures out to mankind.
MAXIMS I: EXETER MAXIMS (A, B, AND C)
The Maxims poems that follow may be part of a single poem or three separate but formally related poems. There is a similar aphoristic poem, Maxims II: Cotton Maxims (see under “The Minor Poems”), which has a less varied syntax but a more diverse list of truths (or should-be truths). The heart of these poems usually consists of a list of short, pithy statements about various creatures, human and non-human, and their appropriate, typical, or desired context, action, or condition. Each maxim is a mini-definition usually built on the verb byð (is, is always, will be) or sceal (shall be, should be, must be, ought to be, is typically). These simple verbs are notoriously difficult to translate, and often the shadow of “what isn’t” or “what might not be” lurks beneath the assertion of the maxim. The relation between one maxim and its neighbors is often vexed. Sometimes there seems to be a connection; often there remains a startling disjunction. Shippey notes that “the poems’ charm often derive
s from their unfamiliar blend of the bold and the canny, the physical and the abstract, the banal and the suggestive” (18). Hansen says that “although it sounds authoritative, the gnomic voice … is open to human experience and hence to conflicting perspectives, and it insists that in the poem as in life, its listener take part in a mutual performance through which meaning is made” (176). Bjork points out that a gnomic poem like this one “seems to function as the repository of the wisdom of the tribe as it relates to the natural world, the preoccupations of the social world, and the verities and lasting realities of the Christian world” (2014, xi).
MAXIMS I (A)
Maxims I (A) shares characteristics with certain OE dialogue poems such as Solomon and Saturn (see under “The Minor Poems”), as it begins with the speaker’s invitation to question him with wise words and to trade truths. It then offers a praise song to God before proceeding with its catalogue of “byð” and “sceal” maxims that sometimes morph into miniature stories such as that of the blind man, the young student, and the man of violence. God has created a profusion of peoples with different perceptions and ideas; therefore, truths need to be traded and tested in dialogue and discussion. “God is eternal, untouched by time” (15), but his truths are not always self-evident since he gives humanity “minds to make meanings, / Myriad thoughts, diverse perceptions, / A variety of views, a host of tongues” (20–22).
Maxims I (A)
Question me with wise words, without hiding
Your deepest thoughts, without making your mind
A mystery. How can I reveal my own secrets,
My knowledge and understanding without knowing
Your heart’s thoughts, your mind’s movement. 5
Wise men should stir up ideas, mixing wisdom.
It is fitting first to praise God our Father.
In the beginning he gave us a great treasure,
The gift of life with its passing joys.
These are precious loans to be remembered, 10
To be repaid. God inhabits his glory-heaven;
The Complete Old English Poems Page 59
