Beneath the apparently straightforward gnomic half-line, the poem points to a wide variety of possible kingly behaviors. What is slides into what should be or might be. The possibility of “might not” lurks beneath the surface. The ideal is haunted by the shadow of real-world kingly faults and failures. Nearly every gnome is like this, hiding beneath its supposedly simple statement a provocative mixture of possibilities. We could assume that the Anglo-Saxon poet had a haphazard pattern of construction or embraced an ordered worldview that we no longer comprehend. Or we might strain to make modern order out of the catalogue only to erase some significant points of disjuncture in the poem. Alternatively, we can assume that the gaps between maxims serve some purpose, some intended ambiguity, some moment of surprise intended to challenge our ordinary way of perceiving and ordering the world. At the very least, we should recognize in the maxims and their gaps what Howe calls a “strangeness of taxonomy,” whose apparent disjunctions force us to see beyond our ordinary categories of perception, and whose apparent absurdity “is also deeply disconcerting, for it challenges our fundamental ways of ordering experience” (10).
Maxims II (Cotton Maxims)
A king shall rule a kingdom. Cities are seen from afar,
The cunning work of giants, wonderful wall-stones,
Their works left on earth. Wind is the swiftest creature in air,
Thunder the loudest at times. The glories of Christ are great.
Fate is the firmest, winter the coldest, 5
Spring the frostiest, its chill the longest.
Summer is sun-brightest, the sky then hottest,
Autumn most glorious, harvest-heavy,
Bringing the year’s fruit given by God.
Truth is the trickiest, treasure the dearest, 10
Gold made for men, the old one wisest,
Rich in experience, enduring for years.
Woe is wondrously clinging. Clouds drift off.
Good companions should encourage a prince
To be a battle-warrior and ring-giver. 15
A man must have courage, the sword a helmet
To bite in battle. The wild hawk must find
A home on the glove; the wolf haunts the wood,
The eagle soars alone. The boar in the forest
Shall be tusk-strong. A good man seeks glory 20
In his homeland. A spear dwells in the hand,
Stained with gold. A gem stands on the ring,
High and prominent. The stream will be wave-bound
To mix with the flood. The mast must stand on a boat,
Lifting the sail-yard. The sword shall be on the lap, 25
A noble iron. The dragon shall dwell in a barrow,
Old and treasure-proud. The fish must spawn
Its kin in water. The king must give out
Rings in the hall. The bear shall be on the heath,
Old and awesome. The river flows from the hill 30
To the flood-gray sea. The army shall fight together,
Fixed on glory. Faith and trust must be in a lord,
Wisdom in a man. The wood shall be on the earth
With fruit and bloom—the hills of the world
Stand green and gleaming. God is in heaven, 35
The judge of deeds. The door of a building
Is its broad hall-mouth. The boss must be on the shield,
Finger-fast protection. The bird must sail and soar,
Sporting with the wind, the salmon dart through water
Like a quick shot. Showers shall start in the heavens, 40
Churning with wind, then fall on the land.
A thief must hide out in gloomy weather.
A demon must live alone in the fen.
A woman must seek her secret lover
With craft and cunning if she has no wish 45
To be bound in marriage, bought with rings,
Thriving as a proud wife among her people.
Water-flow shall be salt-surge, cloud-cover,
Sky-mist, and mountain stream. Cattle on earth
Shall teem and thrive. Stars in heaven 50
Shall shine brightly as the Creator commanded.
Good shall oppose evil, youth oppose age,
Life oppose death, light oppose darkness,
Army oppose army, one enemy against another.
Foe against foe shall fight over land, 55
Engage in feud, accuse each other of crimes.
Ever must a wise man think about struggle
And strife in this world. An outlaw must hang,
Pay for the terrible crime he committed
Against mankind. The Creator alone knows 60
Where the soul will turn after the death-day,
When all spirits journey to the judgment of God
In their Father’s embrace. The shape of the future
Is secret and hidden—only the Lord knows that,
Our saving Father. No one returns here 65
Under our earthly roofs to tell us the truth—
What the Lord’s shaping creation holds forth,
Or what heaven’s hall with its victory-people
Looks like in that place where the Lord lives.
A PROVERB FROM WINFRID’S TIME
This short, so-called proverb, which sounds more like a maxim, was “found in a Latin letter … by an anonymous monk [and] dated to the period 757–86 … among those [letters] of Boniface (Wynfrith)” (Fulk and Cain, 172–73). Stanley notes that “it may be the oldest of all extant English verse, as it is certainly the oldest in linguistic form of all English proverbs” (1987, 121). It issues a warning to the daedlata, or “late-deed-doer,” who never achieves glory or thinks about judgment or finds a community of dedicated friends.
A Proverb from Winfrid’s Time
The sluggard delays striving for glory,
Never dreams of daring victories
Or successful ventures. He dies alone.
JUDGMENT DAY II
This poem is found in MS 201 of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. Dobbie notes that “viewed as a whole, this manuscript is a miscellaneous collection of homilies, laws, and other ecclesiastical and legal documents” (1942, lxix). This is one of two Judgment Day poems; the other is in the Exeter Book. The theme is also found in Christ III: Judgment in the Exeter Book and in other religious poems and homilies (see, for example, Verse in a Homily: The Judgment of the Damned in “Additional Poems”). Caie notes that “Doomsday with its potential for hell-fire rhetoric was one of the most effective devices to instill a penitential mood in an audience; Judgement Day presented a terrifying picture not only of the horrors of the conflagration and total destruction of the world, but also of the individual sinner’s confrontation with his Maker and a public revelation of all secret sins” (2000, ix). The timeframe in the poem is complex. The end of the world is superimposed on the end of a person’s life, and reckoning is a process that occurs eternally in the present. The narrator encourages his listener or reader here to contemplate a variety of ends—his or her own death, the end of the world with its judgment and doom, and the end or purpose for which mankind was created, as well as the end for which Christ came into the world.
The poem is based on Bede’s De die iudicii, as is an OE prose homily, Be Domes Dæge (Caie, 2000, xi). The poem begins with a Latin introduction, which Caie translates: “Here begins Bede’s poem on Judgement Day: ‘Among the flowering grasses of the fertile earth with the branches echoing on every side from the wind’s breath’” (85). It concludes with an OE prose passage: “Here ends the book that is called Inter florigeras—that is in English ‘Between the blossoming ones who go to God’s kingdom and how those endure who go to hell’” (Caie, 2000, 103).
Judgment Day II and the following three poems occur together in MS 201 of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. Judgment Day II and the next poem are probably connected in their basic theme and movement. They are penitential poems that progress from Doomsday terror to conf
ession and absolution; each is narrated by a wise teacher who mentors a listener. Together they move from harrowing fear to heavenly hope (for more on this linkage, see Caie, 2000, 15–19, and Robinson, 1994, 180 ff.). See the headnotes to the following three poems for other possible connections.
Judgment Day II
Listen! I was sitting alone in a leafy grove,
Covered by a canopy, sheltering in the shade,
Where streams murmured and sang, running
Through the green glade, just as I’ve said.
I saw bud and blossom, beauty in bloom, 5
Lovely plants everywhere in that perfect place.
Sometimes the trees were swaying and sighing,
Sometimes swinging, rustling in the wind.
The sky stirred, the whole of heaven
Began to storm, and my solitary spirit 10
Was twisted and troubled, torn with grief.
Suddenly from a well of unwelcome thoughts,
Out of fear or frailty, misery or mad inspiration,
I began to sing these sad verses,
Just as was said. I remembered my sins, 15
My wicked words, my cruel deeds,
The things I’ve lamented doing in life,
And I thought how death never stops
Stalking the living no matter how long
We walk or wait in the day’s vibrant light, 20
Hoping to outrun or outwait or outwit the dark.
I feared God’s wrath, righteous or ravening,
His judgment of sinners, fiercely just,
When he comes to separate and sentence
All of mankind on middle-earth, 25
The holy and hell-bound, by his mystery
And might. I also remembered God’s glory
Shining on the saints in heaven’s home
And the darkening doom of the exiled and lost,
The misery of sinners, their torment and terror, 30
The cries of the faithless who twist in flame.
I recalled these things, mourning for myself,
Lifting this song from a well of grief:
“Let my tears be a torrent, a bitter flood,
While I beat my breast with a sinner’s hands, 35
Prostrate my body and begin to pray,
Naming the sorrows I so well deserve.
Let my bitter salt-tears be as unceasing
As those sins I’ve committed, those acts
Of unfaith. Let them flood my face 40
And reveal my gathering guilt to God.
Let all the secrets of my unhallowed heart,
Whatever was wicked I’ve said or done,
Be drenched in tears, disclosed in words.
Let dark lust be laid bare to the light of day, 45
Envy be unfurled, pride left unprotected,
So that my hapless heart may be healed.
I know hope walks hand in hand with grief,
The promise of mercy with the pain of memory.
The only hope for the wretched and sinful 50
Is to disclose their wounds to the heavenly Doctor,
Who alone can save us and make us whole.
The Ruler of angels will never bruise or break
A man’s mind, his rash or reckless heart,
Nor will the Lord Christ quench with water 55
A feebly smoking wick, whether flax or flesh.
Did not the thief who was cruelly crucified
With Christ create a model of the worth
Of true repentance for his worldly sins,
His countless crimes, and receive redemption? 60
That thief on the gallows-tree was truly guilty
And deserved to die without hope of heaven.
His heart was heavy, his soul was mired in sin;
Yet close to death, at the edge of the abyss,
He offered prayers from his hidden heart 65
With a few faithful words and found a cure,
The gift of salvation from his Lord and Savior.
He entered the peerless gates of paradise,
Where he found his heart’s home with God.
I ask you, my anxious mind, my unhappy heart: 70
Why do you linger so long before revealing
Your shameful condition and confessing your sins
To your Father and Physician? And why are you silent,
My sinful tongue, when you have time to beg
For the Lord’s forgiveness while he is listening? 75
Now the God of glory will hear you gladly,
But the day of doom, the time of reckoning,
Is coming soon when he will judge the world,
The orb of earth and all its inhabitants.
Then you will be called to come alone 80
To render your account to God the Creator,
Your resolute Ruler, in words and works.
Now is the time to shed penitent tears
To relieve God’s wrath and redeem yourself.
Why do you grovel in filth, my flesh, 85
Wallowing in misery, floundering in sin?
Clean up your act, confess your crimes,
Flush out sin by shedding staunch tears.
Pray to the Life-lord for poultice, plaster,
And medicines to heal your sinful soul. 90
This is the hour of weeping, the season of sorrow.
Repent this night. The Son of God
Will delight to see you truly remorseful,
Suffering for your sins, condemning your crimes.
Judge yourself and he will not avenge your offenses 95
More than once. Have faith in forgiveness.
Do not despise lamentation and weeping—
The time is ripe for those who confess.
Remember how terrible the torment will be
For the wretched of the earth who have no faith, 100
No penitence, no forgiveness, no heart’s hope
Before a relentless Ruler, a righteous God.
He will not be generous to them at judgment
For their wicked words and sinful deeds.
They will twist in terror at the sacred signs, 105
The savage tokens proclaiming Doomsday,
Declaring that Christ the Judge is coming.
The earth shall tremble, the skies split,
The hills heave and crash upon themselves.
Mountain peaks will crack and perish, 110
The sea turn savage, roar, and ravage
The minds of men. Heaven shall darken,
Creation bow down, chaos come calling.
A looming shadow shall lengthen on the land.
The moon will be helpless to brighten the night. 115
Stars will slide down in terrible trails,
And the glorious sun will darken at dawn.
Terrible death-tokens will descend from heaven
To haunt the living. Fear will rule the land.
Then a host of angels, a troop of glory, 120
Will descend in strength, surrounding the Lord,
Our eternal Maker. The Ruler of heaven
Will ascend his throne, radiant as the sun.
We will all be summoned to judgment then,
And each will receive his just reward, 125
Bliss or bale, for his words and deeds.
I beg you to remember the grim terror
You may meet before the judgment throne.
The multitudes will gather before God,
Each imperfect person alone and anxious, 130
Confused and confounded, daunted by dread.
An army of angels, a host from heaven,
Will surround the eternal, all-powerful Lord.
A trumpet will sound, summoning suddenly
The race of Adam, all earth-dwellers 135
Who came through the doors of delivery
Of their human mothers—whoever existed,
Exists, or will exist in p
ast, present, and future—
An endless trail of mankind through time.
Then shall each person’s sins be revealed— 140
The mind’s secret thoughts, the heart’s
Hidden desires, the tongue’s wicked words,
The hand’s hard crimes, all the malice-making
Misery laid on others, ruining their lives—
All the evil unexposed, the sins that no one 145
Dares to tell for fear of unleashed shame.
Everyone will be required to own up
To their devious plots and broken promises,
Crafty schemes and savage crimes.
Nothing will be hidden from the mind of God. 150
The air will be filled with poisonous fire,
A hot clutch of death that cannot be quenched.
The sky which has always seemed empty to us
Will be thick with flame—lethal, blood-red—
An agony as far as the eye can see. 155
That cruel fire will crackle and burn,
Blazing skin, blackening bone.
That ravenous flame will offer no mercy
To any man unless he is confessed and cleansed,
Shriven and saved. Countless people 160
In numberless nations will beat their breasts
Fiercely with their fists, fearing the worst
Because of their secret sins and dark desires.
Kings and commoners, privileged and poor,
Will all be judged according to one law. 165
Wealthy and woeful will all know fear
When the Doomsday flood and fire rage
Like twin terrors, singeing souls,
Drowning lungs, devouring limbs.
Great serpents will rip out the sinful hearts 170
And hell swallow up the agonizing undead.
What’s left after this dark devastation
Will be food for worms, a feast of flesh.
No one can come forward to face God
Wholly confident of his eternal outcome: 175
Some will find a generous judgment,
The Complete Old English Poems Page 110
