Old English Poems Part 13

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 G.o.d 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 a.s.sembly to show as a sign and a token, 175 All b.l.o.o.d.y 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d. 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 a.s.syrians, 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 a.s.syria, 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 a.s.syria 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 G.o.d, and gritted their teeth, Grinding them in their grief. Then was their glory at an end, Their n.o.ble 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, G.o.d, 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 a.s.syrian 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 b.l.o.o.d.y, 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, h.o.a.ry 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 G.o.d, 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 n.o.ble 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 h.o.a.ry 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d: 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 gra.s.sy plain all green appear, Gorgeously garnished by G.o.d 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d. 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 br.i.m.m.i.n.g 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 surpa.s.seth 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 G.o.d 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 n.o.ble 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 a.s.suaged 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 a.s.semble, 225 To fall in a heap when the fire is spent, To cling in a ma.s.s, 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 sh.e.l.l. 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 n.o.ble 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 G.o.d. 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 gla.s.s 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.