TH

OLD ENGLISH POETRY

HE Anglo-Saxons, who laid the foundations of the English race and language, were naturally a sea-going and sealoving people. The desire for adventure and for better pastures had led them to sail the North Sea and finally to cross from the northern coast of Germany to England. Before they left their native land, they had carried on a somewhat intermittent trade with the outposts of the Roman Empire. Furthermore, they possessed the necessary characteristics of a great commercial people, a love for the sea and a desire to explore.

These characteristics are expressed in their lyric poetry. The two finest specimens which have come down to us are The Seafarer and The Wanderer. The first part of The Seafarer, which is given here, is perhaps the most impressive bit of lyric poetry in Old English. The unknown author undoubtedly had experienced the trials and joys of commercial adventure, for he spoke with the spirit of the true traveller, who longs to "visit the home of the stranger." In the second part the poet moralizes upon the brevity of life and the passing of earthly power. He admonishes his readers to live so that they will be prepared for death. Both in inspiration and composition it falls below the standard of the first part.

THE SEAFARER

PART I

Of myself a true tale can I tell and speak

Of my journeyings far; how for days both stern toil
And hardships oftwhile have I wearily suffered;
Sore aches of the heart have endured. In my ship
Have explored thru the terrible welter of waves,
Many halls of care; oft the difficult night watch

Hath found me there at the prow of my bark,

As it rocked near the cliffs. My feet with the cold
Were bound; the cold grip of the frost held them fast.
There the sorrows were wailing hot round my heart;
And hunger within did relentlessly smite

My courage, now weary of roaming the sea.

That knows not he who by chance has his home
On the land; how oppressed with dull care I spent
On the ice-cold sea the winter in exile,
Deprived of all joy, of my kinsmen robbed,
With icicles hung. About me the hail
In showers flew; and there I heard nothing
But the roar of the sea, the waves cold as ice,
And sometimes the song of the lonely swan.
For pleasure I had the cry of the gannet

And the kitiwakes' sound for the laughter of men;
For my mead-drink I knew the calls of the gulls.
There the storms on the rocky cliffs beat, the terns,
Ice-feathered, gave answer; the eagle screamed,
Full oft dewy feathered. There none of my kin
Might gladden my desolate heart; little of that
Believes the man who possesses life's joys,
Has endured in the cities some woeful adventure,
Somewhat befogged in his wine and his pride.
How weary I often must stay on the sea!

The shades of the night grew dark, from the north
Came the snow; while the world by the frost was bound.

Hail fell on the earth, the coldest of grain.

About this now the thoughts of my heart are beating,

That in the play I may test the high streams, the salt waves.

The desire of my heart ever urges my spirit

To fare forth in search of the land of the stranger.

There is no one on earth so haughty in mind,

Nor so good in his gifts, nor in youth so brave,
Nor so bold in his deeds, nor to whom is so kind
His lord, that he has not always a care

For what on his journeys the Lord will him give.
His heart calls him not to the harp, nor to treasure,
Nor to joy in a wife, nor to bliss in the world,
Nor to anything else but the welter of waves;

For a longing hastens him forth to the sea.

The woodlands now capture the blossoms, and towns
With the spring grow beautiful, meadows are fair;
And the world once again doth hasten to life.
All these stir the eager heart and the mind
To adventure, to think of the path of the tides.
The cuckoo, besides, with his sorrowful note
Doth warn, as the warden of summer he sings
And proclaims bitter sorrow in store for the heart.
The child doth not know or the fortunate man
What some must endure who in exile lay.

To that now my heart ever turns in my breast;
Over the home of the whale now wanders my spirit
To all quarters of earth. Returning to me,
With greed and eagerness cries the lone flier,
Thus inciting my soul unawares to the sea,
Over the ocean, the path of the whale.

Translation by the Editor.

S

ELFRIC

NINCE the universal language both of culture and of commerce in Medieval Europe was Latin, the business man of tenth century England desired that his sons should have at least a practical knowledge of that language. If they were to carry on trade of more than a local nature even in their own country, this knowledge was necessary. To aid these students in acquiring Latin, Ælfric, one of the greatest teachers of the century, wrote a conversation between representatives of various occupations. This colloquy was written in Latin with the English words over the Latin in the form of an interlinear translation.

The book is valuable not only because it illustrates a method of instruction but also because it gives an interesting picture of Old English life and customs. The friendly discussion as to which is the greatest of the occupations shows that students of that day were troubled with the same problems as those of today. The book closes with a dialogue on learning and the daily life. of the pupils. The importance of the merchant as an importer should be particularly noticed. The English were always eager to sail the seas and to bring to their island the products of foreign lands. The commercial spirit is deep seated in the English character.

SELECTIONS FROM THE COLLOQUY

Pupil. We, children, ask you, O teacher, that you teach us to speak rightly in Latin because we are ignorant and we speak inaccurately.

Teacher. What do you wish to say?

Pupil. What do we care what we talk about, provided it

be correct language and useful, not idle or bad?

Teacher. Will you be flogged in your studying?