Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Vague words and allusions
Plundered gear
Closing
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Abstract
Wulfgar having given him the okay, Beowulf strides in to Hrothgar with his thanes in tow.
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Translation
"Arose then the hero, from amidst his many thanes,
various valiant warriors, some remained there,
to watch the war-gear, as they were strictly ordered.
They hurried together, their chief going first,
under Heorot's roof; on went the war-fierce,
under hard helmets, until they stood upon the hearth.
Beowulf spoke - on him the byrnie shone,
his corslet crafted with the smith's skill:"
(Beowulf ll.399-406)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Vague words and allusions
Although the poet/scribe here describes Beowulf's walking "under Heorot's roof" ("under Heorotes hrof" (l.403)) we're no closer to figuring out whether he and his fellow Geats have been waiting outside or in some sort of antechamber. Even the Old English is of no help since it literally means "under Heorot's roof." Either Beowulf has walked in to be under it, or is striding (no doubt manfully) beneath Heorot's golden eaves.
Though really, what sort of hall could be called "great" without some sort of antechamber?
Moving from one vague phrase to another, at the end of this passage we encounter "smiþes."
This word translates easily into "smith," but the question is: is it plural or singular?
A quick look at the University of Virginia's famed Magic Sheet reveals that "smiþes" is in fact singular.
So what?
It's possible that this word is an allusion. In Norse myth there is a famous smith named Wayland who crafted many wondrous things (like the incredible, instantly-travelling "Wade's boat" referenced in Chaucer's "The Merchant's Tale"). Normally it would be ridiculous to pick this reference out of a throwaway use of the word "smiþes." But the end of this passage is special.
After we're told that Beowulf speaks, the poet/scribe decides to go on and describe the armour that Beowulf is wearing.
We're told that Beowulf's byrnie (waist-length maille shirt) shone and that his corslet (breastplate) was made "with the smith's skill" (l.406). All of this talk of armour, however brief, opens up the possibility of "smiþes" being a reference to Wayland. This description being the set up for Beowulf's speech also suggests a reference because reading even the first line of the Geat's gab shows that it is a formal, carefully worded address. It's not every day (even during the lifetime of the poet/scribe) that you use "þu," ("thou") after all.
Now, if "smiþes" is a reference to Wayland, it doesn't necessarily mean that Wayland made Beowulf's armour. Though that would fit in well with why Beowulf (not to mention the poet/scribe) prizes it so highly. It could just be a reference that is idiomatic in that the real live smith who fashioned the Geat's battle gear seemed to have channelled the mythical skill of the smith when making it. It's just that good.
Mythological reference or not, as we'll see soon, whoever the smith was that made Beowulf's armour, he made it to last.
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Plundered gear
Along with a bizarre, translation-blocking typo in the Old English text of the bilingual edition of Heaney's translation (the apparently non-existent "pryðlic" for "þryðlic" (l.400)), this passage has a word of note.
Yet another word for "war-gear," "heaðo-reaf," has a curious meaning when pulled apart and patched back together.
Separately, its words translate as "war" and "plunder, booty, spoil; garment, armour, vestment." These don't exactly come together like "Wig/laf" (literally "war legacy/relic"), there's a definite implication that this armour is directly related to combat. Beowulf has pulled it from the battle field.
But in what sense?
Could it simply refer to its being plundered from a battlefield?
Or should the reference be taken to mean that it's seen many close scrapes and yet been "plundered" from each one in that its wearer has survived to wear it again?
Either way, it's not used here to avoid some sort of reference to genitalia, but instead, to simply alliterate in the first half of the line.
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Closing
Next week, Beowulf to Hrothgar speaks.
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Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Beowulf's placement and Wulfgar's use of "you" (ll.389b-398) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Are they in or out?
Oh, "eow"...
Closing
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Abstract
Wulfgar runs to Beowulf and the Geats, bearing word of their being accepted by Hrothgar.
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Translation
"Then to the hall door
went Wulfgar, from within this word was called out:
'You as commanded by word of my war lord,
prince of the East-Danes, that he knows of your family:
and you to him are from over the sea-wave,
proven brave, welcome hither.
Now you may go in wearing your armour,
under your helmets, to see Hrothgar;
yet here unbind and leave your shields,
broad boards, and deadly spears, this is a meeting for words alone'"
(Beowulf ll.389b-398)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Are they in or out?
This scene reminds me of Dorothy's arrival at the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz. I can very vividly picture Wulfgar popping his head out of a window cut into Heorot's door and calling down to Beowulf that he and his Geats are allowed in.
The trouble with that is that they've already taken seats at benches. So are those benches outside on Heorot's lawn (perhaps the setting for a now lost epic poem about lawn bowling) or are they in some sort of antechamber?
We are told, when the Geats arrive, that they lean some of their gear up against a wall ("sea-weary they set their shields aside,/battle-hard bucklers, against that hall's wall;" ("setton sæmeþe side scyldas,/rondas regnhearde, wið þæs recedes weal," (ll.325-326))). The benches (the exact word used is "bence" (l.327)) that they sit on are also vague. In the former case it seems as though they're outside and have set their weapons up against the hall's outer wall. The non-descript benches could also be outside (the word used isn't "medu-benc" ("bench in a meadhall") after all).
But then what can be taken from Wulfgar's mentioning the conditions of their meeting with Hrothgar; namely that they are to leave their shields and spears outside?
Doing so could be an act of trust. It might be a way for the Danes to tell if the Geats are with honour and honesty. If they're willing to leave the tools of their trade in the open, it shows that they see the Danes as no threat to their gear and that they believe that their equipment will be well kept for them.
If the Geats are still outside it definitely explains why the poet/scribe hasn't said more about the Danes' reaction to them. They are still new arrivals in this land and do not yet have the ability to freely enter and exit it. In effect, they need to leave part of themselves outside in order to gain access.
Though that does leave them with their swords.
But, as poetic as this all is, I can' help but thiwael-sceaftasnk that the Geats are free to bring in their swords because these items are more status symbol than weapon.
Claiming to be someone's son could only go so far, carrying your father's sword would confirm your lineage. Along with whatever family resemblance there might be of course.
Not to mention, swords seem to have a much richer life as the weapon for single combats and particularly tough spots in battles. The compound for "spear" that appears on line 398 suggests that that weapon is much more regarded as the brutal tool of human destruction. The word "wælsceaftas" literally translates as "slaughter/carnage spear," leaving little doubt as to their efficacy in mass combat.
Unless, behind all of this praise of spears, is a particularly boastful poet/scribe who thinks that the Danes and Geats were terrible swordsmen.
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Oh, "eow"...
English has never been a tonal language. The difference between Old English and even Middle English (what Chaucer and Gower wrote in) is wide since the former is a synthetic language and the latter is much more of an analytic language, but even so. English has always been English.
Though, curiously, Old English seems to have more context-sensitive words.
The first word in Wulfgar's speech, for example, is "eow."
Seamus Heaney translated this as "my lord" and Francis Gummere translated the word simply as "to you" (l.391). From the original it's clear that Wulfgar is addressing Beowulf directly. But even if he is a stranger, it seems as though more formality should be applied than that contained in "eow." A nice "ðu" (modernized as "thou") would be better suited.
Unless Wulfgar, in conveying Hrothgar's message of extreme welcome, is dialling it back a bit because he's wary of this fierce band claiming to be from Geatland.
As Hrothgar's herald Wulfgar has no doubt seen his share of warriors coming to them with hopes of ridding Heorot of Grendel only to have those hopes plucked from them like legs from a spider. And maybe Wulfgar's sick of seeing the flower of youth trampled in this way. All of the men of courage are throwing themselves at a problem with no clear solution and leaving the world filled with layabout rogues.
Of course, even for someone with a master's degree in English, that's a lot to pull out of a single "eow." Wulfgar could also just be adjusting his address to something more casual because Beowulf and his fellow Geats are entering the Danish social hierarchy with a reputation for courage but no first-hand proof of it. "Eow" is thus used because the Geats have yet to become worthy of the daintier "ðu."
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Closing
Next week Beowulf and a select few of the Geats crowd into Hrothgar's hall.
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Translation
Recordings
Are they in or out?
Oh, "eow"...
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Wulfgar runs to Beowulf and the Geats, bearing word of their being accepted by Hrothgar.
Back To Top
Translation
"Then to the hall door
went Wulfgar, from within this word was called out:
'You as commanded by word of my war lord,
prince of the East-Danes, that he knows of your family:
and you to him are from over the sea-wave,
proven brave, welcome hither.
Now you may go in wearing your armour,
under your helmets, to see Hrothgar;
yet here unbind and leave your shields,
broad boards, and deadly spears, this is a meeting for words alone'"
(Beowulf ll.389b-398)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Are they in or out?
This scene reminds me of Dorothy's arrival at the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz. I can very vividly picture Wulfgar popping his head out of a window cut into Heorot's door and calling down to Beowulf that he and his Geats are allowed in.
The trouble with that is that they've already taken seats at benches. So are those benches outside on Heorot's lawn (perhaps the setting for a now lost epic poem about lawn bowling) or are they in some sort of antechamber?
We are told, when the Geats arrive, that they lean some of their gear up against a wall ("sea-weary they set their shields aside,/battle-hard bucklers, against that hall's wall;" ("setton sæmeþe side scyldas,/rondas regnhearde, wið þæs recedes weal," (ll.325-326))). The benches (the exact word used is "bence" (l.327)) that they sit on are also vague. In the former case it seems as though they're outside and have set their weapons up against the hall's outer wall. The non-descript benches could also be outside (the word used isn't "medu-benc" ("bench in a meadhall") after all).
But then what can be taken from Wulfgar's mentioning the conditions of their meeting with Hrothgar; namely that they are to leave their shields and spears outside?
Doing so could be an act of trust. It might be a way for the Danes to tell if the Geats are with honour and honesty. If they're willing to leave the tools of their trade in the open, it shows that they see the Danes as no threat to their gear and that they believe that their equipment will be well kept for them.
If the Geats are still outside it definitely explains why the poet/scribe hasn't said more about the Danes' reaction to them. They are still new arrivals in this land and do not yet have the ability to freely enter and exit it. In effect, they need to leave part of themselves outside in order to gain access.
Though that does leave them with their swords.
But, as poetic as this all is, I can' help but thiwael-sceaftasnk that the Geats are free to bring in their swords because these items are more status symbol than weapon.
Claiming to be someone's son could only go so far, carrying your father's sword would confirm your lineage. Along with whatever family resemblance there might be of course.
Not to mention, swords seem to have a much richer life as the weapon for single combats and particularly tough spots in battles. The compound for "spear" that appears on line 398 suggests that that weapon is much more regarded as the brutal tool of human destruction. The word "wælsceaftas" literally translates as "slaughter/carnage spear," leaving little doubt as to their efficacy in mass combat.
Unless, behind all of this praise of spears, is a particularly boastful poet/scribe who thinks that the Danes and Geats were terrible swordsmen.
Back To Top
Oh, "eow"...
English has never been a tonal language. The difference between Old English and even Middle English (what Chaucer and Gower wrote in) is wide since the former is a synthetic language and the latter is much more of an analytic language, but even so. English has always been English.
Though, curiously, Old English seems to have more context-sensitive words.
The first word in Wulfgar's speech, for example, is "eow."
Seamus Heaney translated this as "my lord" and Francis Gummere translated the word simply as "to you" (l.391). From the original it's clear that Wulfgar is addressing Beowulf directly. But even if he is a stranger, it seems as though more formality should be applied than that contained in "eow." A nice "ðu" (modernized as "thou") would be better suited.
Unless Wulfgar, in conveying Hrothgar's message of extreme welcome, is dialling it back a bit because he's wary of this fierce band claiming to be from Geatland.
As Hrothgar's herald Wulfgar has no doubt seen his share of warriors coming to them with hopes of ridding Heorot of Grendel only to have those hopes plucked from them like legs from a spider. And maybe Wulfgar's sick of seeing the flower of youth trampled in this way. All of the men of courage are throwing themselves at a problem with no clear solution and leaving the world filled with layabout rogues.
Of course, even for someone with a master's degree in English, that's a lot to pull out of a single "eow." Wulfgar could also just be adjusting his address to something more casual because Beowulf and his fellow Geats are entering the Danish social hierarchy with a reputation for courage but no first-hand proof of it. "Eow" is thus used because the Geats have yet to become worthy of the daintier "ðu."
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Closing
Next week Beowulf and a select few of the Geats crowd into Hrothgar's hall.
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Thursday, May 22, 2014
On Danish welcomes and curious compounds (ll.381b-389a) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Danish welcomes
The case of the curious compounds
Closing
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Abstract
Hrothgar finishes his command to Wulfgar, imploring him to make sure the Geats know that they're welcome.
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Translation
"'He holy god
for our support has sent
to the West-Danes, this I believe,
against Grendel's terror. I shall well reward
them with treasures for his courage.
Be thou in haste, go with this command,'"
that the peaceful host may hear it together.
Also give him word that they are welcome
in these Danish lands!'"
(Beowulf ll.381b-389a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Danish welcomes
Hrothgar very clearly wishes to greet the Geats with glee. From his abbreviation of what he will reward Beowulf and the Geats for down to simply "his courage," that much is clear. Hrothgar's speech continues to be dusty (though I've done some modernizing with his syntax), but the energy in his speech nonetheless comes through. His line of thinking can even be seen.
It looks like it runs thusly:
Beowulf is rumoured to have the strength of thirty men in his grip and is famed in war (from last week's translation and commentary). He is god-sent, and has courage, therefore he cannot fail and will be rewarded. Not to mention, we can prepare him for his fight with Grendel with a warm welcome.
But what if Hrothgar was not so inclined to the Geats? What if he had never heard of Beowulf, nor of his father? How does the Danish lord deal with those whom he believes to have no chance against Grendel?
Based on his imploring Wulfgar to make sure that the Geats know "that they are welcome/in these Danish lands!" ("þæt hie sint wilcuman/Deniga leodum." (ll.388-389a) (which sounds almost as if he's asking Wulfgar to communicate this welcome in every word), a cold reception would entail a cold welcome.
That sounds obvious enough.
But would that mean an ejection from the hall? An outright attack? The Geats have come quite heavily armed, after all. Such a violent reception could be expected. Though the Geats did respect whatever etiquette exists in putting their spears and shields to the side of the door when they came in. Swords may have been worn as a last line of defense, or as a mark of nobility, though, and so be perfectly allowed even in a hall. Or maybe the Geats didn't want to drop their guard entirely. We aren't exactly told that all of the Danes in the hall are wearing swords (or if any are, for that matter).
So a hostile reply would likely be a formal request to leave the hall and return whence they came.
In point of fact, aside from Wulfgar's being told to warmly welcome them and that they'll eventually be rewarded for their courage, we're not really told what a warm Danish welcome entails. Is this the poet/scribe using some telling to set up a bunch of showing?
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The case of the curious compounds
Old English compound words are usually very straightforward. There's some phenomenon or item that is more specific than the usual words for it have connotation to cover and so two words are combined. For example, there's "sorg" for sorrow, and then there's "modsorg" for the more intense "heart-sorrow."
Such compounds make sense because they are the sum of their parts.
But in this week's passage there are two compound words that are more than the sum of their parts.
The word "arstæfum" is Old English for "support," "assistance," "kindness," "benefit," or "grace." It is made up of "ar" ("servant," "messenger," "herald," "apostle," "angel") and "stæfum" ((singular, stæf) "staff," "stick," "rod;" "pastoral staff;" "letter," "character," "writing;" "document;" "letters," "literature," "learning"). Maybe to Anglo-Saxon minds the herald or apostle of writing, literature, or learning are a support or a benefit, but I'm willing to bet that to most modern minds that connection isn't as immediately made as "mod" and "sorg" being "heart-sorrow."
Nonetheless, there is the religious and poetic combination of "benefit" (or "grace") and "pastoral staff" which sounds like just what Hrothgar is talking about when he states his belief that Beowulf has been sent by god. So perhaps this word isn't as literal a compound word as most others, but instead results from the combination of the senses of its two parts.
A similar case could be made for "mod-þræce" meaning "courage."
This word is a combination of "mod" ("heart," "mind," "spirit," "mood," "temper;" "arrogance," "pride," "power;" "violence") and "þræce" ("throng," "pressure," "fury," "storm," "violence," "onrush," "attack"). With such individual meanings combining it's hard to see how these two words combine into one that means "courage." Especially since modern everyday courage could be described as a "violence of the spirit," but generally doesn't happen in violent circumstances. As such, this compound sheds some light on the world from which it comes. Courage then may have included standing up to a bully as it does now, but then the follow through was much more likely to be a violent clash of one sort or another.
Though, that's just one interpretation.
It's also possible that combining such words to mean courage is meant to add a slightly negative connotation to the word. Perhaps "mod-þræce" isn't intended to refer to a clean and tidy courage, but something more akin to the boldness of a berserk state. A kind of controlled fury. Something that even the poem's early audiences well knew was dangerous, but that was also contained and controlled - for the most part.
Anyone with the strength of thirty men in his grip must have been considered at least a little bit monstrous even then after all.
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Closing
Next week, Wulfgar rushes back to the Geats to relay Hrothgar's message.
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Translation
Recordings
Danish welcomes
The case of the curious compounds
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Hrothgar finishes his command to Wulfgar, imploring him to make sure the Geats know that they're welcome.
Back To Top
Translation
"'He holy god
for our support has sent
to the West-Danes, this I believe,
against Grendel's terror. I shall well reward
them with treasures for his courage.
Be thou in haste, go with this command,'"
that the peaceful host may hear it together.
Also give him word that they are welcome
in these Danish lands!'"
(Beowulf ll.381b-389a)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Danish welcomes
Hrothgar very clearly wishes to greet the Geats with glee. From his abbreviation of what he will reward Beowulf and the Geats for down to simply "his courage," that much is clear. Hrothgar's speech continues to be dusty (though I've done some modernizing with his syntax), but the energy in his speech nonetheless comes through. His line of thinking can even be seen.
It looks like it runs thusly:
Beowulf is rumoured to have the strength of thirty men in his grip and is famed in war (from last week's translation and commentary). He is god-sent, and has courage, therefore he cannot fail and will be rewarded. Not to mention, we can prepare him for his fight with Grendel with a warm welcome.
But what if Hrothgar was not so inclined to the Geats? What if he had never heard of Beowulf, nor of his father? How does the Danish lord deal with those whom he believes to have no chance against Grendel?
Based on his imploring Wulfgar to make sure that the Geats know "that they are welcome/in these Danish lands!" ("þæt hie sint wilcuman/Deniga leodum." (ll.388-389a) (which sounds almost as if he's asking Wulfgar to communicate this welcome in every word), a cold reception would entail a cold welcome.
That sounds obvious enough.
But would that mean an ejection from the hall? An outright attack? The Geats have come quite heavily armed, after all. Such a violent reception could be expected. Though the Geats did respect whatever etiquette exists in putting their spears and shields to the side of the door when they came in. Swords may have been worn as a last line of defense, or as a mark of nobility, though, and so be perfectly allowed even in a hall. Or maybe the Geats didn't want to drop their guard entirely. We aren't exactly told that all of the Danes in the hall are wearing swords (or if any are, for that matter).
So a hostile reply would likely be a formal request to leave the hall and return whence they came.
In point of fact, aside from Wulfgar's being told to warmly welcome them and that they'll eventually be rewarded for their courage, we're not really told what a warm Danish welcome entails. Is this the poet/scribe using some telling to set up a bunch of showing?
Back To Top
The case of the curious compounds
Old English compound words are usually very straightforward. There's some phenomenon or item that is more specific than the usual words for it have connotation to cover and so two words are combined. For example, there's "sorg" for sorrow, and then there's "modsorg" for the more intense "heart-sorrow."
Such compounds make sense because they are the sum of their parts.
But in this week's passage there are two compound words that are more than the sum of their parts.
The word "arstæfum" is Old English for "support," "assistance," "kindness," "benefit," or "grace." It is made up of "ar" ("servant," "messenger," "herald," "apostle," "angel") and "stæfum" ((singular, stæf) "staff," "stick," "rod;" "pastoral staff;" "letter," "character," "writing;" "document;" "letters," "literature," "learning"). Maybe to Anglo-Saxon minds the herald or apostle of writing, literature, or learning are a support or a benefit, but I'm willing to bet that to most modern minds that connection isn't as immediately made as "mod" and "sorg" being "heart-sorrow."
Nonetheless, there is the religious and poetic combination of "benefit" (or "grace") and "pastoral staff" which sounds like just what Hrothgar is talking about when he states his belief that Beowulf has been sent by god. So perhaps this word isn't as literal a compound word as most others, but instead results from the combination of the senses of its two parts.
A similar case could be made for "mod-þræce" meaning "courage."
This word is a combination of "mod" ("heart," "mind," "spirit," "mood," "temper;" "arrogance," "pride," "power;" "violence") and "þræce" ("throng," "pressure," "fury," "storm," "violence," "onrush," "attack"). With such individual meanings combining it's hard to see how these two words combine into one that means "courage." Especially since modern everyday courage could be described as a "violence of the spirit," but generally doesn't happen in violent circumstances. As such, this compound sheds some light on the world from which it comes. Courage then may have included standing up to a bully as it does now, but then the follow through was much more likely to be a violent clash of one sort or another.
Though, that's just one interpretation.
It's also possible that combining such words to mean courage is meant to add a slightly negative connotation to the word. Perhaps "mod-þræce" isn't intended to refer to a clean and tidy courage, but something more akin to the boldness of a berserk state. A kind of controlled fury. Something that even the poem's early audiences well knew was dangerous, but that was also contained and controlled - for the most part.
Anyone with the strength of thirty men in his grip must have been considered at least a little bit monstrous even then after all.
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Closing
Next week, Wulfgar rushes back to the Geats to relay Hrothgar's message.
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Thursday, May 15, 2014
Hrothgar as grammatical relic and Beowulf's grandfather? (ll.371-381a) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar as relic
Ambiguity in spelling
Closing
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Abstract
Hrothgar speaks, acknowledging Beowulf's parentage and his reputation.
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Translation
"Hrothgar spoke, protector of the Scyldings:
'I knew him when he was a boy;
his father of old was called Ecgtheow,
Hrethel of the Geats gave to him
his only daughter; now I hear his son
has come here, seeking favourable friendship.
Once sailors, that brought gifts
from Geatland thither as thanks,
said that he has the might of
thirty men in his hand-grip,
famed in war**.'"
(Beowulf ll.371-381a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Hrothgar as relic
Beowulf is an old poem. Whether you agree with those scholars who place its creation as a written piece of literature sometime around the eleventh century or with those who place it around the seventh, it's still an old poem. As such, many early translations of it gave it a very authoritative "thee and thou" sort of tone. Take this passage from Francis Gummere's famed Edwardian translation, for instance:
It sounds like an old poem. Yet, if you compare that to Seamus Heaney's much more recent translation of the same passage it seems a little younger:
The difference is clear in Heaney's preference for a more common, everyday syntax.
Interestingly, though, Hrothgar's dialogue tends more towards Gummere's version.
Alliteration is a major feature of Old English poetry. Don't ask why rhyming hadn't caught on as much, no doubt it had to do with the sounds that English used at the time. When you learn to read Old English it isn't a very sing-song tongue after all. But even keeping in mind the frequency of alliteration in the main text of Beowulf, Hrothgar really puts this poetic device to use. What's more, he seems to really like the first sound of his name since much of the alliteration in his dialogue is "h" alliteration.
Perhaps littering his lines with "h" alliterations was the poet/scribe's way of showing which lines were Hrothgar's. Early writing was pretty scant on punctuation marks, and readers would much appreciate that sort of signal whether they were reading aloud or more silently to themselves.
But what Hrothgar's taste for alliteration signals to me is that even in the world of the poem he's a relic. Even some of his syntax is so much like Gummere's translation that I'm left wondering if the original poet/scribe was actively copying a kind of old, poetic style for the elder Dane. I mean, lines like
would translate literally as
Word order is shuffled, and clauses are delayed into a strange arrangement. It's almost as if Hrothgar is a living link to an earlier time in the world, a time that is ending just as Beowulf's own era is beginning. No wonder Hrothgar came across as depressed in last week's entry.
But perhaps that's the point. Amongst all of the battles and the monsters Beowulf is positioned as a figure of transition. From the old ways to the new. From the old gods equated with "the soul-slaying fiend" (l.178) to the new "Lord" who keeps saving Beowulf's bacon as he gets it ever closer not to the frying pan but to the flames.
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Ambiguity in spelling
Old English's lack of regulated spelling makes translation difficult at times. Most modern editions of texts will have some degree of standardization to their spelling, but there are still some outlier words. Take for example line 373's "ealdfæder."
Translated literally, I would render this compound word "old-father" possibly even "grandfather." Such a translation isn't out of the question, since "ealdfæder" could be a variation of "ieldrafæder," the Old English word for "grandfather."
However, in the context that "ealdfæder" appears, such a translation is troublesome. This difficulty comes up because the word refers to Ecgtheow who is Beowulf's father and most certainly not his grandfather.
It's a tiny detail, and, to be honest, "ealdfæder" is probably in that line simply to alliterate with "Ecgtheow." But nonetheless, it's a bit disorienting to come across such a word when you expect a simple "father" to come up.
Heaney changed "father" to "father before him" in his translation, and I think that's a great choice. It sets this appearance of Ecgtheow's apart from the others, and also acknowledges the element of time inherent in "ealdfæder." It's the same reason that I appended "of old" to the word, despite the ambiguity this phrase brings into the matter. Namely, was Beowulf's father once called "Ecgtheow" but is now called something else? Or is Ecgtheow now long dead and hence is himself "of old"?
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Closing
Next week Hrothgar concludes the message he sends back to Beowulf via Wulfgar.
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Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar as relic
Ambiguity in spelling
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Hrothgar speaks, acknowledging Beowulf's parentage and his reputation.
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Translation
"Hrothgar spoke, protector of the Scyldings:
'I knew him when he was a boy;
his father of old was called Ecgtheow,
Hrethel of the Geats gave to him
his only daughter; now I hear his son
has come here, seeking favourable friendship.
Once sailors, that brought gifts
from Geatland thither as thanks,
said that he has the might of
thirty men in his hand-grip,
famed in war**.'"
(Beowulf ll.371-381a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Hrothgar as relic
Beowulf is an old poem. Whether you agree with those scholars who place its creation as a written piece of literature sometime around the eleventh century or with those who place it around the seventh, it's still an old poem. As such, many early translations of it gave it a very authoritative "thee and thou" sort of tone. Take this passage from Francis Gummere's famed Edwardian translation, for instance:
"HROTHGAR answered, helmet of Scyldings: --
'I knew him of yore in his youthful days;
his aged father was Ecgtheow named,
to whom, at home, gave Hrethel the Geat
his only daughter.'" (ll.371-375a from gutenberg.org)
It sounds like an old poem. Yet, if you compare that to Seamus Heaney's much more recent translation of the same passage it seems a little younger:
"Hrothgar, protector of Shieldings, replied:
'I used to know him when he was a young boy.
His father before him was called Ecgtheow.
Hrethel the Geat gave Ecgtheow
his daughter in marriage.'"
(ll.371-375a from Seamus Heaney's Beowulf)
The difference is clear in Heaney's preference for a more common, everyday syntax.
Interestingly, though, Hrothgar's dialogue tends more towards Gummere's version.
Alliteration is a major feature of Old English poetry. Don't ask why rhyming hadn't caught on as much, no doubt it had to do with the sounds that English used at the time. When you learn to read Old English it isn't a very sing-song tongue after all. But even keeping in mind the frequency of alliteration in the main text of Beowulf, Hrothgar really puts this poetic device to use. What's more, he seems to really like the first sound of his name since much of the alliteration in his dialogue is "h" alliteration.
Perhaps littering his lines with "h" alliterations was the poet/scribe's way of showing which lines were Hrothgar's. Early writing was pretty scant on punctuation marks, and readers would much appreciate that sort of signal whether they were reading aloud or more silently to themselves.
But what Hrothgar's taste for alliteration signals to me is that even in the world of the poem he's a relic. Even some of his syntax is so much like Gummere's translation that I'm left wondering if the original poet/scribe was actively copying a kind of old, poetic style for the elder Dane. I mean, lines like
"ðonne sægdon þæt sæliþende,/þa ðe gifsceattas Geata fyredon/þyder to þance, þæt he XXXtiges/manna mægencræft on his mundgripe"
would translate literally as
"Once said of him sailors,/those that gifts from Geatland brought/thither as thanks, that he thirty/men's might has in his hand-grip" (ll.377-380).
Word order is shuffled, and clauses are delayed into a strange arrangement. It's almost as if Hrothgar is a living link to an earlier time in the world, a time that is ending just as Beowulf's own era is beginning. No wonder Hrothgar came across as depressed in last week's entry.
But perhaps that's the point. Amongst all of the battles and the monsters Beowulf is positioned as a figure of transition. From the old ways to the new. From the old gods equated with "the soul-slaying fiend" (l.178) to the new "Lord" who keeps saving Beowulf's bacon as he gets it ever closer not to the frying pan but to the flames.
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Ambiguity in spelling
Old English's lack of regulated spelling makes translation difficult at times. Most modern editions of texts will have some degree of standardization to their spelling, but there are still some outlier words. Take for example line 373's "ealdfæder."
Translated literally, I would render this compound word "old-father" possibly even "grandfather." Such a translation isn't out of the question, since "ealdfæder" could be a variation of "ieldrafæder," the Old English word for "grandfather."
However, in the context that "ealdfæder" appears, such a translation is troublesome. This difficulty comes up because the word refers to Ecgtheow who is Beowulf's father and most certainly not his grandfather.
It's a tiny detail, and, to be honest, "ealdfæder" is probably in that line simply to alliterate with "Ecgtheow." But nonetheless, it's a bit disorienting to come across such a word when you expect a simple "father" to come up.
Heaney changed "father" to "father before him" in his translation, and I think that's a great choice. It sets this appearance of Ecgtheow's apart from the others, and also acknowledges the element of time inherent in "ealdfæder." It's the same reason that I appended "of old" to the word, despite the ambiguity this phrase brings into the matter. Namely, was Beowulf's father once called "Ecgtheow" but is now called something else? Or is Ecgtheow now long dead and hence is himself "of old"?
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Closing
Next week Hrothgar concludes the message he sends back to Beowulf via Wulfgar.
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Saturday, April 12, 2014
Exile and bandits' weapon of choice (ll.331b-339) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Finding community among exiles?
A word for spear
Closing
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Abstract
Hrothgar's herald questions the Geats' origins.
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Translation
"Then a proud warrior
asked after those men's origins:
'Where come ye of the anointed shields,
shirts of grey mail and visored helms,
this crowd of spears? I am Hrothgar's
herald and officer. Never saw I this many men
from far away of such high spirits.
It seems to me that you for glory, not at all for exile,
yay for courage have sought out Hrothgar.'"
(Beowulf ll.331b-339)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Finding community among exiles?
Hrothgar's herald says something more than passing strange in what seems to be passing. On lines 336 to 337 he states that he has "Never [seen] this many men/from far away of such high spirits" ("Ne seah ic elþeodige/þus manige men modiglicran").
Given the fact that challengers to Grendel have probably dried up over the past twelve years of his reign of terror, it's fair to say that this man's probably not seen many foreigners lately.
Even when heroes in waiting were coming by Heorot, they were probably more grim and serious than the apparently boisterous Geats (though we're not really told this - maybe they were like giddy teenagers in the presence of some musical idol, all jostling together and too nervous to speak, and that's what their weapons jostling last week was all about).
So the herald probably speaks true. He never has seen so many foreigners and in such high spirits.
But the word he uses for foreigners ("elþeodige") could also be translated as "exiled people."
The difference between "foreigners" and "exiled people" may seem slight, perhaps. But if the herald mentions exiles here then his assertion just a few lines later that these men are not here for exile makes much more sense.
Translating "elþeodige" as "exiled people" also paints a curious picture.
The image of a group of exiles is, strangely, the perfect representation of the importance of community to Anglo-Saxons. Among them, exile was considered a fate worse than death.
Partially because being exiled meant that you lost your social standing and whatever came with it. But at least as much as that if not more, exile meant that you were cut off from the people with whom you shared an ipso facto relationship through blood. You didn't earn their trust, nor did you work for their friendship - ties of kinship were supposed to be the reliable ties that saw you through the hardships of life.
Being exiled cut you off from all of that, but at the same time, it wouldn't be impossible for exiles to meet while in their respective outcast states. That a group of exiles would find each other, and, one can only assume, band together under the common aegis of their exiles shows just how important having a group and belonging was.
All of that said, whether or not such a hypothetical band of exiles would be in high spirits because they had found new community is hard to say.
It's possible that their common state would cause these exiles to form a strong bond in which case high spirits would definitely be possible.
Though it's also possible that though their respective communities no longer regard them as members, the exiles would still see themselves as Angles, or Saxons, or Danes, or Geats. In which case, they would likely still hold the prejudices of these groups.
Whatever the case with such a group of exiles is, either their numbers or their spirits were great enough for Hrothgar's herald to believe these Geats before him to be not exiles but something else.
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A word for spear
Another extract, and another batch of crazy words. The craziest this week, though, has got to be "here-sceaft."
The second part of this compound word for "spear" might look familiar. It's the word that eventually became the name of a famed and funky 70s private detective. Shaft.
But the first part of "here-sceaft" is where meanings become bizarre. Standing alone, this word could mean "troop," "army," "host," "multitude," or "predatory band."
So the spear is very much the common man's weapon. All right. But then, since "here" can mean "predatory band" is it also the weapon of choice for bandits and thieves?
Logically, the answer would have to be yes.
If a spear was something that you could easily come by in Anglo Saxon England, then certainly it would be the scoff-law's preferred weapon. Swords certainly wouldn't be lying around, that's for sure.
Actually, pushing logic a bit further, is it possible that swords were harder to come by simply because smiths who could work such large pieces of metal were hard to come by? Or, more likely, forges that could get such a lump of metal hot enough were rare?
Because making a spear requires making nothing more than a little pointy hat for a stick (or you could forgo the hat and shave the stick to a sharp point).
Given the fact that the resources consumed in making a sword were that much greater than those used for a simple spear really makes me wonder if associating the spear with bandits (even at the level of language like "here-sceaft") and the commons was just another thing that elevated the sword to the point where it became a prestigious and noble weapon.
Clearly, if "here-sceaft" has the potential for negative connotations as I believe it does, then the cultural elevation of the sword had happened long before Beowulf was written.
But then, when?
At the very moment that someone working their forge to ridiculous heats threw in big long chunks of metal and wound up with something no other forge-user in the area ever thought possible?
When technology and manufacturing are so unrestricted as they are today it's hard to imagine something so simple as a long pointy piece of sharpened metal being impressive, but it certainly would've been when making such things was harder.
And it's easy to see, then, that something as low-tech as a spear could be associated with "predatory bands."
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Closing
Next week, Beowulf answers Hrothgar's herald.
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Translation
Recordings
Finding community among exiles?
A word for spear
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Hrothgar's herald questions the Geats' origins.
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Translation
"Then a proud warrior
asked after those men's origins:
'Where come ye of the anointed shields,
shirts of grey mail and visored helms,
this crowd of spears? I am Hrothgar's
herald and officer. Never saw I this many men
from far away of such high spirits.
It seems to me that you for glory, not at all for exile,
yay for courage have sought out Hrothgar.'"
(Beowulf ll.331b-339)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Finding community among exiles?
Hrothgar's herald says something more than passing strange in what seems to be passing. On lines 336 to 337 he states that he has "Never [seen] this many men/from far away of such high spirits" ("Ne seah ic elþeodige/þus manige men modiglicran").
Given the fact that challengers to Grendel have probably dried up over the past twelve years of his reign of terror, it's fair to say that this man's probably not seen many foreigners lately.
Even when heroes in waiting were coming by Heorot, they were probably more grim and serious than the apparently boisterous Geats (though we're not really told this - maybe they were like giddy teenagers in the presence of some musical idol, all jostling together and too nervous to speak, and that's what their weapons jostling last week was all about).
So the herald probably speaks true. He never has seen so many foreigners and in such high spirits.
But the word he uses for foreigners ("elþeodige") could also be translated as "exiled people."
The difference between "foreigners" and "exiled people" may seem slight, perhaps. But if the herald mentions exiles here then his assertion just a few lines later that these men are not here for exile makes much more sense.
Translating "elþeodige" as "exiled people" also paints a curious picture.
The image of a group of exiles is, strangely, the perfect representation of the importance of community to Anglo-Saxons. Among them, exile was considered a fate worse than death.
Partially because being exiled meant that you lost your social standing and whatever came with it. But at least as much as that if not more, exile meant that you were cut off from the people with whom you shared an ipso facto relationship through blood. You didn't earn their trust, nor did you work for their friendship - ties of kinship were supposed to be the reliable ties that saw you through the hardships of life.
Being exiled cut you off from all of that, but at the same time, it wouldn't be impossible for exiles to meet while in their respective outcast states. That a group of exiles would find each other, and, one can only assume, band together under the common aegis of their exiles shows just how important having a group and belonging was.
All of that said, whether or not such a hypothetical band of exiles would be in high spirits because they had found new community is hard to say.
It's possible that their common state would cause these exiles to form a strong bond in which case high spirits would definitely be possible.
Though it's also possible that though their respective communities no longer regard them as members, the exiles would still see themselves as Angles, or Saxons, or Danes, or Geats. In which case, they would likely still hold the prejudices of these groups.
Whatever the case with such a group of exiles is, either their numbers or their spirits were great enough for Hrothgar's herald to believe these Geats before him to be not exiles but something else.
Back To Top
A word for spear
Another extract, and another batch of crazy words. The craziest this week, though, has got to be "here-sceaft."
The second part of this compound word for "spear" might look familiar. It's the word that eventually became the name of a famed and funky 70s private detective. Shaft.
But the first part of "here-sceaft" is where meanings become bizarre. Standing alone, this word could mean "troop," "army," "host," "multitude," or "predatory band."
So the spear is very much the common man's weapon. All right. But then, since "here" can mean "predatory band" is it also the weapon of choice for bandits and thieves?
Logically, the answer would have to be yes.
If a spear was something that you could easily come by in Anglo Saxon England, then certainly it would be the scoff-law's preferred weapon. Swords certainly wouldn't be lying around, that's for sure.
Actually, pushing logic a bit further, is it possible that swords were harder to come by simply because smiths who could work such large pieces of metal were hard to come by? Or, more likely, forges that could get such a lump of metal hot enough were rare?
Because making a spear requires making nothing more than a little pointy hat for a stick (or you could forgo the hat and shave the stick to a sharp point).
Given the fact that the resources consumed in making a sword were that much greater than those used for a simple spear really makes me wonder if associating the spear with bandits (even at the level of language like "here-sceaft") and the commons was just another thing that elevated the sword to the point where it became a prestigious and noble weapon.
Clearly, if "here-sceaft" has the potential for negative connotations as I believe it does, then the cultural elevation of the sword had happened long before Beowulf was written.
But then, when?
At the very moment that someone working their forge to ridiculous heats threw in big long chunks of metal and wound up with something no other forge-user in the area ever thought possible?
When technology and manufacturing are so unrestricted as they are today it's hard to imagine something so simple as a long pointy piece of sharpened metal being impressive, but it certainly would've been when making such things was harder.
And it's easy to see, then, that something as low-tech as a spear could be associated with "predatory bands."
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Closing
Next week, Beowulf answers Hrothgar's herald.
Back To Top
Friday, April 4, 2014
Words and the noise of the Geats' arrival in Heorot (ll.320-331a) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Word order wonderings
Why the Geats' weapons jostle
Closing
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Abstract
Beowulf and his crew come to Heorot and plonk down onto its benches.
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Translation
"The way was stone-paven, along the path
the warriors went together. War-byrnies shone,
hard, hand-linked, shining ring-mail from
skilled hands celebrated in song. Shortly they
arrived at the hall in their horrible war gear,
sea-weary they set their shields aside,
battle-hard bucklers, against that hall's wall;
they dropped onto the benches, mailshirts ringing,
those war-skilled men. Spears stood,
bound in a seaman's bunch, all together,
ashen shaft over grey; that iron-clad crew's
weapons jostled."
(Beowulf ll.320-331a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Word order wonderings
It's passages like this that make it abundantly clear that Beowulf is a poem, but also that it's a product of a time quite different from our own. Not just on the obvious levels of social structure and what was considered entertainment, but on the level of language itself.
The brief phrase "æscholt ufan græg" (l.330) that I've translated as "ashen shaft over grey" is a prime example.
Word order in Old English is definitely not as hard and fast as it is for we speakers of Modern English.
Because Old English is a synthetic language (it has declensions), a word's function wasn't defined by its place in the sentence but instead by its different forms.
Take for instance "searwum." This word is the dative plural of "searo". In English this word's translation "skilled"/"skilful" will almost always occur before the noun that it modifies.
We could say "that person is a skillful engineer" or "a skilled artisan." But you'd never hear a native English speaker (of classical English, anyway) say something like "an artisan skilled" without that being followed up with a prepositional phrase for "skilled" to modify ("an artisan skilled in the craft of blacksmithing"). Likewise "engineer skilful" just isn't how English is spoken for the most part. Unless you change that phrase's into a compound adjective with a hyphen.
However, in this passage "song in searwum" is just how it's written. The Old English word for "skilled" or "skilful" is left to the end of the sentence.
But the word's ending shows what it is modifying, it's that ending that establishes its relationship with "hringiren" from line 323. This difference in placement suggests, with a bit of a leap, that native Old English speakers had a greater awareness of words' relationships to each other. English is definitely a difficult language to learn from scratch, but its static structure makes it worlds easier than any synthetic language.
Getting back to "æscholt ufan græg" its word order is a complete mystery to me.
Are there grey and ashen shafts bundled together?
Are the spears being stored counter-intuitively with their points in the ground (perhaps for symbolic or ceremonial reasons)?
At the heart of this issue is the preposition "ufan". This word is said to mean "over," "above," "on high."
Those definitions would seem to rule out the possibility that the phrase "æscholt ufan græg" refers to different coloured spear shafts being bundled together. Although maybe the preposition isn't meant to be taken so literally.
It could be that the ash-shaft spears are over or above those that are grey because they're given a prominent place in the bundle.
Or it could be that they're simply taller.
I'm just not convinced that warriors would store weapons point-down, risking the dulling of their points and edges. Unless sticking your spears in the ground was a sign of peaceful intentions, certainly a fair assessment of their being described as "ashen shafts over grey."
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Why the Geats' weapons jostle
Yet, peaceable as the Geats' intentions are, we're told that their weapons jostled as they sat down. Is this to be taken as a sign that those weapons are eager for a fight? Or is it just a matter of the Geats being armed to the teeth?
Though, there's another completely unrelated reason that the poet could give us that aural detail.
Picture this:
You're sitting in a hall with your comrades and kin, along with your lord. You're on edge because you and your people have been mercilessly ravaged night after night by some sort of un-killable fiend.
All is quiet.
Until the door opens and in walk a group of men bristling with arms and armour. They set their weapons to the side and then proceed to plonk down onto your benches - maybe the place where old Higðor Stonefist the stone mason once regularly sat before the demon made off with him leaving nothing behind but the ring that his wife had given him, still attached to the grisly remains of a gnawed finger.
All remains quiet except for the newcomers murmurs of conversation. One of them muffles a laugh. But the biggest one is silent.
Nothing happens.
No one is saying anything now. The entire hall is as quiet as...yes, you think it, a burial mound.
But then the newcomers start to shuffle around on the benches, and their ringcoats (looking resplendent in the fire light) clank, their sheathed swords knock together, and their spears fall from the earth in which they'd been set.
The poet's just used five words to give this detail, but I think, whatever it might mean on a sub-textual level, it's there to break the silence that otherwise exists in the hall. It's there to call the Danes' attention fully to these newcomers and to clear out the hall's quiet (there's no mention of noise or music coming from the hall as the Geats approach it) so that the newcomers can be questioned in the following lines.
If nothing else the jostling of the Geats' weapons restores sound to the world of the hall, one so deep in mourning and sorrow that its collective voice needs to be called forth.
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Closing
Next week Hrothgar's top man Wulfgar questions the Geats.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
Word order wonderings
Why the Geats' weapons jostle
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf and his crew come to Heorot and plonk down onto its benches.
Back To Top
Translation
"The way was stone-paven, along the path
the warriors went together. War-byrnies shone,
hard, hand-linked, shining ring-mail from
skilled hands celebrated in song. Shortly they
arrived at the hall in their horrible war gear,
sea-weary they set their shields aside,
battle-hard bucklers, against that hall's wall;
they dropped onto the benches, mailshirts ringing,
those war-skilled men. Spears stood,
bound in a seaman's bunch, all together,
ashen shaft over grey; that iron-clad crew's
weapons jostled."
(Beowulf ll.320-331a)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Word order wonderings
It's passages like this that make it abundantly clear that Beowulf is a poem, but also that it's a product of a time quite different from our own. Not just on the obvious levels of social structure and what was considered entertainment, but on the level of language itself.
The brief phrase "æscholt ufan græg" (l.330) that I've translated as "ashen shaft over grey" is a prime example.
Word order in Old English is definitely not as hard and fast as it is for we speakers of Modern English.
Because Old English is a synthetic language (it has declensions), a word's function wasn't defined by its place in the sentence but instead by its different forms.
Take for instance "searwum." This word is the dative plural of "searo". In English this word's translation "skilled"/"skilful" will almost always occur before the noun that it modifies.
We could say "that person is a skillful engineer" or "a skilled artisan." But you'd never hear a native English speaker (of classical English, anyway) say something like "an artisan skilled" without that being followed up with a prepositional phrase for "skilled" to modify ("an artisan skilled in the craft of blacksmithing"). Likewise "engineer skilful" just isn't how English is spoken for the most part. Unless you change that phrase's into a compound adjective with a hyphen.
However, in this passage "song in searwum" is just how it's written. The Old English word for "skilled" or "skilful" is left to the end of the sentence.
But the word's ending shows what it is modifying, it's that ending that establishes its relationship with "hringiren" from line 323. This difference in placement suggests, with a bit of a leap, that native Old English speakers had a greater awareness of words' relationships to each other. English is definitely a difficult language to learn from scratch, but its static structure makes it worlds easier than any synthetic language.
Getting back to "æscholt ufan græg" its word order is a complete mystery to me.
Are there grey and ashen shafts bundled together?
Are the spears being stored counter-intuitively with their points in the ground (perhaps for symbolic or ceremonial reasons)?
At the heart of this issue is the preposition "ufan". This word is said to mean "over," "above," "on high."
Those definitions would seem to rule out the possibility that the phrase "æscholt ufan græg" refers to different coloured spear shafts being bundled together. Although maybe the preposition isn't meant to be taken so literally.
It could be that the ash-shaft spears are over or above those that are grey because they're given a prominent place in the bundle.
Or it could be that they're simply taller.
I'm just not convinced that warriors would store weapons point-down, risking the dulling of their points and edges. Unless sticking your spears in the ground was a sign of peaceful intentions, certainly a fair assessment of their being described as "ashen shafts over grey."
Back To Top
Why the Geats' weapons jostle
Yet, peaceable as the Geats' intentions are, we're told that their weapons jostled as they sat down. Is this to be taken as a sign that those weapons are eager for a fight? Or is it just a matter of the Geats being armed to the teeth?
Though, there's another completely unrelated reason that the poet could give us that aural detail.
Picture this:
You're sitting in a hall with your comrades and kin, along with your lord. You're on edge because you and your people have been mercilessly ravaged night after night by some sort of un-killable fiend.
All is quiet.
Until the door opens and in walk a group of men bristling with arms and armour. They set their weapons to the side and then proceed to plonk down onto your benches - maybe the place where old Higðor Stonefist the stone mason once regularly sat before the demon made off with him leaving nothing behind but the ring that his wife had given him, still attached to the grisly remains of a gnawed finger.
All remains quiet except for the newcomers murmurs of conversation. One of them muffles a laugh. But the biggest one is silent.
Nothing happens.
No one is saying anything now. The entire hall is as quiet as...yes, you think it, a burial mound.
But then the newcomers start to shuffle around on the benches, and their ringcoats (looking resplendent in the fire light) clank, their sheathed swords knock together, and their spears fall from the earth in which they'd been set.
The poet's just used five words to give this detail, but I think, whatever it might mean on a sub-textual level, it's there to break the silence that otherwise exists in the hall. It's there to call the Danes' attention fully to these newcomers and to clear out the hall's quiet (there's no mention of noise or music coming from the hall as the Geats approach it) so that the newcomers can be questioned in the following lines.
If nothing else the jostling of the Geats' weapons restores sound to the world of the hall, one so deep in mourning and sorrow that its collective voice needs to be called forth.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week Hrothgar's top man Wulfgar questions the Geats.
Back To Top
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Montage meanings imagined and interpreted (ll.210-216) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Prime or time
Burrowing into a word
Closing
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Abstract
Beowulf and crew prep their ship and ready themselves, too.
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Translation
"The foremost knew motion; the ship was on the sea,
the boat that sat before barrows. The warriors
roaringly rose a cry - the current carried them on,
bringing the sea against sand; the men bore
bright treasures upon their chests,
magnificent in martial-gear; they all shoved off,
men bound for an expected expedition trip by boat."
(Beowulf ll.210-216)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Prime or time
Once again, we see some summarized action at work. The poet is speeding us along here, giving the barest detail about Beowulf and his crew boarding their ship and putting out to sea. No doubt the strangeness of Grendel (and maybe the fame of Beowulf?) had audiences eager to hear what happened once the Geats reached the Danes.
But, despite the clear sense of forward motion in this passage, the first clause of this section is vague.
The three words that kick it all off ("Fyrst forð gewat") form a complete thought with a subject, object, and verb in that order. But at the level of literal translation into modern English, they don't really work together. They come out to something like "the first knew forwardness/awayness." Although, this isn't the only place in the poem where a literal translation just won't do.
Looking at this clause's general sense, I think that it's communicating the idea that the foremost member of the group (that is, Beowulf) was in a state of mind for travel as they set out. He had full understanding of his physical purpose, and so body and mind were joined in his undertaking. A sense of such unity could be used to foreshadow Beowulf's prowess and success against Grendel and Grendel's mother.
Running with that understanding of this clause's general sense, I then pieced together a clause that gets it across as economically as possible. "The foremost knew motion" is as close as I've gotten so far to my interpretation of the sense of the original.
For the sake of comparison, Seamus Heaney translates the line from a completely different understanding of its sense. He turns "Fyrst forð gewat" into "Time went by." There's still some motion in this version of the clause, maybe even more of it than in mine if you take time to be the motion of god (perhaps what Heaney took from "Fyrst" and left only implied in his translation). The difference between our clauses is also important, since Heaney chose the interpretation of "Fyrst" as "time" rather than as the premier cardinal number.
Looking back, that makes the clause as a whole quite clearer at the literal level. But, I've chosen to stick with my own translation because it allows for more interpretation. Very little is lost in doing so. Both convey a sense of motion, after all, and that is this clause's purpose as it comes at the start of a passage all about kicking off travel.
Actually, Heaney's interpretation slows down time in that it calls attention to time itself passing by. Taking "Fyrst" as a reference to Beowulf instead puts the focus on the Geats and their eagerness to be off on their "expected expedition" (l.216).
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Burrowing into a word
A cleaner curiousity (from an academic angle) is the use of "beorge" (l.211). This word has several interpretations, including "mountain," "hill," and "barrow." The sense that I pulled from it and its context is that this "beorge" indicates the boundary of Geatish territory, or, since Beowulf and company find their boat safe, maybe it's the final land marker of Geatish territory. If it's meant to indicate mountains, then maybe the Geats cleverly set up where mountains sheltered them from naval assaults.
The more fantastical explanation that sprang to my mind (with no help from any facts that I know) is that the word means just what it sounds like: a barrow. I'm not sure about the practices of the Geats and how much they were like those of other groups around them, but it makes sense to bury your dead on the outskirts of your settlement. Doing so allows those in mourning to move on, and keeps those still living free from any disease that might propagate or reside in a corpse.
Stepping into the realm of superstition, maybe a barrow on the edge of your settlement also acted as an enemy deterrent. If not regarded as an out-and-out hazardous field of ghosts, perhaps it could stand as a reminder of the finality of death and demotivate those who sought to add to it.
Also, and who knows since the geographical detail is so sketchy here, perhaps this "beorge" is a reference to Hronesness, the place where Beowulf is buried at the poem's end. Maybe it even is that place. We're never told much about Hronesness after all, other than the fact that it's high enough to mount a beacon for ships on it. Perhaps generations before Beowulf there was another hero buried there, and in the ultimate show of the vanity of human pride the elements wore down his great barrow until it was just a low mound - the same fate that awaits Beowulf's.
If this whole "beorge" business has anything to do with Hronesness, then maybe it's even the poet/scribe stepping in to imply the importance of written history and records. Words record deeds and memory much better than monuments left exposed to the cruel elements of nature's erasing power.
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Closing
Next week Beowulf and crew get out to sea, and, very quickly, come to Daneland.
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Translation
Recordings
Prime or time
Burrowing into a word
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf and crew prep their ship and ready themselves, too.
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Translation
"The foremost knew motion; the ship was on the sea,
the boat that sat before barrows. The warriors
roaringly rose a cry - the current carried them on,
bringing the sea against sand; the men bore
bright treasures upon their chests,
magnificent in martial-gear; they all shoved off,
men bound for an expected expedition trip by boat."
(Beowulf ll.210-216)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Prime or time
Once again, we see some summarized action at work. The poet is speeding us along here, giving the barest detail about Beowulf and his crew boarding their ship and putting out to sea. No doubt the strangeness of Grendel (and maybe the fame of Beowulf?) had audiences eager to hear what happened once the Geats reached the Danes.
But, despite the clear sense of forward motion in this passage, the first clause of this section is vague.
The three words that kick it all off ("Fyrst forð gewat") form a complete thought with a subject, object, and verb in that order. But at the level of literal translation into modern English, they don't really work together. They come out to something like "the first knew forwardness/awayness." Although, this isn't the only place in the poem where a literal translation just won't do.
Looking at this clause's general sense, I think that it's communicating the idea that the foremost member of the group (that is, Beowulf) was in a state of mind for travel as they set out. He had full understanding of his physical purpose, and so body and mind were joined in his undertaking. A sense of such unity could be used to foreshadow Beowulf's prowess and success against Grendel and Grendel's mother.
Running with that understanding of this clause's general sense, I then pieced together a clause that gets it across as economically as possible. "The foremost knew motion" is as close as I've gotten so far to my interpretation of the sense of the original.
For the sake of comparison, Seamus Heaney translates the line from a completely different understanding of its sense. He turns "Fyrst forð gewat" into "Time went by." There's still some motion in this version of the clause, maybe even more of it than in mine if you take time to be the motion of god (perhaps what Heaney took from "Fyrst" and left only implied in his translation). The difference between our clauses is also important, since Heaney chose the interpretation of "Fyrst" as "time" rather than as the premier cardinal number.
Looking back, that makes the clause as a whole quite clearer at the literal level. But, I've chosen to stick with my own translation because it allows for more interpretation. Very little is lost in doing so. Both convey a sense of motion, after all, and that is this clause's purpose as it comes at the start of a passage all about kicking off travel.
Actually, Heaney's interpretation slows down time in that it calls attention to time itself passing by. Taking "Fyrst" as a reference to Beowulf instead puts the focus on the Geats and their eagerness to be off on their "expected expedition" (l.216).
Back To Top
Burrowing into a word
A cleaner curiousity (from an academic angle) is the use of "beorge" (l.211). This word has several interpretations, including "mountain," "hill," and "barrow." The sense that I pulled from it and its context is that this "beorge" indicates the boundary of Geatish territory, or, since Beowulf and company find their boat safe, maybe it's the final land marker of Geatish territory. If it's meant to indicate mountains, then maybe the Geats cleverly set up where mountains sheltered them from naval assaults.
The more fantastical explanation that sprang to my mind (with no help from any facts that I know) is that the word means just what it sounds like: a barrow. I'm not sure about the practices of the Geats and how much they were like those of other groups around them, but it makes sense to bury your dead on the outskirts of your settlement. Doing so allows those in mourning to move on, and keeps those still living free from any disease that might propagate or reside in a corpse.
Stepping into the realm of superstition, maybe a barrow on the edge of your settlement also acted as an enemy deterrent. If not regarded as an out-and-out hazardous field of ghosts, perhaps it could stand as a reminder of the finality of death and demotivate those who sought to add to it.
Also, and who knows since the geographical detail is so sketchy here, perhaps this "beorge" is a reference to Hronesness, the place where Beowulf is buried at the poem's end. Maybe it even is that place. We're never told much about Hronesness after all, other than the fact that it's high enough to mount a beacon for ships on it. Perhaps generations before Beowulf there was another hero buried there, and in the ultimate show of the vanity of human pride the elements wore down his great barrow until it was just a low mound - the same fate that awaits Beowulf's.
If this whole "beorge" business has anything to do with Hronesness, then maybe it's even the poet/scribe stepping in to imply the importance of written history and records. Words record deeds and memory much better than monuments left exposed to the cruel elements of nature's erasing power.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week Beowulf and crew get out to sea, and, very quickly, come to Daneland.
Back To Top
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Words from the "gif-stol" (ll.164-174) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
All about the "gif-stol"
On 'secret' 'courage'
Closing
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Abstract
At long last we're given details about Grendel's grip on Heorot beyond a body count.
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Translation
"So the fiend trespassed deeply against humankind,
the horror of the lone-goer, oft cursed,
awful affliction; Heorot was lived in,
the richly adorned hall was his by gloomy night,
though he could not approach the throne,
the treasure to the Measurer, nor could he be known.
This did much to the misery of the Scyldings,
their hearts broken. Many oft sat
with the ruler to give counsel, esteemed advice,
things that the rash and the best were fixing
to do against the awful horror."
(Beowulf ll.164-174)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
All about the "gif-stol"
As the physically stronger party, Grendel claims physical control over Heorot, though the Danes retain legal ownership of it. But Grendel, even as a violent squatter, cannot approach "the throne" ("gif-stol" (l.168)).
The Old English word used here for "throne" can also mean "gift-seat." The difference between the two translations is minimal, but the reason for there being two in the first place is because "gif-stol" doesn't just refer to the throne as a place of power. It refers to the gift-giving role that any good ruler had to play, as well. The throne is the place from which a ruler would dispense gifts and favours.
It's entirely possible that the throne is set aside so that it can be the exclusive purvey of a ruler, imbuing him with a kind of positive, public solitude. It's a place in which a ruler could be guaranteed clearer thinking and judgement in the matter of gifts because it was the ruler's alone - no one else could enter that head (or cheek) space. Gifts were important in early medieval Europe, to the point where their being given and being received was closely watched. Who gave what to whom and vice versa mattered greatly to peoples' reputations and standing.
Grendel can't approach this gift-giving center, however.
In the text, the implication is that the throne is somehow dedicated to god. Building on the story that the scops had been singing in Heorot when times were still great, it seems that Grendel, as an accursed of god, can't approach the throne because it is simply not for him. In a gift-driven society in which gifts could end feuds (and start them), not being able to approach the throne would mean that Grendel is cut off from a major social function. Being so isolated from society at large shouldn't matter much to one who is already quite monstrous and thus excluded from society, and, really, it doesn't seem to. The mention of Grendel's not being able to approach this throne reads more like a detail added to show that there was hope yet. After all, Grendel "could not be known" ("ne his myne wisse" (l.169)).
I take this extra clause to mean that he could not be acknowledged by anyone in the throne (seated there, or to whom it had been dedicated), and therefore showing that Grendel was indeed cut off from society at large, reinforcing his isolation. It's interesting to note that there's no mention of Grendel's aggression in this passage. He rules the hall by night. After reading this passage, it almost seems that Grendel could be capering about it, revelling in being in a public, social space.
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On 'secret' 'courage'
Some curious words appear in the latter half of this passage.
First, on line 172, we have "counsel" or, in Old English: "rune." It's a neat philological fact that the Old English word for "mystery, secret, secrecy" is also the one for "counsel, consultation." It gives the sense that rulers were believed so wise and powerful not necessarily because they themselves were, but because their counsel - with whom they worked behind the scenes - helped them to be so. The dictates and gifts made from the throne, would, after all, be made by the ruler alone. Thus the power of many would appear to be the power of one in public.
One line later we run into the word that I've translated as "rash": "swiðferhðum." This word pulls triple duty as far as Modern English translators are concerned, since it can mean "bold," "brave," or "rash." In the context of the survivors giving Hrothgar advice about what to do with Grendel, "rash" is the best fit because it definitely reflects the attitude and outlook of some of his counsellors, as well as their advice.
The "and" between "rash" and "best" is my own insertion. I added it to distinguish between the "rash" and the "best" who are giving Hrothgar advice.
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Closing
Next week, we learn more about the measures that the Danes have taken to ward off Grendel.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
All about the "gif-stol"
On 'secret' 'courage'
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
At long last we're given details about Grendel's grip on Heorot beyond a body count.
Back To Top
Translation
"So the fiend trespassed deeply against humankind,
the horror of the lone-goer, oft cursed,
awful affliction; Heorot was lived in,
the richly adorned hall was his by gloomy night,
though he could not approach the throne,
the treasure to the Measurer, nor could he be known.
This did much to the misery of the Scyldings,
their hearts broken. Many oft sat
with the ruler to give counsel, esteemed advice,
things that the rash and the best were fixing
to do against the awful horror."
(Beowulf ll.164-174)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
All about the "gif-stol"
As the physically stronger party, Grendel claims physical control over Heorot, though the Danes retain legal ownership of it. But Grendel, even as a violent squatter, cannot approach "the throne" ("gif-stol" (l.168)).
The Old English word used here for "throne" can also mean "gift-seat." The difference between the two translations is minimal, but the reason for there being two in the first place is because "gif-stol" doesn't just refer to the throne as a place of power. It refers to the gift-giving role that any good ruler had to play, as well. The throne is the place from which a ruler would dispense gifts and favours.
It's entirely possible that the throne is set aside so that it can be the exclusive purvey of a ruler, imbuing him with a kind of positive, public solitude. It's a place in which a ruler could be guaranteed clearer thinking and judgement in the matter of gifts because it was the ruler's alone - no one else could enter that head (or cheek) space. Gifts were important in early medieval Europe, to the point where their being given and being received was closely watched. Who gave what to whom and vice versa mattered greatly to peoples' reputations and standing.
Grendel can't approach this gift-giving center, however.
In the text, the implication is that the throne is somehow dedicated to god. Building on the story that the scops had been singing in Heorot when times were still great, it seems that Grendel, as an accursed of god, can't approach the throne because it is simply not for him. In a gift-driven society in which gifts could end feuds (and start them), not being able to approach the throne would mean that Grendel is cut off from a major social function. Being so isolated from society at large shouldn't matter much to one who is already quite monstrous and thus excluded from society, and, really, it doesn't seem to. The mention of Grendel's not being able to approach this throne reads more like a detail added to show that there was hope yet. After all, Grendel "could not be known" ("ne his myne wisse" (l.169)).
I take this extra clause to mean that he could not be acknowledged by anyone in the throne (seated there, or to whom it had been dedicated), and therefore showing that Grendel was indeed cut off from society at large, reinforcing his isolation. It's interesting to note that there's no mention of Grendel's aggression in this passage. He rules the hall by night. After reading this passage, it almost seems that Grendel could be capering about it, revelling in being in a public, social space.
Back To Top
On 'secret' 'courage'
Some curious words appear in the latter half of this passage.
First, on line 172, we have "counsel" or, in Old English: "rune." It's a neat philological fact that the Old English word for "mystery, secret, secrecy" is also the one for "counsel, consultation." It gives the sense that rulers were believed so wise and powerful not necessarily because they themselves were, but because their counsel - with whom they worked behind the scenes - helped them to be so. The dictates and gifts made from the throne, would, after all, be made by the ruler alone. Thus the power of many would appear to be the power of one in public.
One line later we run into the word that I've translated as "rash": "swiðferhðum." This word pulls triple duty as far as Modern English translators are concerned, since it can mean "bold," "brave," or "rash." In the context of the survivors giving Hrothgar advice about what to do with Grendel, "rash" is the best fit because it definitely reflects the attitude and outlook of some of his counsellors, as well as their advice.
The "and" between "rash" and "best" is my own insertion. I added it to distinguish between the "rash" and the "best" who are giving Hrothgar advice.
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Closing
Next week, we learn more about the measures that the Danes have taken to ward off Grendel.
Back To Top
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Beowulf: Mighty in Arms, Loose in Words? [ll.2732b-2743b] (Old English)
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Peering in, But Just Dipping Toes
Not Many Oaths Sworn "in Unrighteousness"
Kinds of Kin-Slaying
Closing
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Abstract
Beowulf says that he's come to terms with his death because he was a good king and can stand blameless before the final judgment.
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Translation
"'I this people have ruled
for fifty winters; never was there a king of the people,
any of the neighbouring folks
would dare attack with war-friends,
threaten terror. I in my homeland awaited
destiny, it guarded me well,
I did not seek contrived hostility, nor swore I many
oaths in unrighteousness. In all of this
infirmity of a mortal wound I have joy;
because the Lord of men has no cause to accuse me
of murderous killing of kinsmen, when my
life passes from my body.'"
(Beowulf ll.2732b-2743a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Peering in, But Just Dipping Toes
For such a short passage, there's a fair bit going on here.
It's revealed that Beowulf has ruled as long as Hrothgar and Grendel's Mother did; that Beowulf was the sort of king that defended his lands on reputation or by some other passive means; that he had a fairly Taoist, go-with-the-flow life philosophy that kept him out of trouble; that he has been mostly true to his word; and that he is guiltless when it comes to murdering kinsmen.
Though there's quite a bit of depth here, this entry is just going to focus on the last two in that list.
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Not Many Oaths Sworn "in Unrighteousness"
What does Beowulf mean when he says "nor swore I many/oaths in unrighteousness" ("ne me swor fela/aða on unriht." (ll.2738-2739), emphasis my own)? Is it an accepted part of Anglo-Saxon life (perhaps especially or only in positions of power) that some oaths are not sworn in the best of circumstances?
What exactly does it mean to swear an oath in "unrighteousness"?
Did Beowulf swear some oaths to do some unsavory things? Did he swear some oaths to escape others? Did he make pacts with spirits?
The wording itself aside, what can be looked at here is the word "fela," which I translated as "many." So there haven't been a lot of oaths sworn poorly. is this just a matter of practice?
Though we don't see Beowulf swearing oaths unrighteously, it is curious that Beowulf plays fast and loose with his retelling of the fights with Grendel and with Grendel's Mother to Hrothgar. Specifically, Beowulf adds Grendel's terrible glove to his story (ll.2085-2088), and greatly shortens his encounter with Grendel's mother (ll.2135-2141).
Words were considered incredibly important to Anglo-Saxons, especially when it came to the valuation of people. So, could this alteration of words mean that Beowulf didn't always take words so seriously?
Perhaps the answer can be found in the next part.
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Kinds of Kin-Slaying
Within the poem itself, there have been several instances of kin-slaying.
Most recently is Beowulf's story of Hæðcyn killing Herebeald, but there is also the story of the Battle of Finnburgh, and, of course, Beowulf's implication that Unferth killed his brother. Though it's the most distant to this point in the poem, the Unferth instance might actually be the most relevant here.
According to some, the first half of Beowulf represents Beowulf's destroying his shadow self, in so far as Grendel and Grendel's Mother are embodiments of Beowulf's animalistic nature.
In fact, others also suggest that Beowulf and Grendel are somehow related, making Beowulf a kin-killer.
On one hand this seems like an unstable interpretation, but, on the other, every statement in the section of Beowulf's speech translated for this entry gives further information about his life through implication. Thus, either Beowulf is suggesting that accusations of kin-killing have been made against him, or that kin-killing is a common crime among kings, but he is innocent of it.
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Closing
Next week, as a relief from the animal, the first verse of the thirteenth century Latin poem "O Fortuna" will be translated. Plus, Beowulf makes his penultimate request of Wiglaf, and the plucky young thane goes darting off to fulfill it.
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Translation
Recordings
Peering in, But Just Dipping Toes
Not Many Oaths Sworn "in Unrighteousness"
Kinds of Kin-Slaying
Closing
 |
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf says that he's come to terms with his death because he was a good king and can stand blameless before the final judgment.
Back To Top
Translation
"'I this people have ruled
for fifty winters; never was there a king of the people,
any of the neighbouring folks
would dare attack with war-friends,
threaten terror. I in my homeland awaited
destiny, it guarded me well,
I did not seek contrived hostility, nor swore I many
oaths in unrighteousness. In all of this
infirmity of a mortal wound I have joy;
because the Lord of men has no cause to accuse me
of murderous killing of kinsmen, when my
life passes from my body.'"
(Beowulf ll.2732b-2743a)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Peering in, But Just Dipping Toes
For such a short passage, there's a fair bit going on here.
It's revealed that Beowulf has ruled as long as Hrothgar and Grendel's Mother did; that Beowulf was the sort of king that defended his lands on reputation or by some other passive means; that he had a fairly Taoist, go-with-the-flow life philosophy that kept him out of trouble; that he has been mostly true to his word; and that he is guiltless when it comes to murdering kinsmen.
Though there's quite a bit of depth here, this entry is just going to focus on the last two in that list.
Back To Top
Not Many Oaths Sworn "in Unrighteousness"
What does Beowulf mean when he says "nor swore I many/oaths in unrighteousness" ("ne me swor fela/aða on unriht." (ll.2738-2739), emphasis my own)? Is it an accepted part of Anglo-Saxon life (perhaps especially or only in positions of power) that some oaths are not sworn in the best of circumstances?
What exactly does it mean to swear an oath in "unrighteousness"?
Did Beowulf swear some oaths to do some unsavory things? Did he swear some oaths to escape others? Did he make pacts with spirits?
The wording itself aside, what can be looked at here is the word "fela," which I translated as "many." So there haven't been a lot of oaths sworn poorly. is this just a matter of practice?
Though we don't see Beowulf swearing oaths unrighteously, it is curious that Beowulf plays fast and loose with his retelling of the fights with Grendel and with Grendel's Mother to Hrothgar. Specifically, Beowulf adds Grendel's terrible glove to his story (ll.2085-2088), and greatly shortens his encounter with Grendel's mother (ll.2135-2141).
Words were considered incredibly important to Anglo-Saxons, especially when it came to the valuation of people. So, could this alteration of words mean that Beowulf didn't always take words so seriously?
Perhaps the answer can be found in the next part.
Back To Top
Kinds of Kin-Slaying
Within the poem itself, there have been several instances of kin-slaying.
Most recently is Beowulf's story of Hæðcyn killing Herebeald, but there is also the story of the Battle of Finnburgh, and, of course, Beowulf's implication that Unferth killed his brother. Though it's the most distant to this point in the poem, the Unferth instance might actually be the most relevant here.
According to some, the first half of Beowulf represents Beowulf's destroying his shadow self, in so far as Grendel and Grendel's Mother are embodiments of Beowulf's animalistic nature.
In fact, others also suggest that Beowulf and Grendel are somehow related, making Beowulf a kin-killer.
On one hand this seems like an unstable interpretation, but, on the other, every statement in the section of Beowulf's speech translated for this entry gives further information about his life through implication. Thus, either Beowulf is suggesting that accusations of kin-killing have been made against him, or that kin-killing is a common crime among kings, but he is innocent of it.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week, as a relief from the animal, the first verse of the thirteenth century Latin poem "O Fortuna" will be translated. Plus, Beowulf makes his penultimate request of Wiglaf, and the plucky young thane goes darting off to fulfill it.
Back To Top
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