Beowulf's Boasts - Dayraven's and Dragon's Bane [2496-2509] (Old English)

Translation
A Word and a Name
Compounded Words
Conclusion and Wrap Up

There's more boasting from Beowulf today, as he recalls the turning point in his career and then starts to talk some smack about the dragon's hoard.

{Perhaps the younger Beowulf that our hero has in mind. Image created by Sandra Effinger}

Translation

"Always would I go on foot before him,
first in the line, and so 'til age takes me
shall I conduct war, so long as this sword survives,
that which has and will endure;
ever since before the hosts I became the
hand slayer of Dayraven,the Frankish warrior
No treasure at all did he
bring back to the Frisian king,
No breast plate could he have carried,
for, in the field as standard bearer, he fell,
princely in courage; he was not slain by the sword
but by hostile grip I halted the surge of his heart,
broke his bone-house. Now shall the sword's edge,
hand and hard blade, be heaved against the hoard."
(Beowulf ll.2496-2509)

As with any passage that concentrates so much on warfare there are some bits here that are so loud that they can't be ignored.

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A Word and a Name

One such bit is the word "feðan." It looks like it should be a verb because of its "an" ending, but the Clarke Hall & Meritt dictionary isn't quite so sure about it.

However, the translation of "marched" or "go on foot" makes sense since the entry right before it is feða, meaning "footsoldier." It might not be a perfect translation, but just turning that word into a verb might be an all right way to go. Sense be damned, right?

Speaking of sense, the name Dayraven (originally Dæghrefne) could carry an odd one. As came up in an earlier entry, the raven is one of the three beasts of battle. But the significance of the raven isn't finished there.

Based on the appearance of a raven at daybreak earlier in the poem (l.1801, during the celebration of Beowulf defeating Grendel's mother), the bird is definitely a bringer of joy. So what could it mean for Beowulf to kill a warrior named for this good omen-bearing bird?

Moreover, should we take the suggestion that Beowulf has killed a symbol of joy to mean that he has doomed himself, or is this joy only that of the Franks who have lost their standard bearer and a man that is "princely in courage" ("æþeling on elne," l.2506)?

Dayraven's being identified with the Franks twice within two consecutive lines suggests that if he is to be understood as some sort of embodiment of joy he is definitely the Franks' joy only. But given what happens to Beowulf when he faces the dragon, one wonders.

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Compounded Words

As this passage is one of the climaxes of Beowulf's boasting there are some cool compound words in it. Among them are "brēost-weorðunge," "hilde-grāp" and "bān-hūs." None of these yield any crazy literal translations, being breast-ornament, hostile grip, and bone-house respectively, but they're all compounds that hint at bits of the poem's culture.

"Brēost-weorðunge" is possibly the most nebulous. A breast ornament could be decorative plate armor, but maybe it refers to something like a heavy necklace, or something that you could hang off of armor - medals, maybe. But that such an accessory was important enough to have its own name (poetic or otherwise) implies that the Anglo-Saxons took their bling seriously.

"Hilde-grāp" and "bān-hūs" are clearer and more direct, but no less curious. Why? Because they're both readily translatable into words/phrases that could easily transfer into today's English.

Also, that "hilde-grāp" specifies a certain kind of grip makes it clear that grappling was pretty important to Anglo-Saxons. Beowulf's feats earlier in the poem also back up this implication about their culture.

With "bān-hūs" the implication seems to be more metaphysical, or at the least spiritual. Referring to a body as a "bone-house" might hint at there being something not of flesh dwelling within that house. That Clark Hall & Meritt translate it as "body, chest, breast" supports this idea that it hints at a belief in a soul of in-dwelling life force, since the "chest" or "breast" contains the heart.

All of this connotation puts me in mind of another Old English compound: "word-hoard."

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Conclusion and Wrap Up

Since Beowulf has talked up his sword skill with all of this boasting the dragon definitely needs to fear what's coming to it. But - it won't be coming just yet. Beowulf still has some more boasting to get out of the way before he's ready to head over to the beast's den. And, at the opposite end of things, Isidore gets into talk of ibexes next week.

So, be sure to check back next week for those two entries. In the meantime, what do you make of Beowulf's killing Dayraven? Feel free to leave your thoughts in a comment.
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Edible Kids, Lust-Eyed He-Goats, and Eccentric She-Goats [12:13-15] (Latin)

Translation
On Kids
He-Goats
She-Goats
Conclusion

Goats and she goats are St. Isidore's topic this week, and there are, as with last week's section on lambs and sheep, some curious bits of lore thrown in with his definitions.

{Can't you just see the lust in those eyes? Image from the CR4 article "Is Going Green Getting Your Goat?"}

Translation

[13]"Kids {"haedus"} are so named for eating {"edulare"}. For the small are the fattest and of a delightful taste, from whence [and to eat, from whence] comes the word for edible.

[14]"The he-goat is a truly lascivious animal and a butter and always eager for sex; and we can see lust lying across its eye, from whence its name {"hircus"} is drawn. For the eyes of the he-goat are angular as it is in the second book of Suetonius (Prat 171); whose nature is indeed the hottest like diamond stone, material which neither fire nor iron is able to break into, and which blood alone can dissolve. Many he-goats are called Cinyphri for the river Cinyphrus in Libya, where many were born.

[15] "We call she-goats and she-goats* {capra} for their nibbling {carpo}
of thickets. Others are caught bitterly. Some rattle the blood, from which they can be called rattlers; which are wild she goats, which for the Greeks are sharp to look upon, they are called by them 'Oksuderkesteron durka.' In fact, they are seen in the height of mountains, and ever so of those in the distance, however all come that far nevertheless."
(Book 12:13-15 of St. Isidore of Seville's Etymologiae)
(*This phrase caused me difficulty since the Latin is "capros et capras," which suggests male and female "she-goats.")

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On Kids

"Kid's are so named for eating." Out of context, this could be a terrifying statement. And even in context, it's not entirely clear automatically.

On the one hand, it makes sense that you would want to fatten an animal up before eating it. On the other, if you're eating all of the young of an animal (the textbook definition of "kid"), then how are you to get more of the adults? A certain degree of moderation must've been practiced by people of that age.

Or maybe, since the kids are also known to have a "pleasing/delightful taste" they were saved for special occasions only.

But alas, St. Isidore doesn't pause to give us such a detail. Instead, he plunges ahead into the realm of lust and cheap casinos. Or, well, maybe just lust.

Yes, he moves onto he-goats ("hircus").

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He-Goats

One question that comes up immediately on reading this passage is, why does lust live laying across the eye? Or, if you translate "transversus" differently, the corner of the eye? This could be a reference to the slitted pupil of the goat, or perhaps to an idea that lust wasn't something generally conveyed with a direct look, but instead a glance out of the corner of an eye.

Maybe, in such a situation, if such a glance went unchecked by the glancer and the glancer turned to get a full look of what lust had pulled his or her attention to, then it would become full blown desire.

In the ancient world there was also a belief that a person's gaze was more of a beam than a passive receiver of information, so maybe such a direct look was also associated with things like Cupid's arrows. They could be pulled from a quiver (the sidelong glance) and then fired at the victim (the object of the full on look) and maybe there'd be return fire or the shot would just be deflected and all for naught. It'd be great if there's some love poetry that uses such warlike imagery. A find like that would really cement this connection.

When St. Isidore compares the goat's fiery nature to the impenetrable nature of diamonds a few more questions might be raised.

Why compare something like an animal's nature to a diamond in terms of hardness?

Did having a "hard nature" carry the same meaning that it does today, stubborn and wanton, difficult to really get along with?

That "fire and iron" represent the greatest forces that St. Isidore can describe in single words is also curious, since the martial influence is again visible. And that sort of influence is quite clear in the verb "domare" (meaning to tame, break into, conquer). It's interesting how even 1300 years ago sex and violence were associated with each other.

And speaking of sex, the characteristics that St. Isidore attributes to she goats are also intriguing (partially because the Latin seems especially dense here).

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She-Goats

The fact that they "rattle" is definitely something lost in translation - much like how "kids are so named for eating." A good guess is that she-goats are noisy, in that they rattle their voices, or bleat, frequently.

What's out and out weird, is the way that St. Isidore describes she-goats as being seen in the high and far mountains but only by those who bother to look. What does this even mean? That the wild she goats are so plentiful in Greece that they just go unnoticed? Or are she-goats taking on a more spiritual meaning here?

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Conclusion

If you've got some ideas about what St. Isidore is talking about when it comes to she-goats' travel habits, or if you know of any warlike love poetry from the 7th century or earlier, simply let me know in a comment.

And check back Thursday for the continuation of Beowulf's boasting about his deeds and for a clear statement about what he's going to do with his sword and the dragon's hoard.

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Credits in a Comitatus and Boasts Filled with Wonder Words [ll.2484-2495] (Old English)

The Translation
Ongentheow's Killer and the Comitatus
"heoro-blāc"
"ēðel-wynn"
"Gifðum"
Wrap-up

{a younger Beowulf, perhaps, flashing his gams and doing some boasting. From "Gayle's Bard Blog."}

The Translation

We return to Beowulf now, as he rounds out his history lesson and starts to verbally fist pump. Let's listen in:

"Then in the morning I heard that his kin
avenged him by the blade, plunged its edge to end
the slayer's life where Eofor's attack fell upon Ongenþēow;
his war-helm split, the Swedish warlord
fell sword-wan; his hand held memory enough
of feuding, he could not hold off that fatal blow.

"The treasure, which Hygelac gave to me,
I won for him by flashing sword; he gave to me land,
a native place, land joy. For him there was no need,
no reason to be required to seek some worse warrior
from the gifthouse or the spear-danes or the swedes,
my worth was well known."
(Beowulf ll.2484-2495)

Some interesting stuff is going on in this passage.

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Ongentheow's Killer and the Comitatus

First, there's the question of who killed Ongenþēow. The text suggests that it was Hygelac who killed him "by the sword's edge" ("billes ecgum" l.2485), but it also mentions an Eofor who is credited with splitting his helmet ("thǣr Ongenþēow Eofores nīosað;/gūð-helm tōglād" ll.2486-7). So who's the real hero, Beowulf?

To a modern reader this double crediting of Ongenþēow's kill (something that might lead to another killing if it happened in a MMORPG), might seem confused. But, to an Anglo-Saxon sensibility, it makes perfect sense.

Consider for a minute the fact that Hygelac is, at the point when Ongenþēow's killed, the leader of the Geat forces against the Swedes at this battle since Hæðcyn has been killed. Thus, Eofor is fighting as Hygelac's thane - Eofor is part of Hygelac's group.

In Anglo-Saxon terms, such a group could be called a "comitatus," a band of warriors held together by mutual quid pro quo. If a warrior pledges his life and sword to a lord, he fights until his death - even if that lord should die before he does. In return, the lord provides the warrior with treasure and land.

"The Battle of Maldon" is a perfect example of the comitatus style of loyalty because it tells of a band of warriors that fights on after their lord dies, even though they all know that they are doomed to die.

What's happening in Beowulf, then, is that Hygelac is being credited with Eofor's kill because Hygelac is the head of the Geats, of the Geatish comitatus, and likewise, all of the warriors within Hygelac's comitatus are his swords. So it's fair to say that Hygelac had his vengeance on Ongenþeow by the edge of the sword, in the sense that he was killed by one of Hygelac's men.

At the level of words within the passage, there are indeed a few that are quite curious.

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"heoro-blāc"

The word "heoro-blāc", meaning "mortal wound" is unique among these curious words since it is a somewhat mysterious combination of "heoru" meaning "sword" and "blāc" meaning "pallid, pale, wan." So, literally, someone who is "heoro-blāc" is "sword-pale."

Unfortunately, the literal translation doesn't work quite so well, since "sword-pale" suggests that something is as pale as a sword. Depending on what it's made of, a corpse might get to a similar pallor as a clean, shiny sword, but it's a rather fantastical comparison.

"Mortal wound" is a little on the nose, though, so "sword-wan" is what was used above. The term is used in the senses that Ongenþēow is weakened by the sword, and about as strong as a sword without a wielder. He is mighty, yet useless, as he lay where Eofor split his helmet.

Moving into Beowulf's boast about his own accomplishments yields more tricky and wondrous words.

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"ēðel-wynn"

First up there's "ēðel-wynn" meaning "joy of ownership," but made up of "ēðel" (native land, country, home) and "wynn" (joy). So translating the term as "joy of ownership" does work, in that there will be a joy in a native owning their own land, but at the same time "joy of ownership" falls short by generalizing the original word too much.

Nonetheless, what's telling about the translation is that it completely ignores the fact that "ēðel-wynn" contains a specific reference to land ("ēðel"). There might not be an exact and precise equivalent term in English, but by cutting out any reference to land, it seems like that there's a desire to deny a sense of landed-ness in Anglo-Saxon at play.

But that's just not true.

The fact that a compound word with "ēðel" is used here is important because it shows that whenever Beowulf was written (or maybe even when it was still being sung) land ownership was a big deal to Anglo-Saxons. This means that they might have had a sense of nationhood as we do today, since it wasn't something nebulous or abstract.

Words like "ēðel-wynn" allow you to make a case that there was a sense among Anglo-Saxons that a place defined a people and that if a certain people was given a certain space then that people would be joyous. So, it seems that Seamus Heaney's translation of the word as "the security that land brings" is better, though still wanting for the implied sense of nationhood.

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"Gifðum"

The other word is "Gifðum," which is not in the Clark Hall & Meritt Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. However, Seamus Heaney translates it as "gift house."

Heaney's translation might just be in a newer dictionary, or it could be derived from the idea that "Gifðum" is a corruption of "giefu-hus." A stretch, maybe, but the poem Beowulf isn't beyond having a few textual ticks here and there.

For example, in the original Anglo-Saxon, there's a consistent difference in spelling between the first and second halves of the poem, suggesting that there were two scribes involved in making the copy of the poem that we still have today.

Of course, textual ticks or no, that still leaves the nature of "Gifðum" a mystery.

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Wrap-up

If you've got your own theory about what "Gifðum" could mean, I want to know, just leave it in a comment for me.

Next week, St. Isidore talks of the goat, we get some more medieval lore, and Beowulf starts into more boasting. Don't miss it!
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sheep!...Sheep! - Sheep! [12: 10-12] (Latin)

{A woolly one on the green. From the Netherland National Library's Collection.}

Following up on his explanation of the differences between pack animals and herd animals - leaving off with the fact that "families" prefer to use goats/sheep for their sacrifices - St. Isidore explains a little bit more about this wondrous animal: the sheep.

Before getting to the translation, however, it must be pointed out that "families" is just one way to translate "gentilis."

The almost automatic translation is "Gentile," which may work, but the English translation of the Etymologiae that I use as a loose base text renders it "pagan." To combine this with the Collins Pocket Gem Latin Dictionary's translation of "family," the word "gentilis" will be translated as "pagan clan" from here on out.

Now, without further ado, this week's translation:

"[10] Wethers, also called males, which are stronger than other sheep; or which are virile, that is of masculine gender; or which have worms in their heads, which excite them by itching to strike each other with mutual force, and to carry out fights with great energy.

[11] Ares or [apo tou areos], that is Mars, these are called; so they are called manly in the flock by us or if that flock belongs to a pagan clan, the ram is first among the flock sacrificed. For the ram is placed on the altars by them. From whence it is: (Sedul. 1,115):

'Upon the altar sacrifice the ram.'

[12] Lambs in Greek are called [apo tou agnou], as if holy, Latins on the other hand believe that the animal is so named for this reason, for compared with other animals it knows its mother; so that if ever it gets lost in a large flock, it immediately knows its parents by the call of their bleating."
(St. Isidore of Seville's Etymologiae: 12: 10-12)

(N.B.: the parts in square brackets are given in Ancient Greek: a dead language that I have yet to try my hand at.)

Where to start with this one? There's the worms that, St. Isidore writes, are the reason for rams butting each others' heads; there's the weird reference to a mysterious work that clearly names rams as sacrifices; and there's the etymology of the Latin word for lamb: "agnus."

The beginning is always good.

The idea that worms cause a great itching on rams' heads and this drives them to fight, is pure medieval bestiary material.

Completely wild ideas, but completely interesting, to boot. What's most interesting about this idea though, is that it suggests that sheep are naturally harmonious. It isn't that they butt their heads against trees to help soothe their itching heads, but they butt each other's heads with "mutual force" ("invicem se concutiunt"). There's a sense that these animals help each other out.

Even if this explanation for rams charging at each other is fantastical, it's curious that such camaraderie is ascribed to sheep.

That these animals are also the ones that "Sedul." dictates for sacrifice follows from this perception of sheep, no doubt. After all, why sacrifice any old animal?

If an animal has special value to humans it will be worth more amongst them. But if an animal seems to have a society going on that is similar to human society (considered the apex of all creation at this time), that must mean that within the cosmos the animal has a worth near that of humans. So, if you're not going to sacrifice humans, why not sacrifice the next best thing - animals that help each other out.

Better yet, why not sacrifice animals that also show an inherent recognition of family?

The etymology for the Latin word for lamb, "agnus," adds to this picture of sheep as a human-like animal, at least as far as values go. The word's ascribed origin (the Latin word "agnosco," meaning "to know") also reflects the animal's apparently Christian values - harmonious living among brethren and being aware of family. In particular, Isidore's description of a lamb recognizing its parents by the sound of their voice ("statim balatu recognoscat vocem parentis" 12.12) is rather reminiscent of the tripartite holy family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

What's perplexing though, is that sheep are so fixated on here.

Don't calves know their mothers? Don't foals?

Why are sheep so elevated as to have an etymology relating them to the Latin word "agnosco" meaning "to know"? Another, related question, is how "agnosco" morphed into the modern English "agnostic."

At any rate, sheep might be so highly regarded and focused on simply because they could continuously provide. Year after year they could be sheared, some could be milked, and some could be slaughtered; so year after year they would provide food *and* clothing.

It's hyperbolic, but that sheep give material for clothing and food turns the Chinese proverb "A warm coat is better than a fully belly" on its ear, since sheep could provide both. Couple that with their perceived cosmic value, and you've got a super animal.

What do you think about Isidore's ideas of sheep? Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments.

So, can St. Isidore best himself as he starts to write of goats? Find out next week!

Before that, though, this week sees Beowulf wrapping up his history lesson and moving into a demonstration of effective boasting. Check back Thursday for it!

Swedish Retribution "from over wide water" [ll.2472-2483] (Old English)

Abstract
Translation
On Swedes and Geats
Compounding New Words
Closing

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Abstract

We get the history hard and fast in this week's passage of Beowulf (ll.2472-2483, Chapter XXXV).

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Translation

"'Then between Swedes and Geats was war and enmity;
from over wide water causing laments,
wall-hard warfare, after Hrethel had perished,
Ongeonðēow's sons to them came,
warlike; they would not free
those they held under sorrow's sway, and near Hrēosnahill
they oft launched voracious ambushes.
My close-kin avenged this,
feud and war-fire, as it is known,
though one of them bought the victory, at a hard price,
with his life; Haethcyn, Geatish lord,
was taken in the war's assailing.'"
(Beowulf ll.2472-2483)

{Approximation of the Hrēosnahill fight offered by a mural of the Battle of Maldon. From the Braintree collection of murals.}

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On Swedes and Geats

Questions bubble up like air in a flagon of ale upon reading this passage. Who was Ongeonðēow? What's important about Hrēosnahill? What liberties were taken with the translation?

Ongeonðēow [On-g'in-thou] was the king of the Swedes who launched an attack on the Geats to recover his daughter and his gold, both of which had been taken by the Geats on an earlier raid. He was famed as a powerful king, and two Geats (Eofor and Wulf) had to work together to defeat him (read more here). Though, as we'll see in next week's entry, Beowulf makes it sound like Hygelac himself lands the deathblow.

Hrēosnahill [Heh-res-na-hill] is where Hæðcyn had taken Ongeonðēow's daughter, and is apparently a real place (modern Swedish:"Ramshult"), as well as a place that is traditionally within Geatish territory. Go to this Wikipedia page for more info.

So, what's happening here is a little bit of old fashioned early medieval back and forth. The Geats stole Ongeonðēow's daughter and gold (according to Wikipedia), and now the Swedes are coming for rescue and revenge - which they (again, from Wikipedia) only half exact. The Swedes recover the woman, but not the gold.

Two liberties were taken in the above translation. In the third line (l.2474) "wall-hard warfare" is altered from the literal "hard warfare" since the alliteration makes it sound more Anglo-Saxon and "hard warfare" isn't as evocative as the original "here-nīð hearda."

The phrase "under sorrow's sway" was also altered from the literal "lamentation holding" since it doesn't have enough punch in Modern English. It also confuses the metaphor of being held under extreme emotion, which is clarified by "under sorrow's sway."

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Compounding New Words

The words "here-nīð," and "inwit-scearo" are both compound words worthy of elaboration.

The first combines the word for "predatory band, troop, army; war, devastation" ("here") and for "strife, enmity, attack, spite, affliction," ("nīð"). Literally, then, it could be rendered "war-strife" or "troop-enmity" and so warfare is a clear translation of it. The redundancy of a literal translation also makes the standard translation of the phrase more efficient than a literal rendering.

The word "inwit-scearo" on the other hand, is more worthy. The term is a mix of "inwit," meaning "evil, deceit, wicked, deceitful," and "scearo," a form of "scieran," meaning "to cleave, hew, cut; receive tonsure; abrupt."

Literally, the word could be rendered as "evil-cleave" or "abrupt-deceit" which sound like they could still be productive words among modern counterparts. "Evil-cleave" at least sounds like a technique in an RPG, while "abrupt-deceit" could be a spicier way to describe an ambush or surprise attack.

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Closing

To let me know what you think about these compound words (or this entry in general) just post a comment below. And feel free to follow this blog, I'll follow yours back.

Next week, Isidore elaborates on the workings of sheep and rams, and Beowulf tells of Hygelac's revenge, all the while bolstering his own warrior-like image.

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Of Sweaty Armpits and Family Sacrifices [12:7-9] (Latin)

Abstract
Translation
Some Words to Wonder About
Cows of the Violent Kine
Family and Sacrifices
Closing

Abstract

St. Isidore goes into further detail about pack animals and flocks in today's extract. And he reveals a thing or two about why sheep are so popular as sacrificial animals.

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Translation

"[7]The name 'pack animal' is derived from their pulling, that they do for our work, or the help they give us in carrying up things or with plowing. For oxen draw the two wheeled coach, and turn the stiff soil of the earth with the ploughshare; horses and donkeys carry loads, and humans, walking in their wake, guide their labour. And so pack animals are so called from those that are of help to men: truly they are animals of powerful greatness.

[8] Also, there are the cattle, whose weapons are attached, that is for war; or that make use of these horns. We understand other cattle to be oxen, for plowing, as if horned or that are equipped with horns. Moreover the cattle are distinguished from the flocks: for cattle are horses and oxen, flocks are truly she-goats and sheep.

[9] Sheep are a soft fleecy herd, with a defenceless body, a gentle spirit, and calling forth with its voice; it is not the oxen that a priest keeps near at hand for the mysteries, but the sheep that are killed for the sacrifice. From this they call them two pronged, those that have two higher teeth amongst eight, those are the ones that families offer exceedingly oft in their sacrifices."
(St. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae 12:7-9)

Angel to Abraham: "You're doing it wrong."

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Some Words to Wonder About

These three sections at last get clear and close, dealing with things in a markedly medieval manner by looking at categories and clarifying just what those categories mean. Thankfully, it also seems to be going somewhere now. The pack animals are defined, as well as the cattle and the flocks. So Isidore's moving right along here.

As far as curious words go, "capra" ("she-goat," or "odour of armpits") is definitely the strangest in this passage. Particularly fascinating about this word is its standing as a pretty stark reminder of the lack of deodorant in the 7th century when Isidore was writing. Goats might've been kept by some throughout the city of Seville as well, making for an immediate and visceral olfactory sensation.

Though, in a society without indoor plumbing, one wonders why a she-goat of all things is paired with the "odour of armpits."

Speaking of which, when might that second meaning have became attached to the word? Did "capra" have these two meanings from the time it was first used as a word or did it pick up the meaning "odour of armpits" because people realized that armpits and she-goats at least have that in common? We may never know, but that's part of the fun.

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Cows of the Violent Kine

From Isidore's description, it sounds like cattle were more violent then, too, or at least more prone to actually using their horns. That's what their having horns and their being described in martial terms ("armis," meaning "arms, especially for melee combat") suggests.

It's also likely that the connection could be held among those who work with cattle as well as the learned who write of cattle, since both groups could have access to stories of bulls and their tempers.

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Family and Sacrifices

Isidore's mention of families in paragraph 9 ("gentiles") is also curious, since it seems almost like a promotional plug - 9/10 families sacrifice sheep with two teeth more prominent than the eight. So why is it there? Is family sacrifice still prevalent? Was it just something done for Easter?

The use of the semi-colon (yes, inserted after the fact, since original mss don't have punctuation aside from diacritics marking abbreviations and such) suggests that the two sentences are related, but why are those qualities important for a good sacrificial animal?

The soft fleecy-ness, the naturally defenseless body, and the gentle nature - as well as the voice that calls out ("oblatione" which in St. Isidore's Late Latin referred to a solemn offering) - all of them suggest some sort of inherent sacrificial function.

Soft means penetrable, offering little resistance to the knife, as does the defenceless body. And the gentle spirit suggests that the lamb wouldn't begrudge the knife.

But the voice that calls out - it could reference an idea that the sheep bleated out a prayer itself as it was being killed or incinerated. An animal uttering such a prayer in death would definitely be favoured for sacrifice, since that bleating could also have the sacrificer's own prayer projected upon it.

A petition sacrificed in that a way - burned up in the vessel of a living being rather than a piece of paper - would add power to that prayer. Possibly even in early Christian minds.

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Closing

If you've got your own ideas about what some of the subtext or connotations of Isidore's mention of "families" or structure mean let me know about it in a comment. And do follow this blog if you enjoy it - I'll be sure to follow yours if you have one.

Check back Thursday for the next section of Beowulf, wherein Beowulf tells of the strife between Swede and Geat - and the fall of a prominent man.

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Hreðel's Choice [ll.2460-2471] (Old English)

Abstract
Translation
A Religious Out
Another Crucial Phrase
A Word to Modernize
Closing

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Abstract

In this week's excerpt Beowulf finishes his retelling of Hreðel's reaction to Herebeald's death. The old king is conflicted and ultimately gives up all of his possessions and holdings to his remaining sons:

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Translation

"'Then he lays himself in his bed and, wailing a dirge,
is alone even with himself; to him it all seems too large,
the fields and the halls. Thus was the Geat lord's
heart sorrow after Herebeald
went into that far country; he knew not how he might
wreak his feud on the slayer;
nor could he hate that warrior,
despite his loathsome deed, though he loved him not.
Amidst that sorrow, that which sorely him concerned,
he gave up life's joys, chose God's light;
he left all to his sons, as any prosperous man does,
lands and towns, when he left off this life.'"
(Beowulf ll.2460-2471)

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A Religious Out

What more is there to say here? Hreðel's great sorrow is combined with the utter failure that he faces in the face of the social code of the feud.

He can't kill his own son. So he does what anyone in a bind did in those medieval days (and these modern ones as well), he turns to "God's light". However, the phrase "chose God's light," ("Godes lēoht gecēas" l.2469) is open to interpretation.

Hreðel might've gone and joined a monastery, maybe became an anchorite, or he might have just given up entirely and let his body waste away until he died. The phrase could also refer to a conversion, but that interpretation isn't likely given the history of the poem's transmission.

If Beowulf was written out by Christian monks as a way of preserving it/using it for teaching/propaganda, it seems odd that a conversion would cause a character to drop out of society as Hreðel, a king, does.

So, I think, that the phrase "chose God's light" refers to some great act of austerity (fasting, seclusion) that leads Hreðel, in his weakened state, to his death.

{Job also "chose God's light" it seems. A William Blake original.}

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Another Crucial Phrase

That's not the only sticky phrase in the mix, though.

Afterall, there is the phrase used to describe the old man of Beowulf's simile when he shuts himself in his room: "ān æfter ānum." I translate this as "alone even with himself" (l.2461). As I have it, the phrase might seem to be lacking sense, but it's based on the apparent meaning of a literal translation: "alone for the purpose of being alone."

My rendering is intended to have the same basic meaning as a literal translation but with fewer words. "Alone even with himself" demonstrates how the old man is alone and separated from his thoughts and feelings even when he is by himself; that's just how much his grief and sorrow consume him.

Other than those cruxes, the passage is pretty straightforward. It's even got a neat Old English word that Modern English should pick up and dust off.

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A Word to Modernize

This word is "gum-drēam" ("enjoyment of life"), definitely a favourite. It's a compounding of a word for "man" ("gumma") and "joy, mirth, music, singing" ("drēam"), certainly a curious combination.

Literally it would translate as "man-joy" or "man-mirth," a word that definitely wouldn't resonate as well in a world where "man" is very rarely used to represent all of humanity. But it's a cool word, and if, say, someone wanted to bring it back, "lifejoy" or "are-mirth" could work.

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Closing

If you've got your own take on how "gum-dream" could be modernized, or on what Hreðel's choosing "God's light" means let me know about it in a comment!

Next week, Isidore writes about animals for war and animals for sacrifice, and Beowulf relates how the Swedes and Geats met in the field of war and how a certain Geat doesn't return. Watch this blog for those entries next Tuesday and Thursday respectively!

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