Blogging Beowulf: Fit XX, Lines 1321-1382

16 March 2009

This is another short fit, only some 60-odd lines, but it has some goodies in it. Hrothgar laments the death of his chief thane, named Æschere. He skillfully lays the blame for the death at Beowulf’s doorstep—Æschere’s death is retaliation for his killing of Grendel—and says he will greatly reward Beowulf if he kills Grendel’s mother.

Hrothgar uses the words idese onlīcnæs, likeness of woman, in line 1351a to describe Grendel’s mother. The word ides is generally reserved for noble women and is a term of respect, similar to our use of lady today. The vowel alliterates with the other stressed vowel sounds in the line, so that may be reason for using this odd-choice of a word for a monster, but one can readily imagine that the line could also have been reconstructed to use a more generic term, like wif using a different alliteration scheme.

Then in the second half of the fit is what may be my favorite passage of the poem so far. It’s a description of the territory around the lair of Grendel’s mother. It’s very spooky and wonderfully evocative. It’s very Halloweenish and I keep picturing John Cleese playing Hrothgar, describing the Cave of Cairbannog, lines 1357b-1379:

                                    Hīe dyġel lond
wariġeað, wulfhleoþu,      windiġe næssas,
frēcne fenġelād,      ðær fyrġenstrēam
under næssa ġenipu      niþer ġewīteð,
flōd under foldan.      Nis þæt feor heonon
mīlġemearces      þæt se mere standeð;
ofer þæm hongiað      hrinde bearwas,
wudu wyrtum fæst      wæter oferhelmað.
Þær mæġ nihta ġehwæm      nīðwundor sēon,
fyr on flōde.      Nō þæs frōd leofað
gumena bearna,      þæt þone grund wite.
Ðēah þe hæðstapa      hundum ġeswenċed,
heorot hornum trum      holtwudu sēċe,
feorran ġeflymed,      ær hē feorh seleð,
aldor on ōfre,      ær hē in wille,
hafelan [beorgan];      nis þæt hēoru stōw.
Þonon yðġeblond      up āstīgeð
won tō wolcnum      þonne wind styreþ
lað ġewidru,      oð þæt lyft ðrysmaþ,
roderas rēotað.      Nu is se ræd ġelang
eft æt þē ānum.      Eard ġīt ne const,
frēcne stōwe,      ðæ¯r þū findan miht
sinniġne secg;      sēċ ġif þū dyrre!

                                    (They this secret land
guard, the retreats of wolves,      the windy bluffs,
the terrible fen-passage,      where a waterfall
under the mists of bluffs      departs downward,
a flood under the earth.      It is not far from here
measured by miles      that the mere stands;
over it hangs      a grove covered with frost,
a wood with firm roots      overhangs the water.
There one can each night      see a dreadful wonder,
a fire on the flood.      There lives none so wise
of the children of men      that knows the bottom [of the lake].
Though the heath-stalker      harrassed by hounds,
the hart with strong horns      seeking the forest,
is put far to flight,      he would sooner give up his life,
his life on the shore,      before he would wish [to go] in [the lake]
to save his head;      this is not a good place.
From there the tossing waves      climb up
dark to the clouds      when the wind stirs
the hostile weathers,      until the air chokes,
the heavens weep.      Now is help dependent on
you alone again.      You do not know the region,
the terrible place,      there you might find
the sinful man;      seek it if you dare!)

Blogging Beowulf: Fit XIX, lines 1251-1320

14 March 2009

The Danes fall asleep in Heorot and Grendel’s mother appears to avenge her son. The fit opens with a reminder that Grendel is the spawn of Cain and a recap of Beowulf’s fight (kind of a medieval “last week on Beowulf...”). Then the poet describes her attack on the hall, telling us that she isn’t as strong or dangerous as a man—which is odd, since she turns out to be a much more formidable opponent for Beowulf than Grendel was. She kills one of the Danes—Hrothgar’s chief thane—while all the others scatter in fear. Grendel’s mother flees, taking Grendel’s hand with her. Then when morning comes, Hrothgar summons Beowulf to his chambers.

The description of the attack is worth repeating (lines 1279-95):

Cōm þā tō Heorote,      ðær Hrinġ-Dene
ġeond þæt sæld swæfun.      Þā ðær sōna wearð
edhwyrft eorlum,      siþðan inne fealh
Grendles mōdor.      Wæs se gryre læssa
efne swā micle      wā bið mæġþa cræft,
wīġgryre wifes      be wæpnedmen,
þonne heoru bunden,      hamere ġeþrūen,
sweord swāte fāh      swīn ofer helme
ecgum dyhttiġ      andweard scireð.
Þā wæs on healle      heardecg togen
sweord ofer setlum,      sīdrand maniġ
hafen handa fæst;      helm ne ġemunde,
byrnan sīde,      þā hine se brōga anġeat.
Hēo wæs on ofste,      wolde ūt þanon,
fēore beorgan,      þā hēo onfunden wæs;
hraðe hēo æþelinga      ānne hæfde
fæste befangen,      þā hēo tō fenne gang.

(She came to Heorot,      where the Ring-Danes
slept throughout the hall.      Then at once happened
a turn of fortune for the men,  after the inside reached
Grendel’s mother.      The terror was less
even as great      as is the strength of women,
the war-horror of women  compared to an armed man,
when the bound sword,      orged with a hammer,
a sword decorated with blood      strong of edge,
cuts opposite      into the swine-image on a helmet.*
Then in the hall was      drawn a hard-of-edge
sword over the seats,      many a broad-shield
was raised fast in hand; helmets were not remembered,
nor broad mail-coats,      when the terror seized him.
She was in haste,      and would be out from there
to save her life      when she was found out;
quickly she a nobleman      one had
seized fast,      then she went to the fen.)

*I changed the order of the half-lines here so it makes sense in modern English. As I’ve noted before, being an inflected language, Old English is extremely flexible with its syntax. Modern English doesn’t inflect its nouns and uses word order to convey case.

I’ve been putting off a discussion of meter, a subject I don’t know so well, but I’m starting to get a handle on it. So here goes a very simplified explanation of how meter in Anglo-Saxon poetry works. Remember that it actually has a lot more subtleties than how I’m explaining it, but this will do for now.

All Anglo-Saxon poetry is written out on the page as if it were prose. The scribes did not break the lines up on the page, instead filling the entire width of the paper with words and only starting a new line when they ran out of room. In modern editions, the poetry appears in lines consisting of two half-lines, separated by a break, called the caesura. This is a 19th century innovation to make it more obvious to the modern reader how the lines should be read.

The half-lines, or verses, are known as the a-verse and the b-verse (or the on-verse and the off-verse). Usually (but not always), each half-line contains two stressed syllables, also known as lifts, and an uncounted number of unstressed syllables. The first stress of the b-verse alliterates with one or both of the stresses in a-verse. The second stress of the b-verse does not typically alliterate, nor do any of the unstressed syllables. Example:

Cōm þā tō Heorote,      ðær Hrinġ-Dene
/ x x x / x,      x / / x

Note the first stress in the b-verse (Hrinġ) alliterates with the second in the a-verse (Heo). Traditionally, stressed syllables are marked with a slash and unstressed ones with an x.

The next line alliterates on both stresses in the a-verse:

ġeond þæt sæld swæfun.      Þā ðær sōna wearð
x x x x / / x.      x x / x /

Sæld, swæfun, and sōna all alliterate.

Consonants alliterate only with themselves, as do the consonant clusters sc, sp, and st. G can also alliterate with ġ and c can alliterate with ċ. Vowels can alliterate with any other vowel.

As I’ve said before, the meter is actually more complex. Lines are divided into five classes (A-E) and there are also half-lifts, or sort-of-stressed syllables. But this is a rough overview of the basics.