Blogging Beowulf: Fit XXVI, Lines 1817-87

29 April 2009

More speechifying here. Beowulf thanks Hrothgar and pledges that if the Danes are ever threatened again, he will come to their aid. Hrothgar, in turn, praises Beowulf and says that he will make a great king of the Geats, if Hygelac (the current king) dies. Hrothgar gives Beowulf more treasure. Hrothgar weeps, and Beowulf starts walking toward his ship.

This is a fairly unremarkable fit, both in narrative and language. There is a bit of foreshadowing in Hrothgar’s claim that Beowulf would make a worthy successor to Hygelac. The most significant happening, however, is Hrothgar’s tears—not an expected quality for a Germanic warrior-king.

Line 1872b says, hruron him tēaras (tears fell from him). And we get a more expansive description of the king’s emotional outburst at lines 1876b-80a.

                        (W)æs him se man tō þon lēof
þæt hē þone brēostwylm      forberan ne mehte,
ac him on hreþre      hyġebendum fæst
æfter dēorum men      dyrne langað
born wið blōde.

                        (The man was so dear to him
that he the breast-welling      could not forbear,
but for him in his heart      fast in mind’s bond
inwardly a longing      for the dear man
burned in his blood.)

(Note: I swapped the order of lines 1879a and 1879b to make the modern syntax scan more naturally.)

A modern reader might put a homoerotic spin on this passage, but that’s a temptation that should be resisted. It’s clearly not a valid medieval reading. Hrothgar’s longing is akin to that of a parent whose child is leaving home. But in any case, the brēostwylm is not something that a good Germanic warrior would display in public. This is another indication that despite the platitudes heaped on Hrothgar throughout the poem, there is a sub-textual theme that he is too old to be a good warrior-king. This interpretation fits with the readings that say the poem is an elegy for a past age. The poem is set in the fading years of glory for the pagan, Germanic warrior-culture.

Dyrne usually means secret or hidden, often with a connotation of evil. The University of Toronto’s Dictionary of Old English gives this as the only example of the inwardly sense, indicating that this may have been a one-off usage, or at least not a common sense. The poet probably chose dyrne because it alliterates with dēorum, figuring that his audience would understand that he was not implying a secret or evil longing.

Line 1861b has as neat kenning, ganotes bæð, or gannet’s bath, for the sea.

Strunk & White’s 50th

26 April 2009

The NY Times has a series a blog posts on Strunk and White’s Elements of Style and the damage it has done to generations of writers on it’s 50th birthday. Postings by Geoffrey Pullam, Ben Yagoda, Patricia O’Conner, Stephen Dodson (a.k.a. languagehat), and Mignon Fogerty (a.k.a. Grammar Girl).

Blogging Beowulf: Fit XXV, lines 1740-1816

24 April 2009

The episode/digression about Heremod, the bad king, continues. Heremod grows increasingly prideful and greedy. Eventually he dies, replaced by another king who doles out Heremod’s treasures to his people without regret. Hrothgar explicitly warns Beowulf not to be like Heremod. Hrothgar also examines his own rule, saying he tried to rule well and keep his kingdom safe—which apart from Grendel he did. And that he has even seen his kingdom delivered from the monster’s depredations, and unlike Heremod, he will share more treasure with Beowulf come morning. The next day, the Geats are eager to depart for their home. Beowulf returns the sword Hrunting to Unferth, saying it is a great sword, even though it did not avail him in this battle.

Hrothgar has some neat words about the transitory nature of glory and life—a very common theme in medieval literature, lines 1761b- 1768:

                  Nū is þīnes mæġnes blæd
āne hwīle;      eft sōna bið
þæt þeċ ādl oððe ecg      eafoþes ġetwæfeð,
oððe fyres fenġ,      oððe flōdes wylm,
oððe gripe mēċes,      oððe gāres fliht,
oððe atol yldo;      oððe ēagena bearhtm
forsiteð ond forsworceð;      semninga bið
þæt ðeċ, dryhtguma,      dēað oferswyðeð.

(                  Now is the glory of your might
[but] a little while;      in turn soon will
sickness or blade      deprive you of strength,
or fire’s grip,      or flood’s welling,
or sword’s attack,      or arrow’s flight,
or terrible age;      or [your] eyes’ brightness
will fail and dim;      at last will
you, warrior,      be overcome by death.)

Line 1801 uses a black raven (hrefn blaca) as a sign of the dawn. This is highly unusual. Ravens in Anglo-Saxon literature are associated with death—they are carrion fowl, after all. Also, dawn is often an inauspicious time; it is the time of day when the evils that night has brought are discovered. But here the dawn and the raven are good things.

The reader of today is also drawn to the word collenferhð in line 1806. It has nothing to do with the actor Colin Firth; it is a poetic term meaning bold of spirit. It appears again later in the poem. It’s of no particular importance, except that it reminds one of the odd connections readers of a different era can make when reading old literature.

Forbes on Neologisms

24 April 2009

One doesn’t usually associate Forbes magazine with linguistics and lexicography, but Forbes.com has put out a special report on neologisms. Ignore the intro which is based on crap about the “Global Language Monitor” and head straight to the articles by such people as Grant Barrett, Ben Zimmer, John McWhorter, and Mark Peters. There are audio and video features as well.