The Phoenix is one of the more lovely pieces of Anglo-Saxon verse, filled with internal rhymes and careful repetition. So I'm going slowly on this one. Just taking tiny steps until I really get the feel for it. I would love to have it done in time for my poetry class to read in March, but I have a feeling that that can't happen. Not at the rate this must go.
Anyways, I'll be gone and without computer for a few weeks starting Saturday. So have a happy holiday season and catch up on the Genesis while I'm gone. :)
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Prosperous is that victory-plain, shining the sunny groves,
joyful the wooded forests. The flowers never fail,
the bright blossoms, but the trees ever stand green,
just as God commanded. The woods in winter and summer
are alike, hanging with fruit. The leaves under the breeze
are never corrupted, nor does the flame ever harm them—
as it was before the change of the world occurred.
When the majesty of the water, the sea-flood covered
all of middle-earth of old, the circle of the world
so that noble plain, altogether perfect, stood steadfast
against the heaving way of the rough waves
blessed, unspoiled, through the mercy of God.
It endures blossoming until the coming of the blaze,
of the judgment of the Lord, when the death-halls,
the shadowy coffers of men, become unclosed. (33-49)
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