Daniel Begins

Hello,

Missing the act of translation, and the good feeling it inspires in me, I finally got around to downloading an electronic text of Daniel, Christ A, B & C, and Judith. These are the last three narrative poems in the Anglo-Saxon corpus (except for Beowulf, of course), and the final stops on the crazy, madcap journey that has been the Anglo-Saxon Narrative Poetry Project.

I think I'm going to start with Daniel, since it is the one that I'm the least familiar with.

Here are the first few lines, and they felt great to work on:

I have that the Hebrews lived blessedly
in Jerusalem, parting out their gold-hoard,
holding their own sovereignty, as was natural to them,
since through the might of the Measurer into Moses hand
the war and the host of warriors were delivered,
and they marched forth from Egypt with a great many.
They were a proud people!
So long as they were allowed to rule their realm,
and survey their cities, bright prosperity was theirs—
so long as that folk kept the covenant of their fathers.
God himself strengthened them, the Heaven-Realm’s Ward,
the Holy Lord, the Keeper of Glory.
He gave their armies spirit and power, the Lord of All Creatures,
so that they crushed the resistance of many peoples,
the helmets of armies, those who pledged them no loyalty,
until a pride seized them at their wine-feasts,
with devil-deeds and drunken thoughts.
Then they abandoned their law-crafts,
the power of their Maker, just as no man should
part the love of his soul from God. (1-21)

Then I saw that people turning towards error,
the kindred of Israel, doing unright and working sin.
That was an affliction to God!
Often he sent to that nation as teachers,
the Warden of Heaven-Realm, holy spirits
who tended wisdom for that host.
They would trust in the truth of those wise men
for a little while, until the longing for earthy joys
betrayed them of lasting good,
so that they forsook at the utmost end themselves
and the glories of God, choosing the devil’s craft. (22-32)

More to come in the next few days. I just need to figure out how the Junius MS divides the poem up into sections, and I will open up the blog page devoted to the poem. Keep an eye out!

Yrrk!

It's been a little while since there has been an update. I must confess that I am having motivational difficulties getting through the Metres of Boethius. It desperately needs an updated translation, but I am beginning to think that I am not the one to produce it.

See, the problem is that Boethius must be the most boring, sententious poet out there. I understand that as a metrical innovator he is quite spectacular and a great deal is lost in the transmission from Latin to Anglo-Saxon and then into my own modern English. But thematically the Metres are a concatenation on one tiresome note. There is precious little of the dynamic tension (now we are in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I guess) I am accustomed to seeing the narrative poems, a dazzling vitality that I have felt equal to reproducing in my translations. Nope, the Metres is just a frog-march, and my own lyrical inadequacies make the process even more painful to endure. So I am giving it up for the time being. Maybe I will come back to it later. Who knows?

So, I think I should get back into the few remaining narrative poems. That would be just Daniel and the latter two parts of Christ. Perhaps I will start them soon. I have been missing the process and pleasures of translation a great deal.

Another thing that needs to happen is the process of revising the extant translations, especially Genesis A&B. I have a body of comments that need to be incorporated, both from the blog and from my students in my Spring 2012 Anglo-Saxon poetry course.

Metres VII

We're back from Wyoming and the verse that I left unfinished on my way out is done for now.

-------------

VII (II met.iv)

Next Lady Wisdom attended to her practice,
singing her wise words, a poem according to her message,
chanting a certain true statement further,
speaking that she had never heard that on a high hill
any man could establish a firm-roofed hall.

“No man needs also to believe in these works,
to ever mediate wisdom with pride.
Have you ever heard that any man
who could set a fixed hall on a sand dune?

“Nor could any man raise up wisdom where
covetousness overshadows the mountains.
Bare sand will swallow the rains,
and so does the bottomless greed of the rich
for boasting and trinkets,
drinking to the dregs failing prosperity,
and though the thirst of these beggars will never be cooled.

“Nor can the house of man last for long
on the mountainside, because the swift winds
will sweep it down suddenly.
Nor will sand be any better guardian
of the house to any man against a great rain,
but it will be tumbled to the ground,
the sand sinking after the downpour.

“So will be the mind of every lonely man
greatly undermined from an agitated place,
when the wind of worldly misery
under the skies strongly troubles it,
or the fierce rains moves it about—
a certain anxiety, universal superfluity.

“But he who wishes to possess true and eternal happiness,
he shall quickly fly from these worldly facades,
and build himself afterwards a house of the mind,
where he can find humble stones, a huge fortress
and a ready foundation.

“He will not need to collapse though the winds
of worldly misery should drive against it
or intense rains of anxiety, because in that valley
the lord of settled humility himself dwells,
were wisdom always abides in the mind.
Therefore wise world-men may always lead a secure life
without alteration.

“Then he would reject all this earthly good
and also become accustomed to its predictable evils,
expecting them eternally to follow after,
and then almighty good from every direction
continually and always keeps him
the one dwelling alone through the Measurer’s grace,
though the wind of worldly woe troubles him
greatly and eternal care encumber him,
then the grim wind of worldly good blows angrily
against him, although always his anxiety
of worldly fortune cruelly afflicts him.”

Metres V (provisionally)

Here is my rough version of Metres V, which I will post for comment as I am on my way out the door for a month of camping in Wyoming. Please send me your thoughts on what's there & how it can be made better. There were several places I must confess where I had no idea what the poem was literally trying to say, and so my attempts to smooth the translation out is even more provisional than usual.

[Edit:] I just located a modern English translation of both the Metres of Boethius and Alfred's translation of the Consolation of Philosophy online, done by John Sedgefield in the early twentieth century. Both will be of great use when confronting some of the more difficult passages in the poems. Expect some changes upon my return as I digest the other translation.

[2nd Edit:] Just reworded much of my translation of Metres V (see below), after comparing Sedgeworth to what I had done.

-----------------

You can perceive clearly by the sun
and by all the other stars which brightest shine across the cities.
If the dark clouds should hang before them,
then they could not send down their rays so radiant,
until the thick clouds become thinned.

So often the south wind grimly stirs up
the smooth sea, grey and glassy-clear,
when they are mixed by a great tempest,
moving the whale-waters—then they are false
whose face was gleaming before.

So often the wellspring washes forth
from the hoary cliffs, cool and pure,
and flows straight down by rights,
running along with its landscape,
until the mountain’s mighty stone
cleaves it from within, and lies in its midst,
rolling away from that peak.
Afterwards it becomes separated into two—
the brightness of the brook is disturbed and blended,
the stream is diverted from its straight course,
running apart in rivulets.

So now the shadows of your heart
wishes to withstand the light of my teaching
and greatly disturb your heart-thoughts.
But if you now desire it, as well as you might,
to plainly perceive that true light,
that bright belief, you must forsake
this idle and excessive delight, this useless joy.

You must as well abandon the wicked fear
of earthly miseries, nor may you despair for them all,
nor ever allow yourself to be weakened by pride,
lest you become disgraced with your arrogance soon,
and raised up with carelessness and worldly delight.
Nor despair even so weakly in any good things,
when your adversary fattens you for the world,
you may be oppressed by these matters and you
may dread them very strongly. Because the mind
will always be greatly bound up with confusion,
if both of these evils may vex it and toil within.

Therefore these two misfortunes draw together
against the mind before the mist of error,
that the eternal sun may not illuminate it within,
due to the dark clouds, before they melt away.

Metres VI

Here is Metres VI, a nice short one.

----------------------- VI (II met.iii)

Then Lady Wisdom unlocked her word-hoard,
singing truth-saws and speaking in this way:

“When the sun is shining its clearest and brightest
from heaven, it quickly becomes obscured
all over the earth by another object in space,
and then its brilliance becomes nothing,
set against the light of the sun.

When the gentle wind blows from the south or west
under the heavens, then the blossoms of the field
quickly grow up and are allowed to be joyful.
But the storm so stark, when he comes in strength,
from the north or the east, he swiftly seizes the lovely rose—
and also the northern tempest afflicts the spacious sea,
stirring it up strongly, beating upon its own shores.

Alas, nothing on earth is of stable work
and may not ever abide in this world!

Update

I have finished relineating the Christ and Satan translation in accordance with my sense of the free verse's rhythm. It still may not be right, so it may change again as I keep pondering it and reading it aloud. Check it out when you have a chance (link is available from the sidebar on the right).

Metres I finally

Here is the lengthy preamble, which introduces the situation of the Metres of Boethius.

-------------------------

It was long ago that the eastern Goths
led their shields from Scythia,
hurrying in a horde, into many settled lands,
setting out southward, two victorious peoples—
the realm of the Goths grew year by year.
They had two kings of their own kind,
Raedgod and Alaric. Their rule prospered.
Then many Goths horded over the Alps,
full of boasting, yearning for war
and the struggles between peoples.
Their banners waved, bright upon the bole.
Their warriors thought to overcome
all of Italy and its shielded soldiers.

They so endured even from the Alps
unto the noted shores where Sicily,
a great island in the sea-currents,
makes her illustrious homeland.

Then was won the realm of the Romans,
the choicest of cities broken apart.
Rome was opened by the battle-warriors.
Raedgod and Alaric went into the fortress.
The Caesar fled with his nobles into Greece.

Nor could the survivors resist them by warfare,
the Goths with battle. The home-guards gave up
unwillingly the treasures of their elders
and holy oaths. There was woe everywhere.
Although the pride of warriors was with the Greeks,
if they dared to follow the people’s chieftains.
He stood for a time among that nation.

The people were conquered
for many winters, until events decreed
that the thanes and earls must obey Theodoric.
There was the chieftain dedicated to Christ,
the king himself took on the custom of baptism.
Every child of Rome rejoiced
and swiftly begged for peace from him.

Theodoric firmly commanded that
they should continue to enjoy
all of their ancient rights
in that wealthy city,
so long as God would allow him
to possess power over the Goths.
But he deceived them all.

The heresy of Arrian was preferable
to that nobleman than the Lord’s law.
He ordered that John, the good pope,
would have his head chopped off—
that was not a noble deed.
There were countless other evils
that the Goth performed
against all of the good people.

Then there was a certain wealthy man
in the city of Rome, elevated to consul,
and dear to his lord while
the Greeks held the throne.
That man was righteous; there was not
among the Rome-dwellers
a more generous giver of treasure
for long afterwards.

He was wise in the world, eager for honor,
a man learned in books, Boethius
was he called, who received much fame.
The evil and disgrace revealed by foreign kings
was very much in his memory, at all times.
He was faithful to the Greeks,
remembering the honor and ancient rights
that his ancestors long possessed among them,
the affection and the favor.

He pondered only one desperate desire,
how to convince the Greeks to invade
so that the Caesar would be allowed
to possess power again over the Romans.

He secretly sent a message to his old masters,
and begged them for their former troth to their lord
to come into the city soon, and allow the Greek counselors
to advise the Rome-dwellers, and to allow
the country to enjoy their rights.

When Theodoric Amuling perceived that instruction,
he seized his thegn, ordering that
the nation’s nobles keep fast their consul.
His mind was turbulent, terrified
of that earl. He ordered him to be
locked within a prison cell.

Then was the understanding of Boethius
greatly troubled. He had enjoyed long before
his pride beneath the sky.
He could suffer worse at that time,
when things became difficult.

Then the nobleman grew to despair,
he could not turn towards his former favor
nor could remember the comforts in that fastness,
but he fell upon the floor, stretched out and prostrate,
beneath the hillside, ands spoke many words,
severely despairing.

Nor did he ever turn from there
or come out of his chains.
He called out to the Lord
in voice more miserable,
and sang out in this manner: