Some maintenance work

Just to let you all know--I just performed some much-needed maintenance on the Guthlac poems. I relineated the entire B section and finally got around to updating the online version. It should be much easier to read and have a more dynamic flow. Enjoy!

Start of Juliana II

I've had a little spare time to work on the translations. Besides working on Juliana, I've been reassessing the lineation of the Guthlac poems. Despite several suggestions to try for a prose poem form, I am convinced that the translation belongs in some form of free verse. I am redoing Guthlac now, so please come by to see how you like the new line breaks.

Below are four stanzas of Juliana from the second part of the poem:


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

To her father then blessed Juliana gave answer,
she that had to God firmly founded her wifely friendship:
“Never will I endure this prince’s husband-love
unless he should cultivate the God of Hosts more eagerly
than he has previously done, loving with gifts
he that created the light, heaven and earth and the course of the seas,
the orbit of the universe. He cannot otherwise bring me to his bed.
Eleusius must look with his goods for another woman for bride-love—
he will have nothing here.” (105-16)

Then Juliana’s fiendly father replied to her in rage—
and he was not promising her ornaments:
“I shall make it such, as my life endures, that if you do not abandon
this crime first, if you henceforth attend to an alien god
and abandon those that are dearer to us, who stand as succour to our people,
that you shall succumb to death, quickly forfeiting your life
through the clutch of beasts, if you do not wish to submit to
the legal union, the partnership with brave Eleusius.
Great is that enterprise and terrible too for one like you,
one that despises our lord.” (117-29)

Blessed Juliana then gave him back answer, wise and dear to God:
“I wish to speak a truth to you, so long as I am of the living,
I wish not to tell a lie. Never will I fear your judgments,
nor are your torturing perils bitter to me, your battle-crash
by which you with violent evil-doing threaten me,
nor will you ever cause by your idolatry
me to turn from the praise of Christ.” (130-9)

Then Africanus* was infuriated, angry and ferocious,
maddened and mind-grim, the father against the daughter.*
Then he ordered her beaten, threatening her with torment,
troubling her with tortures and spoke this speech:
“Exchange your thoughts and convert these word that you spoke
in folly before when you disparaged the worship of our gods.” (140-7)

DONE! GUTHLAC B IS DONE!

Finally, the moment that I've all been waiting for--Guthlac B has been completed in first draft! This section has some particularly challenging moments, including the descent of the heavenly chorus to Guthlac's hermitage (496b-508a) and Guthlac's servant's words to the saint's sister (esp. 538b-48a). These required some decisions that departs from the strictly literal sense, into what I think the author may be saying, and may therefore be controversial. As usual, notes accompany the translation here and contain some narrative about those decisions (though still incomplete).

I need a break at any rate and so I will probably wait to start Juliana until the spring or summer. Too much to do until then! Job stuff? Dissertation? Teaching? Yep, all those. Let me know if you see any problems or errors with this and any of the other translations.

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VI.

Then was Guthlac's spirit carried away, blessed upon the lofty road.
Angels carried him unto that enduring delight, and his body cooled,
unlifed under the lofty sky.* Then a brilliance blazed there, brightest of trees:
That beacon was entirely about the holy house, with heavenly arms,*
rising straight up from the earth like a flaming tower up to the roof of the stars,
visible under heaven, more splendid than the sun, the beauty of the noble stars.
Troops of angels sang triumphant hymns,
their voice heard in the wind beneath the heavens, the saints’ joy. (487-98)

So that sheltering stead* was filled with happiness throughout
its inner parts, with the sweetest odors and skyward miracles—
the ancestral seat of the blessed and the song of angels. There was more*
of the surpassing and overjoyed than any voice in this world could reckon:
how that fragrance and that melody were heard;* the heavenly sound and holy song;
God’s high-majesty; how each voice harmonized with its accompanying voice.*
That island quaked, the earth-field trembled. (499-508a)

Then Guthlac’s messenger was afraid, wanting courage, when he hastily departed;
an unhappy man that climbed into a boat and drove that wave-horse,
a journey upon a water-runner, swift under his sorrows.
The sky glittered warmly, shining over the shelter-hall. The brim-wood hurried,
light and fast on its course. The lake-steed made speed, bearing on the harbor,
that sandy place where the sea-floater would perch after its swim-play,
grinding against the gravel. (508b-17a)

He bore his mourning sadness burning in his breast, his sad heart,
his weary mind-sense, he who knew his master, his dearest friend,
watched his tracks, having sailed away from life. The ring of his woes
reminded him grievously. Tears welled forth in waves, hot cheek-drops,
and he carried in his chest a great mind-care. He had to deliver to that woman
Guthlac’s message, hateful news all too true. (517b-25)

Then the spirit-cold servant came to where the woman lived, glory’s joyous maid.
He did not conceal what had occurred,* the forward-course of the doomed,
but sang out, friend-lacking, a parting-song and spoke these words: (526-9)

“Courage is best for him that very often must endure lord-killing—
he must deeply meditate upon the oppressive prince-parting
when its ill season comes, woven with fate-songs.
He knows that who grieves sad-souled…
Ah! he knows that his beloved treasure-giver is buried.
He must depart from there, abjected and sad.
A lack of mirth is the hardship that he often suffers in his pained heart. (530-8a)

“At any rate, I need not make so light of his hence-journey.
My lord, leader of warriors and your own brother, best of those between the seas*
who we in England have ever heard, conceived in child’s form,
and of the kindred of men. He has turned toward the judgment of God,
the support of the weary. He has turned from worldly joys,
O delight of your cherished kin,* perchance into the majesty of glory and his protection.
He is departed to seek out dwellings, a home upon the upward-way. (538b-48a)

“Now his portion of earth, the bone-house broken out of its refuges from within,
abides upon its death-couch, and his portion of glory voyages from its body-vessel
into the light of God, its triumphant reward. I am ordered to say to you that you two
will always be allowed to take a common home at your desire, in those everlasting joys
among the brethren-rights, the glorious rewards of your deeds,
and to enjoy its profit and blissful things. (548b-56a)

My victory-lord also ordered me to announce to you, when he was eager
for the journey, that you, dearest maid, should cover over his body-home.
Now you know my journey’s purpose at once. Now I, pain-souled,
low-minded must go forth now with my heart drooping…” (556b-61)

[End missing]*

Notes for B VI

361) sweostor minre: This woman remains nameless in Guthlac B, identified only as his sister, who is implied to be an inhabitant of a convent. “Sister” does not have to mean just a sister of blood, but also a spiritual sister. His words to her are surprisingly romantic, and suggest the possibility that Guthlac wishes to send his regards to a former lover or wife, from whom his hermit lifestyle has separated.

480) lac: In this context, this broadly signifying word should be understood as meaning “message.” As in other places in the Guthlac poems, its use is onomastic, ironically punning on the saint’s name. Here, the ironic is quite grim, as Guthlac’s servant must bring his lac or message to Pega, which contains just about as much of Guthlac as his cold, lifeless lic (body) does.

490) belifd under lyfte: Belifd is a hapax legomenon, showing the past participle form of a weak verb, which clearly differentiates its from a form of belifan “to remain, abide.” It is thought to be a form of be-libban “to deprive of life.” I chose to express this unusual word in an unusual way, creating a Modern English calque word, “to un-life.”

491) beama beorhtast: The noun beam, -es, m. signifies both "tree," "wood," and anything that runs in a straight line, "a beam of wood" and "a beam of light." The ambiguity here creates the possibility that the beacen (sign, token, signal) that appears around Guthlac's house is an enormous illuminated cross. The uncertainty can be extended to the heofonlic leoma in line 492, which could be translated as either "heavenly arms" or "a heavenly illumination." -a is a permissible plural ending for feminine nouns, and leomu and leoma both appear in the poem, although the word means "limb" more often in B (leomu A 221; B 19, 137, 210, 213, 227). Leoma is seen twice in A, at lines 655 and 659. A blazing, miraculous cross would certainly have "heavenly arms."

499) Swa se burg-stede: Another ambiguous term, which could mean either "city-stead" or "place of refuge."

502) Þær wæs ænlicra: It appears that a word meaning “more” is either missing here or is to be understood, which the plural genitive adjectives require.

504-6) hu se stenc ond se sweg… gehyred wæs: This should probably be taken as synaesthetic reflex brought on by the impossibility of narrative to express what is occurring. Although the narrator has already mentioned the swetum stencum of this vision of divine power, its repetition here depends on a main verb that does not correspond to the human sense that normally apprehends it.

507) breahtem æfter breahtme: Literally, “a voice according to [another] voice,” this phrase has to be describing the heavenly harmony of the angelic song.

521) wopes hring: See Andreas 1278, Elene 1131, and Christ 537 for the same phrase. Hring can signify both a ring or ring-shaped object and a ringing sound.

527) One of the secondary goals of the ASNPP is to never translate wyrd as “Wyrd”: as if were always a personification or divine force. It has numerous connotations of fate, fortune, accident, occurrence, happening that are entirely common, natural, and without character or value judgment.

561) End missing: Although the servant's speech could conceivably end here, it is posited that unknown amount of text is likely to be missing. The top of folio 53, the first leaf in a new gathering is missing, removing the beginning of Azarias, the next item in the Exeter Book.

Extensive proof-reading done to Guthlac A

I have completed a full read-through of Guthlac A, and made numerous corrections, fixing a number of rather embarrassing mistakes. I think the sound is much improved by the changes, and the lines have been rendered into more consistent rhythmical units.

Guthlac B III & IV now posted

The third & fourth installments of Guthlac B are now online. I have finally found the urgency I was wanting for the translation, discovering a fine poetic voice in the original that feels distorted and blunted in the available translations. Although I am not sure that I am expressing that voice any more effectively, I hope that these two parts give a sense of the undeniable and unique powers of the poet of Guthlac B. The drinking metaphor of 162-4 is worth the price of admission alone, and the verse does not stop there. The personification of Death and the description of Guthlac's illness are very affecting. Finally, the narrator's invocation of Easter's repeating narrative (280-6) creates a powerful frame that situates Guthlac's death and miracles within a universal pattern, revealing the fragility of that sense of time. Guthlac's final lesson on Easter Sunday, even though it coincides exactly with that noble hour (in þa æþelan tid (287)) and demonstrates how the fate of Adam and Eve are overcome during a human's lifetime, also reveals how depedent the cycling of ecclesiastical time is on repetition through didactic example and personal emulation. Guthlac's death is a moment where narrative is at its most vulnerable, in need of the next voice to perpetuate or else it will pass away forever.


III.

Then was Guthlac’s strength wearied in that dire moment, the heart so stern
and steadfast of courage. The disease was terrible, hot and savage. His breast welled
within, his bone-case burned. The barrel was tapped that Eve brewed for Adam*
at the start of the world. The Enemy first poured it for that woman—
and afterwards she served up that bitter tankard for Adam, her own dear husband. (158-67a)

Ever since their children have paid a terrible price for these former deeds:
so that none of the human race, no man on the earth after its start, has been able
to defend himself and avoid that miserable drink, the deep death-cup, instead
in that cruel moment the door opens itself at once, revealing the entrance to him. (167b-75a)

Powerful or humble no one can, caught up in flesh, oppose that end with his life,
but it rushes upon him with greedy claws. So, cruel and solitary and close to Guthlac,
after the night-shade, Death was encroaching nearby, a slaughter-greedy warrior.* (175b-81a)

A single serving-man dwelt with him, who visited him every day.
Deep-hearted and wise-minded, he went to God's temple, where he knew
the native apostle, his chosen teacher most dear, would be and when he went inside
to speak blessedly, he wished to hearken to the saint’s instruction, conversation
with the meek man. Then he found his patron wearied with his disease, a fact
that fell heavy upon his heart. Heart-sorrow moved him, a great mind-care. (181b-92a)

Guthlac’s servant then asked him: “How has it happened, my cherished lord,
my father, shelter to his friends, that your spirit is thus afflicted and closely assailed?
I have never found you, dearest lord, distressed like this before. Can you muster
a word in conversation? It seems to my mind that some weakness from the onset
of disease has afflicted you during the recent night, persecuting you with pained wounds.
That will be the keenest of sorrows in my breast until you comfort my heart and spirit.
Do you know, my generous lord, what end must be decreed for this illness?” (192b-204)

After a moment Guthlac replied to him—he could not immediately draw in a breath:
this bitter bane-sickness had sunk within him. The bold one spoke, blessed in courage,
and gave answer: “I wish to say that agony has reached out to me, pain wading
through in this wan night, unlocking my body-hoard. My limbs grow heavy,
beset by pains. This soul-house, this fated flesh-home must be covered
over in its earth-lodge, my limbs in a loamy shroud, and, fixed upon my final bed,
abide upon the couch of death. The warrior approaches, quick to battle-play.
My wait for soul-parting will be no longer than seven nights’ time-mark,
when my spirit will seek its end hence on the eighth day that passes. Then my days
upon this mould-way will have bounced by: my sorrow will have abated and then
I might be allowed to gain my meed, renewed gifts at the knees of the Creator,
and to follow the Lamb of God ever after in perpetual joys. Now my soul is eager
and ready for the journey there. Now you readily know of my limbs’ life-parting.
Long is the lingering of this worldly life.” (205-229a)

There was wailing and lamentation then: the heart was newly sad and the mind
mourning after the serving-man heard that the saint was eager for the going forth.
For that fearful news he knew sorrow for his patron, heavy in his heart. His breast darkened within, his regretful mind anxious after he saw his lord eager for death.
He could hardly keep composure for this, but let his burning tears flow,
suffering his grief, welling wave-drops. The world’s way could not contain life,
that dear ornament, in anyone fated to go for longer than was ordained for them. (229b-41)


IV.

Holy of soul, Guthlac perceived the pensive heart of his sad-minded servant.
Then that shelter of the multitude, glad at heart and dear to God, cheered the younger man,
speaking in words to his dearest friend: “Don’t be upset, though this disease burns me within.
It is no hardship to suffer the will of the Prince, my Lord: I have no sorrow in my mind
for death in this infirm hour, nor do I dread much the reaving raiders of Hell’s thegns,
nor can sin’s first-born set any torment or frailty of body upon me. Instead they must be
frustrated in flame, seething in pain and welling in sorrow, weeping in the wrack-way,
beshorn of pleasures in that Death-hall, of every glory, of love and leniency.
My cherished child, do not be so sick at heart. I am hastening to the journey to take up
my heavenly home, eager for its rewards in eternal joy,
and to see, for my life-deeds, the Victorious Lord. (242-62a)

“My beloved son, there will be no suffering or struggle, when I seek the God of Glory,
the Heaven-King, where is peace and bliss, the joy of the glory-fast, and the Lord is present,
who I in this dreary hour have readily satisfied with soul-secrets and deeds, with mind
and might. Faultless I will know at that moment my reward, my perpetual recompense,
holy on the heights. There my hope guides me to seek, my soul aspires from this body-vessel
towards those enduring joys in blessed weal. There is no homeland for me, neither pain
nor sorrow. I know there is an eternal requital after the body’s crumbling.” (262b-275)

Then glory’s servant grew still, the stout secret-keeper: he was in need of rest
and weary-minded. The sky grew dark over the children of men, the count of nights
passing by, dark over their multitudes. Then the day arrived when the Living God,
The Lord and Eternal Almighty was joyfully resurrected within his body-shroud;
when he arose from death, in single dominion of the earth at Easter-tide, Majesty of All
Majesties, heaving up the greatest crowd to the heavens; when he climbed up from hell. (276-86)

So then on that bright day, in that noble hour, clamorous with grace, the blessed man,
mild and modest, not soft in strength, worked courageously. Then the joy of noble men,
stern and heart-wise, rose as quickly as he could, weary from his great affliction.
Then his mind confirmed his dazzling belief, and Guthlac offered thanksgiving in God’s temple,
meditating upon soul-mysteries according to the will of the Lord. And Guthlac began
to proclaim the good news unto his thegn, as the Lord rose through the grace of the spirit,
to speak in triumph-tokens. He strengthened his servant’s mind by miracles of glory
and happy weal in that lovely creation, as he had never heard in this loaned time,
no other lesson like it, before nor since nor ever in his life—nor the secrets of the Lord
so deeply narrated, in such broad understanding, by human mouth. It seemed to him
more likely that it was the word of a heaven-kindred angel down from the soaring-joys,
a much greater servant of power than the teaching of any man among earthly men.
The sight seemed to him to be the greatest miracle, that such learning-craft was kept
in the breast of any noble man among the children of men. Every word, all his wisdom
was so profound and the composure of this man, his mind and mighty skill
that the Maker of Angels, the Succour of Souls had given to Guthlac. (287-315)


Notes:

162-4) Bryþen wæs ongunnen: Literally, “A brewing was started that Eve brewed for Adam at the world’s start.” My translation takes only the liberty of adapting the verb onginnan to suit the drinking metaphor, and switching through metonymy “barrel” in for bryðen. For the unusual nature of the word bryðen, see Smithers, “Five Notes on Old English Texts,” English and German Studies 4 (1951-2), 74 n. 9; Roberts, 166; Muir II.441-2. A sorg-byrðen appears in Andreas 1532, and is the only other appearance of the word in the extant Anglo-Saxon corpus.

Guthlac B is started

The first section of Guthlac B is now complete and available for commentary on the Guthlac page. Line numbering, following the Muir edition of the Exeter Book, has started over at one, so if you're playing at home with your ASPR text, just add 818 to my line numbers to find the matching passage.

I am quite happy to be buried in the new poem: the texture and sound is so much more rich than A. Immediately I'm seeing many more kennings and a completely different vocabulary, and a different type of sound play. My favorite so far is the internal rhyme on "lyre" (loss) in lines 11-2 (see below for translation). Do you think fumbling/tumbling/crumbling is too jangly a translation for these lines? I do enjoy when sound effects can be preserved in translation, but the register might be wrong.

Also, I had the misfortune to read the Wikipedia article on Guthlac A & B. I was wondering about how others felt when they find something like this. How long does the urge to revise and improve the bad article last in you? It's so tempting, but Lord knows I have better things to do with my life. If I were too write anything about Guthlac, it would much more productive to work on the introduction to the poems on my own page.

Or maybe to just stop procrastinating and get those job applications worked out.

Anyways, onto the translation:

It is widely known among the generations of men, heard by the people, that the God
of Beginnings, the Almighty King, created the first man of the kindred of men
from the purest earth. Then was the novel origin of the race of men, a joyous composition,
fair and rejoicing. Adam the Father was first conceived by God’s favor in Paradise-plain,
where there was no want of delightful things nor decay of prosperity, the fumbling of life
nor tumbling of body, the crumbling of delight nor the arrival of death*—instead Adam
was allowed to live in that land free from all frailties, and enjoy these new pleasures at length. (1-15a)

There he had no need to await, through the passing season of men, the end of life
or delight in that radiant home, but after a time was allowed to return to the joys
of the most beautiful heaven-realm— limbs and body and the spirit of life as one,
and there afterwards always in ever-delights would be allowed to dwell for the expanse
of life in the sight of the Lord, without the journey of death, if they had desired to keep
the word of the Holy One bright in their breasts, and execute his decrees and labor in his homeland. (15b-25a)

It wearied them right at first that they should work at the Wielder’s pleasure, but his wife
Eve seized by the serpent’s lore the forbidden fruit and plucked from the tree a blossom
prohibited by the word of God the Glory-King. Then she by the Devil’s guile gave
the mortal-making morsel to her husband so that the couple was constrained to die. (25b-33)

Afterwards that land was estranged to Adam and Eve, the bright country of choice
was carried away, and so with their children and heirs following, they were shoved
into the struggling-world, shamefully shivering in a strange land. They paid the price
for this deed, these profound faults, through the killing blow of death, which
they had brought to pass through their folly. Since their sin-wrack women and men
must be punished for their great sin, a God-guilty grief through soul-parting,
for these profound faults. Death crowded in upon the kindred of men—
our enemy tyrannized us throughout our world. (34-46a)

There was never again any man from that triumphant stock so eager for God’s will
or so wise that he might be able to avoid that bitter drink which Eve gave Adam of old,
that his young bride poured out for him. It injured both of them in their beloved home.
Death reigned over earth-dwellers, although there were many that did God’s will,
spirit-holy in various human habitations, throughout the open fields. Some early,
some late, and some within our own times’ memory, by the date, sought the reward of victory. (46b-60a)

Books tell us how Guthlac became blessed in Anglia through the pleasure of God.
He elected eternal power and protection for himself. Renowned wide and broad
were his miraculous works, famous in the cities throughout the interior of Britain:
how, by the power of God, he often healed many that sought him from the travel-ways;
men of heavy torments, heart-sorrowed and tremble-minded, bound by disease,
discomforted and sorry. Always they found comfort ready there at the side
of that champion of God, help and healing. There is no man that can recount
or reckon the number of all of those miracles that Guthlac here in this world
here performed for the multitudes through the grace of the Lord. (60b-75)

11-2) ne lifes lyre ne lices hryre,/ ne dreames dryre ne deaðes cyme: The rhyming words in these two lines are derived from leosan (to lose), hreosan (to fall to the earth) and dreosan (to crumble or decay), respectively, class II strong verbs that dramatically change their stem in the second preterite and past participle, ending in -uron and -oren. The resulting chiming in sound is often exploited as internal rhyme in AS poetry, most notably in the Ruin lines 3, 5 & 7. It feels appropriate that these verbs of loss and change should involve a radical alteration of ther sound as the tense recedes into the past.

Guthlac A is done

OK, so Guthlac A is finally done, though I'm not so happy with the eighth section. I feel that it came out a bit too close to other translations I consulted (in this case, Bradley and Kennedy), and needs a bit of space to breathe, which will allow me to really get into what's going on there. The sudden movement in the final 20 lines or so that goes from a singular subject (Guthlac) to plural (everyone like him) feels strange. However, I do like the final seven lines that describe the New Jerusalem and return to the feminine subject "heo" that stands out in the opening lines.

On to Guthlac B, but it will be much slower since the job list came out.

Guthlac A nearly completed

Goodness gracious it feels good to get something finished! I have updated the Guthlac page so that all but the very last section of the first poem is complete. Notes on the new lines will be filled in sometime in the next few days.

Is it such a good thing to be utterly enthralled by the qualities of the poem you're translating? I feel like Guthlac A is the greatest poem ever, although I know realistically that this is far from so. At first, I felt a bit embarrassed by the poem's clunky relative clauses, its aggravating habit of modifying a singular noun in the dative by an adjective in plural (see the quote below), its limited and very repetitive vocabulary, and its cyclical structure based on a recurrence of a single scenario of demonic temptation. But as the lines turned into full sections, the sections built up momentum, and the voice became familiar I have a new respect for the poet's work.

Guthlac A is a haunting expression of the banality of evil, of temptations that do not blitzkreig so much as besiege endlessly. Guthlac requires patient endurance against the mind-numbing stagnancy of the demons' world-view. The demons emphasize the perils of conformity by repeating the same attack over and over again, demanding that Guthlac maintain their status quo. The emphasis consistently lies in the fact that because they have suffered for pride Guthlac must necessarily do so as well. Guthlac, on the other hand, embodies a possibility of change, of changing his way of life and demeanor, even as his name ("war-play") as the terms of that battle are transformed as he devotes himself to spiritual labor: "Ac ic minum Criste cweman þence/ leofran lace" [but I think to satisfy my lord Christ with a dearer sort of play] (306-7). By contrast the devils' focus on battle-play can never be materialized, they menace and grab, but cannot harm the saint. For all their intentions their belligerence is not more substantial than the air, and at one point, they are even described as "lyft-lacende" (bouncing like the air or upon the air) (146), a kenning whose assonance chimes with Guthlac's name, relating and dividing them at the same time.

(On second look at this post, I realize that my reading of Guthlac A must be influenced by my own personal tribulations in trying to get my Sir Gowther chapter done the way it should be, to advance the stakes and really get the argument to say something important.)

Guthlac A IV

The fifth installment of Guthlac A is now complete. I have been experimenting with ways to organize the vocabulary in a database, so that had slowed progress for a few days.

I know that there are a lot of computer people amongst you Anglo-Saxonists, so any suggestions of how to manipulate data in MS Excel would be greatly appreciated: I want to create a wordlist that preserves each form a word takes, but that swiftly eliminates duplicates and extremely common words, so I don't have to wade through them when I need to look for a word. For Guthlac, I can just use Roberts's glossary, but I'm looking ahead to a bigger poem like Genesis.

Updates to Guthlac

The first four sections of Guthlac A are now complete, so please come and visit to check things out. I recently stumbled across Jane Roberts's 1979 edition and remembered that Bernard Muir's edition of the Exeter Book existed, so I now have a much more up-to-date edition to use in the translation. A relief, but one that will necessitate some revisiting of the notes so far, I fear.

Consequently a bibliographic list of editions and translations has been added to the start of the Notes section, just to help you all play along at home.

More Guthlac

The first three parts of Guthlac A are posted, and the notes sections is struggling along behind it. I feel that I am starting to get a feel for the poem's unique qualities: its heavily periodic structure that depends on very dense repetition, its unusual meter (Sievers types don't really help very much in many of the lines), and the poem's obsession with state and condition (as evidenced by the constant use of had, and the frequent use of legal terminology).

I hope you are enjoying the evolution of the translation as much as I am.

On another note, ASNPP just broke a minor landmark today. The page has had 1,005 hits, with 756 unique visitors. I still have a long way to go to catch up with In The Middle, and the guinea pig cartoon page has still had 8 times as many hits, but I am very proud this project has received so much interest. Thank you all!

I'm back

Hello, gentle readers --

I am finally back from my summer travels (wedding, honeymoon, and moving into a new apartment) and thought that there should be some kind of new activity here.

So I will officially announce the creation of the Guthlac translation page, a poem that is often in my thought while carving through my current chapter on Sir Gowther. Format will follow the Andreas and Elene pages, and there will be (sporadic) activity on all three pages.

I thought I would urge you over to my first attempt to render the breathtaking, heart-rending beauty of the opening of Guthlac, a start of a poem that feels utterly unlike any other of the narrative poems. It seems inverted, as if the homiletic payoff is delivered right up front, one of the "lænan dreamas" (loaned pleasures) alluded to at the start of the poem, which the reader's continued attention for the rest of the poem (or poems) will repay.

So I promise your attention will be repaid in the near future. As usual, I humbly beseech your input, so please send along your comments and critiques.