Clemoes Reading Prize 2008 - Department of Anglo-Saxon, Norse ...

DEPARTMENT OF ANGLO-SAXON, NORSE AND CELTIC 

PETER CLEMOES 

READING PRIZE 

7 May 2008 

Faculty of English Building

Peter Clemoes was Elrington and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon (1969-82). He was an 

enthusiastic reader and ‘performer’ of Old English poetry, and often participated in readings 

from ‘The Battle of Maldon’ on the site of the battle itself (the mainland opposite Northey 

Island in the Blackwater estuary, Essex). The Clemoes Reading Prize was established in his 

memory, and is open to all students of the University. 

Previous winners of the Peter Clemoes Reading Prize: 

1998 Dan Starkey (Medieval Irish) 

1999 Dan Starkey (Old Norse) 

2000 Rebecca Watkinson (Old Norse) 

2001 Peter Buchan (Old Norse) 

2002 James Tout (Medieval Irish) 

2003 Helen Forbes (Old English) 

2004 Bryn Jones (Medieval Welsh) 

2005 Edmund Hunt and Kate Sutcliffe (Medieval Cornish) 

2006 Bryn Jones (Middle Breton) 

2007 James Lloyd (Old English) 

Aidan Russell (Medieval Irish) 

Listen to some of these prize-winning entries 

on the Department’s website: 

http://www.asnc.cam.ac.uk/SpokenWord/Clemoes.html

Entries for the Clemoes Reading Prize 2008 

Jonathan Wolitz 

(Pembroke College, Prelim to Part I) 

Verba Scáthaige 

Medieval Irish 

Alexander Whiscombe 

(Pembroke College, Prelim to Part I) 

The Life of St Samson of Dol, (chs. 26–7) 

Latin 

Aaron Kachuck 

(Clare, Part II) 

Beowulf (Lines 1063–1165) 

Old English 

Philippa Cox 

(Corpus Christi, Part II) 

Dream of the Rood (Lines 28–77) 

Old English 

Edward Carlsson Browne 

(Corpus Christi College, Part I) 

Oh Sverre, king of Norwa 

Latin 

Hannah Dyson 

(Pembroke, Part I) 

Wulf and Eadwacer 

Old English 

Shem Jarold 

(Pembroke, Prelim to Part I) 

A Mór Maigne Moige Síuil 

Medieval Irish 

James Lloyd 

(Peterhouse, Part I) 


Old English



Incipiunt verba Scáthaige fri Coin C(h)ulainn oc scarad doib isnaib rannaib thair ó ró- 

scáich do Choin Chulainn lánfoglaimm in mílti la Scáthaich. To-airchechain Scáthach dó 

iarum aní arid-mbiad, con-epert fris tri imbas for-ossndi dia foirciunn: 

A mbe[e] eirr óengaile, 1 

arut-ossa ollgábud, 

uathad fri h-éit n-imlebair. 

Cotut-chaurith –céillfetar, 

fortat- brágit -bibsatar, 5 

bied do chalcc cúlbéimmen 

cruach fri sruth Sétanti. 

Tithis fidach fáeburamnus 

fethul feulae, ferchlessaib. 

Ferba do breig braitfiter, 10 

brágit do- thuaith –tithsitir; 

triänchithach coicdigis, 

cichis do buar mbélatu. 

Ba h-oín fri slog sírdochrai. 

Sifis de fuil flanntenmen 15 

fernaib ilib ildlochtaib. 

Cuan dia lilies loscannaib 

lín di-fedat ildamaib. 

Ilar fuile firfiter 

fort Choin Chaulainn. 20 

Césfe álad n-ainchridi 

dál de dálaib debarbe. 

Dedirn bródirc brisfither, 

bruthaich fri toind tregtaigthi, 

frisin mbelend mbandernach, 25 

belend di chét clessamnach. 

Cichit, biet banchuriu. 

Báigthi Medb sceu Ailela. 

Arut-ossa otharlige. 

ucht fri h-écta airgairce. 30 

At-chíu fírféth Findbennach 

(Aí) fri Donn Cuailnge ardbúrach. 

2



‘(Here) begin the words of Scáthach to Cú Chulainn as they were separating in the eastern parts when 

Cú Chulainn had completed the full course of military training with Scáthach. Then Scáthach foretold 

to him what was in store for him and told him of his end through Vision which illumines’: 

When thou art a peerless champion, 

great extremity awaits thee, 

alone against the vast herd. 

Warriors will be set aside against thee, 

necks will be broken by thee, 5 

thy sword will strike strokes to the rear 

against Sétante’s gory stream. 

Hard-bladed, he will cut/conjure the trees 

by the sign of slaughters, by manly feats. 

Cows will be carried off from thy hill, 10 

captives will be forfeited by thy people; 

harried by the troop for a fortnight, 

thy cattle will walk the passes. 

Thou wilt be alone in great hardship against the host. 

Scarlet gushes of blood will strike 15 

upon many variously-cloven shields. 

A band of parasites that thou wilt adhere to 

will bring away many people and oxen. 

Many wounds will be inflicted 

upon thee, Cú Chulainn. 20 

You will suffer a wound of revenge (in) 

one of the encounters at the final breach. 

From you red-pronged weapon there will be defeat, 

(men) pierced against the furious wave, 

against the whale equipped for exploits, 25 

a whale performing feats with blows. 

Women will wail and beat (hands) in their troop, 

Medb and Ailill boast of it. 

A sick bed awaits thee 

in face of slaughters of a great ferocity. 30 

I see the very glossy Finnbennach 

(of Áe) in great rage against Donn Cuailnge. 

Passage from: Henry, P.L., ‘Verba Scáthaige’, Celtica 21 (1990), 191-207 

3


The Life of St Samson of Dol 

(chs. 26–7) 

26. Accepta itaque benedictione impositoque in equum vehiculo, iter pergere cœperunt: & factum est 

dum irent orantes per vastissimam silvam, dirissimam audierunt vocem a quodam horribili valde ad 

dexteram partem juxta illos terribiliter strepitantem, atque in huius vocis auditu diaconus supradictus 

depavescens, ac primo omnium pallens, equum quem in manu tenuerat, velociter dimittens, & pallium 

quo indutus erat iactans, in velocem fugam sese dedit, clamante post tergum sancto Samsone, & 

dicente: Confide, o frater, quæso, confide, ne timeas, neque obliviscaris euangelici præcepti quo 

nutritus es ab adolescentia tua. Sed eum non intendentem & semper fugitantem iam eminus sanctus 

Samson lacrymabilibus inspiciens oculis, solitaque spiritualia arma & scutum fidei firmiter tenens, & 

circumvallans se sancto semper signaculo Crucis, vidit theomachama hirsutam canutamque, iam 

vetulam anum suis vestimentis bribetham chrysulatamque, venalem in manu tenentem, ac silvas 

vastas veloci cursu volucritantem fugientemque, recta linea insequentem. Sanctus vero Samson 

stabilis in fide quasi eam non vidisset, mansit intrepidus, & veloci cursu equum in manu tenens, 

palliumque fugientis in equum imponens, fugientem & persequentem fiducialiter secutus est, ac non 

longe progrediens fratrem fugientem seminecem reperit, paululumque illum intuens vidit a longe 

theomacham anum currentem, & cernens eam in valle iam descendentem, exclamavit post eam 

dicens: Quid fugis mulier? Ecce ego homo sum sicut ille quem prostrasti par meus: si datus sum in tua 

potestate, ecce adsum: noli ergo fugere, sperans me venire ad te. Sed hæc illa non intendente & 

semper fugere nitente, clamavit post illam sanctus Samson dicens: Impero tibi in nomine Jesu Christi 

ab eo loco, ubi modo stas, ne ultra pedem moveas usquequo veniam & appellem te. 

27. Stante ergo illa in uno eodemque loco, ac tremente venalemque in terra laxante, sanctus Samson 

advenit, atque eam vix ægre affatur, Quæ, inquiens, es mala forma, vel qualis es? At ipsa cum tremore 

ingenti dixit: Theomacha sum, nam & gentes meæ huc usque prævaricatrices vobis extiterunt, & nunc 

nulla in hac silva remansit de meo genere, nisi ego sola. Habeo enim octo sorores, & mater mea adhuc 

vivit, & hæ non hic sunt, sed in ulteriori silva degunt, & ego marito in hac eremo tradita sum, & meus 

maritus mortuus est, & propter hoc secedere de hac silva non possum. Sanctus vero Samson dixit: 

Numquid potes tu fratrem quem percussisti, redivivum iterum reddere, vel saltem de animæ tuæ 

profectu solicitare? At ipsa respondens dixit: Nolo, nec possum in melius reparari, bonum enim 

nullum facere queo. De mea infantia hucusque ad mala semper exercitata sum. Sanctus autem Samson 

ita competenter dixit: Deum omnipotentem imploro, ne amplius aliis iniuriam facias, sed dum 

irremediabilis es, hac hora moriaris. Atque oratione completa, malefica illa mulier saltum præcipitem 

in latere sinistro dans ad terram corruit, & mortua est. 

4


The Life of St Samson of Dol 

(chs. 26–7) 

XXVI. Having thereupon received a blessing and put the horse on the cart, they began to pursue their way. 

And it came to pass, while they traversed a vast forest, praying as they went, they heard a frightful 

shrieking cry evidently from some awful creature near them on their right, and on hearing this cry the 

above-mentioned deacon began to be alarmed, and first of all turning pale, he quickly let go the horse 

which he had been leading with his hand, and, flinging away the mantle he was wearing, betook himself to 

rapid flight, while St. Samson shouted after him and said “Be of good courage, brother, I beseech thee, be 

of good courage lest thou fear, and forget the instruction of the gospel on which thou hast been fed from 

thy youth.” But, as he heeded not and continued to flee, St. Samson, now beholding him from afar with 

tearful eyes, bravely bearing his wonted spiritual armour and the shield of faith, and investing himself with 

the ever holy sign of the Cross, saw a sorceress, in truth a very old woman with shaggy hair and that 

already grey, with her garments of red, holding in her hand a bloody trident, yea, and sweeping the 

spacious forest in swift career, and making a straight line in pursuit of the fleeing man. St. Samson, 

however, steadfast in faith, as if he had seen the same things before, continued unshaken in mind and, at 

high speed, keeping the horse in hand, and throwing the fugitive’s mantle on the horse, boldly followed 

after the fugitive and his pursuer; and not far off, as he went on, found the fugitive brother half dead, and, 

gazing upon him for a moment, beheld a long way distant, the old sorceress running, and perceiving that 

she was now descending into the valley he shouted after her and said, “Woman why do you flee? behold, I 

am a man like my companion whom thou hast laid low: if I have been given into thy power, behold, I am 

here, do not flee; therefore trust me still to come to thee.” But, as she did not heed these words and still 

strove to escape, St. Samson shouted after her and said, “I command thee in the name of Jesus Christ not to 

stir a step further from that spot where thou now standest until I come and speak to thee.” 

XXVII. Thereupon, while she stood in that very same spot and trembled and allowed the bloody weapon to 

fall to the ground, St. Samson came up and very reluctantly flouted her, saying, “Who art thou, misshapen 

one and of what kind art thou?” And she, greatly trembling, said, “I am a sorceress, for indeed the women 

of my race and sex, as morally perverse, have to this day been transgressors in your sight and now no one 

of my race is left in this wood save me only. For I have eight sisters and my mother is still living, and these 

are not here, but dwell in a wood more remote, and I was made over to this wilderness by my husband, and 

my husband is dead, and on this account I am unable to withdraw from this wood.” However, the saint 

said, “Art thou prepared to restore again to life the brother thou hast stabbed, or at any rate to bestir thyself 

concerning the profit of thy soul?” But in reply, she said, “I neither will nor can be made better, for I seek 

to do no good thing; from my childhood up to the present I have always been given to wickedness.” 

Thereupon St. Samson properly said, “I implore Almighty God that thou do harm no longer; but so soon as 

thou art utterly abandoned, in that hour thou must die.” And at the conclusion of the prayer that malignant 

woman, suddenly giving a violent throb in her left side, fell to the ground and was dead. 

This passage is from Texts: http://acta.chadwyck.co.uk. English translation from T. Taylor trans. The Life 

of St Samson of Dol (Dyfed 1991) pp. 30–32 

5

Aaron Kachuck 

Beowulf 

(Lines 1063–1165) 

Þær wæs sang ond sweg samod ætgædere 

fore Healfdenes hildewisan, 

gomenwudu greted, gid oft wrecen, 

ðonne healgamen Hroþgares scop 

æfter medobence mænan scolde, 

be Finnes eaferum, ða hie se fær begeat, 

hæleð Healf-Dena, Hnæf Scyldinga 

in Freswæle feallan scolde. 

Ne huru Hildeburh herian þorfte 

Eotena treowe; unsynnum wearð 

beloren leofum æt þam lindplegan 

bearnum ond broðrum; hie on gebyrd hruron 

1063 

gare wunde; þæt wæs geomuru ides! 

Nalles holinga Hoces dohtor 

1075 

meotodsceaft bemearn, syþðan morgen com, 

ða heo under swegle geseon meahte 

morþorbealo maga, þær heo ær mæste heold 

worolde wynne. Wig ealle fornam 

Finnes þegnas nemne feaum anum, 

þæt he ne mehte on þæm meðelstede 

wig Hengeste wiht gefeohtan, 

ne þa wealafe wige forþringan 

þeodnes ðegna; ac hig him geþingo budon, 

þæt hie him oðer flet eal gerymdon, 

healle ond heahsetl, þæt hie healfre geweald 

wið Eotena bearn agan moston, 

ond æt feohgyftum Folcwaldan sunu 

dogra gehwylce Dene weorþode, 

Hengestes heap hringum wenede 

efne swa swiðe sincgestreonum 

fættan goldes, swa he Fresena cyn 

on beorsele byldan wolde. 

Ða hie getruwedon on twa healfa 

fæste frioðuwære. Fin Hengeste 

elne unflitme aðum benemde, 

6

Aaron Kachuck 

Beowulf 

(Lines 1063–1165) 

Then song and music mingled sounds 

in the presence of Healfdene's head-of-armies 

and harping was heard with the hero-lay 

as Hrothgar's singer the hall-joy woke 

along the mead-seats, making his song 

of that sudden raid on the sons of Finn. 

Healfdene's hero, Hnaef the Scylding, 

was fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter. 

Hildeburh needed not hold in value 

her enemies' honor! Innocent both 

were the loved ones she lost at the linden-play, 

bairn and brother, they bowed to fate, 

stricken by spears; 'twas a sorrowful woman! 

None doubted why the daughter of Hoc 

bewailed her doom when dawning came, 

and under the sky she saw them lying, 

kinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned 

of the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too, 

Finn's own liegemen, and few were left; 

in the parleying-place he could ply no longer 

weapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest, 

and rescue his remnant by right of arms 

from the prince's thane. A pact he offered: 

another dwelling the Danes should have, 

hall and high-seat, and half the power 

should fall to them in Frisian land; 

and at the fee-gifts, Folcwald's son 

day by day the Danes should honor, 

the folk of Hengest favor with rings, 

even as truly, with treasure and jewels, 

with fretted gold, as his Frisian kin 

he meant to honor in ale-hall there. 

Pact of peace they plighted further 

on both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest 

with oath, upon honor, openly promised 

that woful remnant, 

7

Aaron Kachuck 

Beowulf - continued 

þæt he þa wealafe weotena dome 

arum heolde, þæt ðær ænig mon 

wordum ne worcum wære ne bræce, 

ne þurh inwitsearo æfre gemænden, 

ðeah hie hira beaggyfan banan folgedon 

ðeodenlease, þa him swa geþearfod wæs; 

gyf þonne Frysna hwylc frecnan spræce 

ðæs morþorhetes myndgiend wære, 

þonne hit sweordes ecg seðan scolde. --- 

Ad wæs geæfned, ond icge gold 

ahæfen of horde. Here-Scyldinga 

betst beadorinca wæs on bæl gearu. 

Æt þæm ade wæs eþgesyne 

swatfah syrce, swyn ealgylden, 

eofer irenheard, æþeling manig 

1098 

wundum awyrded; sume on wæle crungon! 

Het ða Hildeburh æt Hnæfes ade 

hire selfre sunu sweoloðe befæstan, 

banfatu bærnan, ond on bæl don 

eame on eaxle. Ides gnornode, 

geomrode giddum. Guðrinc astah. 

Wand to wolcnum wælfyra mæst, 

hlynode for hlawe; hafelan multon, 

bengeato burston, ðonne blod ætspranc, 

laðbite lices. Lig ealle forswealg, 

gæsta gifrost, þara ðe þær guð fornam 

bega folces; wæs hira blæd scacen. 

1119 

XVII Gewiton him ða wigend wica neosian 

freondum befeallen, Frysland geseon, 

hamas ond heaburh. Hengest ða gyt 

wælfagne winter wunode mid Finne 

eal unhlitme; eard gemunde, 

þeah þe ne meahte on mere drifan 

hringedstefnan,--- holm storme weol, 

won wið winde, winter yþe beleac 

isgebinde, oþðæt oþer com 

gear in geardas,--- swa nu gyt deð, 

þa ðe syngales sele bewitiað, wuldortorhtan weder. 

8

Aaron Kachuck 


with wise-men's aid, 

nobly to govern, so none of the guests 

by word or work should warp the treaty, 

or with malice of mind bemoan themselves 

as forced to follow their fee-giver's slayer, 

lordless men, as their lot ordained. 

Should Frisian, moreover, with foeman's taunt, 

that murderous hatred to mind recall, 

then edge of the sword must seal his doom. 

Oaths were given, and ancient gold 

heaped from hoard. -- The hardy Scylding, 

battle-thane best, on his balefire lay. 

All on the pyre were plain to see 

the gory sark, the gilded swine-crest, 

boar of hard iron, and athelings many 

slain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell. 

It was Hildeburh's hest, at Hnaef's own pyre 

the bairn of her body on brands to lay, 

his bones to burn, on the balefire placed, 

at his uncle's side. In sorrowful dirges 

bewept them the woman: great wailing ascended. 

Then wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires, 

roared o'er the hillock: heads all were melted, 

gashes burst, and blood gushed out 

from bites of the body. Balefire devoured, 

greediest spirit, those spared not by war 

out of either folk: their flower was gone. 

Then hastened those heroes their home to see, 

friendless, to find the Frisian land, 

houses and high burg. Hengest still 

through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn, 

holding pact, yet of home he minded, 

though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive 

over the waters, now waves rolled fierce 

lashed by the winds, or winter locked them 

in icy fetters. Then fared another 

year to men's dwellings, as yet they do, 

the sunbright skies, that their season ever duly await. 

9

Aaron Kachuck 


Ða wæs winter scacen, 

fæger foldan bearm; fundode wrecca, 

gist of geardum; he to gyrnwræce 

swiðor þohte þonne to sælade, 1139 

gif he torngemot þurhteon mihte, 

þæt he Eotena bearn inne gemunde. 

Swa he ne forwyrnde weorodrædende, 

þonne him Hunlafing hildeleoman, 

billa selest on bearm dyde; 

þæs wæron mid Eotenum ecge cuðe. 

Swylce ferðfrecan Fin eft begeat 

sweordbealo sliðen æt his selfes ham, 

siþðan grimne gripe Guðlaf ond Oslaf 

æfter sæsiðe, sorge mændon, 

ætwiton weana dæl; ne meahte wæfre mod 

forhabban in hreþre. Ða wæs heal roden 

feonda feorum, swilce Fin slægen, 

cyning on corþre, ond seo cwen numen. 

Sceotend Scyldinga to scypon feredon 

eal ingesteald eorðcyninges, 

swylce hie æt Finnes ham findan meahton 

sigla searogimma. Hie on sælade 

drihtlice wif to Denum feredon, 

læddon to leodum. 1159 

Leoð wæs asungen, 

gleomannes gyd. Gamen eft astah, 

beorhtode bencsweg, byrelas sealdon 

win of wunderfatum. Þa cwom Wealhþeo forð 

gan under gyldnum beage þær þa godan twegen 

sæton suhtergefæderan; þa gyt wæs hiera sib ætgædere, 

æghwylc oðrum trywe. 

10

Aaron Kachuck 


Far off winter was driven; 

fair lay earth's breast; and fain was the rover, 

the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered 

on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep, 

and how to hasten the hot encounter 

where sons of the Frisians were sure to be. 

So he escaped not the common doom, 

when Hun with "Lafing," the light-of-battle, 

best of blades, his bosom pierced: 

its edge was famed with the Frisian earls. 

On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise, 

on himself at home, the horrid sword-death; 

for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack 

had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed, 

mourning their woes. Finn's wavering spirit 

bode not in breast. The burg was reddened 

with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain, 

king amid clansmen; the queen was taken. 

To their ship the Scylding warriors bore 

all the chattels the chieftain owned, 

whatever they found in Finn's domain 

of gems and jewels. The gentle wife 

o'er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore, 

led to her land. 

The lay was finished, 

the gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel; 

bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw 

from their "wonder-vats" wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth, 

under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit, 

uncle and nephew, true each to the other one, 

kindred in amity. 

Passage from: Trans. Francis Gummere, The Harvard Classics, Volume 49. (P.F. Collier & 

Son., 1910) http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/beowulf.html 

11

Philippa Cox 

The Dream of Rood 

(Lines 28–77) 

Þæt wæs geara iu, – ic þæt gyta geman – 

þæt ic wæs aheawen holtes on ende, 

astyred of stefne minum. Genaman me ðær strange feondas, 

geworhton him þær to wæfersyne, heton me heora wergas hebban; 

bæron me ðær beornas on eaxlum, oð ðæt hie me on beorg asetton, 

gefæstnodon me þær feondas genoge. Geseah ic þa Frean mancynnes 

efstan elne mycle þæt he me wolde on gestigan. 

þær ic þa ne dorste ofer Dryhtnes word 

bugan oððe berstan, þa ic bifian geseah 

eorðan sceatas. Ealle ic mihte 

feondas gefyllan, hwæðre ic fæste stod. 

Ongyrede hine þa geong hæleð, – þæt wæs God ælmihtig! – 

strang and stiðmod; gestah he on gealgan heanne, 

modig on manigra gesyhðe, þa he wolde mancyn lysan. 

Bifode ic þa me se beorn ymbclypte. Ne dorste ic hwæðre bugan to eorðan, 

feallan to foldan sceatum, ac ic sceolde fæste standan. 

Rod wæs ic aræred. Ahof ic ricne cyning, 

heofona hlaford, hyldan me ne dorste. 

þurhdrifan hi me mid deorcan næglum; on me syndon þa dolg gesiene, 

opene inwidhlemmas; ne dorste ic hira nænigum sceððan. 

Bysmeredon hie unc butu ætgædere; eall ic wæs mid blode bestemed, 

begoten of þæs guman sidan, siððan he hæfde his gast onsended. 

Feala ic on þam beorge gebiden hæbbe 

wraðra wyrda: geseah ic weruda God 

þearle þenian. þystro hæfdon 

bewrigen mid wolcnum Wealdendes hræw, 

scirne sciman; sceadu forðeode, 

wann under wolcnum. Weop eal gesceaft, 

cwiðdon Cyninges fyll: Crist wæs on rode. 

Hwæðere þær fuse feorran cwoman 

to þam Æðelinge; ic þæt eall beheold. 

Sare ic wæs mid sorgum gedrefed, hnag ic hwæðre þam secgum to handa, 

eaðmod elne mycle. Genamon hie þær ælmihtigne God, 

ahofon hine of ðam hefian wite; forleton me þa hilderincas 

standan steame bedrifenne; eall ic wæs mid strælum forwundod. 

12

Philippa Cox 

The Dream of Rood 

(Lines 28–77) 

That was very long ago, I remember it still, 

that I was cut down from the edge of the wood, 

ripped up by my roots. They seized me there, strong enemies, 

made me a spectacle for themselves there, commanded me to raise up their criminals. 

Men carried me there on their shoulders, until they set me on a hill, 

enemies enough fastened me there. I saw then the Saviour of mankind 

hasten with great zeal, as if he wanted to climb up on me. 

There I did not dare, against the word of the Lord, 

bow or break, when I saw the 

corners of the earth tremble. I might have 

felled all the enemies; even so, I stood fast. 

He stripped himself then, young hero - that was God almighty - 

strong and resolute; he ascended on the high gallows, 

brave in the sight of many, when he wanted to ransom mankind. 

I trembled when the warrior embraced me; even then I did not dare to bow to earth, 

fall to the corners of the earth, but I had to stand fast. 

I was reared a cross. I raised up the powerful King, 

the Lord of heaven; I did not dare to bend. 

They pierced me with dark nails; on me are the wounds visible, 

the open wounds of malice; I did not dare to injure any of them. 

They mocked us both together. I was all drenched with blood 

poured out from that man's side after he had sent forth his spirit. 

I have experienced on that hillside many 

violently stretched out. Darkness had 

covered with clouds the Ruler's corpse, 

the gleaming light. Shadows went forth 

dark under the clouds. All creation wept, 

lamented the King's fall. Christ was on the cross. 

Yet there eager ones came from afar 

to that noble one; I beheld all that. 

I was all drenched with sorrow; nevertheless I bowed down to the hands of the men, 

humble, with great eagerness. There they took almighty God, 

lifted him from that oppressive torment. The warriors forsook me then 

standing covered with moisture; I was all wounded with arrows. 

13

Philippa Cox 

The Dream of Rood - continued 

Aledon hie ðær limwerigne; gestodon him æt his lices heafdum, 

beheoldon hie ðær heofenes Dryhten, and he hine ðær hwile reste, 

meðe æfter ðam miclan gewinne. Ongunnon him þa moldern wyrcan 

beornas on banan gesyhðe; curfon hie ðæt of beorhtan stane; 

gesetton hie ðæron sigora Wealdend. Ongunnon him þa sorhleoð galan 

earme on þa æfentide, þa hie woldon eft siðian, 

meðe fram þam mæran þeodne; reste he ðær mæte weorode. 

Hwæðere we ðær greotende gode hwile 

stodon on staðole; stefn up gewat 

hilderinca; hræw colode, 

fæger feorgbold. þa us man fyllan ongan 

ealle to eorðan. þæt wæs egeslic wyrd! 

Bedealf us man on deopan seaþe; 

freondas gefrunon, 

hwæðre me þær dryhtnes þegnas, 

gyredon me golde and seolfre. 

14

Philippa Cox 

The Dream of Rood - continued 

They laid the weary-limbed one down there, they stood at the head of his body, 

they beheld the Lord of heaven there, and he himself rested there a while, 

weary after the great battle. They began to fashion a tomb for him, 

warriors in the sight of the slayer; they carved that from bright stone, 

they set the Lord of victories in there. They began to sing the sorrow-song for him, 

wretched in the evening-time; then they wanted to travel again, 

weary from the glorious Lord. He rested there with little company. 

Nevertheless, weeping, we stood there a good while 

in a fixed position, after the voice departed up 

of the warriors. The corpse grew cold, 

the fair live-dwelling. Then men began to fell us 

all to the ground: that was a terrible fate. 

Men buried us in a deep pit; nevertheless the Lord's thanes, 

friends, discovered me there, 

adorned me with gold and silver. 

This passage is from Elaine Treharne, Old and Middle English Anthology 

(http://www.apocalyptic-theories.com/literature/dor/medora1.html) 

15


Oh Sverre, king of Norway 

Eisdem temporibus famosissimus ille presbyter Swerus qui cognominatur Birkebain, in ea parte 

Germaniæ quæ Norwegia dicitur tyrannidem arripuit; et tempore non modico sub tyranni nomine 

debacchatus, tandem rege terræ illius exstincto, tanquam legitime regnum obtinuit; aliis forte ejusdem 

terræ regibus non dissimilem exitum judicio Dei habiturus. Quippe, ut dicitur, a centum retro annis, et 

eo amplius, cum regum ibidem numerosa successio fuerit, nullus eorum senio aut morbo vitam finivit, 

sed omnes ferro interiere, suis interfectoribus tamquam legitimis successoribus, regni fastigium 

relinquentes: ut scilicet omnes, qui tanto tempore ibidem imperasse noscuntur, illud quod scriptum est 

respicere videatur, “Occidisti, insuper, et possedisti.” Huic infami malo, per longam consuetudinum 

tanquam legis jam obtinenti vigorem, optimates terræ illius, paulo ante tyrannidem prænominati 

presbyteri, pio studio mederi volentes, regem novitium solemniter unctione mystica consecrari et 

coronari decreverunt, scilicet, ut nemo de cetero auderet manum mittere in christum Domini. Quippe 

eatenus nullus unquam in gente illa ritu fuerat ecclesiastico consecratus in principem, sed quicunque 

tyrannice regem occiderat, eo ipso personam et potestatem regiam induebat; suo quoque occisori 

eandem, post modicum, fortunam, inveteratæ consuetudinis lege, relicturus. Quod nimirum, 

Christiana quadam simplicitate, a multis putatum est ideo factitari, quia nullus regum priorum regiæ 

meruerat unctionis sollemnibus initiari. Itaque interfecto Hacone, qui rege Inge a se perempto 

successerat, cum cuidam puero nomine Magno, ejusdem Inge nepoti, regni successio competere 

videretur, prudents et nobiles regni decreto communi eundem puerum sollemniter in christum Domini 

consecrari, et diademate insigniri fecerunt. Quo facto sancitum sibi principem, et priscæ consuetudinis 

dedecus abolitum, crediderunt. Verum cum idem Magnus, jam pubes factus in multa strenuitate simul 

et felicitate per aliquot annos regnasset, cunctis jam æstimantibus contra tyrannicos turbines satis 

consultum, invidia diaboli, at perturbandam Christianæ plebis quietem, memoratum presbyterum, 

tanquam vas proprium, incitavit. 

16


Oh Sverre, king of Norway 

In these times that very notorious priest, Sverrir, surnamed Birkibeinn, seized the government in that 

part of Germany which is called Norway; and raging under the title of king for a considerable time, at 

length, on the decease of the sovereign of that country, obtained the government, as if legitimately; 

happily, perchance by the appointment of God, hereafter to experience an exit similar to other kings 

of that land. For, as it is said, for more than a century back, although the succession of kings there had 

been rapid, yet none of them had ended his days by age or sickness, but all had perished by the sword, 

leaving the dignity of empire to their assassins as their lawful successors; so that, indeed, the 

expression, "Hast thou killed, and also taken possession?" may seem to apply to all who reigned there 

for so long a space of time. The nobility of that country, a little before the usurpation of this priest, 

being actuated by pious zeal to apply a remedy to this disgraceful evil -- which had obtained, as it 

were, by long custom, the sanction of law -- decreed that the new king should be solemnly 

consecrated with holy unction, and crowned, so that in future none might dare to lift his hand against 

the Lord's anointed. For until that time no one in that country had ever been consecrated king by an 

ecclesiastical ceremony; but whoever had cruelly killed the king, from that moment he assumed the 

regal character and power, shortly after about to leave the same fortune to his murderer by the law of 

inveterate custom. This, was truly supposed, by a certain sort of Christian simplicity, by many persons 

to have taken place because none of the former kings had been careful to have himself initiated with 

the solemnities of royal unction. Wherefore, on the death of Hákon, who had succeeded king Ingi 

(whom he had murdered when the succession appeared to pertain to a certain youth called Magnús, 

nephew of the same Ingi), the wiser and more noble part of the kingdom, by common assent, caused 

this same youth to be solemnly consecrated as the Lord's anointed, and to be dignified with the 

diadem. This being done, they thought that the prince was made sacred to them and the disgrace of the 

former usage was removed. But when the same Magnús, who now arrived at man's estate, had reigned 

for several years with equal energy and success, and all supposed that they had made sufficient 

provision against the storms of usurpation, the malice of the devil stirred up the priest aforesaid, as his 

proper engine, to disquiet the peace of this Christian people. 

This passage is taken from William of Newburgh's Historia Rerum Anglicarum, Book III Chapter VI. 

It's post-conquest Latin. Text and from "Historia", ed. C. Johnson (1920), translation is based on 

www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/williamofnewburgh-three.html#6. 

17

Hannah Dyson 


Leodum is minum swylce him mon lac gife. 

Willað hy hine aþecgan gif he on þreat cymeð. 

Ungelic is us. 

Wulf is on iege, Ic on oþerre. 

Fæst is þæt eglond, fenne biworpen. 

Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige. 

Willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð. 

Ungelice is us. 

Wulfes ic mines wudlastum wenum dogode, 

þonne hit wæs renig weder ond Ic reotugu sæt, 

þonne mec se beaducafa bogum bilegde: 

wæs me wyn to þon; wæs me hwæþre eac lað. 

Wulf, min Wulf, wena me þine 

seoce gedydon, þine seldcymas, 

murnende mod, nales meteliste. 

Gehyrest þu, Eadwacer? Uncerne earmne hwelp 

bireð wulf to wuda. 

Þæt mon eaþe tosliteð þætte næfre gesomnad wæs, 

uncer giedd geador. 

18

Hannah Dyson 


It is to my people as if someone would give him a gift. 

They will consume him if he comes into their troop. 

It is different with us. 

Wulf is on an island, I on another. 

That island is secure, surrounded by fen. 

There are bloodthirsty men on the island. 

They will consume him if he comes into their troop. 

It is different with us. 

I pursued in my hopes that far journeys of Wulf, 

when it was rainy weather, and I sat, sorrowful. 

Then the battle-bold one laid his arms around me: 

there was joy to me in that; yet it was also hateful to me. 

Wulf, my Wulf, my hopes of you 

have made me sick, your rare visits, 

a mourning mind, and this is not at all from lack of food. 

Do you hear me, Eadwacer? The wolf bears our wretched whelp to the woods. 

That may be easily separated which was never bound, 

the riddle of us two together. 

Passage from Treharne, ed., Old and Middle English c. 890 - c. 1400: An Anthology, 

pp. 64–65 

19

A Mór Maigne Moige Síuil, 

bec a dainme esbaid n-éoin; 

má saíle éc duit fo-déin, 

nách bét dot chéill caíne géoid? 

A ingen Donnchada druin, 

ara fuil borrfada ban, 

nách cúala scél (solma sein), 

inn úair fot-geir do géd glan? 

Nách cúala (garc nat don gléo) 

is marb Conn Cétchathach Cúa, 

ocus Corbmac, ocus Art? 

esbach in mac is in t-úa. 

Nách cúala díl Crimthainn chóir, 

meic Fidaig, do finnchloinn áin, 

ocus Éogain Taídlig tess 

fo-cheird cess for Clíu Máil? 

Nách cúala in n-gním n-geimlech n-garc, 

marb Eochaid Feidlech na ferg, 

ocus Crimthann, cride Níad, 

ocus Lugaid Dá Ríab n-Derc? 

Shem Jarold 

A Mór Maigne Moige Síuil 

Nách cúala (in íuboile n-airc) 

dá b-fuair Íugaine núall n-uilc? Nách cúala in foraire, fecht, 

dá ro melt Conaire Cuilt? 

Nách cúala Mongán, maith láech, 

do thuitim hi condáil chrích, 

ocus Cermait Milbél mín 

mac in Dagda déin do díth? 

Nách cúala in lámdaith do lot, 

Cú Chulainn rop ánrath ait? --- 

Ocus (ní ra-fannaig) fer 

do neoch ro gab gaí 'na glaic. 

Nách cúala in n-gním n-galann n-gann, 

Fothad Canann (clú nád binn), 

ocus in rígféinnid ríam 

dárb ainm toísech na Fían Finn? 

Nách cúala Fergus, cíarb án, 

dárba lán cech lergus lór, 

ocus Manannán mac Lir 

a m' anamán min, a Mór? 

Géoid i n-Éirinn re linn m-Bríain, 

Brían ro gab Éiblinn co n-ór; 

maith cara fil ocut Brían: 

fíal flaith Chinn Mara, a Mór. 

20

Shem Jarold 

On the loss of a pet goose 

O Mor of Moyne in Mag Suil, 

loss of a bird is no great occasion for grief. 

If you consider that you yourself must die, 

is it not an offence against your reason to lament a goose? 

Daughter of stalwart Donnchad, who, like all women, 

carry things to excess, are you unacquainted with storytelling, 

as your hastiness would suggest, 

when your lovely goose so inflames your heart? 

Have you not heard that Conn of the Hundred Battles, 

hero of Cua, is dead, 

and Cormac too, and Art? 

Neither the son nor the grandson can effect anything. 

Have you not heard of the fate of good Crimthann mac Fidach, 

who belonged to a glorious and noble family, 

and, in the south, of Leogan Tafdlech 

who brought trouble to Cifu Min? 

Have you not heard of the harsh fettering fact, 

that wrathful Eochaid Feidlech is dead, 

and Crimthann of the Champion's heart, 

and Lugaid of the two Red Stripes? 

Have you not heard of the... 

whence fugaine came by a cry of woe? 

Have you not heard of that night-watch 

in the past whereby Conaire of Colt was crushed? 

Have you not heard that the good warrior Mongan 

fell in a conflict on the borders, 

and that gentle Cermait Milbol, 

son of the swift Dagda, has perished? 

Have you not heard that he of the nimble hand has perished, 

Cuchulain who was a delightful champion? 

And no man had ever subdued him 

of all that ever gripped a spear. 

Have you not heard of the ill-famed 

strange act of violence concerning Fothad Canann, 

nor of the royal warrior in the past 

whose name was Finn, leader of the Fiana? 

Have you not heard of Fergus, though he was glorious, 

of whose fame every mighty sea-way was full, 

and of Manannan mac Lir, 

O Mor, dear as a child to me? 

There are geese in Ireland in Brian's time, 

Brian Boru who has won rule over golden Leibliu; 

good is the friend you and I have in Brian: 

the lord of Cenn Mara is generous, O Mor. 

Passage from Early Irish lyrics, eighth to twelfth century, Gerard Murphy (ed), Clarendon Press, (1956) p. 166 

21

James Lloyd 


Wiglaf maðelode, wordrihta fela 

sægde gesiðum (him wæs sefa geomor): 

“Ic ðæt mæl geman, þæ r we medu þegun, 

ðonne we geheton ussum hlaforde 

in beorsele, ðe us ðas beagas geaf, 

ðæt we him ða guðgetawa gyldan woldon 

gif him ðyslicu ðearf gelumpe, 

helmas ond heard sweord. Đe he usic on herge geceas 

to ðyssum siðfate sylfes willum, 

onmunde usic mærða, ond me ðas maðmas geaf, 

ðe he usic garwigend gode tealde, 

hwate helmberend -ðeah ðe hlaford us 

ðis ellenweorc ana aðohte 

to gefremmanne, folces hyrde, 

forðam he manna mæst mærða gefremede, 

dæda dollicra. Nu is se dæg cumen 

ðæt ure mandryhten mægenes behofað 

godra guðrinc. Wutun gongan to, 

helpan hildfruman ðenden hyt sy, 

gledegesa grim. God wat mec 

ðæt me is micle leofre ðæt minne lichaman 

mid minne goldgyfan gled fæðmie. 

Ne ðynceð me gerysne ðæt we rondas beren 

eft to earde nemne we æror mægen 

fane gefyllan, feorh ealgian 

Wedra ðeodnes. Ic wat geare 

ðæt næron ealdgewyrht ðæt he ana scyle 

Geata duguðe gnorn ðrowian, 

gesigan æt sæcce; urum sceal sweord ond helm, 

byrne ond beaduscrud bam gemæne.” 

Wod ða ðurh ðone wælrec, wigheafolan bær 

frean on fultum, fea worda cwæð: 

“Leofa Biowulf, læst eall tela, 

swa ðu on geoguðfeore geara gecwæde 

ðæt ðu ne alæte be ðe lifigendum 

dom gedreosan; scealt nu dædum rof, 

æðeling anhydig, ealle mægene 

feorh ealgian ; ic ðe fullæstu.” 

Æfter ðæm wordum wyrm yrre cwom, 

atol inwitgæst oðre siðe 

fyrwylmum fah fionda niosian, 

laðra manna. Lig yðum for, 

born bord wið rond; byrne ne meahte 

geongum garwigan geoce gefremman, 

ac se maga geonga under his mæges scyld 

elne geeode, ða his agen wæs 

gledum forgrunden. 

22

James Lloyd 


Wiglaf spoke out and voiced many truthful remarks to his companions; his spirit was melancholy: 

“I remember the time when, as we drank mead there in the beer-hall, we would promise our 

lord, who gave us these treasures, that we would repay him for these battle-accoutrements, the 

helmets and the tough swords, if a need such as this should befall him. For this reason, from among 

the army he chose us, of his own free will, for this expedition, esteemed us worthy of its glories and 

gave me these treasures, because he counted us good spear-wielding warriors, bold helmeted soldiers 

– even though the lord and protector of the people meant to perform alone this courageous task for us, 

because he of all men has performed the most feats of glory and daring deeds. Now the day has come 

when our lord is in need of the strength of good battle-warriors. Let us go to him and help our warleader 

as long as the heat continues, the grim terror of smouldering fire. As for me, God knows that it 

is much more agreeable to me that smouldering fire should engulf my body alongside my gold-giving 

lord. To me it does not seem fitting that we should go carrying our shields back home unless we can 

first bring down the foe and defend the life of the prince of the Weder-Geats. This I know full well: 

his past achievements have not been such that among the multitude of the Geats he ought to be 

suffering torment alone and going under in the struggle. Sword and helmet, mail-coat and armour 

shall be shared between us both.” 

Then he strode through the deadly reek and went wearing his helmet to the help of his lord. He spoke 

a few words: 

“Dear Beowulf, see the whole thing through properly, in keeping with what you declared long 

ago in the days of your youth, that while you lived you would not let your reputation fail. Now, 

resolute prince, renowned for your deeds, you must defend your life with all your strength. I shall 

support you.” 

After these words, the reptile, hideous malevolent being, came angrily on a second time, aglow with 

flaring flames, to attack his enemies, loathed mortals. The fire advanced in waves and burned 

Wiglaf’s shield to the boss. His mail-coat could not afford the young armed warrior safety but the 

young man bravely carried on under cover of his kinsman’s shield when his own had been destroyed 

by the fiery gobbets. 

23

James Lloyd 


Þa gen guðcyning 

mærða gemunde, mægenstrengo sloh 

niðe genyded; Nægling forbærst, 

geswac æt sæcce sweord Biowulfes, 

gomol ond grægmæl. Him ðæt gifeðe ne wæs 

ðæt him irenna ecga mihton 

helpan æt hilde; wæs sio hond to strong, 

se ðe meca gehwana, mine gefræge, 

swenge ofersohte, ðonne he to sæcce bær 

wæpen wundrum heard; næs him wihte ðe sel. 

Þa wæs ðeodsceaða ðriddan siðe, 

frecne fyrdraca fæhða gemyndig, 

ræsde on ðone rofan ða him rum ageald, 

hat ond heaðogrim. Heals ealne ymbefeng 

biteran banum; he geblodegod wearð 

sawuldriore, swat yðum weoll. 

Đa ic æt ðearfe gefrægn ðeodcyninges 

andlongne eorl ellen cyðan, 

cræft ond cenðu, swa him gecynde wæs. 

Ne hedde he ðæs heafolan, ac sio hand gebarn 

modiges mannes ðær he his mæges healp, 

ðæt he ðone niðgæst nioðor hwene sloh, 

secg on searwum, ðæt þæt sweord gedeaf 

fah ond fæted, þæt ðæt fyr ongon 

sweðrian syððan. Þa gen sylf cyning 

geweold his gewitte, wællseaxe gebræd 

biter ond beaduscearp ðæt he on byrnan wæg; 

forwrat Wedra helm wyrm on middan. 

Feond gefyldan -ferh ellen wræc- 

ond hi hyne ða begen abroten hæfdon, 

sibæðelingas. Swylc sceolde secg wesan, 

ðegn æt ðearfe. Đæt ðam ðeodne wæs 

siðast sigehwile sylfes dædum, 

worlde geweorces. Đa sio wund ongon 

ðe him se eorðdraca ær geworhte 

swelan ond swellan; he ðæt sona onfand, 

ðæt him on breostum bealoniðe weoll 

attor on innan. Đa se æðeling giong 

ðæt he be wealle wishycgende 

gesæt on sesse; seah on enta geweorc, 

hu ða stonbogan stapulum fæste 

ece eorðreced innan healde. 

Hyne ða mid handa heorodreorigne, 

ðeoden mærne ðegn ungemete till, 

winedryhten his wætere gelafede, 

hilde sædne, ond his helm onspeon. 

Biowulf maðelode -he ofer benne spræc, 

wunde wælbleate; wissa he gearwe 

ðæt he dæghwila gedrogen hæfde, 

eorðan wynne; ða wæs eall sceacen 

dogorgerimes, deað ungemete neah: 

24

James Lloyd 

Beowulf – continued 

Still the warrior-king kept his mind on matters of glory: in the might of his strength he struck with his 

battle-blade so that, given impetus by his hatred, it struck fast in the head. Naegling broke; Beowulf’s 

old and grey-coloured sword failed him in the struggle. It was not allotted to him that the edges of 

iron weapons could assist him in the fight; that hand of his which, as I have heard, asked over much of 

every blade in the wielding, was too strong when he carried the weapon toughened by bleeding 

wounds into the struggle and he was none the better off. Then for a third time the ravager of the 

nation, the ferocious and fiery dragon, determined upon aggressive moves and when the opportunity 

offered itself to him he rushed, hot and fierce in the assault, upon the renowned man and grabbed him 

right round his neck with his cruel tusks. Beowulf was smothered with blood, his life-blood; the gore 

welled out in pulsing streams. 

I have heard that then, in the people’s king’s time of need, the earl at his side displayed courage, skill 

and daring, as was instinctive in him. He did not bother about the head but the brave man’s hand was 

burnt as he helped his kinsman in that he, this man in his armour, struck the spiteful creature 

somewhat lower down, so that the sword, gleaming and gold-plated, plunged in; and forthwith the fire 

began to abate. Still the king himself was in command of his senses; he unsheathed a deadly knife, 

cruel and sharp in conflict which he was carrying in his mail-coat. The protective lord of the Weder- 

Geats slashed the reptile apart in the middle. They had felled the foe – their courage had ousted his 

life – and the two of them together, noble kinsmen, had destroyed him. A man, a thane, ought to be 

like this in time of need. For the prince this was his last occasion of victory by his own deeds and his 

last achievement in the world. 

Then the wound which the dragon from under the ground had earlier inflicted on him began to grow 

inflamed and swollen. Soon he found that the poison inside him was welling up with deadly 

malignancy into his breast. The sagely reflecting prince then went and sat down on a plinth beside the 

earthwork. He was looking at the work of giants, how the ages-old earth-dwelling held within it the 

stone arches secure upon columns. Then with his own hands the thane, good beyond measure, bathed 

with water his famous prince, bloody from the fight, his lord and friend worn out by warfare and 

loosed his helmet. Beowulf held forth; despite his injury, the grievous mortal wound, he spoke. He 

was well aware that he had outlived the span off his days and this world’s happiness; now the whole 

tally of his days had slipped away and death was close beyond measure: 

Passage taken from the edition by George Jack, pp. 180-5. Translation taken from the edition by S. A. 

J. Bradley, pp. 481-3. 

25

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