“ And such weapons of war as shall win you no battles.Envoy of Vikings, your vauntings return,50 Fare to thy folk with a far sterner message,That here staunchly stands with his steadfast troops,The lord that will fight for the land of his fathers,For the realm of Æthelred, my royal chief,For his folk and his fold; fallen shall lie55 The heathen at shield-play; Shameful I deem itWith our treasure as tribute that you take to your ships,Without facing a fight, since thus far hitherYou have come and encroached on our king’s domain.You shall not so easily earn our treasure ”
Summary
The Old English Poems is a collection of anonymous verse from the Anglo-Saxon period, reflecting the cultural and historical context of early medieval England. Themes of warrior honor, mead-hall society, and the interaction between destiny and divine influence run through the texts, frequently focusing on kings, battles, and the communal ties of folk.
Excerpts emphasize martial courage, the symbolic importance of the sword, and the conflict between pagan customs and developing Christian imagery, as seen in mentions of runes, enigmas, and divine reckoning. These poems, preserved in manuscripts such as the Exeter Book, provide a glimpse into a world where heroism, allegiance, and the supernatural converge, encapsulating the spirit of a society undergoing change.
Quotes from Old English Poems ()
“ Bold burnie-warriors. Bowls large and deepWere borne along the benches; beakers also and flagonsFull to the feasters. Fated they drank it,20 Renowned shield-knights, though he knew not their doom,The hateful lord of heroes. Holofernes, the king,Bestower of jewels, took joy in the wine-pouring,Howled and hurled forth a hideous dinThat the folk of the earth from afar might hear25 How the stalwart and strong-minded stormed and bellowed,Maddened by mead-drink; he demanded full oftThat the brave bench-sitters should bear themselves well. ”
“ In the hands of heroes the hollow bucklersShattered the shields. Shook then the hall floorTill there fell in the fight the faithful Garulf,Most daring and doughty of the dwellers on earth,35 The son of Guthlaf; and scores fell with him.O’er the corpses hovered the hungry raven, [37] Swarthy and sallow-brown. A sword-gleam blazedAs though all Finnsburg in flames were burning.Never heard I of heroes more hardy in war,40 Of sixty who strove more strongly or bravely,Of swains who repaid their sweet mead betterThan his loyal liegemen to their loved Hnæf. ”
