GE2133

The Life and Times of the English

Language

The Roots of English Literature

Old English - the rise
and fall of a people

Image – The Strickland Broach, British Museum

Image: New
Scientist, 18
March 2015
Old English - the rise and fall
of a language

Image – The Lindisfarne Gospels, British Library

The Vespasian Psalter, 8th century: British Library From John Fortescue, The Difference between an Absolute and Limited Monarchy
Old English - the rise and fall
of a literature (prose)

Image: Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, The British Library

“Year 793. Here were dreadful forewarnings come
over the land of Northumbria, and woefully
terrified the people: these were amazing sheets of
lightning and whirlwinds, and fiery dragons were
seen flying in the sky. A great famine soon followed
these signs, and shortly after in the same year, on
the sixth day before the ides of January, the woeful
inroads of heathen men destroyed god’s church in
Lindisfarne island by fierce robbery and slaughter.
And Sicga died on the eighth day before the calends
of March.”
Old English -
the rise and
fall of a
literature
(poetry)

Image: The Beowulf Manuscript (The Nowell Codex)

Beowulf(s)
Beowulf
 Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon

Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum,

þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.
Oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum,

monegum mægþum, meodosetla ofteah,

egsode eorlas. Syððan ærest wearð
feasceaft funden, he þæs frofre gebad,
weox under wolcnum, weorðmyndum þah,
oðþæt him æghwylc þara ymbsittendra
So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by
And the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.
We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.

There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,

A wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes.
This terror of the hall-troops had come far.
A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on
As his powers waxed and his worth was proved.
In the end each clan on the outlying coasts
Beyond the whale-road had to yield to him
And begin to pay tribute. That was one good king.
Hwæt, ic swefna cyst secgan wylle,
hwæt mē gemætte to midre nihte,
syðþan reordberend reste wunedon.
þūhte mē þæt ic gesāwe syllicre trēow
on lyft lædan lēohte bewunden
bēama beorhtost. Eall þæt bēacen wæs
begoten mid golde. Gimmas stōdon
fægere æt foldan scēatum, swylce þær fife wæron

I will disclose the deepest vision

that came in a dream at night's center
when all human voices rested in sleep.
It seemed I beheld the tree of the Mystery
rise in the heavens, spinning out rays
of perfect light. That beacon glowed
spattered with gold, shining with jewels,
clear to earth's corners: five gems
defined the crossbeam. All God's angels were witness,
splendid throughout eternity. This was no common gallows.