The Scop.

II. ANGLO-SAXON POETRY.

These fair-skinned, blue-eyed English folk were, from the first, lovers of song and story. The very relics of their earliest art preserve the scene and spirit of their recreation. Fierce in fight, often merciless in the pursuit of a conquered foe, they loved the gleam of their own hearth-fire and the coarse comfort of the great Saxon hall, with its heavy tables and crowded benches. Here at night the troop gathered, carousing, in some interval of peace. The earl himself, at the high table set crosswise at one end of the huge hall, had before him his noisy band of vassals thronging the mead-benches. The blaze of the hearthfire in their midst lights up the faces of these ruddy, strong-limbed warriors; it flashes on spear and axe, and is reflected from the armor, curiously woven of link-mail, which grotesquely decorates the walls, half hidden by shaggy skins of wolf and bear. The noisy feasting is followed by a lull. The harp appears. Perhaps the lord of the household himself receives it, and in vigorous tones chants in time with the twanging chords some epic of his ancestors, or boasts of his own fierce deeds. Perhaps the instrument is passed from hand to hand while thane after thane unlocks the "word-hoard" of his memory as he may. But most frequently it is the professional scop, or gleeman, who strikes the rhythmic notes, and takes up the burden of the tale; he has a seat of honor near his lord; to him the rough audience listens spellbound; he sways their wild spirits at his will.

"There was chant and harp-clang together

In presence of Healfdene's battle-scarred heroes.
The glee-wood was welcomed, tales oft recounted
When Hrothgar's scop, delight of the dwelling
After the mead-bout, took up the telling.

WIDSITH AND DEOR

The song was sung out

The gleeman's tale ended. Spirits soared high
Carousing reëchoed." 1

9

Widsith, or Far-farer, may have been the name of such a singer, whose fame is preserved in widsith what is apparently the very oldest of Old Eng- and Deor. lish poems extant. It is preserved in the so-called Exeter Book, a priceless volume of Anglo-Saxon manuscript, presented to the Cathedral at Exeter by Bishop Leofric (1046–73), still in the possession of the cathedral. Sometimes called The Scop, or The Traveller's Song, this ancient poem catalogues the wanderings of the gleeman.

"Widsith unlocked his word-hoard; and then spake
He among men whose travel over earth

Was farthest through the tribes and through the folks:
Treasure to be remembered came to him

Often in hall.

Among the Myrgings, nobles gave him berth.

In his first journey he, with Ealhhild,

The pure peace-maker, sought the fierce king's home,
Eastward of Ongle, home of Eormanric,

The wrathful treaty-breaker." 2

Hermanric, the great king of the Goths, died before the close of the fourth century; and if Widsith told his own story, as parts of the poem indicate, we have here a composition dating from the period before the migration, although the long catalogue of kings and heroes contains some names which mark a later gener ation and prove the interpolation of a later hand.

"Thus wandering, they who shape songs for men
Pass over many lands, and tell their need,
And speak their thanks, and ever, south or north,
Meet some one skilled in songs and free in gifts,
Who would be raised among his friends to fame
And do brave deeds till light and life are gone.

1 Beowulf, 11. 1063-1067, 1159-1161.

2 Morley's translation, English Writers, vol. ii.

He who has thus wrought himself praise shall have
A settled glory underneath the stars." 1

So Widsith concludes. A companion poem, dating apparently from the same early period, presents the scop in a more melancholy mood. This is Deor's La ment, the composition of some singer who has felt more of the bitterness of life, having been superseded in the favor of his lord by some cleverer scop, and now lingers late on earth after most of his comrades and patrons have gone.

"Whilom was I Scop of the Heodenings:

Beowulf.

Dear unto my lord! Deor was my name.

Well my service was to me many winters through;
Loving was my lord; till at last Heorrenda -
Skilled in song the man!-seized upon my land-right
That the guard of Earls granted erst to me.

That, one overwent; this, also may I." 2

But by far the most interesting and impressive example of early English art is found in our great Anglo-Saxon epic, three thousand lines in length, which preserves out of the distant past the mythical career of Beowulf, prince of the Geats. The form of the epic as we know it appears to have been the work of a Northumbrian poet in either the eighth or ninth century. It embodies various legends reported in earlier songs, the first of which were undoubtedly composed on the Continent, probably by poets of Angle-land. An interesting feature of this final version, which possesses the unity of the genuine epic along with the other characteristics of such compositions, is that it represents the work of a Christian writer who has sought to modify the paganism of its earlier narrative by injecting something of the religious spirit of his own time into the grim mythology of the older lay. 1 Morley, English Writers, vol. ii.

2 Stopford Brooke, History of Early English Literature.

The title of the poem repeats the name of its hero. Beowulf is a typical champion, endowed with superhuman strength, sagacity, courage, and endurance; moreover, in common with the heroes of this type, he is foreordained to relieve the ills of those who have great need, and is always ready to respond to their necessity. The story is this:

The Tale.

Hrothgar, the Dane, far-famed for his victories, for his justice and generosity no less, grown old in years, builds for his warriors a great meadhall. There the gray-haired chieftain assembles his vassals for feasting and mirth; but an unheard-of horror comes upon Heorot, great "hall of the hart," which Hrothgar has built. Out from the fens, when night falls, stealthily creeps the bog-monster Grendel; enters the new house where the earls after carousal lie asleep on the benches. One and another and another of Hrothgar's men is attacked and devoured by the demon; night after night Grendel devastates the meadhall. No one of Hrothgar's thanes is brave enough or strong enough to cope with the monster. Heorot is deserted, and the old chief sits gloomily in his former home to mourn in silence the loss of men and of honor. Up in the Northland Hygelac's thane, Beowulf, young, bold, robust, already famous for a daring feat in swimming, and destined to be Hygelac's heir and successor, hears of Hrothgar's plight and of Grendel. Soon, with a band of chosen men, Beowulf travels southward, follows "the whale-path," "the swan-road," until his ship strikes the shore of Hrothgar's kingdom. The coastguard, first descried sitting his horse like a statue, gallops to meet the strangers and challenges their landing. Beowulf is conducted to Hrothgar and declares his purpose to kill the monster and free the land. Gladly does the Dane listen and generous welcome does he