Beacons
The “telegraph” used by the English naval admiralty (located in Whitehall) in the early nineteenth century to communicate with the coast.
The series of beacons in Agamemnon which alerts the watchman back in Argos that Troy has finally been whupped.
The beautiful, wide-spirited scene in Return of the King when the chain of mountaintop beacons is lit from Gondor to Rohan.
I remembered The Dream of the Rood as referring to the rood as something like “beacna beorhtost”, and I meant to write about how the Gondor thing visually enriched that language for me. But as it turns out I remembered the poem wrong — the relevant section goes like
ðuhte me ðæt ic gesawe seldlicre treo
on lyft lædan leohte bewunden,
beama beorhtost. Eall ðæt beacen wæs
begoten mid golde; gimmas stodon
fægere at foldan sceatum, swelce ðær fife wæron
uppe on ðam eaxl-gespanne.
If we translate this in the poetically hampered but etymologically interesting Ezra Pound manner, which has the added benefit of being well adapted to a meagre and time-attenuated understanding of Old English, we get something like
Methought I saw a very seldom-like [i.e. rare] tree
leading aloft, bewound with light,
brightest of beams. All that beacon was
bepoured with gold; gems stood
fair on the fold’s sheet [i.e. the ground], likewise there were
five up on that axle-span. [i.e. shoulder-span]
Well, well, here we are dusting off our old textbooks for show and tell. No apologies, but readers with any aversion to dust, must, mold, foxing etc. are advised not to continue. Tolkien fans might appreciate this section of The Wanderer. It’s an “ubi sunt” passage, which are apparently pretty common in Old English poetry. I think there might be one in Beowulf too? I haven’t read much OE, but the whole vibe of “everything’s going downhill but let’s try to be really strong and noble anyway” certainly pervades most of what I have read, and for sure Tolkien is all over it. Theoden busts out with some shit very similar to this in Return of the King, or was it the Two Towers?
“Hwær com mearh? Hwær com magu? Hwær com maðumgiefa?
Hwær com symbla gesetu? Hwær sindon seledreamas?
Ea-la beorht bune! Ea-la byrnwiga!
Ea-la ðeodnes ðrymm! He seo ðrag gewatt,
genað under nihthelm, swa heo na wære!
Standeð nu on laste leofre duguðe
weall wundrum heah, wyrmlicum fag.
Eorlas fornamon æsca ðryðe,
wæpen wælgifru, wyrd seo mære,
and ðas stanhliðu stormas cnyssað,
hrið hreosende hrusan bindeð
wintres woma, ðonne wann cymeð
nipeð nihtscua, norðan onsendeð
hreo hæglfære, hæleðum on andan.
Eall is eorfoðlic eorðan rice,
onwendeð wyrda gesceaft weorold under heofunum.
Her bið feoh læne, her bið freond læ,
her bið mann læne, her bið mæg læne,
eall ðis eorðan gesteall idel weorðeð
Learning Old English corrupts, and inclines one entirely too much to archaism. People are so in love with kicking it Pound style that it takes some time to find a translation that is readable. I wonder if, say, Italian translations of Latin works have the same problem? Anyways here’s a decent translation of the above, in a style reminiscent of Tolkien’s High Style:
Where has the man gone? Where has the horse gone? whence went the treasure giver?
whence went the banquet places? Where are all the hall revelry(s)
Alas bright cup! Alas mail-clad warrior!
Alas prince’s splendor! How time has passed
darkened under night’s-helm as if it had not been.
Now the stone slope outlasts the footstep of beloved one’s army
wall wondrously high with serpent images inscribed.
Warriors destroyed by the ash-spear troop
weapons greedy for slaughter. Fate, that illustrious one,
and its stone slope with tempests trouble
rapidly falling snow storm the ground binds
winter’s howling then comes darkly
the shadow of night grows dark sends forth from the north
a fierce hailstorm to the warriors’ vexation.
All is full of hardship in this rich earth
fate changes destiny in the world under heaven.
Here is wealth transitory here is friend transitory
here is man transitory here is kinsman transitory
the foundation of all this earth becomes vain
The above is by Rick McDonald, and the full text is here. Mr. McDonald has created an excellent Wanderer page.
January 20th, 2004 at 1:13 am
Desultor,
I’m wonder where you read the “strength and nobility in the face of adversity” in this latter translation. It sounds more breathlessly desparate to me; but maybe that’s the due to the modernism of the translation; I hear the same rhythm as “yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes” [thanks Dictary]. Are you going more by the OE or by the translation?
January 22nd, 2004 at 9:50 pm
Yeah, it is kind of breathless, innit? It feels to me like a flawed text of the translation, with punctuation missing. I just supplied my own when I read it!
And I agree it looks more like adversity than strength in the face of it. I guess I’m thinking more of the context as a whole. There’s a constant feeling of the world being rough in what I’ve read of OE poetry. And yet there’s very often a constancy of purpose, a willingness to get killed for honor’s sake, in last stands, etc. Check out The Battle of Maldon, or think of Beowulf’s last stand - he knows he’s going to get whupped by that dragon.
Incidentally, I wonder where you read “strength and nobility in the face of adversity” in my post? Google has only two hits for that phrase, both in connection with the Irish word speireadh, which apparently has something to do with hamstringing cattle?
January 23rd, 2004 at 3:51 pm
Hm, quotation marks are not appropriate when paraphrasing, are they? I’m learning, I’m learning.
The original phrase was:
“‘everything’s going downhill but let’s try to be really strong and noble anyway’”
(also a quoted paraphrase perhaps?)
January 25th, 2004 at 3:59 pm
I’m going to go have a good firm chat about hypocrisy with my internal pedant!