Halleck's New English Literature. Reuben Post Halleck
much joy.
With this, compare the following lines from Tennyson's The Passing of Arthur:—
" … I am going a long way
* * * * *
To the island-valley of Avilion,
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
* * * * *
He passes to be King among the dead,
And after healing of his grievous wound
He comes again."
Layamon employed less alliteration than is found in Anglo-Saxon poetry. He also used an occasional rime, but the accent and rhythm of his verse are more Saxon than modern. When reading Tennyson's Idylls of the King, we must not forget that Layamon was the first poet to celebrate in English King Arthur's deeds. The Brut shows little trace of French influences, not more than a hundred French words being found in it.
Orm's Ormulum.—A monk named Orm wrote in the Midland dialect a metrical paraphrase of those parts of the Gospels used in the church on each service day throughout the year. After the paraphrase comes his metrical explanation and application of the Scripture.
He says:—
"Diss boc iss nemmnedd Orrmulum
Forrði ðatt Ormm itt wrohhte."
This book is named Ormulum
For that Orm it wrote.
There was no fixed spelling at this time. Orm generally doubled the consonant after a short vowel, and insisted that any one who copied his work should be careful to do the same. We shall find on counting the syllables in the two lines quoted from him that the first line has eight; the second, seven. This scheme is followed with great precision throughout the poem, which employs neither rime nor regular alliteration. Orm used even fewer French words than Layamon. The date of the Ormulum is probably somewhere between 1200 and 1215.
The Ancren Riwle.—About 1225 appeared the most notable prose work in the native tongue since the time of Alfred, if we except the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Three young ladies who had secluded themselves from the world in Dorsetshire, wished rules for guidance in their seclusion. An unknown author, to oblige them, wrote the Ancren Riwle (Rule of Anchoresses). This book not only lays down rules for their future conduct in all the affairs of life, but also offers much religious consolation.
The following selection shows some of the curious rules for the guidance of the anchoresses, and furnishes a specimen of the Southern dialect of transitional English prose in the early part of the thirteenth century:—
"ße, mine leoue sustren, ne schulen habben no best bute kat one … ße schulen beon i-dodded four siðen, iðe ßere, uorto lihten ower heaued … Of idelnesse awakeneð muchel flesshes fondunge … Iren ðet lið stille gedereð sone rust."
Ye, my beloved sisters, shall have no beast but one cat … Ye shall be cropped four times in the year for to lighten your head … Of idleness ariseth much temptation of the flesh … Iron that lieth still soon gathereth rust.
The keynote of the work is the renunciation of self. Few productions of modern literature contain finer pictures of the divine love and sympathy. The following simile affords an instance of this quality in the work:—
"De sixte kunfort is ðet ure Louerd, hwon he iðolð ðet we beoð itented, he plaieð mid us, ase ðe moder mid hire ßunge deorlinge; vlihð from him, and hut hire, and let hit sitten one, and loken ßeorne abuten, and cleopien Dame! dame! and weopen one hwule; and ðeonne mid ispredde ermes leapeð lauhwinde vorð, and cluppeð and cusseð and wipeð his eien. Riht so ure Louerd let us one iwurðen oðer hwules, and wiðdraweð his grace and his kunfort, ðet we ne ivindeð swetnesse in none ðinge ðet we wel doð, ne savor of heorte; and ðauh, iðet ilke point ne luveð he us ure leove veder never ðe lesce, auh he deð hit for muchel luve ðet he haveð to us."
The sixth comfort is that our Lord, when he suffers that we be tempted, he plays with us, as the mother with her young darling; she flees from it, and hides herself, and lets it sit alone and look anxiously about and cry "Dame! dame!" and weep awhile; and then with outspread arms leaps laughing forth and clasps and kisses it and wipes its eyes. Exactly so our Lord leaves us alone once in a while and withdraws his grace and his comfort, that we find sweetness in nothing that we do well, no relish of heart; and notwithstanding, at the same time, he, our dear Father, loves us nevertheless, but he does it for the great love that he has for us.
Professor Sweet calls the Ancren Riwle "one of the most perfect models of simple, natural, eloquent prose in our language." For its introduction of French words, this work occupies a prominent place in the development of the English language. Among the words of French origin found in it, we may instance: "dainty," "cruelty," "vestments," "comfort," "journey," "mercer."
Lyrical Poetry.—A famous British Museum manuscript, known as Harleian MS., No. 2253. which was transcribed about 1310, contains a fine anthology of English lyrics, some of which may have been composed early in the thirteenth century. The best of these are love lyrics, but they are less remarkable for an expression of the tender passion than for a genuine appreciation of nature. Some of them are full of the joy of birds and flowers and warm spring days.
A lover's song, called Alysoun, is one of the best of these lyrics:—
"Bytuene Mershe ant[3] Averil[4]
When spray biginneth to spring,
The lutel[5] foul hath hire wyl
On hyre lud[6] to synge."
A famous spring lyric beginning:—
"Lenten[7] ys come with love to toune,[8]
With blosmen ant with briddes[9] roune."[10]
is a symphony of daisies, roses, "lovesome lilies," thrushes, and "notes suete of nyhtegales."
The refrain of one love song is invigorating with the breath of the northern wind:—
"Blou, northerne wynd!
Send thou me my suetyng!
Blou norterne wynd! blou, blou, blou!"
The Cuckoo Song, which is perhaps older than any of these, is the best known of all the early lyrics:—
"Sumer is i-cumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springeth the wde nu.
Sing cuccu, cuccu."
Summer is a-coming in,
Loud sing cuckoo,
Groweth seed and bloometh mead,
And springeth the wood now.
Sing cuckoo, cuckoo.
A more somber note is heard in the religious lyrics:—
"Wynter wakeneth al my care,
Nou this leves waxeth bare;
Ofte I sike[11] ant mourne sare[12]
When hit cometh in my thoht
Of this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht."
We do not know the names of any of these singers, but they were worthy forerunners of the later lyrists of love and nature.
Robert Manning of Brunne.—We have now come to fourteenth-century literature, which begins to wear a more modern aspect. Robert Manning, generally known as Robert of Brunne, because he was born at Brunne, now called Bourn, in Lincolnshire, adapted from a Norman-French original a work entitled Handlyng