409. Gif ic ænigum thegne
theoden madmas
geara forgeafe
thenden we on than godan rice
gesælige sæton
and hæfdon ure setla geweald,
thonne heme na on leofrantid
leanum ne meahte
mine gife gyldan.
Gif his gien wolde
minra thegna hwilc
gethafa wurthan
thæt he up heonon
ute mihte
cuman thurh thas clustro
and hæfde cræft mid him
thæt he mid fetherhoman
fleogan meahte
windan on wolcne
thær geworht stondath
Adam and Eve
on eorth rice
mid welan bewunden.
and we synd aworpene hider
on thas deopan dalo.
If I to any thane
lordly treasures
in former times have given,
while we in the good realm
all blissful sate,
and had sway of our mansions:—
at no more acceptable time
could he ever with value
my bounty requite.
If now for this purpose
any one of my thanes
would himself volunteer
that he from here upward
and outward might go,
might come through these barriers
and strength in him had
that with raiment of feather
his flight could take
to whirl on the welkin
where the new work is standing
Adam and Eve
in the earthly realm
with wealth surrounded—
and we are cast away hither
into these deep dales!

Satan rages not so much on account of his own loss as for their gain. If they could only be ruined by the wrath of God, he declares he could be at ease even in the midst of woes; and whoever would achieve this he will reward to his utmost, and give him a seat by his side. Presently we come to the accoutring of the emissary:—

442. Angan hine tha gyrwan
Godes andsaca
fus on frætwum:
hæfde fræcne hyge.
Hæleth helm on heafod asette
and thone full hearde geband,
spenn mid spangum.
Wiste him spræca fela
wora worda.
Began him then t’ equip
th’ antagonist of God,
prompt in harness:—
he had a guileful mind.
A magic helm on head he set,
he bound it hard and tight,
braced it with buckles.
Speeches many wist he well,
crooked words.

He takes wing and rises in air; and then comes a passage like Milton:—

Swang thæt fyr on twa
feondes cræfte.
he dashed the fire in two
with fiendish craft.[71]

Arrived at the garden he takes the shape of a serpent, and winds himself round the forbidden tree. The description recalls the familiar picture so vividly that we cannot doubt the same picture was before the eyes of children in the Saxon period as now. He takes some of the fruit and finds Adam, and addresses him in a speech. He gives a naïve reason why he is sent:—

507. Brade synd on worulde
grene geardas,
and God siteth
on tham hehstan
heofna rice
ufan. Alwalda
nele tha earfethu
sylfa habban
that he on thisne sith fare,
gumena drihten:—
ac he his gingran sent
to thinre spræce.
Broad are in the world
the green plains,
and God sitteth
in the highest
heavenly realm
above. The Almighty
will not the trouble
himself have,
that He should on this journey fare,
the Lord of men:—
but He sends his deputy
to speak with thee.

These poems are surrounded by interesting questions which it is barely possible here to indicate. Upon the top of the discussion about Milton, which is not by any means exhausted, there comes a much larger and wider field of inquiry as to the relation existing between this Miltonic part (if I may so speak) and the Old Saxon poem of the “Heliand.” The investigation has been admirably started by Mr. Edouard Sievers in a little book containing this portion of the text, and exhibiting in detail the peculiar intimacy of relation between it and the “Heliand,” in regard to vocabulary, phraseology, and versification. This part of Mr. Sievers’ work is complete. Probably no one who has gone through his proofs will be found to question his conclusion, that there is between the “Heliand” and the Saxon “Paradise Lost” such an identity as isolates those two works from all other literature, and makes it necessary to trace them to one source. What remains is only to determine the order of their affiliation. His theory is that our “Cædmon” contains a large insertion which has been borrowed, not, of course, from the “Heliand,” because the “Heliand” is a poem solely on the Gospel history, but from a sister poem to the “Heliand,” a corresponding poem on the Old Testament. Professor George Stephens, of Copenhagen, offered a simpler explanation. He supposed that our piece is a purely domestic remnant of that school of English poetry which Bede described, and that the “Heliand” is a continental offspring of the same school, being a monument of the poetic culture which was planted along the borders of the Rhine by the Anglo-Saxon missionaries.

Alcuin’s name connects the Anglian period with the great Frankish revival of literature under Charlemagne. And as he bears a prominent part in the establishment of literature in its next European seat, so also he had the grief of witnessing the earlier stages of that devastation which extinguished the light in his own country. This is how he writes on hearing of the invasion of Lindisfarne by the northern rovers in 793, to Bishop Hugibald and the monks of Lindisfarne:—

“As your beloved society was wont to delight me when I was with you, so does the report of your tribulation sadden me continually now that I am absent from you. How have the heathen defiled the sanctuaries of God, and shed the blood of the saints round about the altar. They have laid waste the dwelling-place of our hope; they have trodden down the bodies of the saints in the temple of God like mire in the street. What can I say? I can only lament in my heart with you before the altar of Christ, and say: Spare, Lord, spare Thy people, and give not Thy heritage to the heathen, lest the pagans say, Where is the God of the Christians? What confidence is there for the churches of Britain if Saint Cuthbert, with so great a company of saints, defends not his own? Either this is the beginning of a greater sorrow, or the sins of the people have brought this upon them.”[72]