But when a like inference is drawn for the Exeter book, inasmuch as the same Runic device is there found in two pieces, that therefore the book is simply a volume of Cynewulf’s poems, there seems less reason to acquiesce. That a large part of the book is Cynewulf’s poetry will be generally thought probable. The first thirty-two leaves of the manuscript, which correspond to the first 103 pages in Thorpe’s edition, contain a series of pieces which are really parts of one whole, as was shown by Professor Dietrich, of Marburg;[132] and, as one of these connected pieces has Cynewulf’s Runic mark, it seems to follow that the whole “Christian Epic” is by him. Again in the middle of the volume from the 65th to the 75th leaf there is the poem of St. Juliana with the Runes of Cynewulf’s name at its close, and this is therefore undoubtedly his. This brings us to Mr. Thorpe’s 286th page. The four pieces which lie between the above, more especially two of them, St. Guthlac and the Phœnix, may well be his. But from the close of St. Juliana (Thorpe, p. 286) the pieces become shorter and more miscellaneous, exhibiting greater diversity both of subject and of quality, being altogether such as to suggest that they have been collected from various sources and are of different ages. So that on this view the volume might be interpreted as containing (1) Poems by Cynewulf; and (2) a miscellaneous collection. Thus Cynewulf’s part would close with “St. Juliana,” which ends with the Runic device, like the Elene closing his poems in the Vercelli book.[133] About the person of this poet nothing is known, beyond what the poems themselves may seem to convey. His date has been variously estimated from the 8th to the 11th century. The latter is the more probable. If we look at his matter, we observe its great affinity with the hagiology of the tenth century, the high pitch at which the poetry of the Holy Rood has arrived, and the expansion given to the subject of the Day of Judgment. If we consider his language and manner, we remark the facility and copious flow of his poetic diction, but with a something that suggests the retentive mind of the student; his cumulation of old heroic phraseology not unlike the romantic poetry of Scott, joined occasionally with a departure from old poetic usage which seems like a slip on the part of an accomplished imitator.[134] Occasionally he has a Latin word of novel introduction.
All these signs forbid an early date, but they agree well with Kemble’s view of the time and person of Cynewulf. He proposed to identify our poet with that Kenulphus who in 982 became abbot of Peterborough, and in 1006 became (after Ælfheah) bishop of Winchester. To this prelate Ælfric dedicated his Life of St. Æthelwold, and he is praised by Hugo Candidus as a great emender of books, a famous teacher, to whom (as to another Solomon) men of all ranks and orders flocked for instruction, and whom the abbey regretted to lose when after fourteen years of his presidency he was carried off to the see of Winchester by violence rather than by election.[135]
The Canto in the “Christian Epic” in which the Cynewulf-Runes appear, is on the near approach of Domesday. This piece closes with a prolonged and detailed Simile, such as occurs only in the later poetry. Life is a perilous voyage, but there is a heavenly port and a heavenly pilot:—
The grandest of the allegorical pieces is that on the Phœnix. Of the pedigree of the fable we have already spoken; as also of the Latin poem which the Anglo-Saxon poet followed. It is rather an adaptation than a translation, and it has a second part in which the allegory is explained. At the close there is a playful alternation of Latin and Saxon half-lines, which does not at all lessen the probability that the poet may have been the ingenious Cynewulf.
Of the other allegorical pieces the Whale was derived from the book Physiologus, and probably the Panther also. The whale is used as a similitude of delusive security. The story reappears in the Arabian Nights, where it is the chief incident in the first voyage of Sindbad. The monster lies on the sea like an island, and deludes the unsuspecting mariner.
|
Is þæs hiw gelic hreofum stane, swylce worie bi wædes ofre sond beorgum ymbseald sæ ryrica mæst,[136] swa þæt wenaþ wæg liþende, þæt hy on ealond sum eagum wliten; and þonne gehydaþ heah stefn scipu to þam únlonde oncyr rapum; setlað sæ mearas sundes æt ende.[137] |
In look it is like to a stony land, with the eddying whirl of the waves on the bank, with sandheaps surrounded a mighty sea-reef; so they wearily ween who ride on the wave, that some island it is they see with their eyes; and so they do fasten the high figure-heads to a land that no land is with anchor belayed; sea-horses they settle no farther to sail. |
When they have lighted their fires, and are getting comfortable, then all goes down. This is an apologue of misplaced confidence in things earthly.
But the great and absorbing subject of poetry in this age is Hagiography. We still see the old discredited apocryphal literature in occasional use, but it retires before the more approved medium of popular edification, the Lives and Miracles of the Saints. These offer material very apt for poetical treatment. Even the Homilies, when on the lives of Saints, are often clothed in the poetic garb.