Meanwhile, Rymenhild is sought in marriage by King Modi, and the day is fixed. In her distress she sends in all directions to seek Horn; her messenger finds Horn and delivers his message, but he never returns to the princess, because he is drowned. Now Horn tells King Thurston his story, and entreats his help. He adds that he will provide a worthy husband for his daughter, namely, Athulf, one of the best and truest of knights. Thurston assembles his men and they go with Horn. Horn leaves them under the wood while he goes towards the palace. He meets a palmer and changes clothes with him. In the palace he takes his place with the beggars, and when Rymenhild rises to offer wine to the guests he gets speech of her and lets her see the ring she had given him. This leads to a full recognition and the betrothal of Horn with Rymenhild. Such is the tale of King Horn.
But, of all the old native stories that crop up in this later time, the most remarkable is the “Lay of Havelok the Dane,” a large subject which we can only just indicate here.[151]
Of the learned branches a good deal continued unbroken by the Conquest. Such was mostly the case with Homilies and Lives of saints, and Poetry of the allegorical and instructive kind.
In the Exeter Song-book we saw pieces that had been taken from the old book “Physiologus.” This allegorical poetry retained its place through all the changes.[152] Here is a passage from the “Whale,” in the language of the thirteenth century:—
Wiles that weder is so ille,
the sipes that arn on se fordriven
(loth hem is deth, and lef to liven)
biloken hem and sen this fis;
an eilond he wenen it is.
Thereof he aren swithe fagen,
and mid here migt tharto he dragen,
sipes onfesten,
and alle up gangen.
Of ston mid stel in the tunder
wel to brennen one this wunder,
warmen hem wel and heten and drinken;
the fir he feleth and doth hem sinken,
for sone he diveth dun to grunde,
he drepeth hem alle withuten wunde.
These examples may suffice to represent that new literature which began to rise after the violent removal of the old. They do not belong to the history of Anglo-Saxon literature except indirectly as a foil and a contrast. They show how ready were new forms to take the place of the old. But while the English language was thus following the natural and spontaneous course of its development, there still survived a powerful interest in the old classical Englisc. The seat of this literature was in the old monasteries, which became strongholds of ancient culture and tradition. The old books were perused and re-copied, and a scholarly knowledge of the old language was made an object of study. This was sustained not only by sentiment, and curiosity, and literary taste, but also by a sense of corporate interest. The titles of the old monasteries to their lands were wholly or very largely contained in Saxon writings, and these grew in importance with the growing habits of documentary legality under Norman rule. A language which was at once native and recondite, far more recondite than the Latin of the ordinary scholar, could not but be impressive as a documentary medium. The number of extant Saxon books and deeds which were either originally composed after the Conquest, or at least re-copied and re-edited, is quite enough to prepare us to receive what Matthew Parker said in the Latin preface to his edition (1574) of “Asser”:—
“Furthermore; inasmuch as the medium of many legal documents and venerable memorials and royal charters preserved in archives, dating, some before, some after, the coming of the Normans into England, is Saxon both in language and in writing, I will advise all who study the institutions of this realm, to undergo the slight and insignificant labour which is necessary to make themselves masters of this language. If they will but do this, they will doubtless make discoveries daily, and will bring to light things which now lie hidden and remote; yea, they will without effort clear up the intricacies and perplexities of a great number of things. And in ages past there were societies of religious persons who were ordered by our forefathers for this work, that some among them might be trained in the knowledge of this tongue, and might transmit the same in succession to those who came after. To wit, in Tavistock Abbey, in the county of Devon, and in many other fraternities (within my memory) this was an established thing; to the end, as I suppose, that acquaintance with a literature whose language is antiquated might not perish for lack of use.”
Thus we see that in the centuries between the Conquest and the Reformation the old Englisc was a recognised subject of study; and that it enjoyed, as the Latin did, the honours of an ancient language which was too much esteemed to be allowed to perish. And, therefore, it was said above that the Anglo-Saxon language and literature never died out; for the knowledge of it was kept up till the time when, through the general Revival of learning, new motives were supplied for its diligent study, and the very man in whom the new movement is impersonated is he who testifies that the study had lasted down to a time within his own memory.
[145] Written and illustrated with miniatures by order of Æðelwold, Bishop of Winchester, A.D. 963-984. Hexameter verses in a superior style of penmanship, namely, the old Latin rustic, record the history of the book, and give the scribe’s name as Godeman, perhaps the Abbot of Thorney, who began A.D. 970. The illuminations are engraved in “Archæologia,” xxiv.
[146] The “Leofric Missal,” edited by F. E. Warren, B.D., Clarendon Press, 1883.