The year's midnight, and the day's

It's been a while since I posted this, but today is the day for it.



'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
The sun is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;
The world's whole sap is sunk;
The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph.

Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring;
For I am every dead thing,
In whom Love wrought new alchemy.
For his art did express
A quintessence even from nothingness,
From dull privations, and lean emptiness;
He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.

All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;
I, by Love's limbec, am the grave
Of all that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have we two wept, and so
Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two chaoses, when we did show
Care to aught else; and often absences
Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.

But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing the elixir grown;
Were I a man, that I were one
I needs must know; I should prefer,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; all, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light and body must be here.

But I am none; nor will my sun renew.
You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun
At this time to the Goat is run
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since she enjoys her long night's festival,
Let me prepare towards her, and let me call
This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this
Both the year's, and the day's deep midnight is.


This beautiful video and this extraordinary poem make me think two quite ridiculous, yet heartfelt thoughts:

1) I'm sorry that St Lucy's Day is no longer the shortest day of the year.  I think the world was somehow a slightly better place, slightly more in tune, when it was.

2) I'm glad that someone as breathtakingly talented and undeniably awesome as John Donne could feel this kind of grief; it means that feeling like nothing, year after year without spring's renewal, does not actually mean one is nothing.

The Danish Conquest, 1000 Years: Part 3

I think it’s time to catch up with the Danish Conquest of 1013-14, and see what was happening this time exactly one thousand years ago. Previous posts, here and here, brought us to the autumn of the year which would end with the overthrow of the English monarchy by the army led by Svein Forkbeard. The winter of 1013-1014 was the crisis of the conquest, the culmination of disaster (if you were on the English side) or triumph (if you were on the Danish side) and probably very unsettling wherever your sympathies fell on the spectrum in between.

Back in August we left the Danes at the gates of Winchester, with Svein having accepted submission from Northumbria and the Midlands, married his son into a powerful English family, and begun to raid his way through the south of England.  Once Oxford and Winchester had submitted, the Danish army turned back to London, where King Æthelred was holed up.  The conquest of Winchester was a significant triumph for Svein; Winchester was the traditional capital of Wessex, and the loss must have been a psychological blow for Æthelred and his dwindling band of supporters.  From the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (D):

Wendon þa þanon eastweard to Lundene, 7 mycel his folces adrangc on Temese, for þæm þe hi nanre brice ne cæpton. Þa þe he to þære byrig com þa nolde se buruhwaru bugan, ac heoldon mid fullon wige ongean, for þan þær wæs inne se cyning æþelred 7 þurcyl mid him. Þa wende Swegen cyng þanon to Weallingaforda 7 swa ofer Temese westweard to Baþan, 7 sæt þær mid his fyrde, 7 com æþelmær ealdorman þyder 7 þa wæstrena ðegenas mid him, 7 bugon ealle to Swegene, 7 gislodon. 7 þa he æl þus gefaren hæfde, wende þa norþweard to his scypum. 7 eall þeodscipe hine hæfde þa for fulne cyning. 7 seo buruhwaru æfter þæm on Lundenne beah 7 gislude, for þon hi ondredon þæt hi fordon wolde. Bead þa Swegen ful gyld 7 metsunge to his hære þone winter, 7 þurcyl bead þæt ylce to þæm here þe læg æt Grenawic, 7 butan þæm hi gehergodon swa oft swa hi woldon, þa ne dohte naþær þisse leode ne suðan ne norðan.

[Then [Svein's army] turned eastward to London, and many of his people were drowned in the Thames, because they did not look out for a bridge.  Then when he came to the town, the citizens would not submit to him, but held out against him with full battle, because King Æthelred was inside the town and Thorkell with him.  Then King Svein turned from there to Wallingford and so across the Thames west to Bath, and camped there with his army, and Ealdorman Æthelmær came there with the western thegns, and all submitted to Svein and gave hostages.  And when he had travelled this far he turned northward to his ships, and all the nation then had him as full king.  And after that the citizens of London submitted and gave hostages, because they were afraid he would destroy them.  Then Svein ordered full payment and provisions for his army for the winter, and Thorkell ordered the same for the army which lay at Greenwich, and despite that they raided as often as they wanted to, and nothing did this people any good, in south or north.]

It's not quite clear what we should make of the bit where many Danes drowned in the Thames because they didn't cæpton a bridge - notice? look out for? wait around to find? Most likely they tried to ford the river, and found it stronger than they expected. However, this tactical error aside, we see here the last rally of English resistance. The Chronicle does not give the impression that the Danes had met much resistance anywhere up to this point - they seem to have swept through the country without even being challenged to battle - but the inhabitants of London were not giving in so easily.  It's quite telling that it's only in the place where King Æthelred actually was that there was any attempt to fight back - can we assume he had absolutely lost influence over the rest of the country?  And even then, his military strength at this point came mostly from the Danish earl Thorkell the Tall and his fleet.  Up until the previous year, Thorkell's had been the most formidable of the Danish fleets raiding in England, but in 1012 he had gone over to Æthelred's side, supposedly motivated by remorse because Ælfheah, Archbishop of Canterbury, had been killed by his men while their hostage.  With him he brought forty-five ships full of warriors (I won't say 'full of scary Jomsvikings', but that's what later saga legends said!).  Thorkell's defection may have been the impetus for Svein's invasion of England, because Thorkell was a powerful and independent-minded rival to the Danish kings - you might imagine Svein, in 1013, being afraid that Thorkell with English allies was becoming a dangerous threat to his own throne.  So during the attack on London it was probably Thorkell, not Æthelred, of whom Svein was really afraid - it's an extraordinary situation, two Danish armies fighting for control of an English city, with the English king rather helplessly dependent on his Danish ally.

There are unanswered questions about this period about which the Chronicle does not enlighten us.  For instance, where were Æthelred's adult sons? Two years later, when Cnut was attempting to repeat his father's conquest, Edmund Ironside fought him all over the country - where on earth was Edmund while all this was going on? It's difficult to imagine him doing nothing; maybe the chronicler just didn't know what he was doing. Perhaps he was in the army fighting to defend London, in which case it's fun to speculate how he got along with Thorkell...

Anyway, the Danes were repulsed from London, and turned back west again to Bath.  There the submission was led by Ealdorman Æthelmær, a relative of the king, and best known to students of Old English for being the pious patron of the homilist Ælfric.  Æthelmær had been living in retirement in a monastery since 1005, so his leading of the west's submission has a kind of symbolic character.  Once the west had submitted to Svein he was in control of the whole country except London, and winter was coming on, so he turned back north to Lincolnshire, where Cnut had been left in charge of the ships.  And he demanded (for he now had the power to demand) supplies for his army, and Thorkell, never lacking in nerve, did the same for his, and "nothing did this people any good, in south or north".

Then London gave in, and Æthelred had lost the last of his kingdom. The Chronicle continues:

Þa wæs se cyning sume hwile mid þam flotan þe on Temese læg, 7 seo hlæfdige wende þa ofer sæ to hire broþor Ricarde, 7 ælfsige abbod of Burh mid hire, 7 se cyning sende ælfun bisceop mid þam æþelingum Eadwearde 7 Ælfrede ofer sæ, þæt he hi bewitan sceolde. 7 se cyning wende þa fram þam flotan to þam middanwintre to Wihtlande, 7 wæs þær ða tid, 7 æfter þære tide wende ofer þa sæ to Ricarde, 7 wæs þær mid him oð ðone byre þe Swegen dead wearð. 

[Then the king was for a while with the fleet which lay in the Thames, and the queen went across the sea to her brother Richard, and with her Ælfsige, abbot of Peterborough; and the king sent Bishop Ælfhun with the æthelings Edward and Alfred across the sea, so that he should look after them.  And then the king went at midwinter from the fleet to the Isle of Wight, and was there for a while, and after that period he went across the sea to Richard, and stayed with him until the fortunate event of Svein's death.]

The royal family fled to Normandy, Queen Emma's homeland, while Æthelred stayed for a time near the coast of England - but with 'the fleet which lay in the Thames', that is, Thorkell's.  As the nineteenth-century historian E. A. Freeman famously described this moment in Æthelred's reign, 'the monarchy of Cerdic was now confined to the decks of forty-five Scandinavian war-ships'.  (Cerdic being the ancestors of the kings of Wessex).  Cerdic's line may have been in trouble, but the dynasty of Scyld was doing pretty well: until 'the fortunate event of Svein's death' took place at Gainsborough in Lincolnshire at Candlemas, 1014, Svein was the first Danish king to rule the whole of England (though not the first to reign in England).  His reign lasted not much more than three months, but nonetheless, this was a significant achievement, and I don't think he gets quite enough credit for it. But we'll come to that in a month or two.

One witness for the state of England during this troubled winter is the famous ‘Sermo Lupi ad Anglos’ (‘Sermon of ‘Wulf’ to the English’) delivered by Wulfstan, Archbishop of York, probably early in 1014. Wulfstan describes a country in collapse:

Leofan men, gecnawað þæt soð is: ðeos worolde is on ofste, and hit nealæcð þam ende, and þy hit is on worolde aa swa leng swa wyrse, and swa hit sceal nyde for folces synnan ær antecristes tocyme yfelian swyþe, and huru hit wyrð þænne egeslic and grimlic wide on worolde. Understandað eac georne þæt deofol þas þeode nu fela geara dwelode to swyþe, and þæt lytle getreowþa wæran mid mannum, þeah hy wel spræcan, and unrihta to fela ricsode on lande, and næs a fela manna þe smeade ymbe þa bote swa georne
swa man scolde, ac dæghwamlice man ihte yfel æfter oðrum, and unriht rærde and unlaga manege ealles to wide gynd ealle þas þeode. And we eac forþam habbað fela byrsta and bysmara gebiden, and gif we ænige bote gebidan scylan, þonne mote we þæs to Gode ernian bet þonne we ær þysan dydan. Forþam mid miclan earnungan we geearnedan þa yrmða þe us on sittað & mid swyþe micelan earnungan we þa bote motan æt Gode geræcan, gif hit sceal heonanforð godiende weorðan...

Forþam hit is on us eallum swutol and gesene þæt we ær þysan oftor bræcan þonne we bettan, and þy is þysse þeode fela onsæge. Ne dohte hit nu lange inne ne ute: ac wæs here and hungor, nu bryne and blodgyte on gewelhwylcan ende oft and gelome, and us stalu and cwalu, stric and steorfa, orfcwealm and uncoþu, hol and hete, and rypera reaflac derede swyþe þearle, and us ungylda swyðe gedrohtan, and us unwedera foroft weoldan unwæstma. Forþam on þysan earde wæs, swa hit þincan mæg, nu fela geara unrihta fela and tealte getrywða æghwær mid mannum. Ne bearh nu foroft gesib gesibban þe ma þe fremdan, ne fæder his bearne, ne hwilum bearn his agenum fæder, ne broþor oþrum. Ne ure ænig his lif ne fadode swa swa he scolde, ne gehadode regellice, ne læwede lahlice. Ac worhtan lust us to lage ealles to gelome, & naþor ne heoldan ne lare ne lage Godes ne manna, swa swa we scoldan. Ne ænig wið oþerne getrywlice þohte swa rihte swa he scolde, ac mæst ælc swicode and oþrum derede wordes and dæde, and huru unrihtlice mæst ælc oþerne æftan heaweþ mid sceandlican onscytan and mid wrohtlacan, do mare gif he mæge.

[Beloved men, know what is the truth: this world is in haste, and it nears the end, and thus things in the world grow ever worse and worse. And so it shall necessarily grow much worse before the coming of Antichrist, because of the sins of the people, and indeed it will then be terrible and dreadful throughout the world! And understand seriously that the devil has now for many years led this people astray, and there is little truth among men, although they speak well, and too many injustices have reigned in the land; and there were not many men who considered the remedy as earnestly as one ought to, but day by day one evil was added to another, and injustice was increased and many breakings of the law, all too widely throughout all this nation. And we also for that reason have endured many attacks and insults, and if we are to find any remedy, then we must merit it from God better than we have done before this. Therefore we have greatly deserved the miseries which oppress us, and we must greatly deserve that we may obtain the remedy from God, if things are to become better from now on...

Therefore among us it is clear and obvious that before this we have more often sinned than we have atoned for it, and therefore much is attacking this nation. Nothing has prospered now for a long time, at home or abroad; there was harrying and hunger, now burning and bloodshed in every place often and frequently, and theft and death, plague and pestilence, death of cattle and disease, malice and hatred, and the robbery of pillagers have sorely afflicted us, and excessive tax has greatly oppressed us, and bad weather has very often caused the failure of harvests. Therefore in this country, as it appears, there have now been many years of many injustices, and unstable loyalties everywhere among men. Now very often a kinsman will not defend a kinsman any more than he would a stranger, nor a father his son, nor sometimes a son his own father, nor one brother another. None of us has ordered his life as he ought to, neither the religious according to his rule nor the layman according to law. But lust has been a law to us all too often, and we have not kept the teachings or the laws of God or man as we ought to do. No one has acted loyally towards others as justly as he should, but almost everyone has betrayed and harmed others in words and deeds, and indeed almost everyone has attacked others with shameful assaults and with slander, and will do more, if he can.]


That's probably enough to give you a taste; it doesn't get much more cheerful from this point on. You can read the whole sermon in translation here. In the winter of 1013-14 Wulfstan was effectively the leading churchman in England, so this sermon is not a voice crying in the wilderness but something like an address from the Prime Minister (like Winston Churchill’s wartime speeches, but a bit less encouraging). It may have been delivered to the witan, the king's counsel, so think of it as a parliamentary address aimed at the most powerful people in the land. Wulfstan is clear in his belief that the English have brought this disaster on themselves through their many sins, and that the only remedy is to repent and seek God's favour again. One version of this sermon makes reference to Æthelred being driven out of his land as an example of betrayal, which suggests he blamed the English (nobility) for this rather than the Danes. It's interesting to wonder, therefore, where Wulfstan was waiting out this difficult winter, bearing in mind that York had submitted to the Danes as long ago as the previous August. He would have been foolish to think his own life was not at risk if he fell into Danish hands, since Thorkell's fleet had killed his senior colleague, the elderly Archbishop of Canterbury, less than two years previously. (That must have focused the mind of many a churchman who might otherwise have felt himself safe!) Wulfstan is always inclined to the apocalyptic, but since the church is especially attuned to such matters in Advent, I tend to imagine Wulfstan pondering his sermon during that awful Advent of 1013, when it must have seemed as if the end - if not of the world, then of the kingdom of England - really was nigh at hand.

Wulfstan is so eloquent that his voice tends to prevail in our view of this important moment in Anglo-Saxon history. But it's worth remembering, as always, that not everyone in England would have agreed with him. Imagine the Danes in Gainsborough celebrating the Christmas season (or rather jól): Svein, now king of Denmark and England, and his son Cnut, with his new English wife, Ælfgifu of Northampton. Maybe Ælfgifu's family, led by the powerful Midlands noblemen Sigeferth and Morcar, came to pay a visit to their new king and inlaws. Wulfstan must have been thinking of men like Sigeferth and Morcar when he denounced traitors to the king, and Æthelred would later have them killed, probably for aiding the Danes; but they surely did not think of themselves as traitors, and they might have been rather pleased with themselves at Christmas 1013. They had no idea that Svein's reign would end with the Christmas season; it must have seemed like a new order coming into birth.

Alma redemptoris mater: As I lay upon a night

Virgin and child, All Souls chapel, Oxford

In Advent, the Marian antiphon sung at Compline is 'Alma redemptoris mater'. The following carol is not a translation of the antiphon, nor closely based on it at all, but it makes use of the phrase as its refrain - which seems a good enough reason to post it in Advent.

Alma redemptoris mater.

As I lay vpon a nyth
My thowth was on a berde so brith
That men clepyn Marye ful of myth,
Redemptoris mater.

To here cam Gabryel wyth lyth
And seyd, ‘Heyl be thou, blysful wyth!
To ben clepyd now art thu dyth
Redemptoris mater.'

At that wurd that lady bryth
Anon conseyuyd God ful of myth
Than men wyst weel that sche hyth
Redemptoris mater.

Qwan Jhesu on the rode was pyth
Mary was doolful of that syth
Til sche sey hym ryse vprith
Redemptoris mater.

Jhesu, that syttyst in heuene lyth,
Graunt vs to comyn beforn thi sith
Wyth that berde that is so brith,
Redemptoris mater.

This carol survives in four manuscripts - in fact four of the chief manuscripts of medieval English carols: the 'Trinity Carol Roll' (Cambridge, Trinity College O.3.58), the 'Selden carol-book' (Oxford, Bodleian Library Arch. Selden. B. 26), Richard Hill's commonplace book (Balliol College 354), and BL Sloane 2593. So it was popular!  The version above is that of the Trinity Carol Roll, for no better reason than that I like it the best of the four. (They are all printed in Richard Greene, The Early English Carols (Oxford, 1977), pp. 147-8, should you want to compare them for yourself.) The Trinity Carol Roll is a strip of parchment containing thirteen carols with music, including 'There is no rose of such virtue'.

There are two nice things about this carol: first, that it uses one rhyme throughout, which you can imagine would be effective when heard sung; and second, that the refrain is incorporated into the sense of the verse, as does not always happen with Latin refrains in carols. This carol is truly macaronic, and it thus becomes a meditation on the title itself, 'redemptoris mater' (mother of the redeemer), and the process by which Mary acquired it. In the first verse the speaker already knows that 'men call' her by this title, and the rest of the carol demonstrates why: in the second verse Gabriel's message is phrased so as to give her the title for the first time, in the third verse she becomes the mother of God, and the fourth and fifth verses are concerned with the act of redemption - the death of Christ which makes him the redemptor and therefore Mary redemptoris mater. It's quite a skilful device; these carols are never as simple as they look at first glance. And there's one other pleasing touch: although the opening 'As I lay upon a night' is conventional for this kind of poem, it evokes a night-time setting for the speaker's musings which does seem particularly appropriate in this case, when the phrase around which the poem is built comes from a Compline antiphon. Into this solitary silence and darkness bursts Gabriel, speaking and 'with light', and the night is illuminated by its rhyming opposites, light (twice) and bright (three times), putting that one-rhyme structure to work very beautifully.

Here's a modernised version of the poem, preserving the rhymes. Berde, which appears twice, is too distinctive a word to replace with a modern equivalent; it's a rather romantic word, meaning 'lady, young woman' ('damsel' might have the right overtones in Modern English).

Alma redemptoris mater.

As I lay upon a night
My thought was on a berde so bright
Whom men call Mary, full of might,
Redemptoris mater.

To her came Gabriel with light
And said, ‘Hail be thou, blissful wight! [blessed creature]
To be called now art thou dight [prepared]
Redemptoris mater.'

At that word that lady bright
Anon conceived God full of might;
Then men knew well that she hight [was called]
Redemptoris mater.

When Jesu on the rood was pight [fastened]
Mary was doleful for that sight
Til she saw him rise up aright,
Redemptoris mater.

Jesu, who sittest in heaven's light,
Grant us to come before thy sight
With that berde that is so bright,
Redemptoris mater.

Now for a few recordings. First, the medieval carol being beautifully, meditatively sung by Oxford Camerata:

A later setting of the antiphon 'Alma redemptoris mater', by the English composer Peter Philips (d.1628):

And a modern setting of the medieval carol by Jamie W. Hall:

'A flower sprung of a tree': Some Jesse Trees

I went to look for one medieval Jesse tree, in the British Library's Catalogue of Illuminated Manuscripts, and found so many that I couldn't choose which I liked best.  So here are twelve.

The root of the idea of the Jesse tree comes from the passage from Isaiah 11, 'there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots', combined with the genealogy of Christ provided at the beginning of the Gospel of Matthew.  This is a very popular theme in medieval art, in all kinds of media; I posted last December about some stained glass examples (in Canterbury and Dorchester) and earlier this year I encountered another at Nackington in Kent. These, being fragmentary, made more sense to me after I had seen these manuscript examples.  To take them in roughly chronological order, this is from the Shaftesbury Psalter (BL Lansdowne 383), dated to the second quarter of the twelfth century:

This was the period which saw the first flowering of the Jesse tree as an artistic subject (wikipedia gives a fairly useful overview).  A tree is a flexible thing to decorate a page with, and as well as full-page illustrations like this, the Jesse tree appears in various other forms. So, it can be an ingenious long initial 'L', for 'Liber generationis Iesu Christi filii David', the opening of the Gospel of Matthew (early 13th century, Royal 4 D I, f. 2):

This is also an 'L', though not so obviously; and also there's a dragon, because, why not? (c.1240-1253, Burney 3, f. 402):

Another 'L' (mid-thirteenth century, BL Royal 1 D I, f. 431v):

Moving into the next century (1310-1320, Royal 2 B VII, f. 67v):

The next tree is an initial 'B', at the opening of the Psalter, but it spills out to form the whole border of the page (c.1310-1320, Arundel 83, f. 14):

The figures now begin to have attributes to identify them as well as scrolls - David's harp, Moses' stone tablets, Solomon's sword (Yates Thompson 14, f. 7, c.1330-1340):

More borders (Lansdowne 346, f. 7, second half of the 14th century):

This, surrounding a depiction of the birth of the Virgin, is a particularly elegant example (Harley 7026, f. 17 c. 1400-1410):

Play 'spot the marginalia' in this one (early 15th century, Arundel 104 vol. II, f. 250v):

From c.1430, BL Royal 2 A XVIII, f. 96:

(I like how nonchalant Jesse looks! He's usually asleep.)

And a final splendid example (Harley 1892, f. 31v, from c.1490-c.1510):

There is a flower sprung of a tree,
The root thereof is called Jesse,
A flower of price;
There is none such in paradise.

This flower is fair and fresh of hue;
It fades never, but ever is new;
The blessed branch where this flower grew
Was Mary mild who bore Jesu,
A flower of grace!
Against all sorrow it is solace.

The seed thereof was of God's sending,
Which God himself sowed with his hand;
In Bethlehem, in that holy land,
Within her bower he there her found.
This blessed flower
Sprang never but in Mary's bower.

When Gabriel this maiden met,
With "Ave, Maria," he her gret [greeted]
Between them two this flower was set,
And was kept, no man should wit, [know]
Til on a day
In Bethlehem, it began to spread and spray.

When that flower began to spread,
And his blossom to bud,
Rich and poor of every seed, [i.e. kind]
They marvelled how this flower might spread,
Until kings three
That blessed flower came to see.

Angels there came out of their tower
To look upon this fresh flower,
How fair he was in his colour,
And how sweet in his savour,
And to behold
How such a flower might spring amid the cold.

Of lily, of rose on ryse, [branch]
Of primrose, and of fleur-de-lys,
Of all the flowers at my devyse [I can think of],
That flower of Jesse yet bears the prize,
As the best remedy
To ease our sorrows in every part.

I pray you, flowers of this country,
Wherever ye go, wherever ye be,
Hold up the flower of good Jesse,
Above your freshness and your beauty,
As fairest of all,
Which ever was and ever shall be.



This is John Rutter's setting of John Audelay's beautiful fifteenth-century carol 'There is a floure'.

Ave Maris Stella: Hail, Lady, sea-star bright

Clerks singing 'Ave Maris Stella' (BL Add. 49999, f. 58)

The Vespers hymn often sung on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (8 December) is 'Ave Maris Stella', which in the early fourteenth century was translated into English by the Franciscan William Herebert as follows:

Hayl, Levedy, se-sterre bryht,
Godes moder, edy wyht,
Mayden euer vurst and late,
Of heveneriche sely gate.
Thylk "Aue" that thou vonge in spel
Of the aungeles mouhth kald Gabriel;
In gryht ous sette and shyld vrom shome,
That turnst abakward Eves nome.
Gulty monnes bond vnbynd,
Bryng lyht tyl hem that beth blynd.
Put vrom ous oure sunne
And ern ous alle wynne.
Shou that thou art moder one,
And he vor the take oure bone,
Þat vor ous thy chyld by com,
And of the oure kunde nom.
Mayde one, thou were myd chylde,
Among alle so mylde;
Of sinne ous quite on haste,
And make ous meoke and chaste.
Lyf thou gyf ous clene;
Wey syker ous ȝarke and lene
That we Jesus yse,
And ever blythe be.
To Vader, Cryst, and Holy Gost beo thonk and heryinge;
To threo persones and o God, o menske and worshypinge.

This is one of the loveliest hymns in praise of Mary, though there is plenty of competition for that title - Mary has probably inspired more poetry than any other woman who ever lived. This hymn, though so short, is both beautiful and theologically ambitious: there are a lot of ideas and images packed into these concise lines. We have the image of Mary as 'sea-star', the guide to all of us travelling through the waves of this world, as 'gate of heaven', the woman who opens for humanity the door to another world, and as liberator of prisoners and healer of the spiritually blind. The hymn also alludes to the widespread medieval idea of a link between humanity's two mothers, Mary and Eve: Mary's consent to God, represented by her 'Ave' to the angel, reverses Eve's very name (Eva, in Latin), and begins to undo all the loss, grief and sin it symbolises.

I find Herebert's version utterly charming, and it has a lovely sound when read aloud (try it - you'll understand more than you expect - or listen here). It uses some of my favourite words from early English religious vocabulary, most of which did not make it into Modern English: edy (from Old English eadig, 'blessed'), sely (from sælig, 'blessed, fortunate', which in its later sense 'harmless, innocent' gave us Modern English 'silly'), wynne ('joy', also the name of an Old English rune and letter), blythe ('joyful'), and gryht (from Old English grið, 'peace, truce', which came into English from Old Norse, one can only assume in the context of Vikings negotiating peace-treaties!). Even the compound 'sea-star' translating the Virgin's title stella maris is attested in Old English, from a text of c.1050:

Sæsteorra heo is gecweden, forðan þe se steorra on niht gecyþeð scypliðendum mannum hwyder bið east and west, hwyder suð and norð. Swa þonne wearð þurh ða halgan fæmnan Sancta Marian gecyþed se rihte siðfæt to ðam ecan life þam ðe lange ær sæton on þeostrum and on deaþes scuan and on þam unstillum yðum þære sæ þises middaneardes.

[Sea-star she is called, because a star in the night shows to seafaring men where is east and west, where south and north; and just in this way through the holy maiden St Mary the right path to eternal life was shown to those who long had sat in darkness and in the shadow of death and among the troubled waves of the sea of this world.]

Because of this thoroughly English vocabulary there's hardly a word in Herebert's translation which would not have been understood three centuries before he wrote, around the time when the Feast of the Conception of the Virgin was first being celebrated in late Anglo-Saxon England. The Canterbury monk and historian Eadmer, staunch defender of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception and author of an influential treatise on the subject, would have found this recognisably his own language - perhaps appropriately for a feast he regarded as peculiarly English. (There actually is a surviving Old English gloss of this hymn in an eleventh-century Canterbury manuscript, if you'd like to compare them.) To remove these words takes away the character of Herebert's translation, so I've kept them here, at the risk of archaism:

Hail, lady, sea-star bright,
God's mother, edy wight [creature]
Maiden ever, first and late,
Of heaven's realm the sely gate.
The 'Ave' thou received in spell [message]
From the angel's mouth called Gabriel
In grith us set and shielded from shame,
And turneth backward Eva's name.
Guilty men's bonds unbind,
Bring light to them who are blind.
Put from us our sin
And earn for us all wynne. [joy]
Show that thou art mother alone
And before him take thou our bone [petition]
Who for us thy child became
And of thee our kind name. [took our nature]
Maid alone, thou wert with child,
Among all so mild;
Of sin release us in haste,
And make us meek and chaste.
Life give thou us clean, [pure]
A safe way prepare, and lene [grant]
That we Jesus see
And ever blithe be.
To Father, Christ and Holy Ghost be thanks and praising,
To three persons and one God, one honour and worshipping.

British Library, Royal 6 E VII f.484v

It's interesting to compare Herebert's 'sea-star bright' to this very different poem in praise of the Virgin:

All haile, lady, mother, and virgyn immaculate,
Haile, Mary most precious, that bare our savyour Jesu;
Haile, clarified cristall, haile, wife mundificate,
Haile, rote of grace, our joy thow did renewe,
For the Holy Gost did clerely in the yssue.
Our soles for lacke had ells perresshed sore
Nere throgh the helpe of our highe redemptour.

All haile, whose solempne glorious concepcioun,
Full of glorie and hye joye tryumphaunte,
Bothe celestyall and terrestriall gif laude with jubilacioun
Of new joy and gladnesse with solace incessaunte.
Alhaile, whose nativité to us is solempnysaunte
Ferens lucem ut Lucyfer, lux oriens,
Dyademe angelicall, verum solem preveniens.

Alhaile be thy mekenes, sine viro fecunditas
Whose amyable Annunciacioun to us was redempcion.
Joye therfore be to thee, tu summa suavitas,
And glorified be the houre of thy incarnacioun,
By whome we advoyde the infernall dampnacioun.
So dulcour was the ground in whom Crist hym planted
O mater most illuminate, we myght not the have wanted.

Haile, true chast virgyn and mother immaculate,
Whose pure purificacion to us was purgacion:
Haile, replete with all virtue angelicate,
Whose celestiall hye ascendaunte Assumpcion
Was oure gret joye and glorificacion.
Wherfore, dere lady, solistrice be for grace,
That we with thy son in heyven may have a place.

This poem is fifteenth-century high style at its grandest, very different from Herebert's homely language - all those polysyllabic Latinate words, as if the longer a word is the more meaningful! It's impressive stuff, a tour-de-force of its genre. It comes from the manuscript British Library, Additional 20059, and like most Middle English lyrics is anonymous. Again, to turn the Latinized language into modern equivalents loses some of the spirit, so I hope you'll forgive a little more archaism:

All hail, lady, mother, and virgin immaculate,
Hail, Mary most precious, that bare our Saviour Jesu;
Hail, clarified crystal, hail, wife mundificate, [pure woman]
Hail, root of grace; our joy thou didst renew,
For the Holy Ghost did clearly in thee issue.
Our souls for lack had else perished sore
If not for the help of our high redemptor.

All hail, whose solemn glorious Conception,
Full of glory and high joy triumphant,
Both celestial and terrestrial give laud with jubilation
Of new joy and gladness with solace incessant.
All hail, whose Nativity to us is solempnysaunte [a solemn festival]
Ferens lucem ut Lucyfer, lux oriens, [Bearing light like Lucifer, light of the east]
Diadem angelical, verum solem preveniens. [going before the true sun]

All hail be thy meekness, sine viro fecunditas [fruitful without man]
Whose amiable Annunciation to us was redemption.
Joy therefore be to thee, tu summa suavitas, [thou, most sweet]
And glorified be the hour of thy Incarnation,
By which we avoid the infernal damnation.
So sweet was the ground in whom Christ himself planted
O mater most illuminate, we might not thee have wanted. [we could not have done without thee]

Hail, true chaste virgin and mother immaculate,
Whose pure Purification to us was purgation:
Hail, replete with all virtue angelicate,
Whose celestial high ascending Assumption
Was our great joy and glorification.
Wherefore, dear lady, solicitress be for grace,
That we with thy son in heaven may have a place.

The Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, being observed by Henry VII (BL Royal 2 A XIX)

Conditor alme siderum: Holy maker of sterres bright

Creation of the stars, BL Royal E IX, f. 3v

Among the Office Hymns for Advent is 'Conditor Alme Siderum', best known in translation today as 'Creator of the stars of night'. Intended to be sung in the evening, as the early dusk of a winter night descends, this hymn praises God as the creator of the stars - those stars which seem to shine so much more brightly in a cold and frosty sky. It draws a parallel between the darkness which envelops us each day and a yet deeper darkness, 'the world's evening hour', which Christ, bright as the sun, illuminates by his entry into the world.

This hymn dates back to the seventh century, and in the medieval church was used at Vespers. Here's the hymn sung in Latin:



And in English by Ely Cathedral Choir:

Creator of the stars of night,

Thy people’s everlasting light,

O Jesu, Saviour of us all,

Hear thou thy servants when they call.

Thou, grieving at the bitter cry

Of all creation doomed to die,

Didst come to save our ruined race

With healing gifts of heavenly grace.

Thou camest, Bridegroom of the bride,

As drew the world to evening-tide;

Proceeding from a virgin shrine,

The Son of Man, yet Lord divine.

At thy great name exalted now

All knees must bend, all hearts must bow;

And things in heaven and earth shall own

That thou art Lord and King alone.

To thee, O holy One, we pray

our judge in that tremendous day,

preserve us, while we dwell below,

from every onslaught of the foe.

All praise, eternal Son, to thee,

whose advent sets thy people free,

whom with the Father we adore,

and Spirit blest, for evermore.

The best-known translation today is from the 19th century, but the hymn was first rendered into English about 800 years before that. In an Anglo-Saxon hymnal from 11th-century Canterbury, the Latin hymn is accompanied by a version in English, not a poetic translation but a full word-by-word gloss. It begins 'Eala, ðu halga scyppend tungla' ('hail, thou holy creator of the stars') and contains some recognisable vocabulary, most notably in the third verse, where the hymn alludes to Psalm 18: Christ, like the sun, comes forth 'as a bridegroom coming out of the bridal chamber'. In Old English, this is 'brydguma of brydbure', 'bridegroom from bridal bower'.

Two years ago I posted a medieval English translation of this hymn written in the early fourteenth century by the Franciscan friar William Herebert. Herebert is an excellent translator and his version of the hymn is a lovely one; the opening phrase which renders God as 'holy wright' of the stars (starwright?) particularly sticks in the mind. In this post I want to look at two more Middle English translations of this hymn, from the end of the fifteenth century. This is by another Franciscan, James Ryman:

Holy maker of sterres bright,
Of feithefull men eternall light,
Crist, that ayene mankynde hast bought,
Here oure prayers of buxum thought.

Having rewth this worlde shulde be spilte
Thurgh the perell of dedly gilte,
Thou savedest fro grete doloure
To the gilty geving socoure.

This worlde drawing nyghe vnto nyght,
As spowse of bowre, thou came out right
Fro the clausure moost clenly dight
Of moder Mary, virgyne bright.

To whose grete myght, as it is right,
On knees boweth euery wight:
Alle heuenly and erthily thinge
Knowlege them meke to thy beknyng.

O holy lorde, we beseche the,
Of alle this worlde that iuge shall be,
Terme of oure lyfe defende vs froo
The darte of the fals fende, oure foo.

Lawde and honoure, ioye and vertue
To god and to his sonne Ihesue,
Also vnto the holigoost,
Bothe thre and one, of myghtis moost.

James Ryman was a master of carols: he left to posterity a manuscript containing no fewer than 170 (!) English carols and songs on all kinds of religious topics (the text is all online here). The carol form is deliberately simple and clear in its vocabulary, and this hardly needs glossing - but just in case, here's a literal version:

Holy maker of stars bright,
Of faithful men eternal light,
Christ, who again mankind hast bought, [bought again = redeemed]
Hear our prayers of humble thought.

Having pity that this world should be spilte [destroyed]
Through the peril of deadly guilt,
Thou savedest it from great dolour
To the guilty giving succour.

This world drawing nigh unto night,
As spouse from bower, thou came aright
From the enclosure most cleanly dight [made]
Of mother Mary, virgin bright.

To whose great might, as it is right,
On knees boweth every wight:
All heavenly and earthly thing
Acknowledge themselves meek at thy beckoning. [command]

O holy Lord, we beseech thee,
Of all this world who Judge shall be,
Throughout our life defend us fro [from]
The dart of the false fiend, our foe.

Laud and honour, joy and virtue [power]
To God and to his Son Jesu,
And unto the Holy Ghost,
Both three and one, of mights most.

Most of the poems in Ryman's collection bear some relationship to a particular Latin text, but they vary quite a bit in how close that relationship is; often the English poem has only the loosest connection with the hymn it quotes. This, however, is a faithful translation - perhaps because it would be difficult to improve on the beauty of the original, with its stars and chambers and bridegrooms and the world's 'evening hour'. I like the run of rhymes in verses 3-4, seven rhymes on 'ight' in just six lines (or eight, if you count 'nigh'); and 'drawing nigh unto night' finds an appropriately alliterative English echo of the Latin's 'vergente... vespere'. In verse 3 this translation also preserves the hymn's quotation of Psalm 18 more precisely than the most common modern translation does: 'as spouse from bower' is the psalm and hymn's 'uti sponsus de thalamo'. 'In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun, which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a giant to run his course...'

 

Creation of the stars, BL Royal 6 E VI, f. 1

The sun of the psalm becomes in the hymn Christ, the Son - a piece of sacred wordplay not of course available to the Latin hymnographer, but one which writers have exploited to great effect since the earliest days of vernacular Christian writing in English. (See, for instance, the Anglo-Saxon poem based on 'O Oriens', which makes much of wordplay on the sun, the Son, the stars and the planets in an Advent context.) It's not surprising that this pun should also have occurred to the anonymous author of our second translation of 'Conditor Alme Siderum':

O first fownder and hevenly creature
Off sterrys shynynge in þe sperys hye,
Everlastynge lyght, gydyng frome errovre,
Cryst þat lyst reydeme vs all and bye,
Enclyne tyll vs thyne earys of mercye,
Yeue gracyows audience tyll vs all,
Whyche aye for mercy to þe clepe and calle.

Thorough condolent pete in þi mercy pyght
Yenste force of dethe thys world embandownyng,
Provydyng remyde be þi grace and myght,
Slomboryng in synne and dedly langwysshyng,
Thys worlde frome deth to lyffe reconsylyng,
To gylty sawlys pleyne pardone and remidye,
Sealyng thy self the Chartyre off mercy.

Thys world envyryng toward hys end and fyne,
Endarkyd by synne approchyng his evenyng,
O sonne of grace that lyst one vs to shynne,
And os a spowse frome hys chambyr goyng,
ffrome all damage owr frealte rauysshynge,
Passyng by þe clere cloysytre consecrate
Off mary modyr virgyn immaculate.

To whos myghty power and nowimparaile,
All creaturys owyth humble obeissaunce,
Off heyvyns hygh thow hast þe governayle,
T[h]ys world, also, is thoro þi pyssance,
The fendys also fell for all þeyr bobance
Mote the obey, it may no nother be;
Thus euery thyng for lord most knowlege the.

We prey the, lorde of mercy and grace,
Whane thow shalt come & ben owr hygh justice,
ffor gette owr gylt, for yeue hus owr trespace;
lett nott þe fende reioice hys Entirprise;
Hys dedly dart thy mercy do venquyse;
That dredfull dey, gud lord, vs all conserufe
ffrome thy mercy that we ne flyte ne swerve.

Laud, honor & thankes reuerente,
Endles joy, glorye Emperialle
Be yeue to the fadyr omnipotente,
And to þe sone in godhede peregale,
And to the holy spyryte celestiall
More then men mey wrytyn or discerne
By tymes now and infinite eterne.

This is from the manuscript of hymn translations British Library, MS. Additional 34193, from which I've posted several pieces before. They are paraphrases and expansions more than strict translations, and very different in style from Ryman's simple carol diction:

O first Founder and heavenly Creator
Of stars shining in the spheres on high,
Everlasting light, guiding from error,
Christ, who would redeem us all and buy,
Incline to us thine ears of mercy,
Give gracious audience unto us all,
Who aye for mercy to thee clepe and call.

Through condoling pity in thy mercy pight
Against force of death this world embandownyng, [against the force of the death which had this world in thrall]
Providing remedy by thy grace and might,
Slumbering in sin and deathly languishing,
This world from death to life reconciling,
To guilty souls clear pardon and remedy,
Sealing thyself the charter of mercy.

This world revolving toward his end and fin, [close]
Endarkened by sin, approaching his evening,
O son of grace that pleased on us to shine,
And as a spouse from his chamber going,
From all damage our frailty ravishing, [carrying off]
Passing through the clear cloister consecrate
Of Mary mother virgin immaculate.

To whose mighty power and nonpareil,
All creatures owe their humble obeisance,
Of heavens high thou hast the governance,
This world, also, is through thy puissance,
The fiends who fell, for all their bobance, [pride]
Must thee obey, it may none other be;
Thus every thing for lord must acknowledge thee.

We pray thee, Lord of mercy and grace,
When thou shalt come and be our high justice,
Forget our guilt, forgive us our trespass.
Let not the fiend rejoice in his enterprise;
His deadly dart thy mercy vanquish;
On that dread day, good Lord, us all preserve
From thy mercy that we not fly nor swerve.

Laud, honour and thanks most reverent,
Endless joy, glory imperial
Be given to the Father omnipotent,
And to the Son in Godhead peregale, [fully equal]
And to the Holy Spirit celestial
More than men may write or discern
By times now and infinite eterne.

To me this version, with its stately Latinate diction, loses something of the hymn's concise power, but that's just a matter of taste. It's always interesting to see how differently two contemporary medieval translators could render the same text, and it's also worth bearing in mind that these translations are nearer to us in time (being just over 500 years old) than they were to their Latin source, which was written in the seventh century. This was an ancient hymn for them too, and part of their Advent as it is part of ours.

Christ the bridegroom coming forth from his chamber, in an illustration of Psalm 18 (BL Harley 603, f. 10v)

More Medieval Annunciations

BL Arundel 302, f. 139v (15th century)

Last year on the first Sunday of Advent I posted a collection of medieval depictions of the Annunciation, seeking out the stillness of these images as an antidote to noisy internet chatter. Medieval Breviaries, opening with the First Sunday of Advent at the start of the new liturgical year, often begin with an illustration of the angel appearing to Mary (here's a nice example), and medieval poetry of the Annunciation tends to emphasise the quiet, private, gentle nature of this encounter, and the moment when the Virgin conceived her child; it's thus a good way to start a month which can be, for all its joys, busy and tiring and clamorous. So this is an expanded version of last year's post, interspersing the images with extracts from Middle English poems about the Annunciation and Incarnation.

BL Royal 15 D II, f. 3 (14th century)

"Ecce ancilla domini,"
Said the virgin without vice,
When Gabriel her greeted graciously,
That holy pinnacle of proven price,
"From thee shall spring a full sweet spice."
Then said the maiden full mildly,
"Then since I am so little of price,
Ecce ancilla domini."

"Hail be thou, gracious without guilt,
Of all maids born the very best!
Within thy body shall be fulfilled
What all the prophets have preached so preste; [eagerly]
God will be born within thy breast."
Then said the maiden full mildly,
"To me he shall be a welcome guest;
Ecce ancilla domini."

But when she saw an angel bright,
She was afraid in all her thought,
And of his speech well wonder she might.
Then said the angel, "Dread thee nought!
A blessed tiding I have thee brought."
Then said the maiden full mildly,
"As God wills, so be it wrought;
Ecce ancilla domini."

That angel said, "Conceive thou shalt
Within thy body bright
A child that Jesu shall be called,
That is great God's own son of might.
Thou art his tabernacle idight." [prepared]
Then said the maiden full mildly,
"Since he said never else but right,
Ecce ancilla domini."

"Call him Jesu of Nazareth,
God and man in one degree;
He as a man shall suffer death
And reign in David's dignity.
A blessed word he sends to thee."
Then said the maiden full mildly,
"He shall be dearly welcome to me;
Ecce ancilla domini."

"But with man's dealings never I met;
Now, lord, how shall I go with child?"
Then said the angel that her gret, [greeted]
"With nothing such shalt thou be defiled:
The Holy Ghost will in thee abide."
Then said the maiden full mildly,
"As God wills, so be it done,
Ecce ancilla domini."

When the angel was vanished away,
She stood all in her thought,
And to herself she then did say,
"All God's will shall be wrought;
For he is well of all witte, [the source of all wisdom]
As witnesses well his story."
At that word the knot was knit:
"Ecce ancilla domini."

('Ecce ancilla domini')

BL Royal 2 A XVIII, f. 23v (15th century)

When Gabriel this maiden met,
With "Ave, Maria," he her gret,
Between them two this flower was set,
And kept was, no man should wit,
Until on a day
In Bethlehem, it did spread and spray.

('There is a flower')

BL Royal 6 E VII, f. 487v (14th century)

The angel came from heaven's tower,
To greet Mary with great honour,
And said she would bear the flower
That would break the fiend's bonds.

The flower sprung in high Bethlem,
It is both bright and sheen: [fair]
The rose is Mary, heavenly queen,
Out of her bosom the blossom sprung.

('Of a rose, a lovely rose')

BL Harley 2887, f. 29 (c. 1460)

Under a tree,
In sporting me
Alone by a wood-side,
I heard a maid
Who sweetly said,
"I am with child this tide.

Graciously
Conceived have I
The Son of God so sweet;
His gracious will
I put me till,
As mother Him to keep...

This ghostly case
Doth me embrace,
Without despite or mock,
With my darling,
Lullay to sing,
And lovingly Him to rock.

('Under a tree')

BL Royal 2 A XXII, f. 12v (c. 1200)

For Truthe telleth that love is triacle of hevene:
May no synne be on hym seene that that spice useth.
And alle his werkes he wroughte with love as hym liste,
And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng and moost lik to hevene,
And also the plante of pees, moost precious of vertues:
For hevene myghte nat holden it, so was it hevy of hymself,
Til it hadde of the erthe eten his fille.
And whan it hadde of this fold flessh and blood taken,
Was nevere leef upon lynde lighter therafter,
And portatif and persaunt as the point of a nedle,
That myghte noon armure it lette ne none heighe walles.

(Piers Plowman, 1.148-158: For Truth tells that love is the medicine of heaven: no sin may be seen on him who uses that physic. And he wrought his works with love, as it pleased him, and he taught it to Moses as the dearest thing and the thing most like to heaven. And the plant of peace, most precious of vertues: because heaven could not hold it, it was so heavy with its own sap, until it had eaten its fill of the earth; when it had taken flesh and blood from this world, there was never leaf upon a linden-tree lighter than it was, weightless and piercing as the point of a needle, so that no armour could stop it, nor no high walls.)

BL Arundel 109, f. v174v (1446)

As the sun shineth through the glass,
So Jesu in her body was;
Then him to serve God give us grace,
O lux beata Trinitas.

('In Bethlehem, that fair city')

BL Royal 6 E VI, f. 55 (14th century)

Maiden she was with childe and maiden was beforn
And maiden ever since that her child was born;
Maiden and mother was never no woman but she:
Well might she bearer of God's Son be.

Blessed be that sweet child and the mother ek [also]
And the sweet breast that her son sec; [sucked]
Praised be the time that such child was born,
That freed all from pain that before were forlorn.

('Nu these fules singet')

BL Stowe 16, f. 9 (c.1410)

To thank and bless him we are bound
With all the mirth that man may minne: [make]
For all the world in woe was wound
Until he crept into our kin, -
A lovely girl he lit within,
The worthiest that ever was,
And shed his blood for our sin:
And therefore, Deo Gracias.

('In a church where I did kneel')

BL Egerton 2781, f. 53 (14th century)

I sing of a maiden
That is makeles:
King of alle kinges
To her son she ches.

He cam also stille
Ther his moder was
As dewe in Aprille
That falleth on the gras.

He cam also stille
To his modres bowr
As dewe in Aprille
That falleth on the flowr.

He cam also stille
Ther his moder lay
As dewe in Aprille
That falleth on the spray.

Moder and maiden
Was nevere noon but she:
Wel may swich a lady
Godes moder be.