Riddle 64 (or 62)

Ic seah · ᚹ · ond · ᛁ ·     ofer wong faran,
beran · ᛒ · ᛖ ·     Bæm wæs on siþþe
hæbbendes hyht     · ᚻ · ond · ᚪ ·
swylce þryþa dæl     · ᚦ · ond · ᛖ ·
5     Gefeah · ᚠ · ond · ᚫ ·     fleah ofer · ᛠ
ᛋ · ond · ᛈ ·     sylfes þæs folces.

I saw w and i travel over the plain,
carrying b . e . With both on that journey there was
the keeper’s joy: and a,
also a share of the power: þ and e.
5     F and æ rejoiced, flew over the ea
s and p of the same people.

w and i = wicg (horse)
b and e = beorn (man)
h and a = hafoc (horse)
þ and e = þegn (man)
f and æ = fælca (falcon)
ea and s and p = easpor? (water-track)

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: man on horseback; falconry; ship; scribe; writing

Screen shot for the runes:
Riddle 64 screenshot.png

Commentary for Riddle 59

This week’s commentary post is once again from Brett Roscoe of The King’s University, Alberta.

 

Imagine a hall where a lord and his warriors are drinking and laughing and generally just having a good time. The lord rewards a fighter with a ring, and the warrior proudly sends it around the table for all to admire (it is wylted ond wended wloncra folmum (rolled and turned in the hands of bold fighters)). This is the picture painted by Riddle 59, and at first it seems like a standard heroic scene. But there are some oddities that suggest there is more to this poem than meets the eye (cue eerie music). If the men are just looking at a ring, what makes them gleaw (prudent) and frod (wise) (lines 2b-3a)? And if the ring is a tacen (sign/emblem/symbol), what is it a sign of? Though in the foreground of this riddle we see warriors drinking in a hall, in the background we can hear the faint sounds of a priest’s sermon or a church choir.

The solution to Riddle 59 is “chalice,” which means the riddle is closely related to Riddle 48, whose possible solutions are “paten,” “chalice,” or “sacramental vessel” (though Megan thinks “paten” most likely). When Jesus instituted what we now know as the Lord’s Supper (or the Eucharist or Communion), he took a cup of wine and offered it to his disciples, and he said, “Drink ye all of this. For this is my blood of the new testament, which shall be shed for many unto remission of sins” (Bibite ex hoc omnes. Hic est enim sanguis meus novi testamenti, qui pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum; Mat. 26:27-28 Douay-Rheims). So now we know why the ring (the chalice) is called a golden tacen (sign/symbol/emblem). To the church, this chalice is more than just a cup; it is a sign of Jesus’ death and of God’s gift of forgiveness. It is meant for all of Jesus’ disciples, and so it is wylted and wended (rolled and turned) from hand to hand, the riddler’s tricky way of saying the cup is passed from person to person.

Riddle 59 Hexham Abbey Chalice.JPG

Here’s a nice, little, Anglo-Saxon chalice from Hexham Abbey
(photo courtesy of C.J.W. Brown)

Now, the only time I stare at my mug is when I’m bored, and I don’t think that’s why the men gaze at this cup (lines 1-3a). So what is it about the cup that makes people stare? It probably helps that the cup is wounded (lines 11-12). I might not stare at any old cup, but I might look twice at a bleeding one. The riddle shows us a cup that is similar to Jesus, who was wounded on the cross. But how is a cup wounded? By chipping or denting it? By throwing it across the room and then stomping on it? Craig Williamson suggests that the wounds on the cup refer to engravings in the gold gilding (page 313). To help us see what he means, here is a picture of the Tassilo Chalice, a cup from the 8th century:

TassilokelchSchreibmayr-2.jpg

Photo (by Andreas Püttmann) from Wikipedia Commons (license: CC BY-SA 2.0 de)

The chalice is engraved (or wounded) with pictures of Jesus and the four Evangelists, the Virgin Mary, and John the Baptist, and all the portraits are surrounded by a beautiful interlace pattern. If I had a cup like this, I’d probably stare at it too! The people gazing at the chalice, though, are doing more than admiring the artwork. They are called gleaw (prudent) and frod (wise) because by looking at the cup they are meditating on Christ’s death. Through its engravings, the cup brings a clear image of Christ into the gazers’ eyes and minds (lines 7b-9a), helping them contemplate the grace offered by God to those who take and drink.

If lines 12b-15a (“The prayer of any man…”) confuse you, you are in good company. Even Anglo-Saxonists don’t agree on what they mean. I’ve followed the translation suggested by Frederick Tupper Jr., which should clarify a bit, but the lines are still somewhat cryptic. Let’s start by looking at the phrase þære bene (the prayer). Though Tupper translates þære as “the,” it could also be translated “that,” and so we can assume the phrase þære bene refers to a specific prayer that has already been mentioned in the riddle. If we move backwards through the riddle looking for a prayer, it doesn’t take long before we find one. Two, actually. The first is in 3b-5a (“He who turned the ring asked for abundant peace…”), and the second in lines 5b-7a (when the ring speaks and names “the Healer”). The first prayer is from a Christian who drinks from the chalice, and the second prayer is from the chalice itself, possibly on behalf of the drinker. Since both are probably praying for grace for the drinker, we might say that they are both part of the same prayer, “that prayer” mentioned in line 12b. And if that prayer were to go ungefullodre (unfulfilled), if the person were not granted grace through the drinking of the wine, or, in other words, if the person did not have the gift of the eucharist and the sacrifice it represents, then he or she would never reach heaven.

So what’s in a cup? Wine, blood, and a lot of religious meaning. Looking up from writing this post, I suddenly find myself disappointed in my coffee mug.

 

References and Suggested Reading:

Allen, Michael J. B., and Daniel G. Calder, trans. Sources and Analogues of Old English Poetry: The Major Latin Texts in Translation. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1976.

Cosjin, P. J. “Anglosaxonica. IV.” Beitrage, vol. 23 (1898), pages 109-30.

Krapp, George Philip, and Elliott van Kirk Dobbie, eds. The Exeter Book. New York: Columbia University Press, 1936, pages 209-10, 351-52.

Tupper, Frederick Jr., ed. The Riddles of the Exeter Book. Boston: Ginn, 1910.

Williamson, Craig, ed. The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977, pages 102, 313-14.

Call for Papers, IMC Leeds 2014

The Riddle Ages plans to sponsor a session on ‘Anglo-Saxon Riddles’ at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, 7-10 July 2014.


The Old English riddles and Anglo-Latin enigmata were essential aspects of both education and entertainment in early medieval England. Many of these short poems have attracted scholarly interest because of their engagement with objects and facets of life not generally treated elsewhere in the Anglo-Saxon corpus. Yet, it is also their style that occasions interest, as the riddles frequently make use of and play with poetic language and conventions in order to achieve their didactic and aesthetic intent. Recent work on the Old English riddles in particular has highlighted the possibility of multiple readings inherent in their intricate structure and has returned the riddles to the focus of scholars working within different theoretical frameworks. We welcome papers on every aspect of these enigmatic texts, including but not restricted to discussions of diction and style, sources and analogues, solutions and cultural studies.

If you would like to be considered for this session, please email your abstract of no more than 300 words, as well as details of your affiliation and contact addresses, to Megan Cavell (megan.cavell@utoronto.ca) and Matthias Ammon (mra29@cam.ac.uk) by Wednesday, September 18th, 2013.