Translation Texts Flashcards
The Life of St. Æthelthryth
Written by Bede, St. Æthelthryth is an Anglo-Saxon saint.
London, British Library, MS Cotton Julius E. vii
The holy Æthelthryth lived as a maiden, though married. Her father, Anna, as king of the East Angles and a very Christian man. Æthelthryth was given to a nobleman as a wife, but God kept her in purity.Then, she was given to King Ecgfrith and even now remained a virgin.
Æthelthryth wished to lead a monastic life and became a nun. In the 8th year, she became ill; a swelling on her neck. She said: “I well know that I am worthy that my neck be afflicted with such illness”. She died after the wound had been opened, and her body could not decay. It healed people.
Sodom and Gomorrah
There are two ancient cities mentioned in the Book of Genesis. Both were destroyed by fire from God because of their sexual wickedness.
God tells Abraham that He plans to destroy Sodom. Abraham asks Him to promise to spare if ten good men can be found.
Lot, Abraham’s relative, lives in Sodom. He is visited by 3 angels, who instructed him to flee with his wife and children. They were instructed not to look back. God promises not to destroy the town (Zoar) where they want to go. Then, God destroyed the shameful people and the land of those cities.
Lot’s wife unwisely looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt.
The Fall of Adam and Eve
London, British Library, MS Cotton Claudius B. iv (B).
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 509 (L(
A Miracle of St. Benedict
During his life, St Benedict performed many miracle. He founded water on a desolate mountaintop to quench the thirst of his monks.
Translation narrative; brothers were building the house of a monastery, and there lay a stone in the middle, but it could not be moved. The brothers asked God to drive away the fiend on the stone, and so came a man of God, who gave his prayer there, and then the stone was lifted with speed.
Pope Gregory I wrote the life and miracles of St. Benedict.
A Vision of Hell
Saint Paulus travelled to the north, seeing black souls hanging from the icy trees. The branches collapsed and the souls fell. Saint Michael blessed the souls.
Letter to Brother Edward and ‘on customs of rural women’.
Letter to Edward who is being criticised for his Danish fashions and his disregard for the English customs. Because of this, the writer states, that his brother disgraces his people and that he should be ashamed. He also claims that anyone who practises these heathen customs will be cursed.
The custom of rural women is a continuation of the letter: in this letter, Ælfric is addressing Brother Eadweard and expressing his concerns about the inappropriate customs of rural women, particularly regarding their behavior at social gatherings.
Who’s the man so clever and mentally gifted that can say who drove me on my road, when strong I arise, sometimes cruel,
stand out mighty, from time to time in vengeance campaign across the fields, burn people’s bowers, loot their buildings? The smoke climbs, grey over roofs. There is tumult on earth, cruel killing of men, when I stir the woods, the budding groves, fell the trees, roofed by the ocean, by high powers driven on the hunt, sent far and wide.
I have on my back what did once cover persons who lived on earth, their flesh and souls, together in the sea. Say who may roof me, or what my name is, I who bear this burden.
Wind
I’m a lone survivor, wounded by iron, gashed by blade, sated with war-deeds, weary of edges. Often I see battle, savage fighting, nor expect solace that relief from conflict may reach me before I perish entirely as men do, but hammers’ leavings buffet me, cruel war-sharp edges, smiths’ handiwork, bite me in the boroughs. I must ever await a meeting more hostile, could never find the kind of medic in people’s dwellings who healed wounds with his herbs, but cuts from blades swell out on me from deadly strikes by day and night.
Shield
My garments are quiet when I tread the ground, or then settle in a place, or put to water.
Sometimes my trappings, and high up this air, lift me over the homes of men, and far and wide the power of clouds carries me over people. My adornments echo loudly and melodiously sound, brightly sing, when I am not touching the flood or earth, a ghost on his way.
Swan
Me in these days they gave up as dead, father and mother, nor was yet blood in me, a life within. Me then did [someone or other,] a well faithful female relative, clothe, love and care for, cover in a sheltering layer as kindly as if I were her own child, until under that sheet, as was my destiny, against non-siblings I swelled up in spirit.
Me the adopting woman thereafter fed, until I grew up and might further make my journeys. She had the less sweet sons and daughters for doing this!
Cuckoo
On feet I march, the soil i tear, green hillsides, while I carry spirit.
If my life is lost, I bind fast
dark Welshmen, sometimes men of higher rank.
Sometimes I give the valiant man
a drink from my bosom, sometimes a bride treads me, haughty, underfoot; sometimes, brought from afar, a dark-haired Welshgirl moves and presses me, foolish drunken maid, on dark nights, wets me in water, warms me at times pleasantly by the fire, the loose woman’s hand sticks me up her breast, moves me constantly, swives me through a dark one. Say what I’m called, I who plunder the land when living and after death serve multitudes.
Ox
I’m a wonderful creature, give women joy, am useful if they’re neighbours. I harm no one who sits around in town, only my slayer.
In bed I stand steep, with a high foundation, hairy somewhere down there. At times she dares, the churl’s real pretty daughter, spirited girl, to put her grip on me, races me in a red one, plunders my head, fixes me in confinement. Soon she feels my encounter, the woman who cramps me, a wife with braided hair. That eye will be wet.
Onion
Flame is busy with me, I play with the wind, encircled with glory, made one with the firmament, focused on the road hence, troubled by fire, blossoming in the grove, a glowing ember. Quite often the brothers pass me from hand to hand that men and women arrogantly may kiss me.
When I raise myself and they bow down to me, many with humility, there by a resurrection shall I add to the blessedness of mankind.
The cross
A moth devoured words. To me that seemed a wondrous fate, when I heard of that miracle, the serpent swallowing up the song of some man, a thief in darkness ingesting a mighty utterance and its strong foundation. The thieving guest was by no means the wiser for swallowing those words.
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