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Commentary for Exeter Riddle 21

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Sun 06 Apr 2014
Matching Riddle: Exeter Riddle 21

Boy, we sure are plowing through these riddles, aren’t we? Get it? Get it? If not, you must have forgotten the solution to Riddle 21: plough or plow (depending on how you prefer to spell)! If you prefer to spell like someone from early medieval England, then you’d be spelling it sulh. There isn’t a great deal of debate over this riddle’s solution, which – I have to say – is kind of obvious. So instead of scholarly debate, I’m going to impress you with pictures. And also details and such-like.

Here is a reproduction of a plough drawing in an eleventh-century calendar now housed in the British Library (Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, folio 3r):

Riddle 21 Anglo-Saxon plough

From The New Gresham Encyclopedia, available free online at Project Gutenberg. The original, in all its colourful glory, is digitized here.

The (quite lumpy-looking, though nonetheless smiley) team of oxen is nicely visible here, as are the various parts of the plough. These include the share (the bit that breaks up the earth) and the coulter (the bit that makes a groove for sowing seeds), which may be represented in the poem as the creature’s neb (nose), as well as the weapon that pierces the plough’s head (similar to the orþoncpil (skillful spear) driven through its back). Here’s a picture of an early medieval iron coulter from North Lincolnshire Museum:

Rusted coulter from several angles

Image from the Portable Antiquities Scheme (licence: CC BY-SA).

In addition to the specifics of actual ploughing (i.e. the description of the object laying horizontally and being pushed along, the sowing of seeds, the churning up of earth to make a path and the elements that pierce the object’s body), this poem provides useful information on an important aspect of the early medieval world: slavery. Whether born into it, taken in warfare or punished for criminal activity, slaves were common in this period. Despite the widespread nature of slavery at this time, few slaves are given voice in Old English literature, which is one of the reasons Riddle 21 is such an important text.

“Why the plough?” you might ask. “Surely there are all sorts of objects and animals that could have been chosen to represent an enslaved person in early medieval England.” That’s true, of course, and there are other riddles that give evidence of slavery. However, the fact that ploughing was a common role for slaves (according to the Domesday Book) goes some way to explaining the riddler’s choice. The unhappy conditions of slavery are also expounded in the Colloquy that Ælfric of Eynsham wrote in order to help his students learn Latin. It introduces a variety of figures who are quizzed about their roles and responsibilities. In a particularly empathetic passage, the enslaved ploughman cries: O! O! magnus labor. etiam, magnus labor est, quia non sum liber in Latin, or Hig! Hig! micel gedeorf ys hyt. / Geleof, micel gedeorf hit ys, forþam ic neom freoh (34-5) (Oh! Oh! The labour is great. Yes, the labour is great, because I am not free) in Old English (at page 21, lines 34-5). This is a rare example of a slave having a voice at all, let alone one that demands empathy.

Oxen grazing

Dexter cattle at Bede’s World in Jarrow. Photo courtesy of C.J.W. Brown.

Riddle 21 is another example of a metaphorical slave describing her/his condition. In fact, this riddle provides us with information about the type of slave the poem depicts: this slave has been brought from the forest, bound and borne into the settlement (brungen of bearwe, bunden cræfte, / wegen on wægne). The implication of the half-line har holtes feond (the old foe of the forest) is that the ploughman or ox responsible for clearing the land takes slaves during battle, an idea driven home by the weapon-imagery toward the end of the poem.

This context of slavery makes the poem’s innuendo pretty disturbing, if you ask me (Murphy talks about this innuendo at pages 175-6 of his book, cited below). All the riddle’s references to the prone speaker being aggressively pushed by its master (class/status implications are also clear when the poem refers to the plough’s hlaford (lord) twice) who sows seed are brought to a head by the final lines’ description of being served from behind. It doesn’t take an especially pervy imagination to see how this could be read sexually, particularly given the connotations of “plowing” in Modern English. Of course, the reference to the speaker’s steort (tail) and tearing teeth (ic toþum tere) may introduce a bestial element that only makes things worse.

All in all, Riddle 21 presents us with a creature forced to perform hard labour for its captor. I’d like to think that this image is a sympathetic one, but the introduction of innuendo may imply that the enslaved victim is the butt of the joke. Or maybe the fact that we’re dealing with an object rather than a person can ease our discomfort. I haven’t decided yet.

Notes:

References and Suggested Reading:

Ælfric of Eynsham. Ælfric’s Colloquy. Edited by G. N. Garmonsway. London: Methuen, 1939.

Bintley, Michael D. J. “Brungen of Bearwe: Ploughing Common Furrows in Riddle 21, The Dream of the Rood, and the Æcerbot Charm.” In Trees and Timber in the Anglo-Saxon World. Edited by Michael D. J. Bintley and Michael G. Shapland. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013, pages 144-57.

Cochran, Shannon Ferri. “The Plough’s the Thing: A New Solution to Old English Riddle 4 of the Exeter Book.” Journal of English and Germanic Philology, vol. 108, (2009), pages 301-9. (although this article deals with a different riddle, its discussion of the plough is relevant here)

Colgrave, Bertram. “Some Notes on Riddle 21.” Modern Language Review, vol. 32 (1937), pages 281-3.

Murphy, Patrick J. Unriddling the Exeter Riddles. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011.

Neville, Jennifer. “The Exeter Book Riddles’ Precarious Insights into Wooden Artefacts.” In Trees and Timber in the Anglo-Saxon World. Edited by Michael D. J. Bintley and Michael G. Shapland. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013, pages 122-38.

Williams, Edith Whitehurst. “Annals of the Poor: Folk Life in Old English Riddles.” Medieval Perspectives, vol. 3 (1988), pages 67-82.


Editorial Note:

The image of a different plough coulter was replaced and some text edited on 14 January 2021.



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 21 

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Exeter Riddle 21

Exeter Riddle 22

MATTHIASAMMON

Date: Mon 21 Apr 2014
Matching Commentaries: Commentary for Exeter Riddle 22
Original text:

Ætsomne cwom      LX monna
to wægstæþe      wicgum ridan;
hæfdon XI      eoredmæcgas
fridhengestas,      IIII sceamas.
5     Ne meahton magorincas      ofer mere feolan,
swa hi fundedon,      ac wæs flod to deop,
atol yþa geþræc,      ofras hea,
streamas stronge.      Ongunnon stigan þa
on wægn weras      ond hyra wicg somod
10     hlodan under hrunge;      þa þa hors oðbær
eh ond eorlas,      æscum dealle,
ofer wætres byht      wægn to lande,
swa hine oxa ne teah      ne esna mægen
ne fæthengest,      ne on flode swom,
15     ne be grunde wod      gestum under,
ne lagu drefde,      ne on lyfte fleag,
ne under bæc cyrde;      brohte hwæþre
beornas ofer burnan      ond hyra bloncan mid
from stæðe heaum,      þæt hy stopan up
20     on oþerne,      ellenrofe,
weras of wæge,      ond hyra wicg gesund.

Translation:

Together 60 men came
riding to the bank on horses;
11 horsemen had
noble steeds, 4 had white ones.
5     The warriors could not pass over the water,
as they intended, but the sea was too deep,
the terrible tumult of the waves, the banks too high,
the streams too strong. Then the men began
to climb up on the wagon together with their horses,
10     to load under the pole; then the wagon carried the horses,
mounts and men, proud in spears,
to land across the bay of the water,
in such a way that no ox pulled it, nor the strength of slaves,
nor a draught horse, nor did it swim on the water,
15     nor did it wade along the ground under its guests,
nor did it disturb the waters, nor fly in the air,
nor turned back; nevertheless it brought
the warriors over the stream, and their horses with them
from the high bank, so that they stepped up
20     onto the other, strong in courage,
the men from the waves, and also their horses, unharmed.

Click to show riddle solution?
Ursa Major, (days of the) month, bridge, New Year, stars


Notes:

This riddle appears on folios 106r-106v of The Exeter Book.

The above Old English text is based on this edition: Elliott van Kirk Dobbie and George Philip Krapp, eds, The Exeter Book, Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records 3 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1936), pages 191-2.

Note that this edition numbers the text Riddle 20: Craig Williamson, ed., The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), pages 80-1.



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 22 

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Exeter Riddle 3
Exeter Riddle 26
Exeter Riddle 49

Eusebius Riddle 22: De sermone

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Mon 27 Dec 2021
Original text:

Pervolo tam cito, discurrens per aethera missus.
Qui me mittit habet; aditurus sicubi mittor.
Ensibus igne secures sic penetrabo reclusa.
Non videor volitans, oculorum aspectibus adstans.

Translation:

I fly very quickly, sent running through the air.
Whoever sends me has me; I will go wherever I am sent.
Safe from swords and fire, I will thus penetrate shut-up places.
Flying I am not seen, although I stand near eyes’ glances.

Click to show riddle solution?
On speech


Tags: riddles  latin  Eusebius 

Tatwine Riddle 22: De Adam

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Wed 05 Jan 2022
Original text:

Regem me quondam gnari et dominum vocitabant 
Sceptri dum solus tunc regmen in orbe tenebam—
Pro dolor, heu, socia virtute redactus inermem.
Hostilis, subito, circum me copia cinxit, 
Ac deinceps miserum servis servire coegit.

Translation:

Wise men once called me king and lord,
While I was alone holding then the sceptre’s rule in the world—
O woe, alas, reduced by my kindred character.
Suddenly, enemy troops surrounded me, defenceless,
And thereafter compelled me, miserable, to serve slaves.

Click to show riddle solution?
On Adam


Tags: riddles  latin  Tatwine 

Aldhelm Riddle 22: Acalantida

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Sat 12 Mar 2022
Original text:

Vox mea diversis variatur pulcra figuris,
Raucisonis numquam modulabor carmina rostris; 
Spurca colore tamen, sed non sum spreta canendo:
Sic non cesso canens fato terrente futuro;
Nam me bruma fugat, sed mox aestate redibo.

Translation:

My beautiful voice is transformed through different arrangements,
I shall never sing my songs with a hoarse-sounding beak;
Though dusky in colour, I am not contemptible while singing:
Thus I do not stop singing in fear of a future fate:
For winter drives me out, but I will return immediately in summer.

Click to show riddle solution?
Nightingale


Notes:

This edition is based on Rudolf Ehwald, ed. Aldhelmi Opera Omnia. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, 15. Berlin: Weidmann, 1919, pages 59-150. Available online here.



Tags: riddles  latin  Aldhelm 

Symphosius Riddle 22: Formica

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Fri 01 Jul 2022
Original text:

Provida sum vitae, duro non pigra labore,
Ipsa ferens umeris securae praemia brumae.
Nec gero magna simul, sed congero multa vicissim.

Translation:

I am prudent in my life, not lazy when it comes to hard work,
Bearing on my own shoulders foodstuffs for a safe winter.
Nor do I carry a lot all at once, but I collect a lot little by little.

Click to show riddle solution?
Ant


Notes:

This edition is based on Raymond T. Ohl, ed. The Enigmas of Symphosius. PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1928.



Tags: riddles  solutions  latin  symphosius 

Commentary for Exeter Riddle 22

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Wed 07 May 2014
Matching Riddle: Exeter Riddle 22

This riddle’s commentary is a guest post from the stellar David Callander. David is a PhD student at the University of Cambridge, where he works on early medieval Welsh and English poetry. Take it away, David!

 

If you’re anything like me, this riddle will have completely foxed you. Different possibilities are gradually taken away until we’re left wondering, what on earth could this be? Or not on earth, perhaps.

First of all, we’re told that we’re dealing with LX men riding on horseback (Arabic numbers weren’t used in England yet, so the residents of early medieval England were stuck with Roman numerals.) Instead of moving on to describe different aspects of these men, we’re told a short story about them trying to cross a river. They want to cross this river, but are held back by the atol yþa geþræc, the ‘terrible tumult of the waves’. So then this wægn (it is what it looks like) turns up and, with a conveniently introduced pole, both ‘mounts and men’ are borne cheerfully over the water. But they do this in a seemingly impossible way – it did not disturb the water, nor fly in the air (so the Wind’s out), and also they weren’t pulled by the strength of slaves, or beasts of burden (13-14). This concludes with a happy ending, the men and horses have reached the greener grass of the far bank gesund (‘unharmed’ – the word is still used in Modern German and forms the first part of Gesundheit.) To me it all sounds a bit like punting.

Punting on River Cam

Photo (by Evans1551) from Wikimedia Commons (licence: CC BY-SA 3.0).

So, a lovely story, but we aren’t really left any the wiser as to what is being described, and there’s just so much going on! What are the men and horses, and what’s the teleporting wagon doing? And why are there sixty men, eleven with noble steeds and four with white ones? Presumably the rest had to make do with tiny Viking horses:

Icelandic horse in snow

Photo (by Andreas Tille) from Wikimedia Commons (licence: CC BY-SA 3.0).

Well, as you might expect, scholars have been arguing about this for at least 150 years. What can cross water, but not in the sky nor through the water itself? We are compelled to look up.

For some of us nowadays, it can be easy to forget the stars. But for the people of early medieval England they would have been vivid in the unclouded sky, without fumes and smog to blot them out. The constellation we now know as the Big Dipper (Ursa Major) was then known as Carles wæn (literally "a churl’s wagon"). This seems to have represented a wagon with a single pole, as L. Blakeley explains. Ælfric refers to how this constellation goes up and down both by day and by night in his De temporibus anni. The constellation under the “Wain” (Canes Venatici) consists of eleven stars visible to the naked eye, four of which Blakeley sees as particularly bright (the eleven noble steeds and four white ones.) Patrick Murphy has preferred to see the constellation Draco here, which, conveniently, consists of fifteen stars.

Big dipper

Can you see it? Photo (by adkiscool) from Deviant Art.

But why sixty horsemen altogether? Marijane Osborn makes the ingenious suggestion that this refers to sixty days after the winter solstice, when the position of the Big Dipper in relation to the pole would mark the seasons, or it could just be used more loosely to refer to many stars. Like other Old English riddles, this poem might draw upon Aldhelm’s Latin riddles (Riddle 53 in particular, which also refers to the Wain.)

Other solutions have been suggested, such as "month" and "bridge." A "month" (December in particular) was the earliest proposed solution, with the sixty days referring to the half-days of the month. It runs into a bit of trouble because it relies on counting feast days (seven) and Sundays (four, although there could be five) in terms of full days, rather than half-days like the other days of the month. It seems a bit of a leap to take this out of the riddle. A "bridge" would certainly have allowed the horsemen to cross the river without disturbing the water. But how would this explain the horsemen? And why would they have been stuck on one side of the water if there was already a bridge there?

One last tantalizing titbit. Classical writers refer to the Big Dipper as a plough (the constellation Boötes being the ploughman.) If we look at the first three riddles of the Exeter Book (unless we see them as one super-riddle), it seems that some of the riddles have been grouped together by theme. I wonder whether the idea of the Big Dipper as a plough was in the mind of a compiler when he decided to place the text after Riddle 21 (the Plough)?

Notes:

References and Suggested Reading:

Ælfric. De Temporibus Anni. Ed. Heinrich Henel. Early English Text Society, vol. 213. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1942, section 9.6.

Blakeley, L. “Riddles 22 and 58 of the Exeter Book.” Review of English Studies, new series, vol. 9 (1958), pages 241-7.

Murphy, Patrick J. Unriddling the Exeter Riddles. PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011, pages 111-23.

Osborne, Marijane. “Old English Ing and his Wain.” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, vol. 81 (1980), pages 388-9.

Williamson, Craig, ed. The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977, pages 201-4.



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 22  david callander 

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Commentary for Exeter Riddle 53

Exeter Riddle 23

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Thu 15 May 2014
Matching Commentaries: Commentary for Exeter Riddle 23
Original text:

Agof is min noma      eft onhwyrfed;
ic eom wrætlic wiht      on gewin sceapen.
Þonne ic onbuge,      ond me of bosme fareð
ætren onga,     ic beom eallgearo
5     þæt ic me þæt feorhbealo     feor aswape.
Siþþan me se waldend,     se me þæt wite gescop,
leoþo forlæteð,     ic beo lengre þonne ær,
oþþæt ic spæte,      spilde geblonden,
ealfelo attor     þæt ic ær geap.
10     Ne togongeð þæs     gumena hwylcum,
ænigum eaþe      þæt ic þær ymb sprice,
gif hine hrineð     þæt me of hrife fleogeð,
þæt þone mandrinc      mægne geceapaþ,
fullwered fæste      feore sine.
15     Nelle ic unbunden      ænigum hyran
nymþe searosæled.     Saga hwæt ic hatte.

Translation:

Wob is my name turned back;
I am a wondrous being, shaped for battle.
When I bend, and from my bosom travels
a poisonous dart, I am very ready
5     so that I sweep that deadly evil far away from me.
When my ruler, he who designed that distress,
looses my limbs, I am longer than before,
until I spit, debased by destruction,
the terrible poison that I took in before.
10     What I speak about here does not
easily pass away from anyone,
if that which flies from my belly strikes him,
so that he buys that evil drink with his strength,
[pays] full compensation with his very life.
15     Unbound, I will not obey anyone
unless skillfully tied. Say what I am called.

Click to show riddle solution?
Bow


Notes:

This riddle appears on folio 106v of The Exeter Book.

The above Old English text is based on this edition: Elliott van Kirk Dobbie and George Philip Krapp, eds, The Exeter Book, Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records 3 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1936), page 192.

Note that this edition numbers the text Riddle 21: Craig Williamson, ed., The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), page 81.



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 23 

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Eusebius Riddle 23: De equore

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Mon 27 Dec 2021
Original text:

Motor, curro, fero velox, nec desero sedem.
Tenue vagumque manens, tam gravia pondera porto.
Nix neque me tegit, aut grando permit, aut gelu vincit,
De super aut multis sternor, sed pluribus intus.

Translation:

I am moved; I run; swift, I go, but I do not leave my home. 
I remain thin and unfixed, but I carry heavy loads.
Snow does not cover me, nor does hail does afflict me, nor does frost conquer me,
Nor am I calmed by many from above, but by more from within.

Click to show riddle solution?
On the sea


Tags: riddles  latin  Eusebius 

Tatwine Riddle 23: De trina morte

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Wed 05 Jan 2022
Original text:

Saucio loetiferis omnes cum morsibus intus,
Nam rabidi trino capitis sub dente perimo.
Sed multi evadunt binorum vulnera dentum,
Tertius est nullus quem devitare licebit,
Sed binorum alter mordet quemcumque perimit.

Translation:

I wound everyone inside with my deadly bites,
For I kill by way of the three teeth in my savage head.
Although many evade the wounds of two teeth,
There is a third which no one will be able to flee,
But one of the two destroys whomever it kills.

Click to show riddle solution?
On threefold death


Tags: riddles  latin  Tatwine 

Aldhelm Riddle 23: Trutina

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Sat 12 Mar 2022
Original text:

Kos geminas olim genuit natura sorores,
Quas iugiter rectae legis censura gubernat;
Temnere personas et ius servare solemus.
Felix in terra fieret mortalibus aevum,
Iustitiae normam si servent more sororum.

Translation:

Long ago, nature made us, twin sisters,
Whom the observation of just law eternally governs;
We are accustomed to rejecting individuals and protecting justice.
Happy would that age be for mortals on earth
If they would honour the norm of justice as we sisters do.

Click to show riddle solution?
Pair of scales


Notes:

This edition is based on Rudolf Ehwald, ed. Aldhelmi Opera Omnia. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, 15. Berlin: Weidmann, 1919, pages 59-150. Available online here.



Tags: riddles  latin  Aldhelm 

Symphosius Riddle 23: Musca

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Fri 01 Jul 2022
Original text:

Improba sum, fateor: quid enim gula turpe veretur?
Frigora vitabam, quae nunc aestate revertor;
Sed cito submoveor falso conterrita vento.

Translation:

I am shameless, I admit: for what filth does my throat actually fear?
I avoided the cold and am now returned with the summer;
But I am quickly driven away, terrified of the false wind.

Click to show riddle solution?
Fly


Notes:

This edition is based on Raymond T. Ohl, ed. The Enigmas of Symphosius. PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1928.



Tags: riddles  solutions  latin  symphosius 

Commentary for Exeter Riddle 23

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Mon 26 May 2014
Matching Riddle: Exeter Riddle 23

Erm…is anyone else a bit scared of whatever Riddle 23 is packing? I mean, I like heroic battling as much as the next person, but this poem is a tad intense. It’s also fairly easy to solve. In fact, the consensus that it refers to a bow (OE boga) is pretty strong.

Scene from Bayeux Tapestry

Can you spot the archer in this scene from the Bayeux Tapestry? Photo (by Gabriel Seah) from Wikimedia Commons (public domain).

According to Donald K. Fry, “Crossbow” and “Phallus” also get a shout out (p. 23), but since the first is a type of bow and the second is pretty horrific in this context, I won’t take an extended go at solutions. I will say, however, that the first line gives the game away. At least it does if you think really hard about it. Taking up the speaker’s recommendation to turn back the name Agof, we get Foga, which then needs to be corrected to Boga. This change requires us to speculate that a scribe copying out this poem was used to replacing “b”s with “f”s to suit her/his own pronunciation and spelling conventions (Williamson, pp. 204-5). Oh, early medieval England. You’re so complex.

More straightforward are all the references to poison in the poem. The venomous association of arrows is pretty strongly signaled, with references to an ætren onga (poisonous dart) at line 4a and ealfelo attor (terrible poison) at line 9a. In line 8b, the bow also refers to itself as spilde geblonden (debased by destruction), and we know from looking at (ge)blandan’s Dictionary of Old English (DOE) entries that we’re dealing with a liquid-y sort of blending or mixing that can also denote infection or taint. This liquidity (SUCH a good word!) is carried out in the poetic metaphor of the bow delivering a mandrinc (evil drink) at line 13a.

There’s also some debate about lines 13-14 in general and the term fullwer (compensation, i.e. “full wergild“) in specific. Noting that this word might not actually be a compound at all, the DOE offers a few options for translating this passage: “‘so that he pays for that evil drink with his strength, [pays] full compensation at once with his life,’ or, if the subject is wer (man) and full (cup) is the object of geceapaþ:‘the man pays for that evil drink with his strength, [for] the cup at once with his life.'” The “cup” reading works nicely with the poison, of course, but the rest of the poem’s connotations of crime and punishment make room for the “compensation” version.

So now you’re probably wondering: did early English folks actually poison the tips of their weapons? That’s a really good question. I don’t know about the archaeological record off the top of my head (homework!), but certainly there are other poetic references to poisoned points in The Battle of Maldon (see lines 46-7 and 145b-6a) and potentially Beowulf (see lines 1457-60a). Of course, the poison/bow motif might also relate to the fact that the yew used to make bows was poisonous. Here, we’ve got a nice little Anglo-Latin riddle in the way of Aldhelm of Malmesbury’s Enigma 69, De taxo (about the yew-tree) for a comparison. Lines 5-8 read:

Sed me pestiferam fecerunt fata reorum,
Cumque venenatus glescit de corpore stipes,
Lurcones rabidi quem carpunt rictibus oris,
Occido mandentum mox plura cadavera leto. (in Glorie)

(but the fates have made me deadly to the guilty. A poisonous branch grows from my body, and when pillagers, mad of mouth, seize it with open jaws, I soon wipe out many corpses of the chewers with death.)

This 7th/8th-century abbot, bishop and writer extraordinaire is a font of riddley knowledge on all sorts of topics. And his poem is proof that some early English folks knew that yew was a tad on the massively dangerous side (although there’s also an article by Lenore Abraham suggesting that yew wasn’t all that accessible in early medieval England). But that doesn’t seem to have stopped the figure on the right side of the 8th-century Franks Casket’s lid from shooting up the place:

Riddle 23 Franks Casket Lid

Photo (by FinnWikiNo) from Wikimedia Commons (licence: CC BY-SA 3.0).

Since we’re doing a bit of Latin show-and-tell, let’s also take a look at another related riddle. Tatwine, the 8th-century Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote a pretty gosh-darn similar poem, called Enigma 34, De faretra (about the quiver). It goes a little something like this:

Omnes enim diris complent mea uiscera flammae
Nam me flamma ferox stimulis deuastat acerius
Vt pacis pia mox truculenter foedera frangam
Non tamen oblectat me sponte subire duellum. (in Glorie)

(Flames, terrible indeed, fill all my insides, for a bold fire lays waste to me with sharp spurs so that, wildly, I soon break faithful agreements of peace; nevertheless it does not delight me in myself to go to war.)

Well hello there, fiery flames! Aren’t you frequently linked to poison in Old English lit? (the answer is yes…yes they are). Of course, this quiver full of arrows isn’t creepily eager to get involved in the whole warfare thing. But I guess bows and quivers can be attributed with different personalities. I’m so tempted to draw you a picture of this. So tempted.

But I suppose I’ll stick to proper commentary this week.

What else should we notice about this poem? Well, did anyone catch that opening formula? Line 2b’s reference to being on gewin sceapen (shaped for battle) is – quite importantly – the same phrase that describes the sword in line 1b of Riddle 20. Weapons of the world, unite! Other linguistic cleverness can be seen at the very end of Riddle 23 in that little binding-pun. The tongue-in-cheek final flourish – Nelle ic unbunden ænigum hyran / nymþe searosæled (Unbound, I will not obey anyone unless skillfully tied) – is clearly a reference to both 1) the controlling sort of binding that one could inflict upon a living creature and 2) the stringing of a bow. Such a clever riddler.

I’m going to stop now, although I could go on. I could list the references to archery that come up in other brilliant early English texts. I could talk about that rather optimistic compound feorhbealu (deadly evil) and how it only occurs here and in Beowulf. I could remark that this bow’s ruler is clearly not a very nice fellow, with all his designing of distress (line 6b) and what-not. But I’m quite tired. And I need to go buy milk.

Notes:

References and Suggested Reading:

Abraham, Lenore. “The Devil, the Yew Bow, and the Saxon Archer.” Proceedings of the PMR Conference, vol. 16-17 (1992-3), pages 1-12.

Dictionary of Old English: A-G Online. Ed. by Antonette diPaolo Healey, Dorothy Haines, Joan Holland, David McDougall, and Ian McDougall, with Pauline Thompson and Nancy Speirs. Web interface by Peter Mielke and Xin Xiang. Toronto: Dictionary of Old English Project, 2007. [with the next roll-out, you’ll be able to access the DOE a set amount of times for free!]

Fry, Donald K. “Exeter Book Riddle Solutions.” Old English Newsletter, vol. 15 (1981), pages 22-33.

Glorie, F., ed. Variae Collectiones Aenigmatum Merovingicae Aetatis. Corpus Christianorum Series Latina, vol. 133-133A. Turnhout: Brepols, 1968.

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



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 23 

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Commentary for Exeter Riddle 73
Commentary for Exeter Riddles 75 and 76
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Exeter Riddle 24

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Tue 03 Jun 2014
Matching Commentaries: Commentary for Exeter Riddle 24

Righto, folks…we’ve got runes again this week. If you can’t see the runes in the Old English riddle below, scroll down for a screen shot at the bottom of the post.



Original text:

Ic eom wunderlicu wiht,      wræsne mine stefne,
hwilum beorce swa hund,     hwilum blæte swa gat,
hwilum græde swa gos,    hwilum gielle swa hafoc,
hwilum ic onhyrge     þone haswan earn,
5     guðfugles hleoþor,     hwilum glidan reorde
muþe gemæne,     hwilum mæwes song,
þær ic glado sitte.     . ᚷ. mec nemnað,
swylce . ᚫ. ond . ᚱ.      . ᚩ. fullesteð,
. ᚻ. ond . ᛁ .     Nu ic haten eom
10     swa þa siex stafas      sweotule becnaþ.

Translation:

I am a wondrous creature, I vary my voice,
sometimes I bark like a dog, sometimes I bleat like a goat,
sometimes I bellow like a goose, sometimes I yell like a hawk,
sometimes I echo the ashy eagle,
5     the noise of the war-bird, sometimes the voice of the kite
I convey from my mouth, sometimes the gull’s song,
where I sit gladly. G they call me,
likewise Æ and R. O helps,
H and I. Now I am named
10     as those six characters clearly connote.

Click to show riddle solution?
Jay, Magpie, Woodpecker


Notes:

This riddle appears on folio 106v of The Exeter Book.

The above Old English text is based on this edition: Elliott van Kirk Dobbie and George Philip Krapp, eds, The Exeter Book, Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records 3 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1936), pages 192-3.

Note that this edition numbers the text Riddle 22: Craig Williamson, ed., The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), page 82.

Screen shot for the runes:
Riddle 24 with runes

Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 24 

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Eusebius Riddle 24: De morte et vita

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Mon 27 Dec 2021
Original text:

Binae nos sumus: una sed est flens, mesta tenebris;
Altera perseverat, tam lucida laetaque semper.
Cum me plus homines instant conquerere tristem,
Illa laetifica pereunt quae lumine ridet.

Translation:

We are two: but one is grieving, sorrowful in the shadows;
The other persists, very bright and forever joyful.
Although men devote themselves more to seeking me, the melancholy one,
They love to death that cheerful one who laughs in the light.

Click to show riddle solution?
On death and life


Tags: riddles  latin  Eusebius 

Tatwine Riddle 24: De humilitate

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Wed 05 Jan 2022
Original text:

Egregius vere nullus sine me est neque felix.
Amplector cunctos quorum me corda requirunt. 
Qui absque meo graditur comitatu morte peribit,
Et qui me gestat sospes sine fine manebit.
Inferior terris et caelis altior exsto.

Translation:

No one is truly excellent or happy without me.
I embrace all whose hearts seek me.
He who goes without my companionship will be destroyed by death,
And he who carries me will remain safe without end.
I am lower than the earths and higher than the heavens.

Click to show riddle solution?
On humility


Tags: riddles  latin  Tatwine 

Aldhelm Riddle 24: Dracontia

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Sat 12 Mar 2022
Original text:

Me caput horrentis fertur genuisse draconis;
Augeo purpureis gemmarum lumina fucis,
Sed mihi non dabitur rigida virtute potestas,
Si prius occumbat squamoso corpore natrix,
Quam summo spolier capitis de vertice rubra.

Translation:

The head of a horrible dragon is reported to have produced me.
I increase the shine of gems with my crimson colour, 
But the power of great strength will not be given to me
If the snake with a scaly body should die
Before I am plundered, red, from the very top of its head.

Click to show riddle solution?
Dragon-stone


Notes:

This edition is based on Rudolf Ehwald, ed. Aldhelmi Opera Omnia. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, 15. Berlin: Weidmann, 1919, pages 59-150. Available online here.



Tags: riddles  latin  Aldhelm 

Symphosius Riddle 24: Curculio

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Fri 01 Jul 2022
Original text:

Non bonus agricolis, non frugibus utilis hospes,
Non magnus forma, non recto nomine dictus
Non gratus Cereri, non parvam sumo saginam.

Translation:

Not good to farmers nor a useful guest to crops,
Not great in size nor called by my true name,
Not pleasing to Ceres, I acquire not a little nourishment.

Click to show riddle solution?
Weevil


Notes:

This edition is based on Raymond T. Ohl, ed. The Enigmas of Symphosius. PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1928.

If you're researching/studying this collection, you should also consult this excellent new edition: T. J. Leary, ed. Symphosius: The Aenigmata, An Introduction, Text and Commentary. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Textual differences in that edition include:

  • Title: Curculio > gurgulio (but maintaing the translation "weevil")
  • line 3: non parvam sumo saginam > sed multa vivo sagina


Tags: riddles  solutions  latin  symphosius 

Commentary for Exeter Riddle 24

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Sun 15 Jun 2014
Matching Riddle: Exeter Riddle 24

People who know me will be aware that barely concealed beneath my ruthlessly sharp academic persona is a crazy cat lady begging to come out and play. Not just a cat lady, in fact: an all-the-cute-animals-all-the-time lady. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this in past posts, but it’s about to become very apparent indeed. That’s because Riddle 24 – my new favourite – has references to not one fluffy creature, not even two fluffy creatures, but SEVEN FLUFFY CREATURES!!! Yes, I’m including all the birds in this category, because baby birds are basically the best things ever.

Goose and goslings

A goose and a million goslings. Did you know when you google “gosling” all you get is a whole lot of Ryan? Photo (author: Dhinakaran Gajavarathan) from Wikimedia Commons.

 

Aside from its compendium of animal noises, other special features of this week’s riddle include: a runic cypher and a narrative structure to rival that of the children’s classic, See Spot Run (just kidding).

But I’m sure you’re all dying to know the solution first. Well it turns out it isn’t so very hard to figure out if you know your runes and your Old English (and who doesn’t these days?). When we translate all the runes into the alphabet that you and I are more familiar with, we get: G, Æ, R, O, H and I. I should say that rather than a runic ᚷ (G), the manuscript actually contains the letter “x,” but editors like Craig Williamson (p. 207-9) reckon that can be marked down to a bit of scribal confusion (considering the poem lumps it in with þa siex stafas (those six characters)). So, what’s a GÆROHI? Sounds cool! But in fact it means absolutely nothing. However, if you switch the letters around enough times, you’ll end up with “higoræ” and that is most certainly a something. The specific something that it is: is a “jay” (probably).

A spelling variant of the Old English nouns higera (boy birdies) and higere (girl birdies), what we’re dealing with here is a winged creature famous for being able to mimic the sounds that other animals (and things) make. Of course, as a close relation to the (also mimicky) magpie, there has been a bit of confusion and disagreement amongst scholars. The ever-so-clever Dieter Bitterli points out that an early English glossary can clear this up for us (pp. 91-7). Old English for “magpie” seems to be agu. Of course, there’s always the possibility of having more than one word for a concept, a position that’s strengthened by the fact that Latin pica can mean either “jay” or “magpie.” How about we make things more complicated? The similarity of the Latin word picus (woodpecker) has at least once confused an early medieval translator who glossed it with higera instead of the more usual Old English fina. But it seems unlikely that the bird in this riddle is a woodpecker because woodpeckers don’t mimic…they peck. SO: we’re probably looking at a jay. Or maybe a magpie. And it’s the fault of the Old English gloss of Latin picus that woodpecker’s also in the mix.

There was also at least one kinda cray cray suggestion made well over a hundred years ago now. Emma Sonke suggested (in German, so some of you won’t be able to check up on me!) that the poem refers to an actor who mimics animal and bird sounds. Sort of like a medieval Michael Winslow (i.e. the guy from Police Academy who made all the fun noises: here have a NINE MINUTE video of him).

But in general, the fact that the runes spell out a word in Old English means solution-squabbling is not so common for this riddle. “If not solutions, then what else can you tell us, Megan?” I hear you cry. Well…I could fill up the rest of this post with pictures of the animals it names. There’s a barky dog:

Irish Wolfhound from side

I have no idea what early medieval dogs looked like. I’m guessing like this. Photo (author: Dux) from the Wikimedia Commons.

 

There’s a bleaty goat:

Goats

Mommy and baby goats! Photo (author: Jason Pratt) from the Wikimedia Commons.

 

There’s a bellowy goose, but I already showed you tons of those.

There’s a yelly hawk:

Hawk and chicks

Red-tailed hawks. Photo (author: Thomas O’Neil) from the Wikimedia Commons.

 

There’s an ashy eagle:

Golden eagle

The most golden of eagles. Photo (author: Tony Hisgett) from Wikimedia Commons.

 

There’s a vocal kite:

Milvus_migrans_2005-new

Kite in flight. Photo from Wikimedia Commons.

 

And there’s a singy gull:

Gull on snow

Snow-gull! Photo (author: jomilo75) from Wikimedia Commons.

 

“You’re just being lazy, Megan!” I hear the particularly annoying ones among you yelling. “You can’t fill up a whole blog post with pictures of (modern) animals!” (just watch me…just you watch me). Well, I suppose you might be right. I suppose I ought to say things like “boy, isn’t there an awful lot of hwilum-anaphora going on here!” But you wouldn’t like that, would you? (P.S. “anaphora” means repeating the same word at the start of successive clauses).

But I’ve had a card hidden up my sleeve the whole time. I know what you prolly will like. Beasts of battle! I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned these in a previous post, but Old English (and other early Germanic) poets love gross, gory birds and wolves that swoop down on battles and clean up the mess (by eating people). These are pretty horrid, really, but they’re an important part of the poetics of the time. So when you see an eagle, raven or wolf in the poetry, it’s generally quite a bad sign. This poem makes the link very clear by calling the ashy eagle (a lot of eagles are described by the indistinctive colour-term hasu in OE poetry) a guðfugol (war-bird). No folks, this isn’t a military plane we’ve got here, but a literal bird-of-war. We can compare the compound to guðhafoc (war-hawk) at line 64a of The Battle of Brunanburh and herefugol at line 162b of Exodus. So next time you’re out at the park, enjoying a bit of sun, taking the air, maybe having a little walk, remember that eagles want to eat you. Maybe you can stave them off by reciting this poem to them.

Good luck with that.

Over and out.

Notes:

References and Suggested Reading:

Bitterli, Dieter. Say What I Am Called: the Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book and the Anglo-Latin Riddle Tradition. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009.

Sonke, Emma. “Zu dem 25. Rätsel des Exeterbuches.” Englische Studien, vol. 37 (1907), pages 313-18.

Williamson, Craig, ed. The Old English Riddles of The Exeter Book. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977.



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 24 

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Exeter Riddle 25

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Thu 26 Jun 2014
Matching Commentaries: Commentary for Exeter Riddle 25
Original text:

Ic eom wunderlicu wiht,     wifum on hyhte,
neahbuendum nyt;     nængum sceþþe
burgsittendra,     nymþe bonan anum.
Staþol min is steapheah,     stonde ic on bedde,
5     neoþan ruh nathwær.     Neþeð hwilum
ful cyrtenu     ceorles dohtor,
modwlonc meowle,     þæt heo on mec gripeð,
ræseð mec on reodne,     reafað min heafod,
fegeð mec on fæsten.     Feleþ sona
10     mines gemotes, seo þe mec nearwað,
wif wundenlocc.     Wæt bið þæt eage.

Translation:

I am a wondrous creature, a joy to women,
a help to neighbours; I harm none
of the city-dwellers, except for my killer.
My base is steep and high, I stand in a bed,
5     shaggy somewhere beneath. Sometimes ventures
the very beautiful daughter of a churl,
a maid proud in mind, so that she grabs hold of me,
rubs me to redness, ravages my head,
forces me into a fastness. Immediately she feels
10     my meeting, the one who confines me,
the curly-locked woman. Wet will be that eye.

Click to show riddle solution?
Onion, leek, mustard, phallus, etc.


Notes:

This riddle appears on folios 106v-107r of The Exeter Book.

The above Old English text is based on this edition: Elliott van Kirk Dobbie and George Philip Krapp, eds, The Exeter Book, Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records 3 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1936), page 193.

Note that this edition numbers the text Riddle 23: Craig Williamson, ed., The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), page 82.



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 25 

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Eusebius Riddle 25: De corde

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Mon 27 Dec 2021
Original text:

Unus inest homo qui tantum in me clausa videbit,
Quique suis me non oculis conspexerat umquam.
Non sum magna domus, cum pervenit accola magnus.
Nulla est ianua, cum tamen omnis me simul implent. (1)

Translation:

There is one man (2) alone who will see such closed-off parts in me,
And who never observed me with his eyes.
I am not a great house, although a great inhabitant approaches.
There is no door, yet all fill me at the same time.

Click to show riddle solution?
On the heart


Notes:

(1) In the manuscript, CUL Gg.5.35, the riddle is titled De animo (On the soul). 
(2) The “one man” is Jesus.
 



Tags: riddles  latin  Eusebius 

Tatwine Riddle 25: De superbia

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Wed 05 Jan 2022
Original text:

Eximio quondam sedis sum nata parente,
Quem diris, vinctum, dampnis regna spoliavi.
Septenas pariter mihi deservire parabam
Reginas, comitum septas cum prole maligna.
Parvus ast, obiens me, iam prostraverat armis.

Translation:

Once I was born from a remarkable parent in his habitat,
Whom, bound, I despoiled of his kingdoms with fearful damages.
Likewise, I was preparing to devote myself to seven
Queens, surrounded with the evil offspring of their companions.
But a little one, meeting me, now overthrew me with weapons.

Click to show riddle solution?
On pride


Tags: riddles  latin  Tatwine 

Aldhelm Riddle 25: Magnes ferrifer

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Sat 12 Mar 2022
Original text:

Vis mihi naturae dedit, immo creator Olimpi,
Id, quo cuncta carent veteris miracula mundi.
Frigida nam chalibis suspendo metalla per auras:
Vi quadam superans sic ferrea fata revinco;
Mox adamante Cypri praesente potentia fraudor.

Translation:

The strength of nature, or rather the creator of heaven, gave to me
That which is lacking in all the miracles of the old world. 
For I raise cold steely metals through the air:
Conquering thus by means of this specific strength, I overcome iron fates again;
In the presence of Cyprian adamant, I am immediately defrauded of my power.

Click to show riddle solution?
Iron-attracting Magnet


Notes:

This edition is based on Rudolf Ehwald, ed. Aldhelmi Opera Omnia. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, 15. Berlin: Weidmann, 1919, pages 59-150. Available online here.



Tags: riddles  latin  Aldhelm 

Symphosius Riddle 25: Mus

ALEXANDRAREIDER

Date: Fri 01 Jul 2022
Original text:

Parva mihi domus est sed ianua semper aperta.
Exiguo sumptu furtiva vivo sagina.
Quod mihi nomen inest, Romae quoque consul habebat.

Translation:

My house is little, but the door is always open.
I live at small cost on stolen food.
A Roman consul also had what my name is.

Click to show riddle solution?
Mouse


Notes:

This edition is based on Raymond T. Ohl, ed. The Enigmas of Symphosius. PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1928.



Tags: riddles  solutions  latin  symphosius 

Commentary for Exeter Riddle 25

MEGANCAVELL

Date: Thu 03 Jul 2014
Matching Riddle: Exeter Riddle 25

Just a little content warning to begin with. If you’ve already read Riddle 25’s translation, you’re probably aware that there’s some pretty obvious body humour going on in this poem. So prepare yourself to read the word “phallus” more times in one post than perhaps you would prefer.

Phallus.

(I did warn you)

So, Riddle 25, eh? What might the solution be? According to Donald K. Fry’s list of riddle solutions, this poem has been interpreted as: Hemp, Leek, Onion, Rosehip, Mustard and Phallus (p. 23). Onion, the Old English for which is cipe or cipeleac, has the most supporters.

Uprooted red onions on ground

This is what an onion looks like, for those of you who don’t know. Photo (author: Stephen Ausmus) from Wikimedia Commons.

The onion plant’s shape explains the riddle’s reference to a steapheah (literally, “steep-high”) staþol (foundation/base). I’m not entirely certain how you can have a “steep” foundation, although I’ve gone with editors Krapp and Dobbie here. This line would perhaps make a little more sense if we emend to stapol (pillar/shaft), as suggested by Andy Orchard (among others) in his forthcoming riddle edition for the Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library. He notes that line 927a of Beowulf similarly reads staþole in the manuscript, where stapole would make more sense. So, yeah: a really steep…erect, even…shaft would make this poem’s clear phallic undertones (overtones?) even more pronounced. The verses immediately following this possible emendation refer to standing in a bed (bed of hair? bed of veggies? bed of sexcapades? or all of the above?) and to a lower roughness or shagginess that similarly signifies both the onion’s roots and hair in the nether regions. “Nether regions”: a term that is simultaneously hilarious and kind of gross. Alright, poet, we get it: vegetables are a bit rude (Blackadder, much?). So rude, in fact, that years ago one of my housemates taped a print-out of suggestively-shaped vegetables to her bedroom door in order to irritate her next-door neighbour. It worked.

Of course, all of the above descriptions could equally refer to other veggies. The leek is also a contender:

Uprooted leeks on table

Leeks look a bit like green onions or shallots, but don’t taste as delicious. Fact. Photo (author: Björn König) from Wikimedia Commons.

But do leeks make you cry? (this is an honest question…I don’t really cook…ever…so I don’t know) Because the final half-line’s Wæt bið þæt eage (Wet will be that eye) seems to be playing with similarities between sex-related and non-sex-related wetness. According to the onion-reading, we’re dealing with actual eyes tearing up whilst chopping particularly aggressive vegetables (this is where the eye-wateringly strong mustard-interpretation comes in too). According to the phallus-reading…well (how to put this delicately?), we’re dealing with semen. I hope you can figure out precisely how that works for yourself.

This riddle also offers us a great deal to talk about beyond all the double entendre. For example, anyone who’s interested in gender and sexuality has a lot to sort through here. Yes, the suggestive, phallic solution relates to man parts, but the poem also hands us a pretty interesting picture of a sexually assertive woman. LOTS of people have written on this topic (see Davis, Hermann, Kim, Shaw and Whitehurst Williams, for example), so of course there’s disagreement about whether or not the poem judges the woman’s assertiveness – perhaps even aggressiveness, given how grabby those hands seem to be. It has been noted that she’s a ceorles dohtor (daughter of a churl/freeman), and so her aggressive approach may be linked to class prejudices (see Tanke).

I’ve also already spent some time thinking about the interesting hair-compound wundenlocc that the poem uses to describe the woman in the final line. I have a note on this, which you can access here (scroll down to my name). To sum that essay up: past scholarship can’t seem to agree on whether or not wundenlocc means “curly” or “braided” hair. A minor point, perhaps, but contentious enough to cause all sorts of divergent readings. However, given that Riddle 40 translates a Latin poem that describes the use of a curling iron with references to (ge)wundne loccas, I think “curly” hair is a better reading. I do note in that essay (p. 124, fn. 15) that Patrick Murphy (pp. 230-3) points out interesting parallels in the much later oral riddles collected by Archer Taylor (p. 196). Some of these riddles involve veggies with braided hair. Because of this and because of the grammatical ambiguity of these lines, Murphy argues that the wif wundenlocc is not just the grabby-handed woman, but also the onion itself. Now there’s some food for thought.

But who cares about hair? I’m sure some of you are thinking that. I mean, does it really matter? Well, yes, I think. Hair is culturally significant. In fact, Philip Shaw’s discussion of verbal parallels between Riddle 25 and Judith (a versification of the famous apocryphal story about a woman who decapitated the leader of an invading army) is concerned with precisely this. According to Shaw, hair is situated “within a rich intertextual matrix of ideas about Christianity versus heathenism” (p. 350). And such issues of religious identity are, of course, one of the big concerns of Old English literature. This puts hair (and onions, I guess) at the forefront of the entire field of study. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but I do hope that it makes you think twice next time you see the smirking face of an actor whipping her/his hair about in a Pantene commercial. Cultural significance, people.

Phallus.

Notes:

References and Suggested Reading:

If you want to know more about Anglo-Saxon approaches to sex, you should check out Christopher Monk’s work here.

Cavell, Megan. “Old English ‘Wundenlocc’ Hair in Context.” Medium Ævum, vol. 82 (2013), pages 119-25.

Davis, Glenn. “The Exeter Book Riddles and the Place of Sexual Idiom.” In Medieval Obscenities. Edited by Nicola McDonald. York: York Medieval Press, 2006, pages 39-54.

Fry, Donald K. “Exeter Book Riddle Solutions.” Old English Newsletter, vol. 15, issue 1 (1981), pages 22-33.

Hermann, John P. Allegories of War: Language and Violence in Old English Poetry. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1989 (page 191 onward).

Kim, Susan. “Bloody Signs: Circumcision and Pregnancy in the Old English Judith.” Exemplaria, vol. 11, issue 2 (Fall 1999), pages 285-307.

Murphy, Patrick J. Unriddling the Exeter Riddles. University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2011, pages 203, 222, and 230-3.

Shaw, Philip. “Hair and Heathens: Picturing Pagans and the Carolingian Connection in the Exeter Book and Beowulf-Manuscript.” In Texts and Identities in the Early Middle Ages. Edited by Richard Corradini, Rob Meens, Christina Pössel and Philip Shaw. Forschungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters, vol. 12 (Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2006), pages 345-57.

Tanke, John W. “Wonfeax wale: Ideology and Figuration in the Sexual Riddles of the Exeter Book.” In Class and Gender in Early English Literature: Intersections. Edited by Britton J. Harwood and Gillian R. Overing. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994, pages 21-42.

Taylor, Archer. English Riddles from Oral Tradition. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951.

Whitehurst Williams, Edith. “What’s so New about the Sexual Revolution? Some Comments on Anglo-Saxon Attitudes toward Sexuality in Women based on Four Exeter Book Riddles.” Texas Quarterly, vol. 18, issue 2 (1975), pages 46–55 (reprinted in New Readings on Women in Old English Literature, edited by Helen Damico and Alexandra Hennessey Olsen. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990, pages 137-45).



Tags: anglo saxon  exeter book  riddles  old english  solutions  riddle 25 

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