daily daily

ic swince þearle

my day begins with texts in old english
today I am absorbed in the colloquia of aelfric
he that was abbot of eynsham round about the year 1000
he set out to familiarise his trainees with the latin language
to that end he wrote a series of imaginary conversations
with local craftsmen and traders
others have transformed his latin into old english
this is the only text I know which throws light
on the ways and means of ordinary people

in reply to the question
hwaet dest þu
the inevitable reply is along the lines of
ic swince þearle

swincan is full of meanings
ic swince þearle comes across as I really do work very hard
but ic swince can also mean I struggle

and I think of myself
and my struggles with some old english writings

this week’s task has been to focus on the description of beowulf’s funeral
ic swince
I really do
I really do struggle
I diligently parse every single word
but to convey connected thought into modern speech I cannot
still less am I able to respond with lines
half lines
of rhythmical verse
even imitative alliteration eludes me

I struggle
ic swince þearle
I really do

giese leof

to þam wife cwæð god
þu bist under weres onwealde
and he gewielt þe

I am at my morning exercise. I’ve made a cup of coffee and am sitting up in bed with an extract of Aelfric’s Old English translation of part of the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden which I am rendering (!) into current dialogue.

Mitchell & Robinson have kindly provided alongside for comparison King James’s Authorised Version and a Latin text which I take to be Jerome’s dubious vulgar rendition. The Old English makes its point with greater fervour.

god said to the woman
you are under your man’s command
and he uses you

None of the mollycoddling flimflam from KJ’s boys ‘he shall rule over thee’.
Still less of Jerome’s ‘sub viri potestate eris et ipse dominabitur tui’, though I must admit dominabitur associated with sub viri potestate does evoke a certain kind of folksy imagery, sitting up in bed as I am illuminated by rosy-fingered Dawn’s early light.

Aelfric was a monk, Abbot of Eynsham, no less, and he really didnt want to make the Book of Genesis open to men of the common herd lest they imagine they were free to copulate, as did the patriarchs, with their sisters and daughters for the better increase of the better part of the population; nor indulge themselves with assorted concubines as well as a plethora of wives and a side order of nubile serving wenches. Nonetheless he does make a point.

Was there something about knowing which side his bread was buttered?