Whither Have You Wandered? Lessons from the Old English Poem “Widsith”

Whither Have You Wandered? Lessons from the Old English Poem “Widsith”

This past spring I covered several Old English poems with my graduate class from a relatively recent anthology edited and translated by R. M. Liuzza. The final piece in this collection is a short 143-line poem called “Widsith.” As with most Old English poetry (written in the purely Germanic Anglo-Saxon English language and therefore accessible to modern readers only via translation), its author is unknown.* “Widsith” literally means “wide-traveler.” The poem tells us that Widsith is one of the “gleomen” (lit. glee-men; line 136), or bards, who made their living in the Middle Ages by singing tales while playing a harp. (Widsith has named his harp “Scilling.”)

harp from Anglo-Saxon exhibit at the British Museum

Throughout the poem Widsith boasts of where he has been and what men or tribes of power and influence he has played for, as well as what wisdom he has gleaned about valor, authority, and generosity:

Since I have sojourned in many strange lands

Across the wide world, where I have come to know

Good and evil, cut off from my home,

Wandered wide, far away from my kinsmen,

Therefore I can sing and tell a tale. (lines 50-54)

I had not expected this poem to “do much” for me. For one, it seems like a lot of name-dropping: in places, somewhat like an awards-acceptance speech or the acknowledgements preface to a book. For instance, “And I was with Eormanric all the while, / where the king of the Goths did good for me; / he gave me a ring” (lines 88-90).

In others, the poem reads more like a boastful resumé of contacts and accomplishments, such as “I was also in Italy with Ælfwine” (line 70), and when Widsith sings of the generous queen Ealhhild, “many men, proud of heart, / said in words what they knew well, / that they had never heard a better song” (106-8).

The refrain “I was with” (OE “Ic wæs mid”) echoes throughout the poem/song, as in line 79: “I was with the Scots” (OE “Mid Scottum ic wæs”).

Yet, looking more closely at the variety of people groups “name-dropped,” I realized that as widely traveled as Widsith claims to be, he cannot possibly have been with the Huns, the Angles, and the Romans (lines 57, 61, 69). The Swedes, the Syrians, and the Greeks (58, 75, 76). Nor with Caesar (76). Much less the Israelites, Assyrians, Indians, Egyptians, Medes, and Persians (82-84).

Anyone familiar with the biblical Old Testament immediately starts making connections with people groups in this last passage: the Assyrians conquering the northern kingdom of Israel; the Hebrews enslaved by the Egyptians (OE “Ebreum,” line 83**); the southern kingdom of Judah conquered by the Medo-Persians and taken into exile. Clearly the “Widsith” poet knew his Old Testament Bible: how else could be have been “with” all of these peoples?

His traveling now becomes clear: much of it has been done through his encounter with stories. These “meetings” with people, real and some likely imagined, have helped form his experience.

In the closing chapter of his book An Experiment in Criticism, C. S. Lewis reminds us that such encounters are one of the primary reasons for reading good, imaginative literature (“as opposed to scientific or otherwise informative reading,” p. 136):

“What then,” Lewis says, “is the good of . . . occupying our hearts with stories of what never happened and entering vicariously into feelings which we should try to avoid having in our own person? . . . The nearest I have yet got to an answer,” he continues, “is that we seek an enlargement of our being. We want to be more than ourselves. . . . We want to see with other eyes, to imagine with other imaginations, to feel with other hearts, as well as with our own” (Experiment in Criticism 137).

The stories Widsith has encountered and the ones that he retells have been part of his wide wandering, just as much as any experience with King Guthhere of the Burgundians, who gave him a ring “as my song’s reward” (line 67), or Queen Ealhhild the peace-weaver, whom Widsith says he accompanied on her journey to Eormanric, king of the Ostrogoths (5-8).

Widsith says he has been with both “heathens and heroes” (line 81) and makes several references early on to people and events found in that greatest of Old English poems Beowulf (cf. lines 45-49). (I too have “traveled” back to the land of the Half-Danes under Hrothgar, who is referenced here, and to Beowulf’s home realm of the Geats: have you?) [See my past post on Beowulf.]

Toward the end of “Widsith” the repeated phrase is “I sought” (OE “sohte ic”), followed by individuals’ names, all in the context of “seeking the best companions” (line 110). For example, “I sought Eadwin and Elsa” (117). The poet is clear that he is traveling, as he “pass[es] through all the land of the Goths” and others (109), to find a good “band of comrades” (125).*** Applying that to our figurative wandering through stories, what kind of comrades are we seeking? Are we seeking the most trustworthy companions?

Literature, says C. S. Lewis, “admits us to experiences other than our own.” However, he continues, “They are not, any more than our personal experiences, all equally worth having” (pp. 139-40).

Widsith has sought to enrich himself through his wanderings, both literal (he has been rewarded with rings and other treasures by appreciative patrons) and through tales he has “heard” (cf. lines 10 & 16/17). As with most Old English poets, he looks for lessons, mostly here about leadership: a good prince guides his land well, knowing his authority comes from God (10-13, 131-34).

When Widsith’s wide-traveling enriches him, he is a model of gratitude: “I make known before many in the mead-hall / how my noble patrons chose to reward me” (lines 55-56). Widsith, according to the custom of his society, pays these gifts forward when he returns home, offering his treasures to his own lord, Eadgils, in gratitude for protection and a gift of land (93-95). As a grateful man who recognizes generosity and pays it forward, Widsith is himself commended by the poet-narrator of the poem: “And so, wandering as their fate unfolds, / the singers of men among many lands, / speak[] at need, saying words of thanks” (135-37).

How wide have you wandered? How might you write your own account of wanderings “with” stories/songs/Scriptures (like the “Widsith” poet)?

As a mom of an infant daughter, I don’t get to travel much anymore, whether literally or even figuratively through reading. However, perhaps your traveling is more through television or film stories than through reading. The application works equally well to the latest series binge-watched on Netflix or Amazon. Where have you been wandering? Are you seeking the best companions? Is your traveling enriching you (or impoverishing you)? Is it leading you toward a more thankful heart?

* Old English poetry was composed from the 7^th through the 11^th centuries A.D., before the Norman Conquest of England in A.D. 1066, following which the English language changed dramatically (enter Norman French), as did English poetry in both style and subject. “Widsith” is from the Exeter Book, one of the few surviving manuscripts of Old English texts.

** I do confess to being a bit mystified why Indians (that is, people from India) should come between the obvious Hebrews and Egyptians match-up in line 83, though (OE “mid Ebreum ond mid Indeum ond mid Egyptum”). Perhaps someone can enlighten me here?

*** The same word is in the OE here at lines 110 & 125: “gesitha.” It’s an obsolete word that is used widely in OE heroic poems to refer to loyal warrior companions. They fight together and then socialize together in the meadhall. Essentially a band of brothers: the people you trust to have your back and who accompany you through life.