IX

Make thee ready, my love, for the marriage rite;

The solemn and sacred vow,

Within an hour from now;

Give joy to my soul, thou sweet star of my night; Thyself on thy king bestow.

X

'And as the firm apple encloseth the seed

All safely within its core,

From frost and wintry show'r,

Until the ripe season of fair Earth's good need

Shall succour it evermore.

ΧΙ

'Even so shall I shelter thee, love, from all harm,

And nourish thee in my breast,

Like dove in its own sweet nest:

No rough wind shall assail thee, or biting storm, Till the earth shall give us rest.

M

XII

Then, cease thy lamenting, my jewel, my crown,

Thou source of my soul's delight,

Who changest my dark to light;

Array thee in robes of the bridal, my Own;
And gladden my longing sight,'

One moment pale, then flushed with rosy red
Igerna's tear-stained face, while being led
All trembling towards the altar, by the king
In happy triumph. And she fulfilling
Merlin's prophecy, gave to him her love
Unswerving, faithful: soon around him wove
In silent strength the sweet magnetic chain
Of wife, which throughout life bound close
the twain.

CAEDMON

AN EARLY ENGLISH IDYLL

CAEDMON

AN EARLY ENGLISH IDYLL

INTRODUCTION

EVERY student of early English literature is familiar with the story of Caedmon, the peasant-poet. Historians give him a marked position in their writings as forming a distinct epoch in English literature; for Caedmon, ignorant and unlettered, and belonging to a race rude and uncultured, rose out of the darkness that surrounded him, in a truly wonderful manner. A thousand years before Milton's time this Whitby peasant sang the epic of the Creation, the first Paradise Lost.' In vivid language is depicted the War in Heaven, the Fall of Satan, and his counsellings in Hell. Thus, Caedmon began the first in time, and among the first in genius the strain in English poetry.'

Caedmon was in fact our first English poet;