Deor

from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Deor (or The Lament of Deor ) is a 10th century Old English poem that is recorded in the Exeter Book . It consists of 42 alliterating lines.

Title and classification

The surviving text - like medieval poems in general - does not have a title, but since the name Deor appears several times as the name of the author, it is also accepted as the name of the poem.

It's difficult to put the poem into a single genre. On the one hand, because of its reflection on transitoriness, it can be classified as a ubi-sunt poem ("Where are you (got to)?"). Due to the melancholy mood, it can also be assigned to the elegies and consolation poems. In the tradition of Boëthius ' Consolation of Philosophy , consolation poems place personal grief in the context of the grief of figures from world history.

Mostly Deor is seen in a row with other melancholy poems from the Exeter Book , such as The Seafarer , The Wanderer or The Ruin .

Language and content

The poem features verses of extraordinary beauty that translate into New English with great difficulty. It introduces a number of mythological and historical figures, briefly tells of their misfortunes and then returns again and again to the refrain "Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg!" .") back.

Among the people struck by an unfortunate fate listed by Deor are

At the end of the poem, Deor reveals his own fate: he was once a great poet at the court of the Heodeninge (presumably a Germanic people) until he was replaced by Heorrenda, a more talented poet. Heorrenda received Deor's fiefdom, forcing the latter to wander and exile.

Text samples

Beadohilde ne wæs hyre bróþra déaþ
on sefan swá sár swá hyre sylfre þing,
þæt héo gearolíce ongieten hæfde
þæt héo éacen wæs; áefre ne meahte
þríste geþencan hú ymb þæt sceolde.
Þæs oferéode, ðisses swá mæg. (Vs. 8-13)
Translation: For Badhilde was the death of her brothers
not as painful in their minds as their own condition
that she had clearly recognized
that she was pregnant; nor would she
think without fear of what should be done about it.
That passed, this may also pass.
Þæt ic bí mé sylfum secgan will
þæt ic hwíle wæs Heodeninga scop
dryhtne dýre. Mé wæs Déor noma;
áhte ic fela wintra folgað tilne,
holdne hláford oþ þæt Heorrenda nú
léoðcræftig monn londryht geþáh
þæt mé eorla hléo áer gesealde.
Þæs oferéode, ðisses swá mæg. (Vs. 35-42)
Translation: This is what I want to say about myself
that I was court poet of the Heodeninge for a while,
dear to my lord. My name was Deor.
For many winters I held a profitable position
a gentleman like me, until now Heorrenda,
the lyrical man who received land rights,
that the protector of warriors had given me before.
That passed, this may also pass.

Similar works

Web links