SOURCE: “The Formulaic Style of Beowulf,” in Rereading “Beowulf”: An Introduction to the Poem, Its Background, and Its Style, edited by J. D. A. Ogilvy and Donald C. Baker, University of Oklahoma Press, 1983, pp. 137-58.

[In the following essay, Ogilvy surveys the formulaic methods used by Old English poets and examines the ways in which such methods—including the use of traditional epithets and phrases which probably originated in orally composed and transmitted poetry—are utilized in Beowulf.]

The student of Old English poetry will no doubt have remarked the popularity during the past twenty years of “oral-formulaic” studies, especially among American scholars. Beginning with F. P. Magoun's famous article in 1953,¹ a growing body of scholarship has attempted to prove that much of Old English poetry, including Beowulf, was composed orally, extemporaneously, from the traditional stock of formulas with which the scop was provided in his word hoard, or poetic vocabulary. The case for oral composition is, at best, not proven. In our opinion it is most improbable that Beowulf was composed orally, even in smaller units, but a scrupulous analysis of the evidence beyond our scope here.² There can be no doubt, however, that the controversy has been helpful in calling renewed attention of students to the technical characteristics of Beowulf. That the poem is formulaic—i.e., constructed of traditional epithets and phrases that must have had their origin in a poetry orally composed and transmitted—is obvious. An appreciation of how the formulaic materials are used in Old English poetry is of the first importance to the reader who wishes to deal with Beowulf in its original language, or even in a competent modern version.

Our discussion has two parts. First, we survey the formulaic material used by Old English poets, and, second, we consider the peculiar characteristics of the kind of poetry that the formulaic tradition produced.

THE EPITHET AND MODIFYING FORMULA

The formulaic materials may usefully be considered in four groupings: (1) the epithet and brief modifying formula, (2) the sentence formula, (3) the larger rhetorical patterns that employ formulas in their construction, and (4) the formulaic elaboration of themes.

One kind of epithet, the kenning, is the best known of the formulas.³ It is a condensed metaphor or simile, for example, “hron-rad” (whale road) for the sea, “sund-wudu” (sea wood) for a ship, “isern-scur” (iron shower) for a flight of arrows, “hildegicelum” (battle icicle) for a sword, and “hædstapa” (heath stepper) for a deer. Other noun epithets verge on the kenning, but many are literal descriptions. All of them share the characteristics of being compounds, and they most frequently occupy an entire half line of verse. They form by far the greater part of the “building-block” material of Old English poetry.

One can scan the glossary of Klaeber's third edition of Beowulf and find the nature of the noun epithet amply illustrated. A good place to begin is under the letter h with the “hilde-” (battle) compounds. We find “hilde-bord” (battle shield), “hilde-cumbor” (battle banner), “hilde-mece” (battle sword), “hilde-ræs” (battle rush), and twenty others. The difference between these straightforward compounds and the kennings is made clear when one compares “hilde-mece” (battle sword) with a kenning for sword, “hilde-leoma” (battle light). All are formulaic in that they are repeated, in Beowulf and elsewhere, and many have their counterparts in similar metrical patterns under different alliterative heads. Battle was one of the richest sources of formulas in Old English poetry; a number of words besides “hilde” convey the idea: “beado,” “gud,” “wæl,” and so on. For “hilde-mece” (sword) we have “beado-mece.” For “hilde-rinc” (warrior) we have “beado-rinc,” and so on. They do not necessarily mean exactly the same thing; usually there are distinctive nuances. They provide the variation that is essential to a poetic based upon repetition.⁴ Most of the equivalent epithets, as one would expect, reflect the concerns of a warrior culture: the attributes of the warrior and his weapons and the nature of his lord and his companions.

In Beowulf each person or important thing has its characteristic epithets, as in the Homeric poems, but with considerably more variety of choice for the poet.⁵ The proper names are themselves epithets, like Beowulf (probably “bee-wolf,” or bear), Hrothgar (glory spear), Unferth (mar peace). Beowulf's most common epithet is “bearn Ecgdeowes” (son of Ecgetheow), but with different alliteration and meter—and a different function for the hero—he is also “lidmanna helm” (protector of the seamen, line 1623) when he leads his men ashore in Denmark. Hrothgar is variously “Helm Scyldinga” (protector of the Scyldings, line 371), “wine Scyldinga” (friend of the Scyldings, line 30), “maga Healfdenes” (kinsman of Half-Dane, line 189), and “Deniga frean” (Lord of the Danes, line 271). Grendel is the “grimma gæst” (grim guest, line 102) and the “mære mearcstapa” (mighty wanderer of the wastes, line 103). Heorot, the famous hall built by Hrothgar, is “beahsele beorhta” (bright ring hall, i.e., hall where treasure is dispensed, line 1177). And so the list goes.

The Anglo-Saxon poet was thus capable of considerable variation and precision in his epithets for things and people. An unanswered question concerns the extent to which he may have indulged in irony in this respect, for certainly he was elsewhere fond of irony. The use of such an ordinary epithet as “helm Scyldinga” (protector of the Scyldings) for Hrothgar in line 1322, when Hrothgar is weeping and pouring out his troubles to Beowulf after Grendel's mother has killed æschere (and there are examples of such seeming inappropriateness elsewhere) certainly appears to the modern eye as ironic. But we must be cautious in assigning modern intention and reaction to a poet who was telling his story twelve hundred years ago.

Adjectival epithets are frequently found in alliterative pairs in Beowulf, filling the half-line unit, as do their noun counterparts. Grendel is “grim ond grædig” (grim and greedy, line 121), and this family trait is observed also in his mother in the second episode, where she is “gifre ond galgmod” (greedy and gallows-minded, line 1277) as well. Heorot is “heah ond horngeap” (high and horn-gabled, line 82) and “geatolic ond goldfah” (splendid and gold-adorned, line 308). The dragon is “hot ond hreohmod” (hot and fierce in spirit, line 2296). Formulaic adjectives are otherwise normally paired alliteratively with nouns, as in “sigoreadig secg” (victorious warrior, line 1311), creating the half-line unit.

The adverbial formula is found in both phrase and clause forms. A common phrase pattern is the half-line time formula, e.g., “in geardagum” (in days of yore, line 1) and “lange hwile” (for a long while, line 16), likewise the general-place formula, “under wolcnum” (under the heavens, line 8), “ofer hronrade” (beyond the whale road or sea, line 10), and “geond þisne middangeard” (throughout this world, line 75). Phrases of purpose, or truncated clauses, are frequently half-line formulas as well: “folce to frofre” (as an aid to the people, line 14). Very occasionally an adverbial formula may occupy a whole line, as in line 197: “on þæm dæge þysses lifes” (in that time of this life). Adverbial clauses of purpose and result are also found among half-line formulas, e.g., “þæt ic þe sohte” (that I should seek you, line 417). A common formula of time is “sydþan morgen (aefen) cwom” (after morning or evening came), and there are many others.

THE SENTENCE FORMULA

The sentence formula, both simple and complex, is obviously of great importance in the word hoard of the scop. Such sentences provide the necessary summaries and transitions and are the backbone of formulaic rhetoric. Many of them are short, half-line formulas. The best-known type is of the “þæt wæs god cyning” (that was a good king, line 11) sort; others are “ic þæt eall gemon” (I recall all that, line 2427) and “swa sceal mon don” (so shall man do, line 1172). Sentence formulas provide the usual means by which the poet expresses a variety of things. One person speaks to another in an almost invariable pattern: “Hrodgar maþelode, helm Scyldinga” (Hrothgar spoke, protector of the Scyldings, line 371); the passage of life is expressed in a sentence like “weox under wolcnum” (he waxed under the heavens, line 8); physical progression is normally a sentence formula, e. g., “wod under wolcnum” (he moved beneath the skies, line 714). The effect of weapons is usually expressed in short formulas, e.g., “Hra wide sprong” (The corpse rebounded far, line 1588).

In addition to the sentence formulas that are repeated verbatim or nearly so, there are many sentence patterns that serve the poet as outlines to be filled in, as it were, and that are used frequently enough to be considered formulaic. A negative, contrasting pattern beginning “not at all” or “not only” and containing “but,” “after,” “until,” or “then” clauses is often employed in the ironic understatement that is so characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon poetic mode. Of Hildeburh in the Finn episode we read (lines 1076-79a, italics ours):

Nalles holinga                    Hoces
dohtor
meotodsceaft bemearn,                    syþdan morgen com,
da heo under swegle                    geseon meahte
morþorbealo maga,

(Not at all without cause did the daughter of Hoc bemoan the decree of Fate after morning came, when she might see under heaven the slaughter of kinsmen.)

Describing the cowardly thanes who deserted Beowulf in his fight against the dragon, the poet tells us (lines 2596-98, italics ours):

Nealles him on heape                    handgesteallan
ædlinga bearn                    ymbe gestodon
hildecystum,                    ac
hy on holt bugon,

(Not at all did his comrades in arms, the children of warriors, stand about him [Beowulf] in martial glory, but they fled into the forest,)

Another common transitional pattern is “It was not long … until …,” describing ironically an immediate result (lines 2591b-92):

                                                                      Næs
da long to don,
þæt da aglæcean                    hy eft gemetton.

(It was not long thence that the deadly fighters came together again.)

The clauses of the “when … then” and “since” and “until … that” patterns are frequently transitional in function and serve the poet as a means of encapsulating a brief bit of history that has a bearing on the immediate concern or of anticipating action to follow within the poem (or subsequent history outside the poem). The clauses allow rapid and rhetorically effective juxtaposition and bear much of the burden of the paralleling and contrasting technique that is a hallmark of the Anglo-Saxon style. An example of the first sort of use is seen in the introduction of Grendel (lines 102-108, italics ours):

wæs se grimma gæst                    Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa,                    se þe moras heold,
fen ond fæsten;                    fifelcynnes eard
wonsæli wer                    weardode hwile,
siþdan him Scyppend                    forscrifen
hæfde
in Caines cynne—                    þone cwealm gewræc
ece Drihten,                    þæs þe he Abel slog;

(The grim guest was called Grendel, the mighty stepper of the marches, who held the moors, the fens, and the fastnesses; the hapless one dwelt a while in the home of the monster race, since the Creator had cursed him, in the race of Cain—he avenged that murder, the eternal Lord, whereby Cain slew Abel;)

The “siþdan” (since) clause gives us the origin of Grendel and the reason that he bore the wrath of God, to which the poet refers later. A similar construction is subsequently used in describing the mother of Grendel (lines 1261-63).

The “oþ þæt” (until … that) clause has a similar function in that it allows for a brief summary but, of course, looks ahead. Of Beowulf's reign over the Geats, we learn (lines 2208-10, italics ours):

                                                            he geheold tela
fiftig wintra                    —wæs da frod cyning,
eald eþelweard—,                    od dæt an ongan
deorcum nihtum                    draca rics[i]an,

(he ruled well for fifty winters—he was a wise king, the old guardian of his people—until in the dark nights a dragon began to rule,)

The double function of summary and contrast—here powerful in its stark simplicity—could not be better illustrated.

LARGER RHETORICAL PATTERNS

The kinds of larger rhetorical structures that can be built from individual formulas and sentence patterns can be seen in the opening lines of Beowulf. To see how these structures are indeed formulaic, it will be necessary to look at introductions to other Old English poems as well.

Beowulf (lines 1-11, italics ours):

          Hwæt,
we Gar-Dena                    in geardagum,
þeodcyninga                    þrym
gefrunon,
hu da æþelingas                    ellen fremedon!
          Oft Scyld Scefing                    sceaþena þreatum,
monegum mægþum                    meodosetla ofteah,
egsode eorl[as],                    syddan ærest
weard
feasceaft funden;                    he þæs frofre gebad,
weox under wolcnum                    weordmyndum þah,
od þæt him æghwylc                    ymbsittendra
ofer hronrade                    hyran scolde,
gomban gyldan;                    þæt wæs god cyning!

(Hark, we have learned of the glory of the princes of the Spear-Danes in days of yore, how the chiefs wrought mighty deeds. Oft Scyld Scefing took the mead seats from troops of enemies, from many peoples; he terrified the earls, after he first was found helpless—he survived to be recompensed for that—he grew under the heavens, enjoyed high honor, until each of his neighbors over the whale road should obey him and pay tribute; that was a good king!)

The Fates of the Apostles (lines 1-8, italics ours):

          Hwæt!
Ic þysne sang                    sidgeomor fand
on seocum sefan,                    samnode wide
hu þa ædelingas                     ellen cyddon,
torhte ond tireadige.                    Twelfe wæron
dædum domfæste,                    dryhtne gecorene,
leofe on life.                    Lof wide sprang,
miht ond mærdo,                    ofer
middangeard,
þeodnes þegna,                    þrym unlytel.(6)

(Lo! I this song, weary of wandering and sick in spirit, made and put together from far and wide, of how the heroes, bright and glorious, made their courage known. They were twelve in number, famed in deeds, chosen by the Lord, beloved in life. Praise sprang wide, the might and the fame, throughout the world, of the Prince's thanes—no small glory.)

Andreas (lines 1-6, italics ours):

          Hwæt! we gefrunan                    on fyrndagum
twelfe under tunglum                    tireadige
hæled,
          þeodnes þegnas.                    No hira þrym alæg
camprædenne                    þonne cumbol hneotan,
syddan hie gedældon,                    swa him dryhten sylf,
heofona heahcyning,                    hlyt getæhte.(7)

(Lo! We have heard, in days gone by, of the twelve under the stars, glorious heroes, the Lord's thanes. Their glory did not fail in the field of battle when the banners clashed after they had parted as the Lord himself, the High King of Heaven, had commanded them.)

The Dream of the Rood (lines 1-3, italics ours):

          Hwæt! Ic swefna cyst                    secgan
wylle,
hwæt me gemætte                    to midre nihte,
sydpan reordberend                    reste
wunedon!(8)

(Listen! I wish to tell the best of dreams that came to me in the middle of the night, after the bearers of speech [men] had gone to their rest.)

These poems have essentially little of theme and subject in common. Beowulf is the story of a warrior, Andreas and Fates are principally religious chronicles, and Dream is an almost mystical vision. Also, these passages have more differences in phrasing between them than close similarities. But the rhetorical structures are the same, and, as the italicized phrases show, the key formulas are essentially the same.

First, we cannot escape the opening “Hwæt!” Then, in Beowulf and Andreas follows the days-of-yore formula, “in geardagum,” and “on fyrndagum.” The source formula “we have learned” (“prym gefrunon” in Beowulf and “we gefrunan” in Andreas) is paralleled by variant formulas in the other two, “Ic þysne sang sidgeomor fand” (“Weary with the journey I made this song”) in the Fates of the Apostles and “hwæt me gemætte” (“lo, I dreamed”) in The Dream of the Rood. Beowulf and the Fates share an identical formula about what is learned—“hu da æþelingas” (how the princes [performed]) in the same position, line 3a. Likewise, Beowulf's “ellen fremedon” (performed deeds of valor) is paralleled by the Fates' “ellen cyddon” (showed their courage), in line 3b—again, the same position. Next we consider the location formula “on earth” or “under heaven.” In Beowulf it is “weox under wolcnum” (grew under the skies), and in Andreas we find “twelfe under tunglum” (twelve under the stars); in Fates it is “ofer middangeard” (throughout the middle yard). And, finally, the “since … (happened)” formula, which is rendered in Beowulf as “syddan ærest weard” (since he first was [found]), is rendered in Andreas as “syddan hie gedældon” (since they parted), and in Dream as “sydþan reordberend … reste wunedon” (after the speech-bearers had gone to rest).

In addition to the phrases in italics that are repeated or paralleled in one or another of the quoted passages, practically every phrase in each of the passages can be matched by a similar formula in several other Old English poems. Our purpose here, however, is to observe not only the verbal similarities but—equally important for illustrating the formulaic tradition of composition—the structural formula for opening a poem. It goes something like this: “Behold, … We [or I] have heard … in days of yore … how princes [or others] performed … deeds of glory … under the heavens …, since [or after] … [whatever happened at the beginning of the story or the circumstances of the telling].” This rhetorical pattern can be expanded or contracted as the poet wishes, and formulas selected and woven into the pattern. Although the passages quoted are introductory, the pattern can also be used for summary or transition within a narrative, as can been seen in lines 1769-81, 2384-90, and elsewhere in Beowulf.

ELABORATION OF THEMES

In addition to such rhetorical structures, Old English poetry abounded in thematic formulas for everything of consequence in Anglo-Saxon life or story. By “thematic” we mean a nongrammatical contextual relationship of certain kennings, epithets, and symbolic objects. The poet was provided with ready-made formulas to elaborate the battle and its aftermath, sea-journeys, treasure-giving, the joy of the hall, funerals, introductions and farewells, etc. In describing a battle, for instance, the Anglo-Saxon poet would almost inevitably employ at some point the theme of the “beasts of battle.”⁹ These beasts are the animals that feed upon the bodies of the slain—the wolf, the raven, and the eagle. One of the most famous instances of the theme is found at the end of The Battle of Brunanburh (lines 60-65):

Letan him behindan                    hræw bryttian
saluwigpadan,                    þone sweartan hræfn,
hyrnednebban,                    and þane hasewanpadan,
earn æftan hwit                    æses brucan,
grædigne gudhafoc                    and þæt græge
deor,
wulf on wealde.(10)

(They left behind them, to devour the corpses, the dark-coated, swart raven, horn-beaked, and the gray-coated, white-tailed eagle to enjoy the carrion, the greedy war hawk, and that gray beast, the wolf in the forest.)

This passage, with the three beasts of battle—the raven, the eagle, and the wolf—prepares the conclusion of the poem, for the poet is turning from the field. Like all other such formulas, it is amenable to variation of form and function as the poem demands. Probably because there are no fully described pitched battles between men in Beowulf, this theme is little used there, but the one full use of the formula is doubly impressive, for it does not describe a present field but is symbolic of the future fall of the Geatish nation, appearing near the end of the poem where the poet prophesies, through the voice of the messenger who announces Beowulf's fall and the dragon's demise, the coming doom of the Geats (lines 3021b-3027):

                                                                                Fordon sceall gar wesan
monig morgenceald                    mundum bewunden,
hæfen on handa,                    nalles hearpan sweg,
wigend weccean,                    ac se wonna hrefn
fus ofer faegum                    fela reordian,
earne secgan,                    hu him æt æte speow,
þenden he wid wulf                    wæl reafode.

(Therefore, many a spear, cold in the morning, shall be wound about with fingers, raised in hands; not at all shall the sound of the harp stir the warriors, but instead the dark raven, eager above the fated, shall speak much, shall say to the eagle how it sped him at the feasting when he and the wolf plundered the slaughtered.)

The theme, though rooted in a context of battle description, is clearly more variable in its usefulness than to be merely descriptive; in Beowulf the ancient theme has become symbolic in its function as in its nature. For ironic contrast it is joined with the theme of the joys of the hall, whose symbol is the harp. The gladsome sound of the harp is gone, and in its place is the snarling of the animals of the battlefield. Grammatically the passage is constructed on the “nalles … ac” (not at all this … but that) formulaic pattern. These are only two examples of formulaic themes that abound in Beowulf (the “joys of the hall” theme itself appears on several occasions, as in lines 89-98, 491-98, 642-45, 1980-83, and 2262-63, etc.). The sea-voyage themes are twice elaborately done and well illustrate the variety available to the scop within a thematic pattern. Although certain formulas are repeated, and although the structure of the passages is identical, most of the words are different. The structure is simply this: the boat was in the water; the men loaded it and steered it into the sea; there it was urged by the wind, until the time came that the seamen could see the cliffs of the shore. Each of the steps in the pattern is expressed in a formula, and the pattern itself is constructed around an “until … that” clause. The similar formulas are italicized. First, Beowulf's journey to Denmark (lines 210-28, italics ours):

Fyrst ford gewat;                    flota wæs on ydum,
bat under beorge.                    Beornas gearwe
on stefn stigon,—                    streamas wundon,
sund wid sande;                    secgas bæron
on bearm nacan                    beorhte frætwe,
gudsearo geatolic;                    guman ut scufon,
weras on wilsid                    wudu bundenne.
Gewat þa ofer wægholm                    winde gefysed
flota famiheals                    fugle
gelicost,
od þæt ymb antid                    oþres dogores
wundenstefna                    gewaden
hæfde,
þæt da lidende                    land gesawon,
brimclifu blican,                    beorgas steape,
side sænæssas;                    þa wæs sund
liden,
eoletes æt ende.                    þanon up hrade
Wedera leode                    on wang stigon,
sæwudu sældon,—                    syrcan hrysedon,
gudgewædo;                    Gode þancedon
þaes þe him yþlade                    eade wurdon.

(Time passed; the ship was on the waves, the boat under the cliff. The warriors eagerly stepped aboard; the currents wound, the sea against the sand; the men bore into the bosom of the ship bright ornaments, splendid battle armor; the warriros on their sought-for journey pushed off the well-made ship. The foamy-necked floater departed over the waves, most like a bird, urged on by the wind, until in due time on the next day the ship with the curved prow had progressed so that the voyagers saw the land, the shining sea cliffs, the steep hills, the wide headlands; then was the sea crossed, the travel at an end. Thence the men of the Weders quickly stepped on the land and tied up the ship. Their armor, the weeds of war, rattled; they gave thanks to God that the crossing had been an easy one for them.)

This is surely one of the better-known passages in Beowulf. The references made to it often imply that it is full of the rhetoric of sea travel, but actually the description of crossing is confined to lines 216-21: “The foamy-necked floater departed over the waves, most like a bird, urged on by the wind.” We are clearly deluded by the famous “foamy-necked floater.” Aside from this kenning the only other figure is a rather rare example of an Old English simile, “fugle gelicost” (most like a bird). We turn from this passage with its emphasis on preparation and battle spirit to the second sea voyage, which takes Beowulf and his men home after they have rid Hrothgar's land of monsters (lines 1896-1913, italics ours):

þa wæs on sande                     sægeaþ naca
hladen herewædum                    hringedstefna,
mearum ond madmum;                    mæst hlifade
ofer Hrodgares                    hordgestreonum.
He þæm batwearde                    bunden golde
swurd gesealde,                    þæt he sydþan wæs
on meodubence                    maþme þy weorþra,
yrfelafe.                    Gewat him on naca
drefan deop wæter,                    Dena land ofgeaf.
þa wæs be mæste                    merehrægla
sum,
segl sale fæst;                    sundwudu þunede;
no pær wegflotan                    wind ofer ydum
sides getwæfde;                    sægenga for,
fleat famigheals                    ford
ofer yde,
bundenstefna                    ofer
brimstreamas,
þæt hie Geata clifu                    ongitan meahton,
cuþe næssas;                    ceol up geþrang
lyftgeswenced,                    on lande stod.

(Then the roomy ship loaded with war weeds was on the sands—the ring-prowed vessel loaded with horses and treasure; the mast stood high above Hrothgar's precious hoard goods. He [Beowulf] gave to the boat ward a sword wound with gold so that afterward at the mead bench the guardian was held more worthy because of this treasure, the heriloom. He boarded the ship, to drive through the deep water, he departed the land of the Danes. Then the sea garment, a sail bound with a rope, was at the mast. The sea wood resounded; the wind over the waves did not force the wave floater from its course; the sea traveler went on, the foamy-necked one floated onward over the waves, the well-joined prow over the sea streams, until they might see the Geatish cliffs, the known headlands. The keel, urged by the wind, pressed upward and stood on the land.)

We have a repetition of the “foamy-necked” figure, but the other terms are varied; the ship is “ring-prowed” or “curved-prowed,” the ship is “sundwudu,” the “wave-floater,” and so on. The return voyage is described with considerably more detail than is the voyage in the preceding passage; in addition to describing the loading of the vessel and its arrival “on lande,” the poet gives six lines of carefully varied description to the ship, the wind, and the sea. We learn that the ship has a sail, a “sea garment,” and we hear the sound of the ship straining against the sea (“sundwudu punede,” the sea wood groaned, or resounded). The only sound in the first passage is the grim noise of the rattling of armor. The effect of this is not hard to find: in the first passage all attention is to the coming struggle; here the spirit is one of release.

In addition to elaborate thematic set pieces such as these, scattered throughout Beowulf one finds many short tropes, frequently of a moralizing nature. These are often in the form of sentences, such as, “Swa sceal mon don,” (So shall a man do, line 1172), or, “Swa he nu git ded” (So He [God] still does, line 1058), in passages illustrating proper conduct in a situation or summarizing the actions of God or the course of fate, over which man has no control. Such gnomic themes are “the uselessness of buried gold” (lines 3058-60, 2275-77, 3167-68), “the dangers of disturbing dragons” (lines 2836-42, 3050-60), and the “unfæge eorl” (the undoomed warrior who may escape fate if his courage avails him, lines 2291-93, 572-73).¹¹

Although the various stories intruded into Beowulf, such as the Finn episode, the story of Offa, or the story of Hama, have no place in the present discussion, having been considered in our treatment of the background of the poem, in a sense these “digressions” are much like the moral tropes in that they illustrate good and bad behavior, wise and foolish conduct. They are elaborate analogies that, while not exactly formulaic in nature, serve the purposes of shorter formulaic themes. There are other formulaic aspects of Beowulf, but these seem to us to be of most significance for the modern reader.

Having surveyed some of the materials of Old English poetry, let us now see how these materials are used in Beowulf and what kind of poetry they produce. In the preceding chapter we have seen something of how Old English verse works; its structure is that of balanced building blocks of complementary meter united by alliteration. The smaller formulaic units, as we have seen, form many of these building blocks, each usually occupying a half line. As anyone familiar with the medieval ballad (or modern ballads, for that matter) knows, much of the ballad is of preformed phrases and whole lines that do not themselves move the poem. These formulas provide a brief stasis in the progression of the narrative and cause the “hitching” effect that is so noticeable in ballads. In Beowulf the formula likewise provides the reflection more often than the action, though, as we have seen, Old English poems use a number of formulaic sentences to get the action under way.

Normally the Beowulf poet balances an epithet half line with a verb phrase half line, as in lines 2397-2400:

          Swa he nida gehwane                    genesen
hæfde
slidra geslyhta,                    sunu Ecgdiowes
ellenweorca,                    od done anne dæg
pe he wid pam wyrme                    gewegan sceolde.

(So he each of battles had survived, each terrible conflict, the son of Ecgtheow, each courageous work, until one day that he should meet with the dragon.)

The “he” in line 2397a is balanced by its epithet “sunu Ecgdiowes” in line 2398b. In this brief passage there are two formulas roughly comparable in meaning to “nida gehwane”: “sliddra geslyhta” and “ellenweorca,” both in the a verses. All the b verses except for lines 2398b are occupied by the verb or adverbial phrases. The verses cannot be read rapidly, for the formulas give a parenthetical effect in their reinforcing role. The movement of the verse is therefore largely incremental.

As we consider the method of the Beowulf poet, we realize that the paralleling characteristics of the formula are shared by the other rhetorical elements. We have observed that the themes introduced as ornament parallel or contrast the character or action that they comment upon. An example is the poet's use of the theme of the joys of the harp in the hall as ironic contrast in lines 89-98; it is the very joy of the men and the noise of the harp that brings their catastrophe, for it arouses Grendel. The larger episodes function in much the same way, as the Finn episode comments on Hrothgar's court, and the Sigemund story anticipates Beowulf and the dragon. It is not even beyond the bounds of possibility that, as Tolkien suggested, the two parts of Beowulf, paralleling one another, reflect this fundamental quality of Old English poetry.¹²

It might well seem, from our discussion, that the kind of poetry that the Germanic tradition produced would inevitably be slow, tedious, and dully repetitive. It has, indeed, been argued that Beowulf is validly appreciated only as barbaric poetry, possessing merely an unsophisticated irony.¹³ Old English poetry was very far from being wholly formulaic, however, and the Beowulf poet in particular possessed great resources of poetic vocabulary for variation. He was also capable of dispensing with the elaborate parallel movement of his verse to rush headlong into the action, as in lines 1441-42:

                                                            Gyrede hine Beowulf
eorlgewædum,                    nalles for ealdre mearn

(Beowulf then dressed himself in earl's weeds—not at all did he care for his life.)

Here the formula “nalles for ealdre mearn” does not interrupt Beowulf's quick arming for the fray but for emphasis is left to line 1442b.

It cannot be denied, however, that the poetry of Beowulf is quite different from the post-Renaissance English verse to which we are accustomed. The formulaic nature of the Old English language results in a certain lack of that precision which we have come to expect from the poetic imagination. The very nature of compound words seems to involve a semantic compromise. The effect of Beowulf, like that of other Old English poems, results from a building of meaning rather than an assertion of it. The poet swings between ironic under-statement and hyperbole. He tends frequently to tell us what things are not and what people did not do, leaving us to supply the positive.

Although it must be admitted that Old English kennings and epithets frequently clog up the movement of the narrative, in Beowulf particularly the modifiers tend to be cumulative, each adding a quality or aspect to character or action. This incremental effect is seen in a long passage already cited, that of Beowulf's sea voyage to Hrothgar's court. The poet uses in the passage a variety of kennings for the boat: It is “flota” at line 210, “bat” at line 211, “nacan” (of the ship) at line 214, “wudu bundenne” at line 216, “flota famiheals” at line 218, and “wundenstefna” at line 220. Now “flota,” “bat,” and “nacan” do not much improve on one another, for they all rather nakedly mean “boat” or “ship.” But the poet is at the beginning simply saying that the boat is there, on the waves in shallow water, being loaded. When the boat begins to move, the poet selects kennings that focus attention on the ship itself, its ornament and motion. The poet's imagination has been awakened. The ship is a craftsman's work, we learn, “wudu bundenne,” well-joined wood. As it moves into the open sea, the “famiheals” or “foamy-necked” image pictures for us the waves being sliced by the long prow of the ship. This prow is itself the next image, the curved stem of “wundenstefna.” All the words are kennings for “ship,” but they tell us, in themselves, something of what is happening. They reflect the changing focus of the narrative. We could arrange these figures in their order, remove them from their context, and learn that the “flota” has become “foamy-necked,” that the well-built ship of “wudu bundenne” is now represented by another aspect, its curved prow—the “wundenstefna,” suggestive of the outward thrust of the ship. When at the end of the journey the ship is tied to the Danish shore, it becomes “saewudu” or “sea wood,” simply another kenning for “ship” but one that now has the nuance “seaworthy wood,” wood that has been tried. the incremental effect of the series of images suggests the progress of the narrative.

In a similar way the repetitive aspect of sentences and larger patterns can be cumulative and extremely effective. The first-time reader of Beowulf is impressed by the twice-repeated formula of movement when Grendel's approach to the high-gabled hall of Hrothgar is being described in lines 702-21a: “Com on wanre niht / scridan sceadugenga” (There came in the dim night stealthily moving the shadow goer); “þa com of more / under misthleoþum / Grendel gongan” (Then came from the moor under the dark mists, Grendel moving); and, finally, “Com þa to recede / rinc sidian / dreamum bedæled” (There came then to the hall that warrior bereft of joy). The effect of the repeated patterns is undeniably powerful, and it is a typical, though spectacular, example of the Beowulf poet's method.¹⁴

The result of incremental aspect of the poetic method is that the individual epithet or phrase has more emphasis—more time in the reader's or hearer's consciousness. The reader or hearer, in short, is required to play a rather active role in the poem, almost a creative one. The tradition of oral poetry depends on an alert, participating, cooperating hearer. To a greater extent than with poetry whose tradition is totally literary, poetry that has its origins—in however dim a past—in the give-and-take between performer and audience depends for the completion of its meaning upon its audience. Therefore, particularly for early Germanic poetry, the best possible preparation that the student can make is to acquaint himself with as many of the surviving poems as possible, either in the original or in modern versions. He can then share with the poet a knowledge of the legends, recognize the context of kennings, and appreciate the unexpected variation.

Notes

1. Francis P. Magoun, Jr., “The Oral Formulaic Character of Anglo-Saxon Poetry,” Speculum 28 (1952):446-67.

2. For a variety of approaches to the evidence on this question, the student should consult the works by Benson, Creed, Greenfield, Lord, Magoun, Watt, and Whallon listed in the Bibliography. We discuss something of the course of this controversy in chapter 10. At the core of the problem is the question whether the characteristics of the oral formula that Milman Parry and Alfred B. Lord observed in twentieth-century Balkan poetry composed orally and that they also find in the poetry of the Iliad and the Odyssey are also those of the formula of Germanic poetry. The scholarly consensus at present is that they are not. The syllabic regularity of Greek meter, on which Parry's concept of the oral formula is based, has no parallel in Germanic poetry. The far greater variety of formulaic epithet found in Beowulf, which admits of far more specific appropriateness to context, sets it apart from the more rigidly stereotyped Greek epithet. It would be fair to say that, although every scholar today would assume that the formulaic qualities of Old English are of a kind that has its origin in nonliterate poetry—i.e., a poetry not only orally transmitted but orally created—the great majority of scholars would maintain that Beowulf's enormous variety of epithet would in itself likely preclude oral composition of the poem.

3. It is beyond our brief to argue here whether we ought to label as kennings many of the Old English figures usually so called. For the technically accurate claim that most are kend heiti, see the discussion by Arthur G. Brodeur in The Art of Beowulf, p. 18.

4. For illustration of the variation of which the Beowulf poet was capable, see the discussion in ibid. and the appendix of epithets unique to Beowulf.

5. For a thorough comparison of the Anglo-Saxon and the Homeric epithet, see William Whallon, Formula, Character, and Context: Studies in Homeric, Old English, and Old Testament Poetry.

6. G. P. Krapp, ed., The Vercelli Book, in The Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records, vol. 2. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1932), p. 51.

7. Ibid., p. 3.

8. Bruce Dickins and A. S. C. Ross, eds., The Dream of the Rood (London: Methvem, 1934), p. 20.

9. See discussions of this theme in F. P. Magoun, Jr., “The Theme of the Beasts of Battle in Anglo-Saxon Poetry,” NM 56 (1955): 81-90; and Adrian Bonjour, “Beowulf and the Beasts of Battle,” in his Twelve Beowulf Papers, pp. 135-46.

10. E. V. K. Dobbie, ed., The Anglo-Saxon Minor Poems, in The Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records, vol. 6 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1942), pp. 19-20.

11. See chapter 7 for discussion of these themes.

12. J. R. R. Tolkien, “Prefatory Remarks,” in J. R. Clark Hall, trans., Beowulf and the Finnsburg Fragment, p. xliii.

13. Such is the underlying assumption of Kenneth Sisam in The Structure of Beowulf.

14. For a stimulating discussion of the poet's uses of repetition and variation, the reader is referred to Arthur G. Brodeur, The Art of Beowulf, pp. 39-70. See our remarks on Brodeur's arguments in chapter 10.