The parallel verbs swigað and swogað , so alike in sound, so contrary in meaning, outline the central paradox of the riddle: the existence of a creature, wrapped round by raiment, that is silent when earthbound and melodious when carried aloft. The poet sets his alliterating syllables free, to follow their nature or to divine some hidden truth, and uncovers a correspondence between name and essence, word and thing, a link more secure than he could have foreseen: a swan ( swan ) is destined to make melody ( swinsiað ), to soar aloft, because, as modern etymological science confirms, the two words are cognate, sharing the same Indo-European root. If the poet knew the traditional Latin etymology deriving cygnus 'swan' from canendo 'singing,' the more graceful convergence of swan and swinsian would have seemed to confirm the fitness of his native tongue to discover truths, to be an instrument of prophecy. A swan, the poet seems to be telling us, is most genuinely a swan when it is a " traveling spirit." Old English verse was constructed so that the "head-stave"the alliterating word in the second half-line, here ferende was not only a peak of metrical and rhetorical emphasis in the verse but also a key sense word.
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A simple swan riddle introduces us to the visible world of nature, of impersonal order; a more complex riddle, something closer to the emblematic vision or poetic parable, would point to an area of experience not so accessible to the senses. Other Old English verse portrays a soul ( gæst ) slipping out of its fleshly raiment and journeying ( ferende ) to a city of perpetual song; Job, one poet says, composed a "song" depicting Christ as a "bird," whose flight up to heaven and down to earth represents the Ascension and Incarnation. The riddle poet does not explicitly say, with Yeats, "Soul clap its hands and sing"; but his swan, enfolded by formulaic half-lines, seems to be following a pattern long known to the imagination.
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Our ignorance is great. A historical tour of Old English poetry is prohibited since no one can tell when, where, by whom, and under what circumstances the key texts were composed. Critics traditionally concentrate on a small group of poems regarded, for no good reason, as the heart of the literary canon: six short ( The Wanderer, The Seafarer, The Dream of the Rood, The Battle of Maldon, Cædmon's Hymn, Deor ) and one long ( Beowulf ). But Old English poetry, like some architecture, gains from being taken in large doses. This chapter groups the extant verse under three broad headingsmythological, heroic, and wisdom poetryglancing at the remaining monuments from this vantage and
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