(no subject)
Sep. 7th, 2008 07:13 pmFor school, my English teacher just assigned us Beowulf. I'm currently on page fifteen and, so far, it's incredibly interesting. This is the first sort of poetry-slash-prose novel that I've ever read, and probably the oldest book I've ever read, excluding the Bible, so this is a new experience for me. However, I'm very much enjoying it so far.
There are lots of great bits in the story, but this piece is one that just caught my eye:
These were hard times, heart-breaking
for the prince of the Shieldings; powerful counsellors,
the highest in the land, would lend advice,
plotting how best the bold defenders
might resist and beat off sudden attacks.
Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed
offerings to idols, swore oaths
that the killer of souls might come to their aid
and save the people. That was their way,
their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts
they remembered hell. The Almighty Judge
of good deeds and bad, the Lord God,
Head of the Heavens and High King of the World,
was unknown to them. Oh, cursed is he
who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul
in the fire's embrace, forfeiting help;
he has nowhere to turn. But blessed is he
who after death can approach the Lord
and find friendship in the Father's embrace.
I'm not sure why, but that piece just resonated with me. Doesn't it just flow and sound so amazingly wonderful?
To me, it did. I wish I could write poetry like that.
There are lots of great bits in the story, but this piece is one that just caught my eye:
These were hard times, heart-breaking
for the prince of the Shieldings; powerful counsellors,
the highest in the land, would lend advice,
plotting how best the bold defenders
might resist and beat off sudden attacks.
Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed
offerings to idols, swore oaths
that the killer of souls might come to their aid
and save the people. That was their way,
their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts
they remembered hell. The Almighty Judge
of good deeds and bad, the Lord God,
Head of the Heavens and High King of the World,
was unknown to them. Oh, cursed is he
who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul
in the fire's embrace, forfeiting help;
he has nowhere to turn. But blessed is he
who after death can approach the Lord
and find friendship in the Father's embrace.
I'm not sure why, but that piece just resonated with me. Doesn't it just flow and sound so amazingly wonderful?
To me, it did. I wish I could write poetry like that.