WIDSITH.  The poem “Widsith,” the wide goer or wanderer, is in part, at least, probably the oldest in our language.  The author and the date of its composition are unknown; but the personal account of the minstrel’s life belongs to the time before the Saxons first came to England.[14] It expresses the wandering life of the gleeman, who goes forth into the world to abide here or there, according as he is rewarded for his singing.  From the numerous references to rings and rewards, and from the praise given to generous givers, it would seem that literature as a paying profession began very early in our history, and also that the pay was barely sufficient to hold soul and body together.  Of all our modern poets, Goldsmith wandering over Europe paying for his lodging with his songs is most suggestive of this first recorded singer of our race.  His last lines read: 

    Thus wandering, they who shape songs for men
    Pass over many lands, and tell their need,
    And speak their thanks, and ever, south or north,
    Meet someone skilled in songs and free in gifts,
    Who would be raised among his friends to fame
    And do brave deeds till light and life are gone. 
    He who has thus wrought himself praise shall have
    A settled glory underneath the stars.[15]

DEOR’S LAMENT.  In “Deor” we have another picture of the Saxon scop, or minstrel, not in glad wandering, but in manly sorrow.  It seems that the scop’s living depended entirely upon his power to please his chief, and that at any time he might be supplanted by a better poet.  Deor had this experience, and comforts himself in a grim way by recalling various examples of men who have suffered more than himself.  The poem is arranged in strophes, each one telling of some afflicted hero and ending with the same refrain:  His sorrow passed away; so will mine.  “Deor” is much more poetic than “Widsith,” and is the one perfect lyric[16] of the Anglo-Saxon period.

Weland for a woman knew too well exile.  Strong of soul that earl, sorrow sharp he bore; To companionship he had care and weary longing, Winter-freezing wretchedness.  Woe he found again, again, After that Nithhad in a need had laid him—­ Staggering sinew-wounds—­sorrow-smitten man! That he overwent; this also may I.[17]

THE SEAFARER.  The wonderful poem of “The Seafarer” seems to be in two distinct parts.  The first shows the hardships of ocean life; but stronger than hardships is the subtle call of the sea.  The second part is an allegory, in which the troubles of the seaman are symbols of the troubles of this life, and the call of the ocean is the call in the soul to be up and away to its true home with God.  Whether the last was added by some monk who saw the allegorical possibilities of the first part, or whether some sea-loving Christian scop wrote both, is uncertain.  Following are a few selected lines to show the spirit of the poem: