The Poetry of Alcuin of York (Routledge Later Latin Poetry) [1 ed.] 9780367342135, 9781032557304, 9780429324499, 0367342138

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The Poetry of Alcuin of York

This volume offers for the first time in any language a translation of the poetic corpus of Alcuin of York (c. 735–804), numbering some 339 individual pieces and nearly 7,000 lines. An introduction touches on Alcuin’s life, his writings (including doubtful works and pseudepigrapha), his Latinity, his place in the Latin literary tradition, and the manuscripts, textual history, and editions of his poetry. The translations follow Dümmler’s Latin text, with each poem controlled by a headnote that places the piece in its historical and literary contexts. A series of appendices offers translations of selected letters, a register of the poems by meter, a census of nearly 200 manuscripts with digital links, and a prolegomenon to a new edition. The Poetry of Alcuin of York is a stimulating resource for anyone working on later Latin poetry, and late ancient literature more broadly. The poems also offer fascinating insights into life and scholarship in Anglo-Saxon England and in the Carolingian empire in the late eighth and early ninth centuries, and so will also be of interest to students of medieval history. Joseph Pucci, Professor of Classics and of Medieval Cultures at Brown University, studies later and medieval Latin languages and literatures. He has published over seventy articles, chapters, and reviews, and, among other books, is the author of The Full-Knowing Reader (1998); Augustine’s Virgilian Retreat (2014); and The Classics Renewed (with S. McGill, 2016).

Routledge Later Latin Poetry Edited by Joseph Pucci, Brown University, USA The Routledge Later Latin Poetry series provides English translations of the works of those poets writing in Latin between the fourth and the eighth centuries inclusive. It responds to the increasing interest in later Latin authors and especially the growth in courses devoted to late antiquity. Books in the series are designed to provide comprehensive coverage to support students studying later Latin poetry and to introduce the material to those wishing to read these important and often under translated works in English. The RLLP is devoted to publishing creative, accessible translations. Each volume is self-contained: introductory material contextualizes the life and output of the poet in question, and includes manuscript and editorial details; some discussion of metrics and Latinity; and a sense of how the work being translated might be interpreted (including where possible the scholarly history of the same). This section concludes, as need be, with maps and a list of any editorial changes made by the translator to the established Latin text. At the conclusion of each volume, in addition to endnotes and a works cited list, there is a general index that, beyond allowing readers to negotiate content, also serves as a glossary of names, dates, figures, places and events. Volumes hew, as much as possible, to line-for-line versions of the Latin original, so that those who come to the translations with a knowledge of Latin can orient their reading with the original. By offering English translations of later Latin poetry with comprehensive supporting material the series enables a greater understanding of late antiquity through one of its most important literary outputs. The poems are significant sources for the culture, religion and daily life of the period and clear and imaginative translations also offer readers the chance to appreciate their quality. Selections from the Poems of Paulinus of Nola, including the Correspondence with Ausonius Introduction, Translation, and Commentary Alex Dressler The Poetry of Alcuin of York A Translation with Introduction and Commentary Joseph Pucci For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Later-Latin-Poetry/book-series/LLP

The Poetry of Alcuin of York A Translation with Introduction and Commentary

Joseph Pucci

Designed cover image: Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 652, f. 2v, which shows Hrabanus Maurus, Alcuin, and Otgar, Bishop of Mainz, from a ninth-century copy of Hrabanus’ De laudibus sanctae crucis. GRANGER—Historical Picture Archive/Alamy Stock Photo First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Joseph Pucci The right of Joseph Pucci to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978-0-367-34213-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-55730-4 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-32449-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9780429324499 Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC

For Joseph Vincent Pucci (bis) Solus es omnium, a quo me in omnibus vinci velim. —Augustine, Op. Imp. 22.51–52

Contents

1.

Acknowledgments List of abbreviations

ix xi

Introduction

2

1. Life 2 2. Writings 5 a. Authentic Writings 6 b. Writings of Doubtful Authenticity 17 c. Pseudepigrapha 22 3. Latinity 26 4. The Poetry 29 a. Genres 29 b. Meters 31 c. Manuscripts, Textual History, and Editions 33 5. Principles of Translation and Using This Translation 34 6. Changes to the Latin Text 36 2.

Maps

38

3.

The Poems

40

Appendices

384

1. Letters of Alcuin Pertaining to His Poetry 384 2. Poems in Dümmler/Strecker by Type 411

viii Contents 3. Individual Poems by Meters and Numbers of Lines, With Summary of Meters 412 4. Census of Manuscripts by Depository, With Digital Links 420 5. Prolegomenon to a New Edition 436 Bibliography

440

1. Primary Works 440 a. Alcuin 440 b. Other Authors/Works 452 2. Secondary Works 454 Index

468

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to many as these versions of Alcuin’s words come to print. A first draft was supported by the Dean of the College at Brown, whose subvention enabled Theodore Follini-Press to gather bibliography and sketch translations of epis. 10, 17, and 311, the latter of which, with my revisions, I am pleased to publish under his name. Jacob Ihnen, recently student, now friend, glossed passages in the letters against their scriptural backdrops and helped as this project grew to include all the poetry. Bryn Canner, former student, steadfast friend, was a sensitive reader of early versions of more than a few poems. Nearly one hundred students have studied Alcuin with me over the last decade (mirabile dictu). I’m grateful to all of them as I offer specific thanks to Ellie Baker, Lena Barsky, Luis Campos, Kelly Clark, Annie Craig, Michael Geisinger, Brett Geiss, Shawn Kant, Varun Kasibhatla, Victoria Lansing, John Michaud, Paul Michaud, Marijke Perry, Eli Petzold, Samir Saeed, Katie Schulz, Rachel Sklar, Maya Smith, Abby Wells, and Amelia Wyckoff. Most recently, Jenny Hu helped with finishing touches. I am more than pleased to publish versions of carm. 6 and 7 under the names of their translators, Brett Caplan and David Sacks, who met the challenges of Alcuin’s carmina figurata without blinking. I owe more than I can say to David, too, for poring over my translations and offering improvements. I am equally indebted to Rosella Liu and Livia Hoffman, ardent students of Alcuin’s words, who helped to provide an ultima manus, and under whose names I am happy to publish with my revisions their translations of epis. 171 and 172. I owe much by way of support to the Bruce Elliot Donovan Memorial Endowment, whose namesake remains to me an inspiration. Mia Brossoie, once student, now friend, studied the words of Alcuin with me over the years as part of an ongoing conversation about late ancient literature that I know has just begun. My debt to her only grows. Colleagues at Brown and beyond remain unstinting. As Manager of the Department of Classics at Brown, Susan Furtado offered all manner of support during the earlier stages of this project, and Justine Brown, until

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Acknowledgments

recently her successor, was equal to the task of seeing it to completion. Jeri DeBrohun, colleague and friend for nearly thirty years, helped along the way, not least during her terms as chair of the Department of Classics. I hope something here can please her. Lesley Jacobs, student, colleague, friend, answered questions about Old English—and took me to York. Ken Haynes, friend but also mentor, was generous in always gesturing me onto a better path. Sheila Bonde, David Bright, and Scott McGill helped disperse mists surrounding certain stubborn phrases. Joel Relihan was a model of erudition and friendship in helping me understand more than a few obstinate lines. At Routledge, Marcia Adams and Amy Davis-Poynter remain incomparable models of editorial care and efficiency. They enlisted anonymous readers, exemplary in their good advice, who have made what follows much the better. To O.J.C: tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño. To Katie, Kitty, and Isabella go my abiding love; and to Isabella’s father, to whom this book is dedicated, now you know how it feels to write these words.

Abbreviations

Allott

Alcuin of York, c. A.D. 732 to 804: His Life and Letters, trans. Stephen Allott (York, U. K., 1974) [Cited by letter number, followed by page numbers]. HE Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, eds. Bertram Colgrave and Roger Aubrey Baskerville Mynors (Oxford, 1969). Bullough Donald A. Bullough, Alcuin: Achievement and Reputation, Being Part of the Ford Lectures Delivered in Oxford in Hilary Term 1980 (Leiden and Boston, 2004). Burghardt Hans-Dieter Burghardt, Philologische Untersuchungen zu den Gedichten Alkuins, diss. Ruprecht-Karl-Universität Heidelberg (1960). Carm. Carmen/carmina = “poem”/“poems,” followed by poem number or numbers cited from Alcuin, Carmina, ed. Ernst Dümmler, Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini I, Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Poetae I. (Berlin, 1881). DMLBS R. K. Ashdowne, D. R. Howlett, R. E. Latham, eds., Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British Sources (Oxford: 2018). Duchesne B. Flacci Albini sive Alchuuini Abbatis, Karoli Magni regis, ac imperatoris, magistri Opera quae hactenus reperiri potuerunt, ed. André Duchesne (Paris, 1617). Dümmler See carm. and epis. Epis. Epistula/epistulae = “letter”/“letters,” followed by letter number or numbers cited from Alcuin, Epistolae, ed. Ernst Dümmler, Epistolae Karolini Aevi II, Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Epistolae 4 (Berlin, 1895). Forster Beati Flacci Albini seu Alcuini Abbatis, Caroli Magni regis ac imperatoris, magistri Opera, 2 Books in 4 Parts, ed. Frobenius Forster (Regensburg, 1777), Book 2, Part 3 [=Carmina; unless otherwise noted].

xii

Abbreviations

Garrison Godman PL v./vv.

Mary Garrison, Alcuin’s World Through His Letters and Verse, diss. University of Cambridge (1995). Peter Godman, Alcuin: The Bishops, Kings and Saints of York (Oxford, 1982). B. Flacci Albini seu Alcuini Abbatis et Caroli Magni Imperatoris Magistri Opera Omnia, in Patrologia cursus completus, series Latina, ed. J.-P. Migne, 221 volumes (Paris: 1841–1864). Verse number(s) in a poem

At peace in my tall-windowed Wiltshire room, (Birds overheard from chill March twilight’s close) I read, translated, Alcuin’s verse, in whom A springtide of resurgent learning rose. Homely and human, numb in feet and fingers, Alcuin believed in angels; asked their aid; And still the essence of that asking lingers In the aureoled invocation which he made For Charlemagne, his scholar. Alcuin, old, Loved listening to the nest-near nightingale, Forgetful of renown that must enfold His world-known name; remembering pomps that fail. Alcuin, from temporalities at rest, Sought grace within him, given from afar; Noting how sunsets worked around to west; Watching, at spring’s approach, that beckoning star; And hearing, while one thrush sang through the rain, Youth, which his soul in Paradise might regain. —Siegfried Sassoon, “Awareness of Alcuin”

DOI: 10.4324/9780429324499-1

1

Introduction

1. Life When he was born there, at some point, presumably, in the fourth decade of the eighth century,1 York was an important center of learning in the West,2 and Alcuin, in due course, became its most famous native. The name by which Alcuin is now called is an Anglicization of Alcuinus, the Latin for Alchuine, the name his parents most likely gave him, derived from the Old English alch, “temple,” and uini, “friend.”3 Alcuin uses the Old English form of his name occasionally in his writings but also calls himself Alcuinus, Albinus, Publius/Puplius Albinus, Flaccus, or Flaccus Albinus. That he was a “temple-friend” there can be no doubt. Of his life in York, little is known with confidence. His anonymous biographer claims that Alcuin may have hailed from a noble family,4 but the only evidence attending to his circumstances in York comes in the life Alcuin wrote to honor his kinsman, Willibrord. In it, Alcuin avers that he inherited an oratory and well-endowed monastery built by Wilgils, Willibrord’s 1 While it remains unknown, Bullough 34 expresses the opinio communis that “a year or two either side of 740 remains the most probable” date of birth. Godman 133 at vv. 1635–36 proposes a date between 737 and 746, though, as Bullough 34–35 with n76 demonstrates, his view is based on an arithmetical error. The year traditionally associated with Alcuin’s birth, 735, suggested by E. Dümmler, “Zur Lebensgeschichte Alchuins,” Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für ältere Deutsche Geschichtskunde 18 (1893): 51–70, is also the year in which Bede died. 2 On York, see E. James, “Alcuin and York in the Eighth Century,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilization in Carolingian Times, eds. P. L. Butzer and D. Lohrmann (Basel, Boston, Berlin, 1993), 23–40. 3 Garrison 230–231. 4 The Vita Alcuini was composed in the 820s at the request of Aldric, abbot of Ferrières and, in oral-history fashion, draws substantively on the memories of Alcuin’s student and friend, Sigulf; see C. Veyrard-Cosme, ed., Vita beati Alcuini (IXe s.): Les inflexions d’un discours de sainteté, Introduction, édition, et traduction annotée du texte d’après Reims, BM 1395 (K 784) (Paris, 2017). Coming in section 1, the wording about nobility is stock diction for hagiographical writing, for which reason Godman 65, at vv. 754–755, is hesitant to accept it.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429324499-2

Introduction 3 father, who seems to have held the status of paterfamilias, comparable to an Anglo-Saxon ceorl, a head of household or husbandman.5 This would mean that Alcuin’s family was free and likely enjoyed modest holdings of land but remained subordinated to others of higher social standing.6 As a child, Alcuin was given to the care of the cathedral church at York and its clerical, non-monastic community under Archbishop Egbert (d. 766).7 In due course, he came under the influence of Aelberht (d. 780), eventually Archbishop of York, who taught Alcuin at the cathedral school in his role as master, and whom Alcuin succeeded as magister in 767. Their attachment is celebrated at several points in carm. 1 (as follows, 88–93) and in carm. 2, an epitaph Alcuin wrote for his teacher (as follows, 95–97). In both poems, Alcuin praises Aelberht’s learning, spiritual exemplarity, and the care he expended on Alcuin’s formation. Alcuin was ordained a deacon but never took monastic vows. He walked—in the words of his most sensitive biographer—a middle path throughout his life, neither entirely layman nor priest; neither entirely monk nor noble.8 By the 760s, Alcuin had already achieved a reputation as a nurturing and effective teacher at York, and he seems to have worked assiduously in this role, to such an extent that his reputation made its way eventually to the continent. This may, in part, be owed to his own travels there in the same decade, for, while on an important trip to Rome with Aelberht, Alcuin also made trips to Pavia and to the monastery at Murbach. He perhaps visited Charlemagne’s court in the late 770s for the first time, too, as carm. 4 seems to suggest (as follows, 116–121). In any case, when Aelberht died as the incumbent archbishop of York in 780, his successor, Eanbald I (d. 796), sent Alcuin back to Rome to obtain the archiepiscopal pallium. Famously, stopping in Parma on his return from Rome in 781, Alcuin met Charlemagne, presumably for the second time, who invited our scholar to take up residence with his peripatetic court. It is unclear how long Alcuin took to act on this invitation. Bullough thinks Alcuin may have been in England as late as 786 and that he therefore is unlikely to have founded the palace school early in the 780s.9 The opinio 5 Vita Willibrordi Praef., 1.1, 1.31, in C. Veyrard-Cosme, ed., L’oeuvre hagiographique en prose d’Alcuin, Vita Willibrordi, Vedasti, Richarii, édition, traduction, études narratologiques (Florence, 2003), 33–75. 6 D. A. Bullough, “Alcuin [Albinus, Flaccus] (c.740–804),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, online https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/298. Accessed 12 May 2017. 7 Bullough, “Alcuin.” 8 E. S. Duckett, Alcuin, Friend of Charlemagne: His World and His Work (New York, 1951; rep. Hamden, CT, 1965), 305; though dated, this remains the most synthetic treatment of Alcuin’s life. 9 Bullough, “Alcuin,” and, with much more detail in Bullough 336–346, a view shared by R. McKitterick, Charlemagne: The Formation of a European Identity (Cambridge, 2008), 348.

4

Introduction

communis has long held that, once bidden by Charlemagne, Alcuin left for the continent quickly and that his role at the school was substantial. While his role can surely be debated, it seems difficult to defend the idea that Alcuin would or could have waited half a decade to act on Charlemagne’s invitation, while evidence supplied by his letters suggests that Alcuin developed warm friendships with two courtiers, Paul the Deacon and Paulinus of Aquileia (as follows, 152–157; 171–172), both of whom had left court by 786/787—hardly enough time to evince the sort of intimacy the letters otherwise betray if Alcuin arrived there only in mid-decade.10 Little else can be said of Alcuin’s decades in England, except that he was involved, with Aelberht and Eanbald I, in the building of the cathedral in York devoted to Holy Wisdom that was completed just before Aelberht’s death. He can also be placed at a papal synod held in England in 786—an event that energizes carm. 21, written to one of the legates, Theophilactus (as follows, 157–159). Clearly, Alcuin was on the continent by the end of the 780s and, excepting a visit to England in 790–793 to mediate a dispute between Offa and Charlemagne, he remained there until his death. Most of Alcuin’s varied and large output was produced on the continent in the last two decades of his life. Upon his arrival there, and until returning from his visit to England in 793, Alcuin participated in an itinerant court, which required of him the displacements of travel but also the chance to widen his circle of acquaintances. Once Charlemagne fixed his capital and court at Aachen in 794, Alcuin exploited the standing he had created for himself with king and court and continued to cultivate a central role in religious, political, and intellectual activities. Not the least of his roles—assumed by dint of his learning and efficiency—was author of documents, correspondence, capitularies, and other official communications composed on behalf of the king.11 He seems to have made wide acquaintance in these years with other powerful courtiers, too, and his letters especially evince an interest in initiating or burnishing contacts with ecclesiastical figures. His advice on all manner of topics was sought and given. Too, if his poetry is any indication, Alcuin struck up warm and even intimate friendships with members of Charlemagne’s family. Fittingly, as a scholar and teacher, Alcuin was also involved in these years with his own writing and in exploiting proximity to continental libraries in order to gather and copy manuscripts. If, as Bullough claims, Alcuin left England for the continent in 786, then, factoring in his return trip to England in 790–793, he spent no more than seven years with Charlemagne and never more than four consecutively. 10 Thus, Garrison 7n6. 11 Godman xxxvii and G. H. Brown, “Alcuin,” in Key Figures in Medieval Europe: An Encyclopedia, ed. R. K. Emmerson (New York and London, 2006), 18.

Introduction 5 His retirement in 796 was to the abbacy of St Martin’s in Tours, not, as he seemingly had hoped, to the archiepiscopal seat at York, nor even, as he had requested, to the great monastery at Fulda.12 He lived for nearly a decade in Tours, dying there on May 19, 804. If the literary remains are any indication, in these years, Alcuin was active of spirit and mind. He continued his scholarly activities, pursuing especially an interest in the so-called Adoptionist heresy and, along with Paulinus of Aquileia, writing rebuttals to the view that Christ was not the natural but only the adoptive son of God. Away from court, Alcuin nonetheless saw Charlemagne at least once, in 800, prior to the king’s assumption of the Roman imperial title, in which, it is sometimes claimed, Alcuin had a hand in planning and celebrating, if from afar.13 And there was also a dustup with Charlemagne, in 802, over the harboring at St Martin’s of a cleric accused of criminality, for which Alcuin came under criticism from both the king and Theodulf of Orléans, the official more immediately involved in the dispute. He often felt the approach of death in the decline of his health and wrote his own epitaph (as follows, 380–382). There has never been a time when Alcuin’s words were not read or his influence not felt.14

2. Writings Alcuin was a prodigious writer, yet the variety of his output in those years in which he was active—not to mention the rise of imitators and his own penchant for imitation—have militated against the secure dating and ascription of many works that pass under his name.15 In what follows, therefore, I take account of all the works that have been or remain associated with him. I also indicate the most recent editions of the same, so that readers can examine for themselves their sometimes-complicated histories. At the least, gathering in one place and taking stock of all of the works ascribed to Alcuin brings debates about their authenticity up to date, while offering, for the first time, a comprehensive gathering, summary, and assessment of them. No responsible accounting of Alcuin’s writings can forbear such an analysis, not least as a means to articulate with more precision and accuracy the intellectual 12 Bullough, “Alcuin,” suggests that letters sent to Pope Leo III acknowledge past misconduct that ruled out his appointment. 13 Brown, “Alcuin,” 19. 14 On Alcuin’s influence see Alkuin von York und die geistige Grundlegung Europas: Akten der Tagung vom 30. September bis zum 2. Oktober 2004 in der Stiftsbibliothek St Gallen, eds. E. Tremp and K. Schmuki (St Gall, 2010), passim, but esp. 106–149, 195–228, on issues of poetry, grammar, and the production of manuscripts. 15 Bullough 3–12 discusses authenticity; M. M. Gorman, “Alcuin Before Migne,” Revue Bénédictine 112 (2002): 101–130, in addition to the letters and poems, conservatively identifies seventeen prose works as authentic.

6

Introduction

habitats that Alcuin cultivated in his large, varied output. Much remains to be done to determine authentic from inauthentic works, not to mention the editorial attention that many authentic works still require.16 a. Authentic Writings The works confidently ascribed to Alcuin’s hand touch on all aspects of intellectual endeavor: exegesis, theology, hagiography, orthography, grammar, rhetoric, to name the most obvious. I treat them here alphabetically by topic: 1. Adoptionism Late in his life, Alcuin took up the causes of orthodoxy by composing a suite of works against Adoptionism, a heresy articulated especially by two Spanish ecclesiasts, Elipandus of Toledo (d. 805) and Bishop Felix of Urgel (d. 818), who, in putting forth the idea that He was merely “adopted” by God, placed Jesus’ divinity in doubt. In preparation to articulate his views against Felix, Alcuin gathered, in 797–798, the Liber Alcuini Contra Haeresim Felicis, a compilation of patristic and synodal writings in support of anti-Adoptionist positions,17 and then, in 798, wrote the Adversus Felicem Urgellitanum Episcopum, a lengthy treatise in seven books more formally outlining his views.18 A treatise against Elipandus in four books, the Adversus Elipandum Toletanum, was written in 799.19 2. Astronomy In more than a few letters20 and in a handful of poems, Alcuin makes clear his interests in and knowledge of astronomy and computistical studies. That he would have written treatises on these topics—not to say gathered works attending to the same—is a given. The difficulty comes in trying to 16 In separating wheat from chaff, I have relied on M.-H. Jullien and F. Perelman, eds., Clavis des auteurs Latins du Moyen Age, Territoire Français, 735–987, vol. 2, Alcuin (Turnhout, 1999), indispensable for anyone hoping to make sense of the thickets of Alcuin’s large output. 17 Liber Alcuini Contra Haeresim Felicis, Edition with an Introduction, ed. G. B. Blumenshine (Vatican City, 1980). 18 PL 101, cols. 119–230. Epis. 23 (Dümmler 60–65), addressed to Felix, should also be considered part of the suite of works devoted to refuting Felix’s positions. 19 PL 101, cols. 231–300. 20 There are nine letters on astronomy and computistical studies: epis. 126 [Dümmler 185– 187], 143–145 [Dümmler 224–235], 148–149 [Dümmler 237–245], 155 [Dümmler 249–253], 170–171 [Dümmler 278–283].

Introduction 7 distinguish authorship, editing, and anthologizing, or their combinations, especially when ascriptions in the manuscripts are lacking. More than a few works on leap year, the course of the sun, the stars, and the zodiac are associated with Alcuin in the long tradition attending to his writings, but five works seem more easily ascribed to his hand, though with varying degrees of certainty. Two works, the Ratio de luna XV and the De cursu lunae,21 seem safely his, given Alcuin’s comment to Charlemagne in epis. 155 (Dümmler 249–253) that he treated these topics in a letter, the form in which both works are preserved in Duchesne’s witness. Too, Alcuin’s epis. 148 (Dümmler 237–241), also written to Charlemagne, treats the course of the sun in the zodiac in ways that comport with the content of the Ratio. To it and the De cursu can be added three works: the De saltu lunae, perhaps authenticated by comments made to Charlemagne in epis. 145 (Dümmler 231–235), in which Alcuin notes that he had written to the king on the topic of the leap year in a previous letter;22 the De bissexto, seemingly authenticated by Alcuin’s comment in epis. 171 (as follows, 394–396), in which, commending Charlemagne’s writings on leap year, he mentions his own brief work on the same topic; and the Calculatio Albini, which treats the calculation of Easter Sunday and is ascribed to Alcuin in one manuscript.23 The De saltu lunae, De bissexto, and Calculatio Albini were edited by Forster in this order,24 with the Ratio de luna XV and the De cursu lunae placed by Forster at their head. There is no consensus about Alcuin’s authorship of these treatises, perhaps with the exception of the Ratio de luna XV. 3. Exegetical Treatises/Commentaries Alcuin’s authentic commentaries and exegetical works are at least eight in number, to which can be added several other pieces, possibly from his hand, and fragmented and/or lost works. Unproblematically his is the Compendium in Canticum Canticorum, which, according to his anonymous biographer, Alcuin wrote as one of three treatises devoted to the words of Solomon that also includes commentaries on Ecclesiastes and Proverbs, the latter work now lost.25 21 PL 101, cols. 981–984; edited by Duchesne as epis. 25 [= Ratio de luna XV] and 26 [De cursu lunae], cols. 1526–1529; and by Forster 356–358. 22 A. Borst, “Alkuin und die Enzyklopädie von 809,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilization, 53–78, more recently argues for its authenticity. 23 There are two recensions of the Calculatio Albini and Borst, “Alkuin und die Enzyklopädie,” 59–60, argues that Alcuin composed the so-called second recension based on Bede’s earlier computistical work. 24 Forster 358–368=PL 101, cols. 984–993: De saltu lunae; 993–999: De bissexto; 999–1002: Calculatio Albini. 25 Vita Alcuini 21: Scripsit . . . in Proverbiis Salomonis et Ecclesiasten, in Canticisque Canticorum.

8

Introduction

The Compendium relies on Bede’s commentary on this Old Testament book but abbreviates Bede’s treatment.26 The Expositio in Ecclesiasten, on the other hand, written for three former students—Onias, Wizo, and Fredegisus—draws widely on Jerome’s commentary in framing Alcuin’s thinking.27 Also authentic is the Enchiridion in Psalmos poenitentiales, in Psalmum 118 et in Psalmos graduales, which offers three brief commentaries on the seven penitential psalms, the fifteen psalms of ascent, and the abecedarian Psalm 118 (119).28 The work was accompanied by carm. 84 (as follows, 272–273), which forms the conclusion to epis. 243 (as follows, 404–408), both of which were addressed to Arn (as follows, 153–155) and sent to him with the Enchiridion between 798–802. Alcuin seems to conceive of the Enchiridion, the letter, and the poem as a collection, though they are sometimes witnessed separately or incompletely in the manuscript tradition. The Vita Alcuini mentions a work on Psalm 118.29 Rotrud, Charlemagne’s daughter (as follows, 236–241), and Gisela, the king’s sister (as follows, 143–145), asked Alcuin to compose a commentary on the gospel of John, the Expositio in Iohannis Evangelium, a work in seven books, written between 800 and 804, in which Alcuin engages with his predecessors’ thinking about this gospel—notably, Augustine, Gregory the Great, and Bede.30 The work is mentioned by Alcuin’s anonymous biographer and authenticated also by several letters, including epis. 195 (Dümmler 322–323) and 214 (Dümmler 357–358).31 The New Testament also attracted Alcuin’s attention in the form of Paul’s letters, and the Vita Alcuini mentions commentaries on Ephesians, Titus, Philemon, and Hebrews.32 The commentary on Ephesians is lost,33 26 Alcuino, Commento al Cantico dei cantici con I commenti anonimi Vox ecclesie, Vox antique ecclesie, ed. R. E. Guglielmetti (Florence, 2004). Bullough 8 considers the Compendium in Canticum Canticorum authentic. Gorman, “Alcuin Before Migne,” 127–128, dismisses the Compendium as spurious on the grounds that it lacks Alcuin’s normal dedication and owing to its brevity, but Guglielmetti sets forth a convincing case for authenticity. An English translation is in D. Turner, Eros and Allegory: Medieval Exegesis of the Song of Songs (Kalamazoo, MI, 1995). 27 PL 100, cols. 665–722. 28 PL 100, cols. 570–575. 29 Vita Alcuini 21: In centesimo quoque octavo decimo psalmo stilo usus est aureo. 30 PL 100, cols. 743–1007. M. M. Gorman, “Re-Writing Augustine: Alcuin’s Commentary on the Gospel of John,” Revue Bénédictine 119.1 (2009): 36–85, brings thinking about Alcuin’s treatment up to date. 31 Vita Alcuini 21: Postulantibus feminis Gisla et Richtrude, honestissime super evangelium Iohannis partim de suo, partim sancto Augustino mirabile opus composuit. 32 Vita Alcuini 21: Scripsit et in quattuor epistolis Pauli, ad Hephesios scilicet, ad Titum, ad Philemonem, et ad Hebraeos. 33 P.-I. Fransen, “Fragments épars du Commentaire perdu d’Alcuin sur l’Épître aux Éphésiens,” Revue Bénédictine 81 (1971): 30–59 argues that the marginal quotations found in Cambridge, Pembroke College 308, f. 256, a copy of Hrabanus Maurus’ Expositio in Epistulam ad Ephesios, may be from Alcuin’s lost commentary on Ephesians, not least because they are accompanied by the initials “ALB” (= Albinus, perhaps). Certainly, Hrabanus would have had access to Alcuin’s commentary while he composed his own.

Introduction 9 but the other works are extant: the Expositio in Sancti Pauli Epistulam ad Hebraeos;34 and two works that respond to and/or offer glosses on works by Jerome, viz., the Expositio in Sancti Pauli Epistulam ad Philemonem35 and the Expositio in Sancti Pauli Epistulam ad Titum.36 In addition to the witness of the Vita Alcuini, the extant commentaries are also attributed to Alcuin in the ninth-century Einsiedeln, Stiftsbibliothek 182. Similarly, a set of fragmented commentaries on the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians, the Ephesians, the Hebrews, and to Titus, the Commentatio brevis in quasdam sancti Pauli apostoli sententias,37 was ascribed by Forster to Alcuin based on the presence of the name “Albinus” in the witness of the late eighth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 795. These fragments are not drawn from Alcuin’s authentic commentaries on the Pauline epistles and, if authentic, perhaps were energized by specific issues or queries put to him. In epis. 80 (Dümmler 122–123), writing to his student Sigulf, Alcuin mentions his exegetical work on Genesis, the Quaestiones in Genesim ad litteram per interrogationes et responsiones, which takes the form of a dialogue comprised of 281 questions and answers.38 The Vita Alcuini also mentons this work,39 which was seemingly composed by Alcuin before he retired to Tours. It seems unproblematically authentic. A similar work, the Quaestiunculae de Genesi collectae, is ascribed to “Albinus” in two twelfth-century witnesses—Troyes, Bibliothèque municipale 541, and Vatican Library, Vat. lat. 13649—and may be from Alcuin’s hand. Gathering earlier commentaries on Genesis to provide explanations of that book’s narratives, the treatise remains unedited. Two works on the Apocalypse may be authentic. The Explanatio Apocalypsis per interrogationem et responsionem is a series of questions drawn from the Apocalypse, with answers taken from Bede’s Explanatio Apocalypsis. The lone copy of this treatise in the ninth-century Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, clm. 13581 contains two of Alcuin’s authentic works, the Quaestiones in Genesim ad litteram per interrogationes et responsiones and the Epistulae, and its placement in this manuscript has served as grounds for ascribing the Explanatio to Alcuin.40 A modern transcription of the Explanatio as recorded in Munich 13581 and a translation

34 35 36 37 38 39 40

PL 100, cols. 1031–1084. PL 100, cols. 1025–1031. PL 100, cols. 1009–1026. PL 100, cols. 1083–1086. PL 100, cols. 515–566. Vita Alcuini 21: . . . ad Sigulfum suum quaestiones in Genesi perutiles . . . composuit. Thus E. A. Matter, “Alcuin’s Question-and-Answer Texts,” Rivista di storia della filosofia 4 (1990): 645–656.

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Introduction

were recently published.41 A separate work on the Apocalypse, the Expositio Apocalypsis, offers commentary on Apoc. 1.1–12.12 in five books and may also be from Alcuin’s hand.42 Finally, a commentary on Matthew, the Liber quaestionum in Evangeliis, is ascribed to “Albinus” in the table of contents of Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 2384—a witness that otherwise copies authentic works of Alcuin. There is no consensus as to authorship and the work remains unedited. 4. Hagiography Alcuin wrote four prose saints’ lives. His Vita Sancti Willibrordi was composed at the request of Beornrad, Abbot of Echternach and Archbishop of Sens (as follows, 129–131). Willibrord was Alcuin’s kinsman, so his willingness to write a life makes sense. Carm. 3 (as follows, 97–116) is a poetic version of Willibrord’s life and geminates the prose life. Alcuin also wrote a life of St Riquier, the Vita Sancti Richarii, that was in part composed to celebrate the rebuilding of the monastery named in honor of St Riquier and associated with Alcuin’s friend, Angilbert (as follows, 150–151). In the same way, Alcuin’s Vita Sancti Vedasti was written, in part, to commemorate the rebuilding of the monastery named in honor of St Vedast and sponsored by Abbot Rado (as follows, 287–297).43 Finally, to honor the saint associated with the monastery he headed in retirement, Alcuin took up the task of fashioning a Vita Sancti Martini. Different from his other saints’ lives in terms of its brevity, focus, and reliance on earlier sources, Alcuin leans appreciably in this brief treatise on the vita of Martin by Sulpicius Severus and on Gregory of Tours’ treatment of Martin’s miracles.44 Perhaps authentic is the Sermo de transitu Sancti Martini, which is copied out in some witnesses following the Vita and serves as a concluding piece to Martin’s life.45 41 S. Van Der Pas, ed. and trans., Alcuin of York on Revelation: Commentary and the Questions and Answers Manual (West Monroe, LA, 2016), 205–298. 42 PL 100, cols. 1085–1156 (under the title Commentariorum in Apocalypsin Libri Quinque); F. X. Gumerlock, trans., Carolingian Commentaries on the Apocalypse by Theodulf and Smaragdus, Translated Texts and Introduction (Kalamazoo, 2019), 6–7 with n36, can still only say that the attribution of the Expositio to Alcuin “is accepted by many scholars.” A translation is in Van Der Pas, Alcuin of York, 1–204. 43 The lives of Willibrord, Riquier, and Vedast are edited and translated (into French) in Veyrard-Cosme, L’oeuvre hagiographique. 44 PL 101, cols. 657–662; for particulars of the manuscript tradition and interpretation see I Deug-Su, L’opera agiografica di Alcuino (Spoleto, 1983), 167–193; Veyrard-Cosme, L’oeuvre hagiographique, xxxv with n152; and J. Mullins, “Tracing the Tracks of Alcuin’s Vita Sancti Martini,” in Anglo-Saxon Traces: Papers Presented at the Thirteenth ISAS Conference, Held in the University of London from 30 July through 4 August 2007, eds. J. Roberts and L. E. Webster (Tempe, AZ, 2011), 165–180. 45 PL 101, cols. 662–664.

Introduction 11 5. Letters Alcuin was a sedulous correspondent: Dümmler’s edition contains 311 letters, but not all are authentic, some are written on behalf of Charlemagne, and several authentic letters have been discovered since Dümmler’s time. Bullough estimates the authentic letters to number 281, with additions always possible.46 Most of the letters were written in the last decade of Alcuin’s life. Their addressees run the gamut, as do the topics plied in them. They were first edited by Henricus Canisius early in the seventeenth century, and then by Forster in 1777.47 Migne reprinted Forster’s edition, comprising some 230 letters, in PL,48 not long before Philipp Jaffé and Dümmler took up their editorial projects practically at the same time: Jaffé’s edition, appearing in 1873, was, in fact, completed by Dümmler and Wilhelm Wattenbach after Jaffé’s death,49 while Dümmler’s edition was published in 1895. The twenty letters collected in Alcuin’s lifetime by Arn of Salzburg have been recently edited by Christiane Veyrard-Cosme, who is preparing a new edition of all the letters.50 6. Liturgical Works Several liturgical works are authentically from Alcuin’s hand. One is the Confessio peccatorum pura, a confessional formula composed at the request of Charlemagne and intended for the king’s private devotions.51 Another, also composed at Charlemagne’s request, is the Comes ab Albino Emendatus, an epistolary of some 242 readings produced by Alcuin in the 790s.52 Alcuin’s Comes takes shape from a seventh or early eighth-century epistolary that he revised in various ways, not least by shortening established readings and adding new ones to fill out the liturgical calendar. The Comes reflects one aspect of a larger reform movement within the Carolingian church, ordered by Charlemagne and often led by Alcuin, to replace the lessuniform Gallican rite across the empire with the Roman rite. Another liturgical work—perhaps Alcuin’s earliest extant treatise—is the De laude Dei et 46 Bullough 35 with n77; for the letters, W. Edelstein, Eruditio und Sapientia: Weltbild und Erziehung in der Karolingerzeit; Untersuchungen zu Alkuins Briefen (Freiburg, 1965) is still useful, but see now C. Veyrard-Cosme, Tacitus Nuntius: Recherches sur l’écriture des Lettres d’Alcuin (730?-804) (Paris, 2013), who brings their treatment up to date. 47 Heinrich Canisius, ed., Antiquae lectionis tomus I (Ingolstadt, 1601), 1–123; Forster, vol. 1, part 1, 1–302. 48 PL 100, cols. 135–514. 49 P. Jaffé, E. Dümmler, and W. Wattenbach, eds., Monumenta Alcuiniana (Berlin, 1873), 132–897. 50 C. Veyrard-Cosme, ed., Alcuin, Lettres, Tome 1, Sources Chrétiennes (Paris, 2018). 51 PL 101, cols. 524–526. 52 Edited by A. Wilmart, Le Lectionnaire d’Alcuin (Rome, 1937).

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Introduction

de confessione orationibusque sanctorum, an unedited liturgical florilegium of prayers in four books, preserved in two manuscripts—Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek Patr. 17 (B II 10) and El Escorial, Real Biblioteca del Monasterio de San Lorenzo b IV 17—that seemingly reflect public worship and private study in York in the years before Alcuin arrived on the continent.53 Books 1 and 2 contain excerpts from the Old Testament, Book 3 has extracts from the New Testament and the Fathers, and the last book is comprised of various liturgical and poetic pieces. As part of Charlemagne’s interest in ecclesiastical reform, Alcuin was also involved with the revision of the Sacramentary, since the text of the Mass had grown over the centuries to include parts owed to more local Frankish and Visigothic influences, to the Sacramentary named after Pope Gelasius from the late fifth and early sixth centuries, and to the revisions made by Pope Gregory in the late sixth and early seventh centuries. These accretions offered a confusion of rites that Alcuin (and others) worked to untangle. Alcuin mentions, in epis. 250 (Dümmler 404–406), sending copies of a Sacramentary to the monks at Fulda and, in epis. 296 (Dümmler 454–455), to the brothers at St Vedast. This revision, Alcuin’s Missal, does not survive, but its contents have been gestured toward using especially the extant Sacramentaries associated with St Martin’s. Alcuin’s votive masses, part and parcel of his revision of the Sacramentary, do survive, as the socalled Liber Sacramentorum.54 Another aspect of Charlemagne’s ecclesiastical reforms involved the Vulgate, whose copying over several centuries had introduced, by the eighth century, omissions, errors, and differences resulting from ignorance, carelessness, and local influences. In a letter to Gisela and Rotrud, written in 800 (epis. 195, Dümmler 322–323), Alcuin mentions working on a revision of the Old and New Testaments at the request of Charlemagne, and it can be presumed that he started this work sometime in the 790s. The Bibles mentioned in carm. 65–69 (as follows, 236–252) are a witness to Alcuin’s work in this vein, which continued beyond his lifetime through the labors of his successors as Abbot at St Martin, where Alcuin took up and pursued his work on the Vulgate. Though none of Alcuin’s Bibles survive, the collective

53 Bullough 177 with n140; pace Gorman, “Alcuin Before Migne,” 126, Alcuin’s authorship seems established by the rubric of the first book of Bamberg Staatsbiblithek Patr. 17: Liber primus de laude Dei et de confessione orationibusque sanctorum collectus ab Alchonio levita. D. Ganz articulates the grounds for an edition in his “Le De Laude Dei d’Alcuin,” Annales de Bretagne et des pays de l’Ouest 111.3 (2004): 387–391. 54 PL 101, cols. 445–466. The state of scholarship on Alcuin’s Missal is rehearsed by A. Westwell, “The Lost Missal of Alcuin and the Carolingian Sacramentaries of Tours,” Early Medieval Europe 30.3 (2022): 350–383, (https://doi.org/10.1111/emed.12558).

Introduction 13 work set into place by them helped to reaffirm the foundational position of the Vulgate in Christian culture for succeeding centuries.55 Two liturgical works are possibly from Alcuin’s hand: the Missa in honore sancti Willibrordi, a Mass for St Willibrord for use on his feast day, is copied in several sacramentaries associated with Echternach Abbey;56 it was perhaps written by Alcuin in the same season in which he composed his Vita Sancti Willibrordi (foregoing, 10). The Libellus sacrarum precum, on the other hand, is a small collection of prayers authentically by Alcuin, gathered with others ascribed to but likely not from his hand but perhaps reflecting a prayerful collection made by him.57 Finally, the Vita Alcuini58 mentions a Homiliarium, and a catalogue from Fulda also lists a homiliary by Alcuin among its works, confirming that Alcuin composed such a work that has since been lost. It has been argued59 that the work is extant in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale lat. 14302, where a notation from the fifteenth century ascribes to Alcuin a homiliary copied out there, but the treatise in this manuscript has also been understood to belong to Paul the Deacon or to be truly anonymous.60 The issue will remain controverted, though Alcuin’s authorship of a homiliary seems certain. 7. Pedagogical Treatises Alcuin turned his attention to pedagogy in several ways. One work, written in the mid-790s for Charlemagne, is the Disputatio de rhetorica et de virtutibus sapientissimi regis Caroli et Albini magistri, a dialogue between Charlemagne and Alcuin that affirms the insuperability of God as the source of wisdom against the backdrop of the liberal arts, while emphasizing the necessity of justice through the perpetuation of God’s teachings, especially as these are betokened by the four cardinal virtues.61 Carm. 80.2 (as follows,

55 St. Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek 75 and Vallicelliana, B 6 are presumed to reflect Alcuin’s Vulgate revision without being exact copies. See as follows, carm. 65–69, 237–252. 56 Edited by N. Orchard, “An Anglo-Saxon Mass for St. Willibrord and its Later Liturgical Uses,” Anglo-Saxon England 24 (1995): 1–10. 57 PL 101, cols. 1383–1416. 58 Vita Alcuini 21: Collegit multis de patrum operibus omeliarum duo volumina. 59 By G. Morin, “L’homéliaire d’Alcuin retrouvé,” Revue Bénédictine 9 (1892): 491–497. 60 The scholarship is reviewed in R. Grégoire, Homéliaires liturgiques médiévaux: analyse de manuscrits (Spoleto, 1980), 66–72. 61 The Rhetoric of Alcuin and Charlemagne: A Translation with an Introduction, the Latin Text, and Notes, ed. and trans. W. S. Howell (Princeton, 1941), 66–155. Alcuin’s sources and originality are analyzed by M. S. Kempshall, “The Virtues of Rhetoric: Alcuin’s Disputatio de rhetorica et de virtutibus,” Anglo-Saxon England 37 (2008): 7–30; while S. Ramsey, “A Reevaluation of Alcuin’s Disputatio de rhetorica et de virtutibus as Consular Persuasion: The Context of the Late Eighth Century Revisited,” Advances in the History of Rhetoric 19.3

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Introduction

269) would seem to provide a preface to this work. Of a different stripe is the Ars grammatica, written in the late 790s, an elementary introduction to its topic that takes the form of a dialogue between a teacher and two students—a Frank and an Anglo-Saxon.62 At roughly the same time, Alcuin also produced the De dialectica, which takes up this important topic in the form a dialogue between Alcuin and Charlemagne. The large number of manuscripts recording the De dialectica proves its popularity in the centuries after Alcuin’s death.63 In the same decade, Alcuin also produced the De orthographia, a re-working of Bede’s treatise on the same topic but with additional material culled from Cassiodorus, Isidore of Seville, Donatus, and Priscian;64 and the De vera philosophia, a dialogue between Alcuin and his students that leans heavily on the Bible and on Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy while making a case for the seven liberal arts in the attainment of wisdom.65 A different sort of pedagogy is found in the Disputatio Pippini cum Albino, which records 108 questions posed by Pepin, Charlemagne’s son, and by Alcuin, with topics ranging widely and some of the answers coming in the form of riddles. Among other authors, Alcuin draws on the works of Secundus and Symphosius in composing the Disputatio.66 Two pedagogical works are possibly owed to Alcuin’s hand. The Excerptiones super Priscianum maiorem gathers excerpts from Priscian’s Institutiones grammaticae and is attributed to Alcuin in one of the three manuscripts that records it.67 Recent students of this treatise are more sanguine about its

62

63

64 65 66

67

(2016), 324–343 (http://doi.org/10.1080/15362426.2016.1234159) rehearses the scholarly reception of the Disputatio in bringing the discussion up to the present. PL 101, cols. 854–902. Owing to the lack of a dedication and the use of the third person, Gorman, “Alcuin Before Migne,” 127, considers the work spurious. Bullough 252, 271, 280, 283, deems it authentic and believes it was written while Alcuin was still at Aachen, on which see his “Alcuin’s Cultural Influence: The Evidence of the Manuscripts,” in Alcuin of York: Scholar at the Carolingian Court, eds. L. A. J. R. Houwen and A. A. MacDonald (Groningen, 1998), 1–26. A work on grammar is mentioned at Vita Alcuini 21: . . . sub nominibus Franci et Saxonis de grammatica cum interrogatione et responsione facundissimum libellum composuit. PL 101, cols. 951–976; E. M. E. Rädler-Bohn, “Re-Dating Alcuin’s De dialectica: or, Did Alcuin Teach at Lorsch?” Anglo-Saxon England 45 (2016): 71–104, rehearses scholarly debates while bringing the discussion of the De dialectica up to date. A work on dialectic is mentioned at Vita Alcuini 21: . . . scripsit . . . necnon de . . . dialectica. Alcuino: De Orthographia, ed. S. Bruni (Florence, 1997), mentioned in the Vita Alcuini 21: Scripsit de ortographia. PL 101, cols. 849–854; see Bullough, “Alcuin’s Cultural Influence,” 15–16, on the De vera philosophia as prefatory to Ars grammatica. PL 101, cols. 975–980. M. Bayless, “Alcuin’s Disputatio Pippini and the Early Medieval Riddle Tradition,” in Humour, History, and Politics in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. G. Halsall (Cambridge, 2002), 157–178, treats the riddling aspects of the Disputatio. Alcuini abbatis Sancti Martini Turonensis Excerptiones super Priscianum, eds. L. Holtz and A. Grondeux, in Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 304 (Turnhout, 2020); the manuscript in question is Valenciennes, Bibliothèque Municipale 393.

Introduction 15 authenticity, not least owing to the masterful ways in which its author culls and organizes Priscian’s words into a pedagogical treatise focused on syntax. Finally, a unique pedagogical composition, possibly but not incontrovertibly from Alcuin’s hand, is the Propositiones ad acuendos iuvenes cum solutionibus, a compendium of fifty-three mathematical problems and solutions.68 To these can be added six works attributed to Alcuin in some way but now lost, including the De arithmetica, attested to in some manuscript catalogues; the De arte metrica, a work promised by Alcuin in his Ars grammatica;69 the De arte poetica, traditionally ascribed to Alcuin; the De astronomia, listed in several manuscript catalogues under Alcuin’s authorship; the De geometria, listed by title as a work of Alcuin’s hand in a manuscript catalogue and in the heading of Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 2269, where no text on geometry is copied out; and finally, De musica, a treatise claimed for Alcuin in the Vita Alcuini70 and listed in several manuscript catalogues. 8. Political Treatises Part of Alcuin’s role as a member of Charlemagne’s retinue was to assist in the composition of official communications on behalf of the king. Two substantive documents of this stripe bear the weight of his efforts. That Alcuin would have had a hand in composing parts of the Admonitio Generalis makes sense, given its focus on ecclesiastical and monastic reforms. This important capitulary, promulgated in 789, is in eighty-two chapters, and Alcuin’s efforts can be witnessed in the first part of the prologue to the work, in chapter 60, which serves as a second prologue, and in chapters 61–82, the so-called capitula utilia.71 Alcuin also was involved in the writing of the Epistula de litteris colendis, composed late in the eighth century and

68 M. Folkerts, ed., “Die älteste mathematische Aufgabensammlung in lateinischer Sprache: Die Alkuin zugeschriebenen Propositiones ad Acuendos Iuvenes, Überlieferung, Inhalt, Kritische Edition,” in Österreichishe Akademie der Wissenschaften, MathematischNaturwissenschaftliche Klasse Denkschriften 116.6 (Vienna, 1978). Bullough 9 with n14, points out that the grounds for Alcuin’s authorship are not strong and lists the work among Alcuin’s uncertain writings, but an argument for considering the work authentic is put forth in Folkerts’ edition and in H. Gericke and M. Folkerts, “Die Alkuin zugeschriebenen Propositiones ad acuendos iuvenes (Aufgaben zur Schärfung des Geistes der Jugend): Lateinischer Text und Deutsche Übersetzung,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilization, 283–296, a re-editing of Folkert’s 1978 edition. 69 Perhaps the complicated treatment of meters in carm. 118 (as follows, 371–373) is this work, or an introduction to it. 70 Vita Alcuini 21: . . . scripsit . . . de . . . musica. 71 Bullough 379–386; edited by H. Mordek, K. Zechiel-Eckes, M. Glatthaar, Die Admonitio generalis Karls des Großen, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Fontes Iuris Germanici Antiqui in Usum Scholarum Separatim Editi (Hannover, 2013).

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Introduction

addressed to Abbot Baugulf of Fulda, which articulates specific recommendations for educational reform across the Carolingian realms.72 9. Theological Works Alcuin is the author of at least five works of theological speculation. The first of these, the De animae ratione ad Eulaliam virginem, is a lengthy letter, epis. 309 (Dümmler 473–478; as follows, 408–410) written after 801 to Gundrada, the sister of Adalhard of Corbie, whom Alcuin calls Eulalia. This consideration of the nature of the soul draws on the work of earlier patristic thinkers, especially Augustine. Carm. 85 (as follows, 273–278) is a poetic recapitulation of much of the thinking behind it.73 A later work is the De fide sanctae et individuae Trinitatis, written in 801–802, in three books. Book one articulates Trinitarian theology, book two focuses on the nature of God’s being, while book three ponders the ways in which God, as Christ, reverses the fall of humanity. If the number of manuscripts of this work is any indication, the De fide was immediately popular and remained so.74 Late in his life, Alcuin also composed the De Trinitate ad Fredegisum Quaestiones XXVIII, comprising twenty-eight questions concerning the trinity posed by Alcuin’s pupil and successor at Tours, Fredegisus, and Alcuin’s responses to them.75 The Vita Alcuini mentions a work on the Trinity.76 Alcuin takes up the strains of moral theology in the De virtutibus et vitiis, written after 800 at the request of Wido, Count of Nantes.77 A manual of ethics, styled a Liber Manualis by Alcuin, the work is a “mirror” by which the laity might live more authentically spiritual lives. Alcuin draws freely on his predecessors, especially Augustine, in order to ponder the contentions of the virtues and the vices, the eight principal vices, and the four cardinal virtues. The Vita Alcuini mentions this work.78 Alcuin also is now credited in part with the composition of the Libri Carolini, a treatise in four books, written at the order of Charlemagne in the 790s to refute Byzantine positions respecting the role and status of sacred images articulated at the Council of 72 Bullough 384–386 treats Alcuin’s role in the composition of the De litteris colendis; edited by T. Martin, “Bemerkungen zur ‘Epistola de litteris colendis’,” Archiv für Diplomatik: Schriftgeschichte Siegel- und Wappenkunde 31 (1985): 227–272. 73 J. J. M. Curry, ed., Alcuin, De ratione animae: A Text with Introduction, Critical Apparatus, and Translation, Diss. (Cornell University, 1966). 74 E. Knibbs and E. A. Matter, eds., De Fide Sanctae Trinitatis et de Incarnatione Christi; Quaestiones de Sancta Trinitate, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis (Turnhout, 2012). 75 PL 101, cols. 57–64. 76 Vita Alcuini 21: . . . scripsit librum de sancta Trinitate utilissimum. 77 PL 101, cols. 613–638. 78 Vita Alcuini 21: . . . ad Widonem comitem omelias de principalibus vitiis et virtutibus.

Introduction 17 Nicaea of 787. It is now assumed that Alcuin played a role in the final editing of the Libri and, likely, was chiefly responsible for writing book four, which shares diction with Alcuin’s commentary on John.79 Finally, four works of theology are perhaps to be ascribed to Alcuin. The De conversorum acceptione opusculum has been thought to be from Alcuin’s hand because, in Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana S 17 sup., it follows without ascription three authentic works, the first of these bearing the name of Alcuin in the title, and also because of similarities of style and thought with other of Alcuin’s theological treatises.80 The Dicta quibus ebdomade diebus quorum sanctorum memoria celebratur, on the other hand, a short piece that seems to serve as a preface for a small ordo, was transcribed at the end of the ninth century in a sacramentary reproduced under Alcuin’s name.81 Similarly, the Disputatio puerorum per interrogationes et responsiones—a catechism of questions and answers—is anonymous in the manuscripts that witness it but is copied out amid authentic works.82 Likely authentic, too, is the Interpretationes nominum Hebraicorum progenitorum Domini Nostri Iesu Christi, not least owing to the fact that carm. 71.2 (as follows, 256), in which Alcuin names himself, follows this treatise in several of the manuscripts that record it, and seems to provide an introduction to it.83 b. Writings of Doubtful Authenticity (1) A homily written at the request of Rado, Abbot of the monastery of St Vedast, the so-called Adhortatio ad imitandas virtutes sancti Vedasti in actis descriptas, has been ascribed to Alcuin, given his associations with Rado and St Vedast abbey, not least as the author of the Life of St Vedast (foregoing, 10), which frequently precedes the Adhortatio in the manuscripts that record it. Beyond its placement subsequent to Alcuin’s Life of St. Vedast, however, this homily betrays no further connection to Alcuin. That its words are often used to celebrate other important

79 A. Freeman with P. Meyvaert, eds., Opus Caroli Regis Contra Synodum (Libri Carolini), Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Concilia II, Supplementum I (Hannover, 1998). 80 C. Ottaviano, ed., Testi Medievali Inediti: Alcuino, Avendath, Raterio, S. Anselmo, Abelardo, Incertus Auctor (Florence, 1933), 3–18. 81 Edited by J. Deshusses, “Les messes d’Alcuin,” Archiv für Liturgiewissenschaft 14 (1972): 16. 82 A. Rabin and L. Felsen, eds., The Disputatio puerorum: A Ninth-Century Monastic Instructional Text (Toronto, 2017), with L. Dorfbauer, “Überlieferung, Textkonstitution und Autorschaft der Alkuin zugeschriebenen ‘Disputatio puerorum’ (ALC 42),” Filologia mediolatina: Rivista della Fondazione Ezio Franceschini 29 (2022): 47–112, who argues that the Disputatio is unlikely from Alcuin’s hand, though owed to his circle. 83 PL 100, cols. 723–734; Bullough 274 and Garrison 214 with n358 consider it authentic.

18

(2)

(3)

(4)

(5)

Introduction saints whose names are simply substituted for that of St Vedast doesn’t militate against Alcuin’s authorship but does nothing to strengthen it.84 A list of years and locations relating to the places in which Charlemagne celebrated Easter between 782–797, some earlier editors considered the so-called Annales to be from Alcuin’s hand, especially since it is copied out under the title Annales ut videtur Alcuini.85 It is clear now that the Annales are little more than jottings of years and cities found in several manuscripts that cannot be ascribed credibly to any hand. Working, respectively, from the St Bertin and the Regensburg manuscripts, now both lost, many poems were ascribed to Alcuin by Duchesne and Forster. These carmina apocrypha are, with a few exceptions, now securely identified with other authors, including Aileran, Aldhelm, Angilbert, Bede, Einhard, Eugenius of Toledo, Fardulf, Hrabanus Maurus, Paul the Deacon, Rusticius, Sedulius, and Theodulf.86 A collection of readings from the New Testament, incorrectly attributed to St Jerome (hence its title), the Comes Hieronymi had been thought to derive from Alcuin’s hand or represent his revisionary work as witnessed in the Comes—now securely ascribed to him (foregoing, 11). This connection, put forth by Mabillon, was definitively refuted by Wilmart, who established that the Comes Hieronymi is not affiliated with Alcuin, who had no hand in its gathering or circulation.87 A series of florilegia without attribution in Vatican Library, Reg. lat. 69, the De baptismi officio ac mysticis sensibus has, in the past, been associated with Alcuin based on the fact that much of Reg. lat 69 copies out some of his authentic works. More recent thinking about the De baptismi now assumes no connection to Alcuin.88

84 Forster 172–174; well over a dozen manuscripts record the Adhortatio. 85 PL 101, cols. 1415–1416. 86 Duchesne, cols. 1675–1683 (carm. 2–17); 1684–1687 (carm. 25, 27–47, 48–49); 1697– 1698 (carm. 116–117); 1710–1711 (carm. 177); 1721 (carm. 190–191); 1747–1756 (one poem under the title of De Karolo Magno et Leonis Papae); 1756–1757 (one poem under the title Intercessio pro Mauro); 1757–1760 (three epitaphs without numbers and one poem under the title carmen acephalum); Forster 204 (carm. 3); 219–223 (carm. 151, 153–166); 552 (carm. 10–11); 614–615 (carm. 11); 617 (carm. 15=five poems under one number); 548–549 (carm. 2); 226 (carm. 213); 552 (carm. 12); 554 (carm. 17); 553–554 (carm. 13 = three poems under one number); 615 (carm. 13); 207–208 (carm. 8, 10–27); 554 (carm. 16); 226 (carm. 210); 237 (carm. 271). 87 PL 30, cols. 487–488; see A. Wilmart, “Le Lectionnaire de Saint-Père,” Speculum 1 (1926): 269–279. 88 S. A. Keefe, “Carolingian Baptismal Expositions: A Handlist of Tracts and Manuscripts,” in Carolingian Essays, ed. Uta-Renate Blumenthal (Washington, DC, 1983), 180–181; the text is edited by A. Wilmart, “Un florilège carolingien sur le symbolisme des cérémonies du baptême avec un Appendice sur la lettre de Jean Diacre,” Analecta Reginensia: Extraits des manuscrits latins de la reine Christine conservés au Vatican, Studi e Testi 59 (Vatican City, 1933), 153–166.

Introduction 19 (6) A brief commentary on the ten commandments, the De decem verbis legis seu brevis expositio Decalogi was ascribed to Alcuin based on a misreading of a marginal comment found in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale lat. 13372, which seemed to assert Alcuin’s authorship of this treatise along with some of Alcuin’s letters, also preserved in 13372. In fact, the work is taken from Chapter 29 of Pseudo-Isidore’s Quaestiones in Vetus Testamentum.89 (7) Hittorp attributed the De divinis officiis to Alcuin, under whose name he edited it in the sixteenth century,90 but it represents a later Carolingian gathering of materials arranged according to the plan put forth in the Liber officialis of Amalarius of Metz and containing liturgical material owed to the Expositio Missae of Remigius of Auxerre. (8) Aerntsberg edited the De psalmorum usu liber under Alcuin’s name in the sixteenth century, and Duchesne and Forster also ascribe it to him, but the work, in fact, dates from the mid-ninth century.91 Its preface may be from Alcuin’s hand, but it, in fact, provides an introduction to the Officia per ferias (as follows, 25), part of Alcuin’s pseudepigrapha, rather than the De psalmorum. Some manuscripts record at the head of the preface a dedicatory couplet in which Alcuin names himself. (9) A brief passage that follows a letter from him to King Aethelred (epis. 16, Dümmler 42–44), the De tribulationibus was ascribed to Alcuin by Bateson by dint of its placement subsequent to this letter in the lone manuscript that records it, Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 190.92 (10) A commentary on the first seventy-five psalms, the Expositio in LXXV Psalmos93 was ascribed to Alcuin until94 Wilmart demonstrated that Lambert (Letbert), Abbot of St Ruf (d. 1110), is, in fact, the author of this work, which forms the first part of his larger treatise, the Flores Psalmorum.95

89 PL 100, cols. 567–570; on authorship, see G. Mombello, “À propos d’un “traité” sur les commandements de Dieu attribué à Alcuin,” Romania 89 (1968): 54–95. 90 PL 101, cols. 1173–1286; M. Hittorp, De divinis catholicae ecclesiae officiis ac mysteriis (Cologne, 1568). 91 A. Aerntsberg, ed., Alcuinus, De psalmorum usu, hominum necessitatibus quotidie emergentibus accommodato, una cum variis precandi formulis (Cologne, 1571); Duchesne, col. 123–178; Forster 21–51. 92 M. Bateson, “A Worcester Cathedral Book of Ecclesiatical Collections, Made c. 1000 A. D.,” English Historical Review 10 (1895): 718. 93 PL 21, cols. 645–960. 94 Most recently by H. Brewer, “Der Pseudo-Rufinische Commentarius in LXXV Psalmos ein Werk Alkuins,” Zeitschrift für Katholische Theologie 37 (1913): 668–675, with G. Morin, “Une restitution en faveur d’Alcuin,” Revue Bénédictine 30 (1913): 458–459. 95 A. Wilmart, “Le commentaire sur les Psaumes imprimé sous le nom de Rufin,” Revue Bénédictine 31 (1914): 258–276.

20

Introduction

(11) A commentary on the Mass, the Expositio Missae “Primum in Ordine”96 has been associated with Alcuin only by dint of its placement in some manuscripts proximal to the Expositio Missae “Dominus vobiscum,” a work that belongs to Alcuin’s pseudepigrapha (as follows, 25). (12) The Expositio Missae “Quotiens contra se diversarum” falls in Troyes, Bibliothèque Municipale 1165 immediately before Alcuin’s De fide sanctae et individuae Trinitatis, and in this manuscript a modern hand ascribes it to Alcuin on this basis alone.97 (13) A gathering of three discrete texts, the so-called Notitia ecclesiarum Urbis Romae were ascribed to Alcuin by Forster, who edited them under Alcuin’s name, since they were found inserted between some of his letters in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 795 (f. 184r-191v).98 But Glorie, the most recent editor of these works, has more reliably dated them to the first half of the seventh century.99 (14) Prayers to the Holy Trinity, the Oratio ad personam Spiritus,100 and to Christ, the Oratio “Domine Iesu Christe”101 have been linked to Alcuin, given that at least one manuscript recording them is from Tours, but they remain anonymous in most of the witnesses that record them, and no witness ascribes them to Alcuin’s hand. (15) A prayer for Matins, the Oratio matutinalis pro custodia diei sequentis is sometimes found in liturgical collections that Alcuin had a hand in gathering, but the prayer is not ascribed to him in any witness.102 (16) A gathering of five prayers, one each to God, Peter, Paul, Andrew, and John, the Orationes ad Deum et Apostolos103 is affiliated with Alcuin because it follows carm. 80.1 in Vatican Library, Reg. lat. 3850, subsequent to the end of the Disputatio de rhetorica, but the ascription to Alcuin directly is lacking. Forster prints it under Alcuin’s Opera dubia.104 96 97 98 99

100 101 102 103 104

PL 138, cols. 1173–1186. PL 96, cols. 1481–1502. Forster 597–600. P. Geyer, O. Cuntz, A. Francheschini, R. Weber, L. Bieler, J. Fraipont, and F. Glorie, eds., Itineraria et Geographica; Itineraria et alia Geographica; Itineraria Hierosolymitana; Itineraria Romana; Geographica, Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina (Turnhout, 1965), 303–322. PL 101, col. 1399; edited most recently by J. O. Bragança, “L’Esprit Saint dans l’euchologie médiévale,” Didaskalia 3 (1973): 239. Forster and Duchesne don’t print it. PL 101, col. 1400; also edited by H. Barré, Prières anciennes de l’Occident à la Mère du Sauveur: des origines à Saint Anselme (Paris, 1963), 12, 84, 153, 263. Forster and Duchesne don’t print it. Forster 39 prints this prayer as part of the De Psalmorum Usu Liber; also edited by A. Wilmart, Precum Libelli Quattuor Aevi Karolini (Rome, 1940), 10–11. PL 101, cols. 1167–1168. Forster 457–458.

Introduction 21 (17) A manual of religious instruction, the Ordo de catechizandis rudibus is in three books. It takes much of its thematic energy from Augustine’s De catechizandis rudibus. Bouhot understands the work’s three books to represent different authors writing between 800 and 830.105 Alcuin’s influence seems to have been felt in the writing of book one, but none of the books can be ascribed to him directly. (18) Barth published in 1624 an edition of anonymous glosses on Avianus’ Fables, the Scholia in Aviani fabulas, under the title Aviani Fabulae emendantur et Alcuini in eas scholia non inepta publicantur.106 The manuscript from which he edited these glosses is now lost, and the title under which Barth published them seems a curious invention of copyists or humanist editors or both. These glosses bear no discernable connection to Alcuin. (19) Without explanation, Duchesne ascribed to Alcuin the so-called Sermo de silentio “Cum medium silentium,”107 while Forster prints it under Homiliae Quatuor B. Alcuino Suppositae.108 The work, in fact, is part of the De verbo incarnato of Hugh of St Victor. (20) A sermon in celebration of the saints, the Sermo in festo omnium sanctorum109 is ascribed to a half-dozen authors in the manuscripts that record it, while Duchesne alone and without explanation attributes authorship to Alcuin. Forster prints it under Homiliae Quatuor B. Alcuino Suppositae.110 The work bears no discernable connection to Alcuin. (21) A collection of juridical works recorded in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 4404 contains an incipit at f. 3, the so-called Textus librorum legum, in which Wallach recognized phrasing that recollects Alcuin, carm. 65.1.111 The similarities run across four lines of the incipit, but they hardly prove Alcuin’s authorship, attached, as they are, to works that otherwise bear no connection to him. (22) A sermon on the Assumption of Mary, the Tractatus de Assumptione beatae Mariae Virginis112 does not circulate under Alcuin’s name in 105 J.-P. Bouhot, “Alcuin et le “De catechizandis rudibus” de saint Augustin,” Recherches Augustiniennes et Patristiques 15 (1980): 176–240, who also offers the most recent edition of the text(s) at 205–230. 106 C. Barthius, Adversariorum commentariorum Libri LX (Frankfurt, 1624), cols. 1780– 1782. 107 PL 95, cols. 1177–1179. 108 Duchesne, cols. 1195–1197; Forster 532–533. 109 PL 39, cols. 2135–2137. 110 Duchesne, cols. 1205–1210; Forster 543–545. 111 L. Wallach, “A Manuscript of Tours with an Alcuinian Incipit,” Harvard Theological Review 51 (1958): 255–261; Wallach prints the Textus on p. 256 and lists earlier editions at n7. 112 PL 40, cols. 1141–1148, prints it among Augustine’s works, though it is not ascribed to him.

22

Introduction

the manuscripts that record it. Lambeck ascribes it to Alcuin in a 1666 inventory, but Forster rejects this view and does not print it.113 Of the several conjectures about it and/or its author since the eighteenth century, the Tractatus is now thought with more confidence to be a postCarolingian work dating from as late as the twelfth century.114 (23) The so-called Versus biblici115 are tituli contained in a Bible given to Charles the Bald, some of which were attributed to Alcuin by Westwood.116 Traube compared them to Alcuin’s tituli, found in London, British Library Additional 10546, and concluded that they were not from his hand and likely datable to late antiquity.117 (24) Based on his association with the abbey of St Josse, it has been thought likely that the Vita sancti Iudoci was written by Alcuin to honor that abbey’s namesake. But more recent work on the Life dates it to the early tenth century, though parts of it may have been composed under the influence of the hagiographic model provided by Alcuin.118 c. Pseudepigrapha (1) A commentary on Matthew, the Commentarium in Matthaeum, follows the Interpretationes nominum Hebraicorum progenitorum in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek lat. 14322 and is ascribed to Alcuin in a hand from the fifteenth century.119 (2) A commentary on Plato’s Timaeus, the Commentarium in Platonis Timaeum is ascribed to Alcuin in Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Library lat. 13. The author of the work is, in fact, Calcidius.120 (3) The Compendium fidei contra Arianos, an articulation of the Catholic position against the Arian heresy, was ascribed to Alcuin by Chifflet in 113 P. Lambecius, Diarium Sacri Itineris Cellensis (Vindobonae, 1666), 121–122; Forster 531–532. 114 H. Barré, “Immaculée Conception et Assomption au XIIe siècle,” in Virgo Immaculata: Acta Congressus Mariologici-Mariani Romae anno MCMLIV Celebrati 5 (Rome, 1955), 151–180, argues for a post-Carolingian date; G. Bavaud, “Guillaume de Saint-Thierry, docteur de l’Assomption?,” Revue Bénédictine 70 (1960): 641–651, suggests William of St. Thierry as a possible author. 115 L. Traube, ed., Bibliothecarum et Psalteriorum Versus, Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini, vol. 3, Monumenta Germaniae Historica (Berlin, 1896), pp. 248–249 [= 3.3, 3.4, 3.7, 3.9]. 116 J. O. Westwood, Paleographia Sacra Pictoria (London, 1843), no. 25. 117 L. Traube, “Paleographische Anzeigen, III,” Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für ältere deutsche Geschichtskunde 27 (1902): 284–285. 118 Edited with commentary by H. Le Bourdellès, “Vie de St Josse avec commentaire historique et spirituel,” Studi Medievali 34 (1993): 861–958. Duchesne and Forster don’t print it. 119 For pseudepigrapha I follow Jullien and Perelman, Clavis, pp. 512–536. 120 J. H. Waszink, ed., Plato: Timaeus a Calcidio Translatus Commentarioque Instructus (Leiden, 1975).

Introduction 23 his seventeenth century edition of the anti-Arian writings of Fulgentius Ferrandus and Crisconius.121 The work is, in fact, the Breviarium contra haereticos of Caesarius of Arles. (4) Comprised of prayers intended for private devotion, the Confessio fidei was ascribed to Alcuin by Chifflet, based on Montpellier, Bibliothèque Interuniversitaire, Section de Médecine 309, which copies the work out under the title Albini confessio fidei.122 Wilmart subsequently established that the author of the Confessio is more likely to be John of Fécamp, since it is comprised mostly of borrowings from his Confessio theologica.123 (5) De appetitu virtutum124 is the title given to a collection of patristic texts copied out in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek lat. 14614 at ff. 244r-268v under Alcuin’s name and following a copy of his De animae ratione. The first passage is, in fact, Isidore, Sententiae 2.32, which also carries the heading De appetitu virtutum, while a later passage comes from Alcuin’s De ratione animae, Chapter 2. (6–8) A mathematical work copied out in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 2269, at f. 7r-v, where it is ascribed to Alcuin, the De arithmetica “Mathematica Latine” is, in fact, Isidore, Etymologiae 3.1–7, 9.125 A musical treatise ascribed to Alcuin, the De musica, is also copied out at Vienna, 2269, f. 7v, and was edited by Gerbert in the eighteenth century. It is, in fact, an excerpt from the Musica disciplina of Aurelian of Rome.126 The so-called De astrologia also falls in Vienna, 2269, at f. 8v, where it is ascribed incorrectly to Alcuin, and whose author remains unclear.127 (9–10) A grammatical work attributed to Alcuin in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale lat. 17959 at f. 48, the De grammatica is, in fact, excerpted from Tatwine, Ars de partibus orationis.128 A similarly titled work, the De partibus orationis, is attributed to Alcuin in Vatican Library, Vat. lat. 1491, but is, in fact, a fragment of Servius’ Commentarius in Artem Donati.129 121 P.-F. Chifflet, ed., Fulgentii Ferrandi Carthaginiensis ecclesiae Opera junctis Fulgentii et Crisconii (Divione, 1649). 122 P.-F. Chifflet, ed., Scriptorum veterum de Fide catholica quinque Opuscula (Divione, 1656), 1–132; Forster 385–417 prints Chifflet’s edition. 123 A. Wilmart, Auteurs spirituels et textes dévots du Moyen Âge latin (Paris, 1932), 128, 159, 195–196. 124 PL 83, col. 637–638. 125 PL 82, cols. 153–161. 126 M. Gerbert, ed., Scriptores ecclesiastici de musica sacra potissimum, vol. 1 (St Blasien, 1784), 26–27. 127 E. Maass, ed., Commentariorum in Aratum reliquiae (Berlin, 1898), xlv–xlvi. 128 M. De Marco, ed., Tatuini opera omnia. Ars Tatuini, Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 133, (Turnhout, 1968), 1–141. 129 H. Keil, ed., Grammatici Latini, vol. 4 (Leipzig, 1864), 428.

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Introduction

(11) Laon, Bibliothéque Municipale 122 (bis), f. 2r-23v, records a work on the Holy Spirit, the De processione Spiritus sancti, ascribed there to Alcuin, but issues of content and style conspire against Alcuin’s authorship, not to mention the fact that there is no indication that Alcuin wrote on the Holy Spirit.130 (12) A fragmented work on the seven liberal arts, the De septem artibus liber131 was ascribed to Alcuin by Duchesne on the basis of a manuscript edited by Jacques Sirmond, but Forster rightly identified the treatise as belonging to Cassiodorus, Institutiones 2.1–2.132 (13) The De septem sigillis is a commentary on the Book of the Apocalypse that survives in two versions, but both are now understood to be late ancient rather than Carolingian, dating from the sixth century and, according to their most recent editor, representing the work of an author from Visigothic Spain.133 (14) The Dicta Albini diaconi de imagine Dei is a work of theological speculation attending to the idea expressed at Genesis 1:26 that humankind is made in the image of God. It circulates in a short version, attributed in some witnesses to Augustine under the title De creatione primi hominis; or to Alcuin as the Dicta Albini diaconi de imagine Dei. A longer version, ascribed to Ambrose, is titled the De dignitate conditionis humanae. The authorship of these versions remains disputed. Marenbon has edited the short version attributed to Alcuin in its title under Alcuin’s name.134 (15–16) The Distica Albini is a gathering of thirty-one hexametrical distichs, introduced by a six-hexameter piece and followed by an epilogue of eighteen hexameters. They are ascribed to Alcuin in Cambridge, University Library Gg V 35, at f. 379v, where they are copied out. Meyer, who edited the poems, has demonstrated that they are, in fact, the work of an anonymous ninth-century author. Following them in the same manuscript is the Dogmata Albini ad Carolum imperatorem, which, despite its title, is now believed to be the work of a seventh-century cleric.135 130 131 132 133

PL 101, cols. 63–82. PL 101, cols. 847–848. Duchesne, cols. 1245–1256; Forster 263–264. E. A. Matter, “The Pseudo-Alcuinian De septem sigillis, an Early Apocalypse Exegesis,” Traditio 36 (1980): 111–137. 134 J. Marenbon, From the Circle of Alcuin to the School of Auxerre: Logic, Theology, and Philosophy in the Early Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1981), 30–43, 144–150. D. A. Bullough, “Alcuin and the Kingdom of Heaven: Liturgy, Theology, and the Carolingian Age,” in Carolingian Renewal: Sources and Heritage, ed. D. A. Bullough (Manchester, 1991), 175–181, outlines the reasons for doubting Alcuin’s authorship. 135 W. Meyer, “Smaragd’s Mahnbüchlein für einen Karolinger,” in Nachrichten von der Königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, Philologish-historische Klasse (Berlin, 1907), 39–74, offers commentaries and editions of both works.

Introduction 25 (17) The Doctrina in fide is copied out in Graz, Universitätsbibliothek 724 at f. 270v-272v, where it is ascribed to Alcuin, most likely because it follows several of his authentic works. But there are no grounds for linking it to Alcuin and it remains unedited. (18) The Epistola ad Carolum Magnum de ortu Beneventanorum is the response of a figure named Alcoinus to a letter of Charlemagne, who had asked about the origins of the Beneventans. Waitz edited the letter and dates it to the eleventh century.136 (19) The Expositio Missae “Dominus vobiscum” is copied out anonymously in the manuscripts that record it, with few exceptions, including that of Budapest, Országos Széchényi Könyvtár lat. 316, which ascribes the work to Alcuin. The work is, in fact, anonymous.137 (20) Ascribed to Alcuin in Karlsruhe, Badische Landesbibliothek, Aug. XVIII, the Expositio orationis dominicae is a commentary on the Pater noster that otherwise betrays no affiliation with Alcuin.138 (21) The Hague, Museum Meermanno 10 A 7, contains glosses on the Pentateuch, the Glossae super quinque libros Moysi, which are ascribed there to Alcuin. The first gloss, on Genesis, was written by Haimon of Auxerre, but the other glosses are, in fact, anonymous and remain unedited.139 (22) The Officia per ferias140 is a collection of prayers, intended for private devotion, ascribed to Alcuin in at least one witness, but Wilmart has demonstrated that the gathering, in fact, dates from the first half of the ninth century, though representing intellectual and spiritual currents much influenced by Alcuin.141 (23) The Prognosticon de futuro saeculo was attributed to Alcuin in the eleventh century by Sigebert of Gembloux, but it is, in fact, the seventhcentury Prognosticum futuri saeculi of Julian of Toledo.142 (24) In Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College 177 (210), the Prologus in Vitam Caroli Magni Imperatoris wrongly attributes this preface

136 G. Waitz, “Erdichteter Brief Alcuins über die Herkunft der Beneventaner,” Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für ältere deutsche Geschichtskunde 1 (1876): 169–172. 137 The text is edited in J. M. Hanssens, ed., Amalarii Episcopi Opera Liturgica Omnia, vol. 1 (Vatican City, 1948), 284–338. 138 D. Mazzucconi, “La diffusione dell’Expositio Missae “Primum in ordine” e l’Expositio orationis dominicae cosiddetta Milanese,” Ricerche storiche sulla chiesa ambrosiana 11 (1982): 214–215, 249, offers commentary and edition. 139 The gloss on Genesis is edited in PL 131, cols. 51–134, where it is wrongly ascribed to Remigius of Auxerre. 140 PL 101, cols. 509–612. 141 Wilmart, Auteurs spirituels et textes dévots, 99n2, 144n4, 574n1. 142 J. N. Hilgarth, ed., Sancti Iuliani Toletanae sedis episcopi Opera, vol. 1, Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina (Turnhout, 1976), 11–126.

26

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of Einhard’s Life of Charlemagne to Alcuin’s hand, which is printed correctly as Einhard’s words in all modern editions of the Vita Karoli Magni.143 (25) Attributed to Alcuin and to other authors, a supplement to the Sacramentarium Gregorianum has now been more securely affiliated with Benedict of Aniane.144 (26) The Sermo ad Carolum Magnum in Hypapanti Domini is ascribed to several authors in the witnesses that record it, including Alcuin. The work, in fact, is the Sermo de lectione evangelica of Ambrose Autpert.145 (27–28) Two sermons on the Virgin Mary, one attending to the Assumption, the Sermo de Assumptione sanctae Mariae;146 the other on the Nativity, the Sermo de Nativitate perpetuae Virginis Mariae,147 are ascribed to Alcuin in some manuscripts. Both are, in fact, paraphrases of sermons written by Ambrose Autpert and were composed by a monk associated with the monastery of St Martial, Limoges, in the second half of the tenth century. (29–30) Two treatises on the Antichrist, the Vita Antichristi ad Carolum Magnum ab Alcuino descripta and the Vita Antichristi ad Carolum Magnum ab Alcuino edita, have sometimes been ascribed to Alcuin. Both are anonymous and unrelated adaptations of the De ortu et tempore Antichristi of Adso of Montier-en-Der (d. 992).148

3. Latinity149 Alcuin was well-trained in Classical Latin, whose rules he generally follows. His poetic vocabulary is typical of late ancient Christian poets, in that it contains Grecisms already absorbed either into Classical or Christian Latin, or both. Only Castalidus and Castalius appear to be coinages 143 L. Halphen, ed., Eginhard, Vie de Charlemagne (Paris, 1938). 144 By J. Deshusses, “Le Supplément au Sacramentaire grégorien: Alcuin ou S. Benoît d’Aniane?” Archiv für Liturgiewissenschaft 9 (1965), 48–71; he edits the text in Le Sacramentaire grégorien, vol. 1 (Freiburg, 1971). 145 R. Weber, ed., Ambrosii Autperti Opera, vol. 3, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Medievalis (Turnhout, 1979), 985–1002. 146 H. Barré, “Textes Marials inédits du XIe siècle,” Marianum 27 (1965): 3–37, comments on and edits the text. 147 PL 101, cols. 1300–1308. 148 D. Verhelst, ed., Adso Dervensis, De ortu et tempore Antichristi necnon et Tractatus qui ab eo dependent, in Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Medievalis (Turnhout, 1976), 105–128 is commentary and edition of the Vita Antichristi ad Carolum Magnum ab Alcuino edita; 129–137 is commentary and edition of the Vita Antichristi ad Carolum Magnum ab Alcuino descripta. 149 M. Banniard, “Théorie et pratique de la langue et du style chez Alcuin: rusticité feinte et rusticité masque,” Francia 13 (1986), 579–601, offers an overview of Alcuin’s Latinity. Godman xciii-cx, and Burghardt 35–42 offer summaries of particular features, which I cull here.

Introduction 27 owed to Alcuin on Greek models, if only indirectly.150 Examples of rarer Grecisms include anchoreta, chelydrus, chrisma, coenobium, cymba, ergastulum, exenium, mandra, metropolis, nummisma, obrizium, oroma, among others. He is fond of compounds beginning with ali-, almi-, alti-, etc., which, pace Godman, must be in part reflective of the Old English kenning tradition.151 These include aliger, almipater, altithronus, armipotens, belliger, carmiger, flammiger, floriger, fructifer, imbrifer, mortifer, pestifer, undivagus, velivolus, among others. Alcuin also shows a fondness for diminutives:152 auricula, cartula, lectulum, munusculum, signaculum, versiculus. He often uses nouns ending in “-or,” most of which are found in Classical Latin: renovator; interventor; ministrator; and nouns ending in “-men”: conamen, medicamen, moderamen, molimen, refluamen, tutamen. He sometimes employs archaisms, as, for example, at carm. 1.532: Christi tutarier armis; carm. 1.1096: E queis; carm. 62.27: nisi qui siet omnibus aequus; carm. 85.1.37: illum venerarier almo; or carm. 123.13: inhias vestirier ostro. One of the more pronounced features of Alcuin’s verse is alliteration,153 and he exploits traditional alliterative practice regularly, as at carm. 1.437, nec ego ruricola possum percurrere plectro; carm. 20.1, O Pauline, pater, pastor, patriarcha, sacerdos; or carm. 83.1.2: ut vigeas, valeas, victor in orbe potens, among many examples.154 He also exploits more complicated patterns of repetition within words or between/among lines, which, while taking shape against the backdrop of alliteration, perhaps might be more accurately considered word play and/or sound play. For example, he repeats consonants across and/or within words, as at carm. 39.1–5: Nec tu quippe tuum curasti, filia Flaccum: vester abit toto tremulus, heu, corpore vatis, Vergilii resonans tacito vix carmine versum: me circum validus ventus, nix, undique nimbus. Hanc tamen iniuriam poteris purgare precando;

5

150 Godman c-ci. 151 Godman ci argues against W. F. Bolton, Alcuin and Beowulf: An Eighth-Century View (New Brunswick, 1978), 67 ff. 152 Burghardt 36 thinks that diminutives often don’t express any special meaning, but this seems hard to defend. 153 Burghardt 37n1 chalks up to coincidence the alliteration of two words, but that seems gratuitous. 154 Godman cv with n2 locates Alcuin’s practices within an ancient context but downplays something more original, not to say Germanic, in the complicated aural playfulness that Alcuin plies throughout his poetry—a position that seems difficult to defend.

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More traditional modes of word play and sound play are common also, ranging from annominatio, as at carm. 1.11: regi regalia dona; carm. 1.75: donante tonante; and carm. 28.5: patrio patriae populo; to puns, at carm. 1.1545: Fulgentius . . . coruscant. He often duplicates words, as at carm. 3.31.19: semper agens, Christo, Christo laus, gloria semper; carm. 28.26: Vive deo felix, felix et vive per aevum; carm. 38.1: Munera muneribus David superaddidit Albin; carm. 45.82: Ut veniens venias, David amate, cito; carm. 48.26: Sed fugiens fugiet, fontis ut unda fluens; carm. 48.29: gaudia iam veniunt, veniunt et tristia statim. Alcuin uses tmesis several times: at carm. 2.1: archique sacerdos; at carm. 32.3: apel-peregrinis-lare; and at carm. 57.32: sub-cuncta cupit-vertere; and he regularly calls on the rhetorical effects of asyndeton, anaphora, antithesis, homoeoteleuton, hyperbaton, metaphor (including mixed metaphor), pleonasm, repetition, symmetry, vel sim—that is, the full arsenal of ancient tools at the disposal of Classical Latin poets. Alcuin’s control of grammar is usually correct when measured by Classical standards. He sometimes uses the accusative of direction toward instead of in with the accusative; the subjective genitive sometimes replaces the attributive use; and, instead of matching the possessive pronoun to its antecedent, Alcuin sometimes prefers the genitive, as at carm. 1.34: fertilitate sui. The dative of the pronominal adjective is sometimes formed with “i” and sometimes with “o”: uni (carm. 1.858; 1066), soli (carm. 1.661; 1009; 1525; 88.15.14), toto (carm. 1.79; 26.5; 110.17.1), ulli (carm. 62.86), alio (carm. 1.1211; 1526; 62.84; 86), nullo (carm. 1.530), nulli (carm. 9.11; 3.4.3; 9.8; 69.22; 109.24.11). The datives of uter, alter, and neuter are not used. The ablative of comparison is preferred to the use of quam. Sometimes, adjectives are used as substantives and vice versa, especially in vocabulary drawn from Christian Latin. Adjectives and adverbs can be intensified when coupled with magis (e.g., carm. 1.770; 62.51) and Alcuin sometimes uses magis to form the comparative. The comparative is also employed causa metri to stand for the positive. The personal pronoun sometimes replaces the possessive adjective, and ille is the demonstrative to which Alcuin turns most frequently. Ipse and iste are used as intensives and sometimes also used interchangeably. The distinctions in Classical Latin among aliquis, qui, quis, quisque, quisquis, and quisquam are sometime blurred. Cuncti for omnes is common, and alius and alter are used as synonyms. Sometimes, de has the meaning of Classical e or ex, post is sometimes used to mean postea, as at carm. 1.426, 687, and propter can be used to compare one thing to another. Causa metri, Alcuin sometimes uses the pluperfect for the perfect (as at carm. 3.1.1; 3.1.10; 3.3.1; 3.4.6; 3.5.5), or the present for the future or future perfect. The Classical sequence of tenses is generally observed with temporal conjunctions and with dependent clauses. Alcuin uses the enclitic “-que” as

Introduction 29 often as et, sometimes in the same verse, and vel and seu are synonyms for et. Some compound verbs are replaced by simpler forms: duci for adduci (carm. 1.328) or ciens for acciens (carm. 1.540), but the reverse occurs also, as at carm. 1.332, where persensit = sensit. As is common in later and medieval Latin, quod/quid are often used to express indirect discourse, though the normal subject accusative + infinitive is also used by Alcuin regularly. With impersonal verbs, verbs of commanding, and those of advice, an infinitive often replaces the more Classical ut + subjunctive. The use of facere + infinitive is common in Alcuin’s poetry, as in much of later and medieval Latin writing. The ablative of the gerund is often used as the present participle by Alcuin, who, in any case, turns to the participle regularly in his poetry: the present participle is used predicatively, or with a future or final sense, and it may also denote action prior or subsequent to that of the main verb. The perfect participle is often used attributively. The subjunctive mood is used regularly in purpose and result clauses and in indirect questions. As happens increasingly in later and medieval Latin, compound verb forms appear: servaturus fuisset (carm. 1.74); fuimus stantes (carm. 1.964).155

4. The Poetry a. Genres Dümmler prints eighty-four individual poems, forty collections of poems totaling 252 individual pieces, to which can be added Strecker’s three rhythmic pieces, which, together, comprise 339 individual poems and 6,692 lines (as follows, Appendices 2 and 3, 411–420).156 In his poetry, as in his life, Alcuin walked a middle path157 between Classical Latin models and their appropriation to Christian ends. He assumes at least three identities in his verse: Alcuinus or Alchuine when he speaks to or of himself (carm. 6 [title], 68, 120, 123), but Albinus in poems written to monks or fellow ecclesiasts (carm. 48, 50), and Flaccus in verses addressed to Carolingian elites (carm. 26, 32). Although he sometimes styles himself vates (carm. 51, 97, 108) or poeta (carm. 40), he just as often denigrates his poetic abilities altogether (carm. 1.15–18; 437–438; 741–744; 1654–1658), insisting that he is, if anything, a simple poet of the pastoral mode. He never collected or ordered his 155 A concise accounting of the changes from Classical to later and medieval Latin is A. G. Elliott, “A Brief Introduction to Medieval Latin Grammar,” in Medieval Latin, ed. K. P. Harrington, sec. ed., rev. J. Pucci (Chicago, 1997), 1–51. 156 On Alcuin’s poetry see D. Schaller, “Alkuin (Alchuine),” in Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters Verfasserlexikon, eds. W. Stammler and K. Langosch, sec. ed., vol. 1 (Berlin, 1978), cols. 241–253, and F. Stella, “Alkuins Dichtung,” in Alkuin von York, 107–128. 157 I paraphrase Duckett, Alcuin, 305, speaking of Alcuin’s ecclesiastical rank.

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poems, and they remain unevenly edited, often poorly witnessed, and rarely, if ever, translated. Yet, for all the neglect they have suffered, the generic variety of Alcuin’s verses is dizzying, and the novelties of form and content evinced in them are often unique. He composed at least two acrostics, dedicated to the Cross and to Charlemagne, which point up the worldly and sacred interests that animate his collection more broadly. His poems dedicated to important bishops/ archbishops or on monastic establishments or churches (carm. 9, 86, 88), not including inscriptions, number in the dozens and include also several pieces to Pope Leo III (carm. 28, 43). Alcuin’s claim to be but a pastoralist is belied by the epical strains evinced in the poem on the bishops, kings, and holy figures associated with York, comprising nearly 1,700 hexameters that sweep across British history and the more rarified ecclesiasts and nobility of York (carm. 1). More than a few poems serve as introductions or conclusions to letters, sometimes confirming in verse the contents of the epistles in question, but often enough, the poems cull their own interpretive habitats. In either case, such pieces demonstrate the ways in which poetry was often put in the service of more worldly ends, touching on pedagogical, exegetical, or theological topics, or matters of church and state (carm. 77, 80, 85, 118, 119). More than a few epitaphs are found among Alcuin’s poetry, including pieces composed for important monastic figures and Alcuin’s own selffashioned epitaph (carm. 89, 92, 113,123). Dozens of poems attend to friendships made, lost, reclaimed, or celebrated across the several decades in which Alcuin wrote. The addressees of these more private pieces run the gamut, from church figures of all ranks (carm. 16, 17, 18, 48, 84) to Charlemagne and members of his family (carm. 12, 13, 26, 27, 38–40, 42, 45, 72–75, 82, 83) to other poets and intellects gathered at the court in the same season, not least Angilbert (carm. 16, 37, 60), Paulinus of Aquileia (carm. 17, 19, 20), and Einhard (carm. 30). Several of Alcuin’s poems geminate prose works, most famously, a metrical rendering of the Vita Willibrordi that stands with the prose life (carm. 3 = book 2 of the Vita) and a hexametrical praise-piece written for Aethelheard that concludes a lengthy letter to him (carm. 10, with epis. 17). More unique, perhaps, are the pieces, such as carm. 4, that gesture toward an itinerarium, on the model of Egeria’s description of her journey to the Holy Land or Rutilius Namatianus’ De Reditu Suo. Riddles also form a more unique, if small, part of Alcuin’s poetic output, often on the model of Aldhelm or Symphosius (carm. 5, 63, 64, 92). Lyric, pastoral, and elegy are often merged in poems of a more private stripe, such as the “Cell” poem (carm. 23), where pastoral diction and lyric affect are sung in elegiacs, or carm. 32, where Virgil, Eclogue 2 is mined as a source of lyric energy to lament a wayward student in the elegiac mode. The pastoral mode per se

Introduction 31 is culled in a handful of poems, often with a focus on the cuckoo or, in one instance, on the nightingale (carm. 57, 58, 59, 61). Poetry can be put to the service of right living, as a lengthy list of moral precepts for monastic life demonstrates (carm. 62), and more than a few poems recount moments in books of scripture and were written in celebration of the copying and dissemination of the Bible or its parts (carm. 65–71, 115) or were composed to accompany scriptural commentaries or exegetical works (carm. 76, 78). Other poems were meant to accompany lectionaries, epistolaries, or devotionals, or are simple prayers (carm. 79, 122, 124). A substantial portion of Dümmler’s edition is given over to collections of inscriptions composed for various churches and monasteries. These 183 individual pieces are organized in groups by Dümmler under discrete numbers (carm. 88–91, 93–110, 112, 114, 116, 117). There is also a sequence composed for Charlemagne that celebrates St Michael (carm. 120) and several hymns (carm. 89, 121). b. Meters Alcuin’s large output contains 147 hexametrical poems, 179 elegiac pieces, two pieces written in Adonics, two in Sapphics, one Sequence, three rhythmic pieces, four pieces in which both hexameters and elegiacs are used, and one litany (as follows, Appendix 3, 412–420). Roughly 52% of the collection is elegiac, 43% is hexametrical, with the remaining 5% owed to the other meters. The rare instances in which Alcuin composes in these other meters, such as Sapphics, Adonics, or rhythmic meters, are the exceptions that prove the rule that he is a poet of the hexameter and of the elegy. The hexametrical line has six feet, on this model: — ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — // ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — x. The first four feet allow the substitution of a spondee (— —) for a dactyl (— ⏑ ⏑), and the last syllable of the sixth foot is variable (x). A caesura regularly falls in the third foot (//). A dactyl in the fifth foot is regular, though a spondee can be substituted. Respecting his hexameters, Alcuin follows the rules of prosody set down by Bede in his De arte metrica, which can be measured in his varied dactylic rhythms, his uses of elision, his use of end-stopped lines and of enjambment, and the placement of the caesura.158 He prefers a dactylic rhythm in his hexameters, with DDSS being the most common pattern in the first four feet, DSSS the second

158 Godman cx.

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most common pattern, followed less frequently by SDSS. Predominately spondaic or dactylic lines are rare. Generally, there is strong caesura in the third or fourth foot.159 The elegiac couplet is a dactylic hexameter followed by a pentameter, on this model: — ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — // ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — x (first line) — ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — // — ⏑ ⏑ / — ⏑ ⏑ / — (second line) The fifth “foot” of the pentameter is, in fact, the two long syllables that end their respective half-lines, which collectively form a spondee (— —). The first half of the pentameter allows the substitution of a spondee for a dactyl, with a long syllable (—) before the diaresis (//); that is, the pause in the middle of the line in which the end of the word corresponds with the end of a metrical foot. The second half of the pentameter is always two dactyls (— ⏑ ⏑) followed by a long syllable (—). Alcuin follows the norm for late ancient elegiacs and puts the elegiac couplet in the service of various themes, proving the adaptability and expressive possibilities that earlier elegists, especially Venantius Fortunatus, exploit in their poetry. Of the many features of the elegiac couplet that appealed to Alcuin, likely the most attractive was the way in which it can stand as a selfcontained grammatical and thematic unit. This allowed Alcuin to exploit sound play and word play within individual couplets and to overlay, especially in the pentameter, verbal patterns encouraged by metrical regularity. In line with Venantius Fortunatus’ habits, Alcuin regularly composes his couplets so that meter and theme coincide, both within and between couplets. Rhyme is common within lines and is also found between hexameter and pentameter.160 While the norms outlined previously for exclusively hexametrical poems also apply to Alcuin’s elegiac hexameters, his pentameters bear no striking departures from Classical Latin elegists or Venantius Fortunatus, presumably his most important model. Perhaps the most obvious difference between Classical elegy and Alcuin’s elegiacs is the absence of love poetry written in this meter. This is likely to say less about metrical habits and more about the purposes to which Alcuin put poetry, and here again, Venantius Fortunatus seems the more apt model. For the elegy in Fortunatus’ hands becomes an all-purpose meter used to articulate poetic 159 Godman cvii, who culls data from the nearly 1,700 hexameters of carm. 1. 160 M. Roberts, “Late Roman Elegy,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Elegy, ed. K. Weisman (Oxford, 2010), 85–100, esp. 95–98 outlines these features of elegy with respect to Venantius Fortunatus, from whom Alcuin learned them.

Introduction 33 themes of every stripe, marking a powerful expansion of elegiac possibility from the more restricted topics of mourning and erotic affiliation that engage the Classical Latin elegists. c. Manuscripts, Textual History, and Editions The poems are transmitted across hundreds of manuscripts, more often than not without attribution. I list in Appendix 4 some 200 witnesses, where students of Alcuin’s poetry can gain a sense of the often parlous state in which many poems are preserved, not least by visiting the digital repositories where many of these manuscripts now can be consulted. This is by no means a complete accounting of the manuscript witnesses, but it offers a sense of the dispersion of the poems across time and space.161 The larger collections of manuscripts are housed in the Bibliothèque Nationale (46+); Bayerische Staatsbibliothek (29+); the Vatican Library (23+); the Stiftsbibliothek in St Gall (16+); and the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek (14+). Some poems are more securely transmitted as parts of Alcuin’s letters. The piecemeal transmission of his verses suggests that Alcuin’s poems were not widely read in the centuries following his death. The witness recording the most poems, the ninth-century St Bertin manuscript, containing sixty-one pieces, was edited by André Duchesne (Andreas Quercetanus) in 1617 but is now lost. Duchesne thus saved a number of Alcuin’s poems from oblivion but also ascribed to our poet some pieces that likely do not belong to him.162 Over half of the poems/collections of poems published in Dümmler are edited by Duchesne, but the poems in the St Bertin witness betray no obvious affiliations of chronology, genre, or addressee/destination. The edition of Froben Forster, published in 1777, still the standard for Alcuin’s opera omnia, brought a new logic to the arrangement of the poems, using subject matter to organize individual pieces and separating doubtful poems from those presumed authentic. Forster emended Duchesne’s edition when he felt it necessary, sometimes in consultation with a now-lost manuscript in the library of St Paul’s, Regensburg, and he took cognizance of other sources of Alcuin’s poems, both published and in manuscript. Forster’s edition was reprinted in the middle of the nineteenth century by J.-P. Migne in PL.163

161 The number surely approaches, if not exceeds, 400 manuscripts, nor is it likely the case that all of the extant witnesses to the poems have been identified. 162 As Bullough 10–11 with n19 suggests. 163 Duchesne, Forster, and Migne are easily consulted in digitized form via Google Books.

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Dümmler brought a fresh eye to the poetry in his 1881 edition, which represented a marked improvement on its predecessors, not least in the grouping and ordering of poems. It remains the standard edition of the poetry. Yet, there are at least a dozen instances in which he published verses now known to be from another’s hand or made editorial decisions difficult now to defend, while there seem also to be several poems he excluded that now can be credibly ascribed to Alcuin. I note these moments in the relevant headnotes that follow and gather them as a prolegomenon to a new edition of the poetry in Appendix 5 (as follows, 436–439). In addition to the poems gathered by Dümmler, three rhythmic pieces thought to be from Alcuin’s hand were edited by Strecker and appeared in 1923.164 The letters preserved with or illuminated by Alcuin’s poems are translated in Appendix 1 (as follows, 384–410). That a new edition of the poetry is needed goes without saying.

5. Principles of Translation and Using This Translation I attempt, in what follows, to create a poetic voice for Alcuin that works across the genres he plied. My goal is for the English to sound well, with each line achieving its own rhythmic integrity that, as much as possible, carries over to proximal lines in terms of sound, beat, and sense. This has not involved replicating the ancient meters in which he wrote, for my goal has been to tug readers toward a space in which they might forget that they are reading very old words, if not that they are in the perforce artificial space in which translations always exist. Instead, I have endeavored to create an idiom for Alcuin that sounds agreeable to contemporary ears, while attempting also to honor those aspects of Alcuin’s poetic habits that can reasonably be brought down to our own time. The translations of the poetry correspond line-for-line with Alcuin’s Latin. The English lines tend to privilege iambic rhythms. To facilitate sense, in a handful of instances, I have transposed lines. I have tried to keep in mind that I am translating into English as much as from Latin, erring on the side of the colorful or the dramatic, perhaps occasionally pushing the bounds of anachronism, but as often as possible, choosing concrete over abstract phrasing. For example, at carm. 26.12, Alcuin uses the phrase Hippocratica secta to describe the doctors at court. Secta is perhaps more straightforwardly rendered as “disciples,” the word Godman uses in his translation.165 But “disciples” doesn’t pick up the connection of 164 Alcuin, Carmina Rhythmica, ed. K. Strecker in Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini 4, Monumenta Germaniae Historica (Berlin, 1923), 903–910. 165 P. Godman, Poetry of the Carolingian Renaissance (Norman, 1985), 119.

Introduction 35 secta to secare, “to cut,” “sever,” “divide,” or “detach,” and thus loses the energy this verb supplies. I forbear using “sect,” a word too often associated in English with fanaticism, but I resist Godman’s “disciples” and settle instead on “clique,” in order to emphasize the ways in which secta points up a group “cut off” by practice rather than by training. Similarly, in v. 21 Alcuin describes Einhard as a figure Hiliacis doctus in odis. Godman renders doctus more neutrally as “learnéd”166 but I translate it as “swimming,” not least because Alcuin’s phrasing emphasizes Trojan content over hexametrical skill. Too, at carm. 111.2, Alcuin enjoins his reader to pay attention to the lines he has written studiosa mente. The phrase more neutrally can be rendered as “attentively,” but I translate it as “laser-like focus,” running the risk of anachronism in order to gesture in English toward the sense in which studiosa is linked etymologically to studium, “zeal,” “eagerness,” “exertion,” and thus expresses a powerful attention of a more than ordinary kind. Finally, the challenge of Alcuin’s aggressive reliance on repetition has been met by allowing context to override consistency. To translate repeated words identically invites monotony, to be sure, but it also runs at cross purposes to the senses in which these words are controlled by individual contexts. Vale, for example, has one sense when written to Charlemagne and quite another when written to Arn. I have tried to capture these differences in my versions of Alcuin’s Latin. Each poem is controlled by a headnote that attends, in the first instance, to the ways in which the piece in question has been preserved in the manuscripts and edited. I pay especial attention to the editions of Duchesne and Forster in these notes, not least to offer a more complete picture of the fragile transmission of the poems and the sometimes-idiosyncratic natures of their publication. Not even a work of translation can responsibly ignore the difficulties and complexities of the preservation and transmission of Alcuin’s verses. Since Duchesne and, especially, Forster are cumbersome to negotiate, I indicate the numeration and page or column numbers of each in order to allow readers more easily to revisit their manifold interventions in the confection of Alcuin’s poetic corpus. I take account of more recent editorial work on individual poems where it exists. The headnotes also attend to historical and literary contextualizing, and in them, I especially rely on Burghardt’s 1960 Heidelberg dissertation, which remains important on questions of authenticity and Latinity for the poems he treats; on Bullough’s Alcuin, to which I have turned more often than my notes suggest; and on Garrison’s 1995 Cambridge dissertation, not to mention her more recent articles and chapters, that are models of erudition, acumen, and

166 Godman, Poetry, 121.

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Introduction

insight. That she is the greatest living authority on Alcuin cannot be gainsaid. The Clavis prepared by Jullien and Perelman remains foundational and indispensable. The headnotes offer a barebones commentary, but make no claim to the sort of bibliographic control or granular detail that one expects in a formal commentary. Perhaps they may energize much-needed work in this vein.

6. Changes to the Latin Text I follow Dümmler’s editions of the letters and poems, except for carm. 1, for which I use Godman. I have introduced changes to the Latin of the poems as follows: 1.184 levis . . . Maurus Godman = leves . . . auras Dümmler 1.210–211 lacuna Godman = no lacuna Dümmler 1.279 †coronis† Godman = coronis Gale 1.435 et spes ad te etiam venientem fallere nescit Godman = et spem ad tete etiam venientum fallere nescis Dümmler (Add. 632). 1.438–439 lacuna Godman = no lacuna Dümmler 1.530 qui Godman = quia Dümmler 1.588 continuis Godman = contiguis Dümmler 1.698 nautis Godman = nauta T R 1.778 receptans Godman = recepta Dümmler 1.795 fesso Godman = festo Dümmler 1.1271 canna Godman = carmen Mabillon 1.1475 vastae Godman = vasta Mabillon 4.14 litora Dümmler = Litora Pucci 4.46 Herculeo claro Dümmler = Herculea clava Schaller 9.143 conservet Dümmler = conservent H 9.179 si si Dümmler = si sic H 85.2.7 sanctae Dümmler = sancte Curry 85.2.13–18 Dümmler = 25–30 Curry 85.2.19–24 Dümmler = 13–18 Curry 85.2.25–30 Dümmler = 19–24 Curry 85.3.7 anima Dümmler = caro Curry 85.4.1 lucet Dümmler = lucent Curry 93.11 lacuna Dümmler = mens Pucci 104.6 quos Dümmler = quas Duchesne 105.1 donis Dümmler = domni Garrison/Newton 111.2 Versiculos paucos studiosa perlege mente Dümmler = et paucos versus studiose perlege, lector Jeudy

Introduction 37 111.3 Invia Dümmler = Ianua Jeudy 111.5 lacuna Dümmler = ad sedem sophie ducit haec scire volentem Jeudy 118.2 brevitatur Dümmler = breviatur cod. 118.4 xis cod. = axis Echavarri 118.6 occiput Dümmler = hocciput Echavarri 118.20 iacio cod. = facio McEnerney

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The Poems

Carm. 1 (Dümmler 169–206; Godman 2–135) Verses on the Fathers, Kings, and Holy Ones of York Anonymous and without title in extant witnesses, carm. 1 is the longest and most rhetorically accomplished of Alcuin’s poems. It is by convenience called Versus de Patribus Regibus et Sanctis Euboricensis Ecclesiae, wording owed to vv. 1654–55, . . . tibi propriis de patribus atque/regibus et sanctis . . ., but the tibi of v. 1654 is York city, not its ecclesia, nor are the patres and sancti of these lines restricted to bishops and saints but instead take in a gathering of fathers and holy women and men of York and Northumbria. Printing it at the end of his edition, Forster numbers the poem carm. 281.1 It is preserved in a single manuscript, Reims, Bibliothèque Municipale 426, f. 210–214v, 215r,2 copied at and until its dissolution in the continuous possession of the monastery of St Thierry, near Reims.3 Roughly half of the manuscript (f. 1–117) dates from the early ninth century; the rest (f. 118–216), including the folios preserving carm. 1, from the early twelfth.4 The poem exists also in a transcription made for Thomas Gale’s 1691 editio princeps,5 housed at the University of Cambridge, Trinity College 1130, which, for vv. 1–98 (excluding v. 66) and vv. 1205–1658, records the witness of a now-lost manuscript, also from the monastery of St Thierry, used by Mabillon in his 1672 edition;6 and which, for vv. 99–1204, records the 1 2 3 4

Forster 242–258, with the title Poema de Pontificibus et Sanctis Ecclesiae Eboracensis. Vv. 286–337 are copied out separately on f. 215r, column 3. Godman cxx, n6; cxxiii. First collated by M. L. Hargrove, Alcuin’s ‘Poem on York,’ The Latin Text, with an Introduction, an English Translation, and Notes, Diss. Cornell (1937), Godman cxx–cxxii offers further details on this manuscript. 5 T. Gale, ed., Historiae Britannicae, Saxonicae, Anglo-Danicae Scriptores XV (Oxford, 1691), 703–732. 6 J. Mabillon, ed., “Fragmentum Historiae De Pontificibus et Sanctis Ecclesiae Eboracensis, Scriptae à Poeta anonymo, Aelberti Episcopi discipulo, circiter annum DCCLXXXV,” Acta

DOI: 10.4324/9780429324499-4

The Poems

41

witness of a now-lost manuscript from the monastery of St Remi in Reims, copied by Thierry Ruinart in 1685. Ruinart’s transcription of this St Remi manuscript and Reims 426 seem to offer separate, though not unrelated, witnesses to carm. 1, while the transcription of the lost St Thierry manuscript used by Mabillon seems likely to be derived from Reims 426.7 Carm. 1 can be ascribed to Alcuin’s hand based on verses late in the poem that identify Alcuin and Eanbald by name as the builders of a new basilica at York, conceived by Bishop Aelberht (templum . . ./aedificaverunt Eanbaldus et Alcuinus, vv. 1515–16), and that, in the wake of the bishop’s retirement, describe both men as Aelberht’s heirs. To Eanbald, the poem recalls, Aelberht gave his episcopal rank (tradidit Eanbaldo . . ./pontificale decus . . .; vv. 1523–24), while to his “other son,” that is, Alcuin, Aelberht bequeathed his treasure trove of books (tradidit . . . alio . . . gazas/librorum gnato . . .; vv. 1526–27).8 The shared patrimony goes to the distinct role each man assumed as Aelberht’s successor: Eanbald as archbishop of York; Alcuin as teacher and bibliophile at York and eventually on the continent. The naming of Alcuin in v. 1516, which controls the identity of the “other son” of vv. 1526–27, is important when the poem goes on playfully to treat his identity as a kind of riddle, advising readers who might be unclear about the name of this “other son” to return to the beginning of the poem, where the name “will be revealed at once” (cuius si curas proprium cognoscere nomen,/fronte sua statim praesentia carmina prodent, vv. 1529–30). In terms of identifying Alcuin, these lines offer a solution in search of a problem, but, in respect of authorship, they suggest that Alcuin’s name was originally affixed to the poem’s beginning, perhaps in an autograph of some sort. Carm. 1 has traditionally been dated to the years before Alcuin left to join Charlemagne’s retinue, and the death of Aelberht in 780, mentioned near the poem’s conclusion (vv. 1519–20), may simply reflect a revising hand and does not rule out composition prior to that year. Nor does the poem’s obvious English focus, nor the Yorkist youths addressed at vv. 1408 ff., confirm an early date, even if they would seem to reflect in tone and thrust a world Sanctorum Ordinis Sancti Benedicti, Saeculum III, Pars II (Paris, 1672), 558–569. Mabillon’s edition excludes those verses that rely on Bede’s HE. 7 Godman cxxiii–cxxix analyzes the relationships of these witnesses. 8 Beyond affirming Alcuin’s role as Aelberht’s intellectual son, vv. 1527 ff. describe Alcuin in terms that recall the poet’s self-portrayal in carm. 2 (below, 95–97), the so-called epitaph for Aelberht. There, Alcuin reports that he followed Aelberht wherever his teacher roamed (quem quocumque . . . cucurrit/. . . secutus eram, 2.7–8), always desiring to be near to him so as to drink the wisdom flowing from his mouth (. . . cupiens adsistere semper/ut sophiam biberem pronus ab ore patris, 2.11–12). This stays close to imagery at 1.1527–28, where student-Alcuin is described as one who always clung to Aelberht’s side, and whose thirst for learning Aelberht satisfied (. . . patri qui semper adhaesit,/doctrinae sitiens haurire fluenta suetus; vv. 1527–28).

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The Poems

in which Alcuin was still involved.9 Given his literary and historical aims, Alcuin could well have composed carm. 1 in the bright glare of his continental life, using the poem as a means to draw closer to his patria in the circumstances of his current separation from it. Barring discovery of new evidence, the matter will remain controverted. Comprised of 1658 hexameters,10 carm. 1 celebrates several centuries of Northumbrian political, ecclesiastical, and intellectual history. Its ambition and length place it in the Western epical tradition, to which Alcuin points in the poem’s opening lines, invoking God as Tonans and calling the angels and saints cives Olympi (Vos quoque suppliciter cives contestor Olympi,/o sancti, populus fortis, gens diva Tonantis, . . . vv. 8–9). Yet, while he clears an epic space at the start, Alcuin goes on in vv. 15–18 to insist that his poetic talents are not commensurate with York’s fame: Mecum ferte pedes, vestris componite carmen hoc precibus, patriae quoniam mens dicere laudes et veteres cunas properat proferre parumper Euboricae raris praeclarae versibus urbis! Walk with me, pray this poem into shape: my heart bursts to sing patria’s praises and quickens to the story of York’s cradle-days, in verses unequal to the city’s fame. The slippage between topic and talent is a theme to which Alcuin returns several times in carm. 1, establishing a tension between the poem’s genre and its poet’s abilities. At vv. 437–38, for example, Alcuin concludes a narrative devoted to King Oswald by addressing the Cross, describing himself as ruricola, a singer of “country songs”: Nec ego ruricola possum percurrere plectro omnia multoties quae per te signa geruntur et pecora atque homines, etiam iuvenesque senesque. I’m not up to chanting in olden strains every marvel plied in Britain through you—but only flocks and shepherds, and youths and old men—I prefer country songs. 9 Godman xlii-xlvii rehearses the meager evidence for dating the poem and seems to favor a later date; an argument for an early date is made by L. Holtz, “Alcuin et la renaissance des arts libéraux,” in Charlemagne and His Heritage: 1200 Years of Civilization and Science in Europe, eds. M. Kerner, P. L. Butzer, and W. Oberschelp, vol. 1 (Turnhout, 1997): 45–60. 10 In Godman’s edition; Dümmler has 1657 verses, on which see as follows, 64 and n. 48 on v. 578.

The Poems 43 Seemingly, this goes to the scope and focus of a kind of poetry Alcuin normally writes—an assessment he repeats at vv. 741–744, comparing his verses to the metrical life of Cuthbert composed by Bede: Haec breviter tetigi, ne tota tacere viderer inclyta rurali perstringens carmine gesta, haec quoniam cecinit plenis cum versibus olim praeclarus nitido Beda sermone magister. I have only touched on Cuthbert’s life—lest I seem disinterested— culling a few of his fabled feats—singing in a country strain, since Bede, the teacher known world-wide, once chanted Cuthbert’s deeds in full, in a glinting register. The idea that Alcuin is singing, as he says, “in a country strain,” is also reprised at the conclusion of carm. 1 (vv. 1654–1658): Haec idcirco tibi propriis de patribus atque regibus et sanctis ruralia carmina scripsi. Hos partier sanctos, tetigi quos versibus istis, deprecor, ut nostram mundi de gurgite cymbam ad portum vitae meritis precibusque gubernent. For you, York, I have written this pastoral poem on the fathers, kings and holy ones that are yours; may those hallowed folk mentioned in these lines by their goodnesses and their prayers, helm my boat over worldly seas to the safe haven of life. If Alcuin prefers to qualify his talents in terms that remind readers of pastoral, that genre figures not at all in the several literary models from which he would seem to draw. One is supplied by verse hagiography—chiefly the saints’ lives of Bede and of Venantius Fortunatus—to which can be added Aldhelm’s poem on virginity. Beyond offering a storehouse of diction and imagery, in their treatments of exemplary individual action, these poets provided Alcuin with powerful ways in which to narrate and thematize singular Christian lives. The words of Arator, Juvencus, and Sedulius are a second model, in which Virgilian diction and imagery were put to the service of sacred history. Biblical epic thus looms large in support of Alcuin’s more recent—and local—history. While not providing poetic energy, a third model is Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica, whose prose narratives nonetheless act as a control on Alcuin’s content, especially in balancing the need to praise and blame figures from the past while telling a story of ecclesiastical and spiritual

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The Poems

exemplarity set against the backdrop of kingly and military power. Twothirds of the poem’s lines (vv. 19–1205) recast narratives owed to Bede’s Historia or to his prose and metrical lives of St Cuthbert.11 Alcuin begins carm. 1 with an invocation to Christ and the saints before seeking divine inspiration to take up properly his poem’s themes (vv. 1–18), which commence with the Roman origins of York, Rome’s withdrawal from Britain, the sinfulness of the Britons, and the invasions of the Picts (vv. 19–45). Alcuin then considers the role played by the Saxons (vv. 46–78) in the shifting political and military fortunes of the Britons that led in due time to Pope Gregory’s mission to convert the English (vv. 79–89) and the eventual rise of Edwin, one of the earlier of several successful kings (vv. 90–133). The particulars of Edwin’s reign are next treated (vv. 134–233) and include the mission of Paulinus, Edwin’s conversion, and the founding of the church at York. Nearly three hundred verses are devoted to Oswald’s busy reign (vv. 234–506), not least to his role in avenging Edwin’s death and the power of the miracles associated with Oswald after his death. An additional cluster of lines then adds to Oswald’s legacy (vv. 507–74) in treating Oswy’s rise and, especially, his military triumphs. Alcuin then treats the reign of Ecgfrith and the ecclesiastical accomplishments of Wilfrid I before moving on to celebrate Cuthbert’s life and triumphs (vv. 575–846). In the next several hundred verses, Alcuin offers more details concerning the rise and influence of the English church, recalling Bosa’s reforms, the vision of Drythelm, and the activities of Anglo-Saxon missionaries on the continent and in Ireland in the late seventh and early eighth centuries (vv. 847–1077). Important ecclesiastical figures loom large: John of Beverley, Wilfrid II, and Egbert (vv. 1078–1287), then figures whose reach approaches Alcuin’s own time and place: Bede, Balthere, and Echa (vv. 1288–1393). Most of the poem’s remaining verses take up the life and reputation of Alcuin’s beloved teacher, Aelberht (vv. 1394–1596), before offering a recollection of a prophetic and visionary experience witnessed by Alcuin as a boy (vv. 1597–1648). The poem ends in prayer and with an exhortation to the storied figures whose lives fill its lines to guide the poem, and its author, to safe haven (vv. 1649–58). Christ-God,12 brains and brawn of Father-on-high, our life and salvation, creator, renewer and lover, Word of God, You care for us, you give us gifts:

11 Godman xxxix, lxxxviii–lxxxix. 12 Christe deus = “Christ God” though, as Godman 3 notes, deus has adjectival force (“divine”). The phrase anticipates Christ’s triune identity, to which Alcuin turns in v. 2.

The Poems give ingenium to this puny poet, give him a way with words, flood his sluggish soul with the flow of life, that through you my lines might speak your gifts, for words you forsake cannot ply your worth. And, you, citizens of Olympian heights, I plead with every humility— saints and the heavenly host, people blesséd of the Thunderer, bearing eagles that gleam victory into Heaven’s keep and royal gifts to the King-in-the-clouds, who didn’t scruple to let His sacred blood soak the ground to save you from the shadowlands, leading you into Father-God’s hall— walk with me, pray this poem into shape: my heart bursts to sing patria’s praises, quickens to the story of York’s cradle-days, in verses unequal to the city’s fame.13 Noble York was first fitted with walls and towers by Rome —the native Britons were partners and allies in this work, for fertile Britain was then in thrall to a Rome merited to hold the world under thumb— to be an emporium of land and sea; to become powerful, secure for its leaders, an imperial gem, a bulwark against hostile arms; to be a haven to ships coming from earth’s ends, where a sailor, water-worn, might steady his prow with a long tow-rope—rushing to get it done. Through York the River Ouse meanders, its waters stirring with fish, flowery fields flooding its banks; thus the beauty of the land with its woodlands and slopes, excellent, fertile, and clean, an alluring place to make a life for the settlers who in good time made it home: they made a melting pot at York, hopeful

45 5

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13 Raris . . . versibus” = “in verses unequal,” goes to the sense that Alcuin’s poetic abilities are not up to the epical task before him; thus, the meaning is negative and, as Godman 5 notes, stands in contrast to the “fame” (praeclarae) of York. But the word also suggests the “rarity” of a poem written in an epical register of a city and a country, while affirming the confidence of the poet that the assistance he has called forth from Christ and from the saints will be provided. The word thus suggests the possibility, while acknowledging the long-odds, of literary success, grounded in the notion that, whatever the quality of his lines, they will not do justice to the divine attention inherent in York’s, and Northumbria’s, successes.

46

The Poems of a better life, they sought the riches of the land, a place to prosper, to rest, to placate their grated gods. When their imperium unraveled the Romans withdrew— longing to rout savage enemies, to make the West safe again— 40 and left York to British dissipations. Then the Picts14 pressed the Britons with nearly constant struggle, laid waste to them, put them under the yoke, British shields lacked the valor of defense, 45 British swords were dulled to freedom’s ancient call. An olden clan, strapping, militant, lived then between Germany and the hinterlands: called the Saxons—after the Latin saxum, “stone”—because they were a hardened lot. The Britons bribed them, paid for Saxon brawn to protect their patria, to terrorize the Picts; the British rabble roared fickle approval at once, commending their leaders for an apposite plan: they flew open the royal treasury, fitted out bribes for the stranger-Saxons, to soften them, to bring them round to a peaceful accord. When their bribes mounded as high as their hopes, British legates went out by ship, to cleave the salty channel without delay. Fear clutched at them; they cried prayer upon prayer, summoned by freedom: the hope of patria redeemed. Look—there’s not much more to say—the Saxon army rushed full tilt across the seasaw waves, rendering relief to their British hosts, running off the cursed enemy-Picts, through war and many battles won, until the Picts’ savagery ran down, and they fled with their timid troops: satisfied to play defense on their homeland shores. But the Saxons demanded more tribute in time— and this was the cause of a war that turned Saxon sword against British host,

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14 The Picts were a Celtic-speaking people who lived in what is now Scotland, and who, according to Bede, whom Alcuin follows here, harried the British until they enlisted Saxon help. See Bede, HE 1.12–15.

The Poems turned flabby Britons out of their olden home. Yet this was a presentiment of God’s grace: that the Britons, sinful, depraved, would fall away from their fathers’ lands; that superior Saxons would take hold of British towns and pay homage to the precepts of God. In the giving of thundering God, vision became deed: Saxon power grew stronger still with victories piling up like crowds, ascendant by the will of God, the Saxons began to cultivate kings. Gregory then ruled as Pope,15 clasping the church to his breast, bishop venerable to the world, no one mounting higher: a planter everywhere doting on Christ’s fields, strewing seeds of eternal life: he didn’t just plow old Roman domains —good, kindly planter that he was—but attended also to foreign fields beyond the heaving seas, furrowing pagan souls with his hoe, spilling God’s flowing Word to fields thirsty for honeyed streams, and from them the sea-soaked Saxons slaked their thirst on the eternal drink of life, given as a gift by Christ.

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While Gregory tilled: Edwin—born at York,16 descended from olden kings, 90 destined to hold sway without stint— was banished, exiled though still a boy, and fled the places hostile to him;17 but while in the grip of a darkening night, alone with his madding heart, in a place fitted to his pain, brooding silently under the waning moon, 95 he spied a vision sent from God,18 though he was as yet unsaved:19 15 Pope Gregory I (re. 590–604). 16 Edwin was born in 586 and ruled Deira and Bernicia, eventually called Northumbria, from 616–633. Alcuin, but not Bede, reports that Edwin was born at York. 17 The figure who caused Edwin to flee was Aethelfrith of Northumbria. Alcuin omits the fact that Aethelfrith attempted to assassinate Edwin. 18 Alcuin places this vision earlier in his biography of Edwin than does Bede, who recounts it after attending to Edwin’s assumption of power. As Godman 13n92–3ff notes, the events of Edwin’s reign “are made to proceed from this prophetic vision.” 19 This line is properly v. 93 in the Latin.

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The Poems of a sudden stood a man before the boy, a foreigner in face and frock, but spoke to him as a friend: “bravest boy, what burden burns your heart? King-God, eternal—who made the stars of the sky that beguile you with their beauty just now—gives comfort without uncertainty. Look: in His hand he holds your life, saves you from the enemy seeking its end, and grants imperium from shore to shore: may He be your King-God forever, always, without stint.” He then placed his hand on the head of the boy, in order to memorialize his words: “These words, this gesture just now,” he said, “will be for you a seal on our pact.” This was all he said—in a flurry he made his way off. From head to toe strength poured into the boy, desperation fled, banished to the far beyond, and quitted every fiber of his form. History witnessed what the man had said: soon the king who had envied Edwin’s life and power was killed by a slaying sword.20 Then, turning back toward home, Edwin repaired to his own demesnes, taken in, much loved, by rich and poor. He took up the honor of sovereignty with speed, sought all that was good for his people, big-hearted, he wielded power against the grain, not cruel, only kind, like his soul, beloved of the people for his temperament, the patria’s father, the court’s prop, leveling foes with gain upon gain, bringing every kingdom under a command stretching this long island from shore to sea: Saxons, Picts, the Irish, the Britons held their necks prone to Edwin’s yoke. And so Edwin, of arms and potency, wielded power gently, and in peace, loosened the habit of war, and bridled the crowd with the reins of sound judgment. No one was caught in maniacal war, the weight of law fell upon all,

20 Edwin was avenged by Raedwald at the Battle of the River Idle in 616.

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The Poems for each one feared its avenging ax drawing down upon his head, so each kept in his heart’s deep well the king’s far-sighted laws that had to be obeyed, for Edwin placed them on a people in thrall. In time, he took a wife, from Kent,21 a Christian model of morality, with forebears feted far and wide, she nurtured all the powers of our blessed faith. A priest was in her retinue, a guardian of the righteous life, Paulinus by name,22 a citizen of Rome, famous far and wide, sustained by a virtue that energized his life, he spoke truth from a wisdom that glommed his soul, a tiller of justice, a lover of kindness (for he knew what kindness was), a teacher never straying from God’s path, proffering heavensent gifts to Edwin’s water-washed people. Like Lucifer racing the rising sun, chasing off grimy shadows that hover about dawn, revealing to the world the tranquil day now returned: so kind Paulinus, in the Word’s divine light, put to run grimy shadows of the human heart. Then came a certain day: Paulinus made his way to the king, summoned the strength of his steadfast soul, reprised the sign that the boy-Edwin once saw under a darkening night, an exile from his patria: Paulinus touched the head of the king. Alarmed by the sign that foretold his rise, the king hurried from his heightened throne, a suppliant at Paulinus’ feet, a priest owed every respect: “I will do it all,” Edwin said, “all that I have warranted, in every haunt and hollow I will venerate God in heaven, as a convert to the faith: He has granted me life, sovereignty’s crown; He will be sole God to me until time ends: now, tell me how to love Him best.” In joy, Paulinus said to Edwin at once:

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21 Edwin married Aethelburh (d. ca. 647), the daughter of King Aethelbert of Kent (re. 589–616). 22 Paulinus was a Roman sent to England by Pope Gregory I in 601 as part of that pope’s efforts to convert the English to Christianity. He was appointed the first bishop of York in 627 and died in 644.

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The Poems banish the cult of the pagan gods, place them at a remove, stop the burning of sacrificial blood on altars ignorant of Truth, don’t let a Diviner seek Truth in heaps of steaming flesh, don’t let an Augur, drowning in dreams, hanker after the cries of birds: let any depiction of your gods be ground into the dust of earth.” Kind Paulinus began to witness the mysteries of the faith, openly, with resolve, to all within King Edwin’s keep, until the King gripped the faith with all of his soul, until his kindness made his people believe in Christ. While Edwin was turning to the faith, Coefi held power over the pagan priests and fronted the error of their ways. The king thus turned to him and said: “for the first time, priest, take up weapons that do not know your hands, quick, wield the spear, be the first to pollute your haughty pagan shrine; down the years you gave lessons in wickedness: now teach us how to save our souls.” Coefi grew agreeable to the king’s command, and with a few words made a reply: “I have been as on a fated thread, unsettled, all the days of my life, oblivion has overwhelmed my soul with doubts that have dimmed the days; but no more: I am resolved to follow what is real, the true and eternal God, to know if there is a life to come, if evil men are racked in pain, if requital comes to righteousness.” His own words then urged him on: to snatch a spear, to wield it like a threat, to mount his stallion like never before: its mane flew up from poll to withers, the high neck prided the higher sky, an anxious hoof stabbed the earth, an out-sized heart filling its chest, the horse would brook no further delay, battering the golden bit in his mouth. Like a Parthian with his rounded bow become a terrorizing foe, flashing his slender spear into the bended breeze,

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The Poems so Coefi cast his spear at the temple’s roof. Aweless, contented, to accomplish this vast feat, he then polluted the altars he once sanctified, revealing the fullness of his faith even before he was washed in the font, he did virtue’s work, staunchly, like a saint. Of a sudden, a crowd, acting as one, followed Coefi’s salutary act, gathered their strength like a single host, brought the temple to rubble and dust: a sanctuary built for profaners, rushed down then to ruination, from top to bottom it came undone, collapsed, was ground to grit. When Easter came to the world that year,23 king and kingdom were washed anew beneath the looming walls of York, in an oratory devoted to God, built posthaste by Edwin’s command, where he could obtain baptism’s blessed flow: at dawn, when Easter ’s nurturing light poured in, with his children and nobles, and the people in tow, after eleven years of sovereignty Edwin was consecrated to Christ in salvation’s font, embraced by the walls of York, whose importance grew from more to more, once Edwin made it his capital city. All this Pope Gregory had already commanded, when he sent salvation from heightened Rome to the English race—he had ordered it done at once: York was to be head of the church and archbishops were to take up the pallium there. Holy bishop Paulinus held the pallium first,24

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23 The year is 627; the events of this and subsequent lines are recounted in Bede, HE 2.14. 24 Sic pius antistes primum Paulinus habebat; Godman 22n210–11 argues for a lacuna between this and the following line because habebat lacks the necessary accusative. But primum [pallium] supplies the needed accusative, and the line continues the thought of v. 209, viz., archbishops were to take up the pallium in York, and thus the pious bishop Paulinus held the first pallium. The fact that Paulinus received the pallium sent to him only after he had fled from York in 634 (Godman 21n209) further burnishes this understanding of the line, for Alcuin’s focus is on the first pallium, not on the first archbishop to receive it in York—who was in fact Egbert. Godman’s translation (23) emphasizes York—“And so York’s first archbishop was the devout Paulinus”—but this is Godman’s emphasis, not Alcuin’s.

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The Poems pondered God’s commands by candle, under sun, took pains to spread God’s holy writ about: more than thousands were turned to Christ. Glinting with the fire of virtue and faith’s flames, he kept at bay for three-times-two years, in England’s north, a profaning chill, while Edwin ruled, a one-in-a-million king, dispensing laws by his own hand, justly done, pampering, scolding, prompting fealty to the faith, he fitted his kingdom with churches that stretched across fields and poked the sky. His church in York, lifted by columns soaring and stout, can be seen today,25 imposing, its majesty brilliant and steep. In the precincts of this church26 holy water washed the king: for all the days to come Christ’s teachings were his. Kindly God then prepared to whisk the king to a fitter place, joined to a light that never sinks. The hour of death mandated by God found Edwin at war, then, of a sudden, dead on the ground, killed by those he had trusted most.27 To believe in a kingdom built on clay is blindness to the deepest degree, for Fortune wheels the world headfirst, altered by malicious fate, only change abides in time as the hours slip away. Edwin, sovereign for seventeen years, a king heard round the world, lay dead: fair Britain’s one-in-a-million king. God didn’t suffer this to stand unavenged, but gave sovereignty to Oswald, nephew of the king, who came roaring out of banishment, confident in the ordnance of an insuperable faith. He scurried to patch up a small band of troops, to meet a foe ravaging his home with their swords, burning it to the ground with uncounted thousands of troops, their plunder fueling an overweening pride.

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25 This church, dedicated to St. Peter, no longer survives, on which see Godman 22–23n220–2. 26 “In the precincts of this church” (qua statione), viz., the oratory built quickly for Edwin’s baptism, mentioned at v. 197, was incorporated into the larger church Edwin built at York that Alcuin describes here. 27 Edwin was killed on October 12, 633, at the Battle of Hatfield, by the forces of King Penda of Mercia and by the British ruler Cadwalla, who had been allied with Edwin.

The Poems 53 Oswald didn’t blanch at the troops bearing down, girded his stalwart soul, and spoke these words to his band of men: “You have always lived and breathed the power of war, now, in your hearts, pluck up a courage immune to defeat, clamor for the help of God—mightier than any spear—in the nobility of your soul, 245 turn your faces, pray to the Cross that I have built on that mountain’s summit you see, where it seems to run red like a trophy of Christ, and now promises triumph over our foe.” The din of the people praying along was loud enough to reach beyond the stars, 250 while the army went before the Cross, each soldier adoring Christ and God with His power, on knees buckled in supplication. The prayers ceased; the small band hurried to their foe, bursting into hostile camps with the gore of blood all around. Like a lion, teaching cruelty to her cubs, devastates the hovering sheep, 255 maws the flock, champing, gnawing to the final death, so Oswald scattered the enemy troops up and down the field, become a victor, made his way through weapons and men, cut them down, drove them off, ground them up as they fled. Oswald’s troops overwhelmed their foe into flight, 260 behind them rivers of blood coursed the land until Cadwalla, Edwin’s killer, was slain—atonement for his wickedness,— dying in a heap of his own troops, staking to Oswald, the proud king, a victory heard round the world. Life moved on: Oswald entered Northumbria like a saint, an heir worthy of the shoulders he now strode, a man’s man, Northumbria’s protector, and lover, he acted outside the mold, followed Christ everywhere, a prop to those in need, he took from his keep to give to others, a savvy judge, his soul swam in compassion, in this world his life raised him up, his mind took in the meanest things, he terrorized his foes, he laughed with every friend: unbreakable in waging war, peace to him was a matter of faith. He grew into the fullness of power, wielded the scepter, mounted the heights,

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The Poems built church upon church decked out with rich gifts, unrivalled vessels for sacred rites; he dressed altars in silver, gemstones, gold, stretched silken cloth along walls made for saints, adorned beautifully by golden crowns, dangled lamps from the sacred roofs whose swaying brought the sky inside, splotched with heaven’s stars, inside their walls flocks gathered, led by the king’s devotion, where praises without cease were sung to Christ. By the witness of piety, of faith held high: whatever Oswald held he was willing to lose, to scatter his riches to hallow the Lord, his virtues were like a clarion call, all around his miracles were the stuff of gossip, now they are copied down, read world-wide: I’ve fashioned a few into metrical lines, made parts of them trot along in verse. Once Bishop Aidan,28 holiest of men, was celebrating Easter amidst his flock, with the king (Aidan’s acolyte in every way), when a crowd of indigents thronged the streets, asking for charity from the king as king and bishop reclined indoors. So the king in his kindness, without blinking an eye, ordered an imposing silver plate loaded with food for those in want. Aidan saw this, clasped the king’s hand, and said: “I pray this hand never dies!” Word was deed: the king, in all his divinity, fell,29 his hand was hewn by a heathen’s sword and hung on a pike, until Oswy, heir-avenger of brother-blood snatched it, brought it to Bamburgh city, and buried it in a silver box under the gabled heights of a church built for God in Peter’s name. The hand lives still: its nails grow,

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28 Aidan was an Irish monk and missionary to the Anglo-Saxons; he founded the monastery at Lindisfarne and died in 651. 29 Oswald was defeated and killed by Penda of Mercia at the Battle of Maserfield on August 5, 641, after which his body was dismembered. Alcuin’s account leans heavily on Bede, HE 3.6, 12.

The Poems its muscles flex, it has taken on the beauty of youth. Oswald’s faith and goodness were so outsized that ever the more he sparkled in death with signs of his exemplarity. For the quarter where he fell—the homeland at his back— overwhelmed by a people of no faith, is become a place of miracles, conjured from dust that delivers our souls. And so a wayfarer ambled by, passing the place where Oswald fell; just then his horse lost every strength, grit its teeth, spit foamy blood from its mouth, collapsed in a fit on the cusp of death, then, crawling in fits and stops on the earth, stumbled to Oswald’s dying ground (kind king), then jumped up, healed, turned to munching sweet green grass. The wayfarer sensed that this place was more worthy and marked it before riding off to the inn that made his journey’s end. He found there a girl, thin, unmoving, clammy, limp, on a bed, gasping the last breaths of a pitiful life. The girl was in her uncle’s care: his household grieved as she slipped away. The wayfarer bid them bring the girl to the place where his horse had found relief: the girl was posted on a cart, borne to the site the wayfarer showed, lowered there to the ground—and slept. When she broke the vigil of her sleep, she knew that she was whole again! She found water, washed her face, arranged her hair, covered her head, took up with those who made her touch this ground. Another wayfarer ambled by, passing the place where Oswald fought: something there grabbed his attention, a place more pleasant, greener than other parts of that field; he thought: “a man holier than the rest fell here, (so I judge), this ground must be a source of healings and cures;” he scooped some dirt from the place, tied it up in a cloth,

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The Poems ambled on to an unknown hamlet, bone-tired in the fading light of day. He came to a hut with a rich meal-a-table, people ready to scarf it down, he was welcomed, invited in as a guest, hung his sack of sacred earth high on a beam of the wall. Of a sudden a greedy fire shot to the sky, ransacked the roof—no strength was equal to its rage— it devoured the hut, but then this miracle occurred: the fiery heat cowered before the beam hallowed by that sack, and remained untouched by the flames. The power of that sack settled on all, for then they knew that its clump of earth was mixed with King Oswald’s sacred blood, and had already healed more than a few: those miracles made famous Oswald’s killing field. When a pleasant peace returned to Christ’s churches, Osthryth, King Aethelred’s queen— faithful niece of holy Oswald— attended to the remains of her blessed uncle, carried them to a sacred place, determined to bury them properly. The bones came to Lindsey, where the folk were struck without stint by a column of gossamer light hovering over holy Oswald’s bones, scraping the wispy clouds of heaven, flashing upon the night that surrounded these bones in temporary rest, under an imposing canopy. See: the local folk were harsh in olden hates, and refused to bury the bones in their monastery’s church, kept them outdoors through the length of a night, until that burning light seared their eyes, made them covet the bones that they had kept outdoors; at daybreak they washed the bones, confected a casket to place them in, bore them solemnly to the vaulted church, lovingly lowered them—riches with a life of their own—into the clutch of the earth.

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The Poems 57 This is now a place of insuperable healing— owed to the goodness of Oswald the patron— if the sick embrace the strength of holy belief, since then many have been healed. Reader: one story can stand for the rest, played quickly, in olden strains, to make you know them all to be true. In the monastery of Oswald’s church, a boy-a-bed burned with a lengthening fever, hovered on the cusp of death, until misery led him to the holy precincts holding King Oswald’s bones, whose goodness might remove him from fever’s clutch— for faith secures what comes to it in prayer. The sick boy believed, hastened to his home, hurrying in health and happiness, fever never held him in sickly clutch again. Decades on, holy Offa,30 Mercia’s king, studded Oswald’s tomb with silver, gems, gold, fine trappings, so that its brilliancy, its ideal, might run with time, he gained, and gained more, for a modicum of effort! The ground even glints there, glowing in heaven-sent signs, where the bones of Oswald the saint were bathed: it can halt the Devil’s best-laid plans, make whole again those he used to vex. Once, an abbess31 came to see these hallowed haunts, handed herself over to the Oswald’s good works, and took a scoop of sacred dirt, wetted by the water that cleaned Oswald’s bones—then went on her way to home. In time, a stranger came to her town, abraded each night by the Devil, without end; of a sudden he began to grate his teeth, wailing terror to the hinterland, clawing, gnawing furiously at himself; no one could tie this man in chains, or beat down the seizures savaging him; then someone told the abbess of these goings-on:

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30 Offa, King of Mercia (re. 757–796). 31 Aethelhild, sister of Bishop Aethelwine of Lindsey and of Abbot Ealdwine of Partney, as Bede, HE 3.11 reports.

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The Poems she saw his wretched writhings, furious howls, then called for a satchel of the dirt made sacred by Oswald’s bones. A servant-girl brought the sack—had barely entered his house— 410 when the man went limp and mute, his body surrendering to sleep. All gawked, and waited on events. An hour passed, then the man sat up, sighed, deeply, and said: “I’m sensible again, my body is whole,” 415 that wayfarer, the Devil, is gone with the wind.” Stupefied, agoggle, all around everyone saw the man healed suddenly from head to toe, thriving again in flesh and mind: in awe, they asked after the quick turn of his health: 420 beaming, he said: “when that servant-girl came with the sack of dirt, and put her foot on the sill of the door, of a sudden, the torturer-Devil was gone, like shadows wilting as the light sneaks in. The man was given a divvy of the dirt that nursed him back to health, 425 to carry with him: the Devil keeps his distance now. Cross: sacred, strong, glorious in goodnesses uncounted, everyone must hallow you; I will chant you—even if I’m not up to the task of cobbling lines that limn your praises. What was long ago lost you have found.32 Oswald, the king, bruited his triumphs through you, 430 (the few Camenae whispering to me chanted them)33 ever after, your glory flashed in songs singing wondrous things, every haunt in Britain (famously faithful) hankered after you, fanning remedies for every distress: nor do you bilk the hope of those coming to you, 435

32 The sentiment applies both to the cosmic implications of Christ’s resurrection in washing away original sin and thus allowing Paradise to be gained and, as Alcuin goes on to note, the local implications of King Oswald’s reign, whose successes as a Christian king created in his realm an earthly Paradise. 33 The Camenae are Roman versions of the Greek Muses and might be understood to betoken Alcuin’s modest estimation of his talents thus far in regaling his readers of Oswald’s fame—perhaps in recognition of his reliance on Bede for content and even diction. But the Camenae are used by Horace when he wants to stress the Roman nature of his poetic project that is otherwise influenced by the Greeks. Alcuin may therefore be keying into Horace’s urge to point up the new locality of his project, against the backdrop of older influences, much as Bede’s older historical project takes on a new form in Alcuin’s hexameters.

The Poems folks return home with your spiritual salve.34 —I’m not up to chanting in olden strains every marvel plied in Britain through you—but only flocks and shepherds, and youths and old men—I prefer country songs.35— From you they cut slivers of wood, that become salvation’s kindly gifts;36 here is one story, culled from the rest: a monk fell,37 shattered a bone, growling in pain, crying over his fractured arm, the hurt came like a flood, the swelling burned like a fire, sobbing tears upon tears, exhausted, his heart gave up hope. Night came: from the cross a fellow monk gathered moss,

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34 For v. 435, I follow the conjecture of Dümmler 632: et spem ad tete etiam venientum fallere nescis, not least because it allows for the parallelism of venientum and redeuntes in v. 436. In an address to the Holy Cross, it seems jarring to argue, as Godman 39n435 does, that spem = spes and nescis = nescit, thus shifting the subject of this line from the Cross to hope itself. In an address to so sacred an object, I find such a shift difficult to defend. 35 Alcuin describes himself as ruricola, which I understand to go to the scope and focus of his usual verse, as against the epical tradition he engages in carm. 1, pace Godman 39, who understands the word to mean “country bumpkin.” Especially if carm. 1 is among the earlier of his compositions (see previous 41–42), it seems hard to think that Alcuin, in composing the history of a celebrated city, would, as a current inhabitant of that city, consider himself to be a country-dweller. I believe the word goes to genre, not biography. For this reason, I reject the lacuna Godman posits after v. 438. The jarringly self-reflective phrasing of v. 437—nec ego ruricola possum percurrere plectro—controls vv. 438–439 grammatically and thematically. I understand Alcuin to be claiming his inability to compose in a way that does justice to his topic, viz., miracles, not merely because the topic is so wrought but also because he normally sings in a less-exalted mode, not to say of less exalted topics, more akin to pastoral. On this view, v. 439 describes the figures of that mode”: flocks and men [i.e., the men associated with flocks, viz. shepherds], youths and old men” (et pecora atque homines, etiam iuvenesque senesque). Pace Godman 39n438–9, the initial et of v. 439 is therefore not disruptive, but rather, marks Alcuin’s turn from the miracles he says he otherwise cannot sing, to those things of which he in fact does sing. This use of et to mean something closer to sed is on the model of Augustine, who uses et in place of more restrictive conjunctions, such as sed, cum, or si many dozens of times in the Conf. See J. J. O’Donnell, ed., Augustine: Confessions, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1992), vol. 2, 10. Finally, Godman 39n438–9 suggests that the lacuna he posits would have articulated details of “the place where Oswald’s host prayed at the Battle of Denisesburn, where such miracles were performed.” But Bede’s account of this event at HE 3.2 has no mention of flocks, men, youths, and old men, and, if Alcuin were following Bede here, as he does elsewhere with some precision, we should expect some fealty to his model. In any case, pecora and senes can hardly have been expected to participate in battle. 36 I’ve placed vv. 437–439 inside long dashes because they seem to be an aside to the reader going to Alcuin’s self-estimation as a poet and otherwise break the narrative describing the spiritual salve provided by the Cross reported in v. 436, which narrative is concluded at v. 440–441. 37 Bede’s account of Bothelm of Hexham’s miraculous recovery from a broken bone, told at HE 3.2, offers more detail than Alcuin’s version, which relies on it.

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The Poems a gift to his brother, broken-armed, who placed it near his hopeless heart. Sleep called: the moss slipped from the brother’s mind, he forgot it was near his heart as he tossed and turned on the bed, as the night wore on, no sleep for the pain; then he sensed something icy at his side— grazing the broken bone with his hand—and devised that he was whole again: the pain from that fracture never returned. Oswald’s glory lit up Britain’s folk by right, but also glinted across the sea, flashed to Germany, to Ireland, laden with people. Oswald’s miracles are manifold there; I wish to share but a single tale, of a time when plague killed shore-living folk, running ruin up and down the coasts. An Irish scholar, sharp-minded, was hit by this pestilence at home. Wise by dint of his zeal for books, yet he hadn’t pondered the life to come—the fool! Death’s day approached; he shuddered in towering fear for sins owed recompense—lest death pull him into harrowing Hell—he harangued his friend, a monk: “Brother, the flash of harsh death impends for me, I will be dragged to Hell before too long, to death without end, for there has never been a time, in the keep of my heart, when I didn’t cotton to wickedness. I writhe in my wantonness: I know deathly Hell with its flames has reserved a plot for me. Yet this I vow, in token of all that I have learned: if God grants life to lowly me, with every strength I will change my wanton ways. I cannot long linger by the warrant of life: so I pray the beloved gift of further years is come, through the grace of Christ pardoning me, and the saints, through their dignity. I heard lavish praises once told—bruited like an olden tale— of the manifold strengths of Oswald the king; you are Saxon born and bred: perhaps you have some relic of his?” His Saxon comrade brayed into his trusting ear at once:

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The Poems “I own a bit of sacred wood, gotten from the stake that spiked the head of the murdered king;38 if your heart holds firm of faith, if you unendingly believe, God’s goodness, through the honor of such a host, will grant you a long space in this life, and perhaps tender joys unendingly to you.” There was no pause: the Irish scholar declared his faith, whole-heart: so his Saxon comrade blessed some water, poured it in the hollow of the sacred wood, and gave it to the sickly scholar to drink— who was quickly on the mend, snatched from the maws of death. He went on to live a long space of life in health, and turned all his attention to the Lord, all around tendering lavish praises to God, and glorying that servant of the Lord—Oswald—with an honor equal to his strength. For nine years holy Oswald happily ruled, held the reigns of manifold realms in his keep (for Britain is well-known to hold in sway a polyglot realm of folk, called by their ancestors’ names) and after thirty-eight years of life, Oswald died and sanctified the day he fell—August 5.39 By dint of goodnesses glinting like gold, he clambered to the heavenly hold, and handed over his earthly demense to Oswy, his brother.40 Oswy—new ruler of the realm— held power unsteadily at first; he was warred down on all sides: foreigners frequently despoiled his lands, and wars waged by kinsmen were a cross to bear that rent the realm’s guts with a heavy hold, their peccant hands dripping kindred blood, they didn’t fear to march foreigners through the homeland streets, a fierce envy goaded them, like a prod,

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The Poems to lay the king low with a mercenary force. Like no other foe, King Penda was dangerous from the first, unflinching in brawn and guile, Oswald’s killer, ravager of the realm. Penda brought thirty battalions to war41 with thirty commanders assigned to lead each, whose skills in war were supreme. With this force Penda came, to ravage and destroy Oswy’s realm, city walls came to ruin, people perished by the sword. Like a deluge, rain-flushed, from the hilly heights levels the land, razes crops, cuts the forests at the knees, so Penda, the wilding, ravaging one, stomped everything to the ground—boys, youths, old men at once— no age or gender drew him to the work of mercy, for he gave no quarter to leniency.42 The ruler Oswy was duty-bound to defend his realm, to protect his person and people with the arms of Christ, so the kíng marshaled unflinching men, moved against the ominous host— his soul scarcely registering fear— with a sliver of soldiers, his heart unbent, crying, on bended knee, he begged for Olympian power.43 He prayed. He spied the enemy all around,

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41 Alcuin says that “Penda brought 30,000 troops to war” (Qui ter dena sibi conduxit milia bello, v. 520) but, in the next line, notes that the king “assigned thirty commanders to lead the same number of batallions” (ter denosque duces totidem deducere turmas/disposuit, v. 521). I elide the number of troops and batallions here (30,000 troops = 30 batallions) for ease of reading and clarity of thought. This aligns with Bede’s phrasing—Alcuin’s source here—who speaks of “thirty batallions,” (legiones) and “as many leaders” (duces) in recounting, at HE 3.24, the Battle of the Winwaed. 42 The last half of v. 530 as Godman prints it . . . nullo qui iure pepercit . . . is controverted. Following Dümmler 181n4, Godman 45n530 suggests that nullo = nulli, dative singular of nullus, modifying iure = iuri, changed causa metri. A simpler solution is to read nullo iure as ablatives singular, and, following Dümmler, to read quia for qui. The quia clause thus stands in explanation of the thought expressed in vv. 529–30, i.e., Penda was unmerciful to all “since he was lenient (quia pepercit) by no law (nullo iure).” The phrasing drives home the idea of Penda’s lawlessness, highlighted in the nouns/adjectives used to describe him in vv. 519–527): occisor, vastator, dux ferox devestans, and in the simile of wanton destruction in vv. 525–528 that depicts a figure constrained by no boundaries (exudans, torrens, sternit, rapit, recidit, pressit). 43 The phrase numen Olympi goes both to the physical prowess Oswy and his small band of men will need to succeed but also betokens God, its source. Olympi is used subsequently of the Mercians at v. 562, perhaps as a way to suggest their former paganism, but since the word attaches to the Northumbrians here and the Mercians later, it also can be understood to affirm the wide reach of Oswy’s accomplishment as warrior and, in victory, as a force for conversion.

The Poems running their battlements (too many to count) on the widening fields; unwearied, he raised a small line against this host, calling but 3,000 men—but men hankering for a fight. Dauntless, hastening, the king swarmed the enemy’s core— supported by Christ’s sheltering shields—making them break their lines. Then fear wend its way through Penda’s jolted flank, making him forget the fight, his troops tossed their weapons aside, took flight to safety, pulled their standards down. All around, Oswy the victor smote the loitering troops with a voice sending dread into their ranks, he taunted the force as it fled, weapons swam in streams of water become blood: the carnage urged Penda—but just—to take flight, grasping the slaughter and the dead of his ranks. As he fled death yet caught up with his wavering strength: he went down at the end of the victor’s sword.44 Then they scrambled to the prizes of war all around, while worthy praises were sent up to the timeless Thunderer-God, who sets us ever and ever free, who is kind to those hoping in Him, saving them on every side. This was war—but even still, a war useful to many: for Owsy snatched his people from a ferocious foe, placed the Mercians under the kindly power of faith, scouring them in baptism’s sacred bath. Oswy enriched Penda’s people, and his own—in the giving of God— through the brilliant bounty of heavenly gifts: Northumbria’s homeland was restored; the Mercians became citizens of Olympian height; both realms shared in glimmering triumphs: one felt the yoke of Satan’s hold slacken, one was loosened from a worldly foe. The days turned on and on, Oswy brought multitudes to his side, moving from gain to gain:

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44 Penda was killed at the Battle of the Winwaed in 655, whose death ended for the moment Mercian threats to Northumbria. Bede offers more details at HE 3.24.

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The Poems with high humanity ruling his ancestral haunts, bringing to knee peoples up and down the coast: some bore the burden of fear, others were checked at the point of a sword: wherever he ruled carrying the standards of victory, eagle-scored, yet his laws were models of equity—he was just beyond just— invincible in the throes of battle, constant in the throes of peace, generous to those in need, kind, fair to any coming his way. Oswy had ruled for twenty-eight years—45 everything was in its place; handing the crowns to Ecgfrith, his son, he slipped happily into the sleep of peace; for Ecgfrith, death took the royal hold46 from his grip.47 Wilfrid, the bishop, glinted then, in the excellences of virtues unbounded in the world:48 mighty God poured a lofty light into him, made him thrash foul shadows of error from the realm: diffusing the splendor of unending salvation to kingdoms, to peoples, through many haunts. His drive turned the southland Saxons to Christ: they were drenched in the clarion light of life; with teachings that healed he gathered their souls from a poisonous death, balmed the people in their present straits. In the season of Wilfrid’s work, a three-years’ drought49

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45 Oswy ruled from 642 to 670. 46 “Hold” in the (English) sense of “control,” “dominion,” “ownership,” “sway,” translating regalia sceptra, but with a pun on Oswy’s “grip” on power that only death loosened. 47 Godman 49n576 notes the possibility of interpolation suggested by the repetition of Ecgfrido in vv. 575 and 576 (“to Ecgfrith,” “for Ecgfrith”), while also rightly affirming repetition as foundational to Alcuin’s compositional habits. The repetition perhaps explains the transfer of power, with the physical crowns (diademata, v. 575) handed over (tradens) to Ecgfrith as Oswy faced approaching death. On this understanding, he “happily slipped into the peace of sleep” (felix in pace quievit, v. 574), knowing the crowns, literal and figurative, were in his rightful successor’s hand. V. 576, then, attends to the transfer of actual power, emblematized by the “scepters” (sceptra, v. 576), which only death brings about (relinquens, v. 576). If I am correct, the repetition of Ecgfrith’s name emphasizes these aspects of his succession and its importance in Oswy’s stead. 48 Godman adds this verse from Reims 426 (virtutum meritis longe lateque per orbem), omitted in Trinity 1130. 49 Godman 51n588 emends continguis, reported by Trinity 1130 and Reims 426, to continuis, on the grounds that “the sense is not one of proximity but of duration.” But the sense seems, in fact, to be of “proximity,” as vv. 596–97 prove: the three-years’ drought ends “on the

The Poems checked the rain: not a drop watered the withering fields, the seared earth wilted below a red sky, withholding succor to every living thing; the dead and dying piled up on the heels of famine, many jumped from cliffs that scraped the clouds, others dove into raging waves to let death, of a sudden, soothe a longing pain. When the people accepted baptism’s water, soaked in the sacred fundaments, on that day a wind settled on the land, sprinkling a gentle rain, returned bloom to the earth, grew the gardens green: the heights, the plains were caped in flowers. The year laid on bounty to grinning farmers, with body, with soul50 all gloried in the God-who-lives, just as David used to sing,51 heart-holding endless gifts even more: he had once taken up earthen bounties of God. Wilfrid felt an urge to dash off to Rome52 but the winds pushed him first to Frisia’s coast;53 there, posthaste, he turned thousands of souls to Christ, and flaunted gifts teeming with eternity’s hold. With each step, he scattered Godly seeds, wetted dusty hearts with divinity’s dew, filled the storehouses of lore with a heavenly food, his celebrity was on everyone’s lips, while that godly bishop hankered to get to Rome. Then look: of a sudden, savage sickness conquered him, the pain grew stronger day upon day until his wracked body made an end of things: for four days he was senseless, limp, prone, breathing—but barely—

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very day” (ipsa die, v. 596) that the people, in the wake of Wilfrid’s proselytizing, receive baptism. The placement of contiguis in its line—Tempore contiguis illo nam sub tribus annis—seems also visually to emphasize this proximity. The time (tempore) in question— i.e., the three years’ drought announced in these lines—is “contiguous” (contiguis) to Wilfrid’s proselytizing, just reported. And, of course, contiguity is important here precisely because the end of the drought and baptism are coincident. “Body” (carnes) emphasizes the effects of the good harvest physically—a literal feeding of the “soul” (cordaque) that is also strengthened by God’s beneficence. Psalm 83 is meant. Godman’s conjecture at 51n606, hinc (with compulsus = “driven from here”) makes better sense than hic, reported by Trinity 1130 and Reims 426. I attempt to communicate that sense with the English “dash off.” That is, the coastal region running along the southeastern corner of the North Sea, touching today on the Netherlands and parts of northern Germany.

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The Poems voiceless, stiff, his chest heaving only cold sighs, weak rales. Students, comrades, stood about sobbing, mourning, father ’s dying body made them weep. But then: on the fifth day Wilfrid sat up, lifted his eyes, spied his comrades, and said: “what good is there in cosseting a grief so fierce? The Judge of Unlimited Brawn can soften toward any of His wish, can turn death into birth anew; from the stars, in His mercy, He sent a legate—His own— who stood blazing in an alabaster cloak, spoke of future things with a burning face: ‘the Kindly One sitting in the heights sent me, Michael, from Olympian haunts, to say that you will whelm this disease through the goodness and prayers of Mother, Sacred Mary: from a sovereign seat her ears were pricked by your comrades’ sobs, vows, and tears, until she cried out for your life and health.54 Still and all, gird yourself in the running of life; in four years I will see you again, and the days will be calm: you will have wended your way home to die. Health and life followed these angelic words in time: four years ran their course; then, as Michael had foretold, the bishop who always stood apart had his end.55 At Ripon, in the minster he built for St. Peter he sleeps in a sepulcher in harmony and bliss.56 A man, holy Cuthbert, glimmered in those days, like an angel living a life in the flesh: glaring signs wrote his youth, he ever brimmed with worthy habits and rewards, a monk of first rank at the start, a teacher like the Apostles next—and a nurturing priest, blanketing the wilds with gravid greenery,

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54 Deposcens tibimet vitam simul atque salutem: “life” (vitam) and “health” (salutem) pun on temporal and eternal well-being, though here it seems temporal well-being is emphasized, as perhaps v. 641 confirms. 55 Wilfrid died in 709. 56 Only the crypt of Wilfrid’s original stone church, dating from the early 670s, survives in the current cathedral of Sts Peter and Wilfrid at Ripon.

The Poems soaking parched fields with endless springs, confirming every follower in the ways of God’s strength, sprinkling streams of heavenly thought all about, scattering the darkness with a brightening light. In the sea there is a place called Farne,57 lacking water, crops, trees: Cuthbert sought it out—that grand, gutsy conscript of Christ, longing to pluck blossoms of the soulful life, a hermit hastening to enslave himself to One God before the allurements of the world could alter his avid mind. As the years piled on he lived, a holy anchorite, there: in bliss, he came to know the angels’ words, casting off spears dripping venom, sent by the serpent crawling with death; in this place he remained, abstracted by manifold questions,58 until—finally—he agreed to quit his dark haunt to become bishop—forced by crowds and the king,59 since everyone was before him on bended knee! Grandly, worthily, he reigned for two years,60 raking up a great profit in souls for the One-Who-Thunders, right sheltering the flock entrusted to him, to keep the trapper-wolf from chomping Christ’s lambs. But soon he shunned this eminent perch, with its worldly rewards, sought again the dark places of his olden cell, where he gazed upon the end of life measured in time and space: and in the death of this slave of God, Farne became a sacred place:

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57 Farne is, in fact, a group of islands off the northeast coast of England. Cuthbert settled on Inner Farne, one of the main islands of the so-called inner group. 58 Attamen abstractus multis rogitantibus inde; rather than introducing the details of Cuthbert’s removal from Farne, I understand this line to flesh out the ideas of the previous three verses, viz., that Cuthbert lived on Farne for many years, discoursing with the angels and defeating the deathly serpent. He is “abstracted by manifold questions” as part and parcel of his spiritual resolve. Bede, HE 4.28 accords with this understanding, reporting that Cuthbert lived alone on Farne for many years, surrounded by an embankment that allowed him only to see the heavens that he longed for so zealously. I take Alcuin’s multis rogitantibus to betoken Cuthbert in the throes of seeking heaven as an interrogator of the faith—and of the angels, with whom, as Alcuin notes (v. 664) he regularly discoursed. 59 Ecgfrith (re. 670–685). 60 Cuthbert was elected Bishop of Hexham in 684 but, as Alcuin relates, he took office only after pressure was applied by King Ecgfrith and others, but as Bishop of Lindisfarne. He was consecrated in 685 and died in 687.

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The Poems it has glimmered with glittering signs since Cuthbert’s soul escaped its fleshly prison, seeking the heights, scampering beyond the firmament’s stars. Miracles happen (details abound) in the place where Cuthbert’s holy body rests: the run of his days—from birth to death— was famous for signs owed to God; of late, Bede, noble teacher and priest, wrote them out in prose as a start, then sang them in the meter of heroes:61 how healing followed an angel’s cure, when Cuthbert’s knee grew inflamed as a boy; how that boy prayed back from the waves five skiffs rattled on the gusty sea; how he spied the soul of Aidan, the bishop, born along the firmament, as he pastored his tender lambs; how he earned the taste of heavenly loaves when he bid an angel eat the bread of his hearth; how two otters warmed him with their fur and breath (he forgave the distressed monk who spied it all);62 how the sea threw Cuthbert to northern shores: his prayers63 banished want of food, as he predicted the return of a brightening day; how he knew an eagle would make a meal of fish for him and his comrade—and so it was done; how he kept a furious fire from devouring some huts by leaning on prayers scrappier than youths; how he scoured a demon from a certain wife before he even entered her house (her husband had bid him come);

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61 Alcuin refers to Bede’s twinned work, the Vita Cuthberti, written in prose and hexametrical versions. In the prefaces to both versions, Bede reports that he wrote the metrical version first. See Godman 57n685–7 with W. Jaager, ed., Bedas metrische “Vita Sancti Cuthberti,” (Leipzig, 1935) for the metrical version and B. Colgrave, ed. and trans., Two Lives of Saint Cuthbert: A Life by an Anonymous Monk of Lindisfarne and Bede’s Prose Life (Cambridge, 1940): 59–140 for the prose version. 62 Godman 59 has “illness” for morbo, but Bede, Vit. Cuth. pr. 10/met. 8 makes clear the illness from which the monk suffers is guilt at having secretly followed Cuthbert. 63 Godman 58 prints nautis, after Ruinart, referring to the monks who accompanied Cuthbert on a sea-trip to the region of the Picts. Despite the fact that the rubric to the prose life also has nautis, I prefer nauta, reported in Trinity 1130 and Reims 426, which keeps the focus on Cuthbert and his miraculous doings.

The Poems how he banished noxious demons from Farne (he was blessed), then built a safe-haven for himself close by; how he drew gushing water from the scorched sod— answered prayers—father tasted it on his lips; how he raised on the land a crop for himself, talked to the birds, kept them at bay; how the sea and its creatures used to succor the saint; how he spied the crowded future and spoke only truth about himself and others—he saw things before they unfolded in time; how he ministered holy water to the wife of a count, routed her sickness, returned her to health; how he daubed a girl with holy chrism to doctor the pains in her chest and head; how bread mixed with water—Cuthbert’s blessed gift— made a sick man whole again; how he wandered upon a dying boy and prayed him back to life; how this kind father told a mother before the fact that her home, and her son, would be safe—as Britain was gutted by disease; how he saw a crush of angels gather a shepherd’s soul to the heights (the herder fell from a tree); how he was laid low, and yet cured an aide-de-camp suffering from dysentery; how his enrobed body remained intact eleven years after his death; how dirt doused with water that rinsed his holy limbs healed a boy teeming with demons; how a man, sighing-sick, prayed at Cuthbert’s tomb and was washed clean of disease by him; how a man, eye-weak, touched the stole of the prophet: then the cramps and clouds of his eyes were gone; how a lame man slipped into father Cuthbert’s shoes then marched about with gait restored; how the unwell are made whole by Cuthbert’s pall: under it his sacred spirit soared, loosened its hold on mortal things. I have only touched on Cuthbert’s life—lest I seem disinterested—

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The Poems culling a few of his fabled feats—singing in a country strain,64 since Bede, the teacher known world-wide, once chanted Cuthbert’s deeds in full, in a glinting register. Had my Camenae not followed him,65 I would have taken to stretching every lyrical string— turning aside Pan and hollow Apollo— Christ: I would have prayed wholeheartedly for your hand to favor me with words that flow like dew, to recount the glories of kindly father with a proper dignity. After Ecgfrith,66 bearer-of-war, had gathered triumphs all around, taming wild peoples under force of arms, he took a wife, called Aethelthryth, of noble, even royal, stock, but nobler for chastity gripping her heart: for she was yoked by worldly ties— queen-consort for a dozen years— yet remained a virgin evermore, unstained, amidst the law of the marriage bed, fighting fires of the flesh— how kind was this virgin’s faith, how striking the forbearance of the king— he was routed by prayers, she fell in love with God, two hearts singed by the fires of sacred faith to abide as husband and untouched wife. In life the queen’s body was whole, in death God made this perfectly clear: her flesh (and her clothes), six decades entombed, remained as they had been in life, her body sinewy, lithe, its angel-face flushed with grace. Much more is wondrous to tell: a doctor cut her as she approached death— his mind swimming in mountains of dread— yet the wound seemed to heal, the softest bruise overspreading the hint of an old growth;

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64 At v. 437, Alcuin describes himself as a “singer of country songs” (ruricola); here, he says he is “singing in a country strain” (carmine rurali). My understanding of both phrases goes to a generic, rather than geographic, point. With only a touch of false modesty and more than a modicum of artistic worry, Alcuin plies an epic register but as a poet more adept in less exalted modes, as he goes on to suggest a few lines later by imagining his handling of Cuthbert’s miracles absent Bede’s treatment. 65 On Alcuin’s sense of the Camenae, see the note at v. 431 above. 66 Ecgfrith was king of Northumbria from 670–685.

The Poems even remnants draping her hallowed form more than once exorcised the savage snake from those in its thrall; as the olden tomb holding the godly remains of that kindly queen— folded in its lap, under the dirt— became a place in time of coveted cures, even a balm for ailing eyes. Bede (I spoke of him before) arrayed a hymn in flashing lines that praised this sainted queen.67 I have touched on her in brief in my scanty style, recalling a proverb’s ancient words: “Wayfarer: don’t traipse into a forest with wood!” There was a further occurrence of note, perhaps of profit—as I judge—to more than a handful of readers (if anyone deigns to learn from these lines): in combat the brother of King Ecgfrith was killed—Aelfwine was his name68— and a noble soldier, exhausted by the fight, fell too,69 slain in slaughter’s savagery; for a day, then a night, he lay in soulless repose, then vitality returned to his fallen frame, he lived again, all sinewy and brawn reclaimed. bandaging his fleshly wounds, staunching their trickling gore, he left this place—a skip in his step70—but was captured (again) by his foes, and put upon a twisting path that brought him to a count of the realm, he was hauled before the count and told to say who he was. The soldier feared to admit his rank, dissembled: “I am poor countryfolk, bound as husband to my wife.”

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67 Composed in twenty-seven epanaleptic distichs, the first word of each hexameter of Bede’s hymn begins with a successive letter of the Latin alphabet, followed by four couplets in which the initial letters of the hexameters’ first words spell “Amen.” The poem is found at HE 4.20. 68 Aelfwine, King of Deira (670–679), faced and succumbed to King Aethelred of Mercia at the Battle of the Trent in 679. 69 At HE 4.22 Bede identifies this soldier as Imma, a Northumbrian thegn. 70 Godman 66 prints fesso . . . gradu, “with a weary step,” but Dümmler 187, following Trinity 1130 and Reims 426, prints festo, “festive,” “joyous,” “merry,” etc. In the previous verse, this soldier is described as sumpta virtute valescens, “all sinewy now and brawn reclaimed.” It seems hard to think that such a figure would be weary of step.

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The Poems The count took him in, set about his care, then ordered fetters to thwart escape; but the soldier never could be bound, every chain —like a miracle—lost its grip, and these doings left his captors stunned: they thought the soldier plied magic or charms,71 more than once they added new chains to old. Bowled over, the count hauled him in, alone, inquiring after the loosening chains: or perhaps he was a student of the magical arts? He knew nothing (he claimed) of such skills. Then this: “My brother with devoted heart chants Masses (so I know) in my name to Christ because he believes me to be dead; so, if my body held its soul again (by chance), all his prayers and Masses would keep it free, and it would evade every penalty.” Something in these words urged the count to know the soldier’s sterling pedigree, and the laws of war that fell on him now: to be put to death. But the count snatched the soldier from that fate; sold him into slavery; his new owner tried to fetter him—again— but failed: the chains betrayed their grip, dangled loosely off his frame that remained free of their hold especially at the day’s third hour— the time of his brother’s daily Mass (chanted with a kindly heart). These doings pricked up the owner’s ears: he offered a chance for deliverance: self-ransoming made the soldier free to find home again, to unburden himself to his brother, who knew at the telling of these goings-on that the chains fell limp from his brother’s frame at just those times when he recalled chanting Masses to God. To his wont Ecgfrith ruled for fifteen years, waging wars of conquest until his armies ventured across the sea in savage animus: ordering a holocaust of Irish innocents, a massacre running-red

71 On magic and charms, see Godman 69n807.

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The Poems of a people ever-friendly to this king; but the Picts in good time warred him down, Ecgfrith fell in a grim slaughter of his troops.72 To Aldfrith, his brother, sovereignty fell: he grew to manhood brooding on sacredness, preached it widely and well, his mind bored into things: king and teacher as one.73 Bosa, a bishop worthy of awe, led the church in Aldfrith’s day,74 his humanity ran in step with high rank: a man, also monk and bishop; a scholar measured and worthy: God’s grace decked him in chaplets blessed with strength, made him glint with talents of many stripes. He piled wealth upon wealth for thundering God, hurling His nets into the waters of the world, for Christ dragging briny spoils to shore. Good, honest, brimming with the kindness of God, this man, glittering in the corridors of Christ like Lucifer on fire. Like a father, he kept the church in thrall, he cut deep its separation from the world, girded its devotion to the only God in its daily round: he wished music to sound without end for God, worldly voices to chant airy hymns to the Lord’s adoration, quaking the Olympian heights, doling out the day with tasks, one by one, now reading, now praying, and when proclaiming God’s praises in deed, he ordered such carnal work swiftly done, some sleep and simple meals for all, and that no one claim things for their own, land, crops, houses, money, clothes: it was all for all, always, with him. When kindly Bosa’s life ran down,75 brimming with virtue, gladdened, full of bliss, he crossed into Heaven’s hall.

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72 The Irish raid of 684 was followed by a move against the Picts in 685 that ended in Ecgfrith’s slaughter at the Battle of Nechtanesmere. 73 Aldfrith ruled from 685–704; to Alcuin’s brief treatment here, Godman 71n843–6 adds further details. 74 Bosa was bishop twice, in 678–686 and 691–705. 75 Vv. 871–72 are corrupt and not sensibly translated, for which reason I move from v. 870 to v. 873; see Godman 73n871–2.

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The Poems In the season of Bosa’s death, a vision of note fell out76 (to relate it in my poem may prove useful for some, a clarion call from an endless death): wishing to heal stricken souls, a man long dead took again to flesh, rehearsing much that he had seen—goings-on that cleave the mind— winnowed here: I will include a few lines in my Camenae’s song.77 He was a husband, of the folk, guiding homestead and the daily rote with an even keel until a dire illness gnawed his flesh day upon day, pain growing like a burrowing knife, sick-a-bed, prone, he danced with death, then finally slipped away one dusk, but breathed, lived again, as the dark evanesced: he sat up—and put the crowd to flight, gathered on that night to mourn. His wife alone remained—she loved him beyond any fear— though her face turned ashen as her spouse retook life (and as everyone fled in fear). These are the words he spoke: “Sweetest wife, of them all to me only you were true” (so he said), “don’t dread me now—I’m begging you. I am alive—yes—death has slackened its grip, I am in the world again, but my life must wend differently now, necessity pulls me from joys and wealth.” Of a sudden he shunted riches aside, with his heart afire he took up monastic vows, trammeled his flesh so harshly in the cell that even those of little discernment knew the magnitude of what he spied after his flesh had died. When he spoke of what he saw this is what he used to say: “a man pulsing with light led me from my corpse, we made our way against a summer-rising sun, arrived at a valley stretching out, running deep;

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76 The vision of Drythelm is elaborated by Bede at HE 5.12. 77 Since Alcuin recalls the personified Camenae at vv. 431ff. (see previous note on v. 431), I translate camoenis by personification here; the word of course can also mean “poem.”

The Poems a chasm without end ran its length, one side bristled with swarming flames, the other overflowed with icy hail, souls hovered all around: when scalded, unable to bear more flames, they vaulted, suffering, into the midst of the hail; but once relief proved impossible there (as it always did) choking with tears, they vaulted back to the heaving flames. These goings-on put me in mind of the torments of Hell— I was used to hearing of them when I lived— but I was disabused of this view even as it entered my mind: “though you think it, we are not in Hell,” said my guide, who drew me on before him now, filled with dread as the scene flooded in. Of a sudden everything was draped in black and we entered into an ink-blot night brooding over us: all was gloom except my guide in silhouette, he seemed to be clothed in light. We walked through blackness on this singular night; then look: suddenly, on all sides, flames in piles smelling like death taunted us, as if released from the depths, then tumbled back again. And now: my guide was gone—alone, I remained in the thick of coal-black gloom, shuddering, stunned. When the piles of flames licked the sky, then flickered back to the depths, I glimpsed their tips, crammed with suffering shades, climbing, falling with the fire, like sparks, filling the place with stench. I took this in at length, terror stalked me up and down: what to do? where to go? Out of my depth, what end for me in these dire straits? Suddenly, at my back I heard a keening sound, like a crowd taunting a captured foe; figures came: I caught sight of a throng, evil-born, hauling five wailing souls to their due, pulling them down to deepest Hell, then, with blackened hearts, ember-eyes, these demons scaled that gorge chuffing flames, returned, lumbered around me, spitting stenchy flares from their mouths

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The Poems and nose, threatening to crush me with burning pincers; only—they could not touch me, their power was unbroken terror. Sealed in shadow, hemmed in by this host, my eyes roamed about for aid, something to save me from this fiery crowd. Then: at my back, burning through the gloom like a star pregnant with light, speeding on, putting this host to flight, glinting, my guide returned. Those squalid demons fled at his approach, he aligned our path to the rising winter sun, snatched me from gloom, ushered me into chafing breezes, and there, before us, all at once, a wall emerged, immeasurable, spreading out, reaching up, without end, it seemed it could never be scaled. But: near to it (for so we came), of a sudden we were standing on its top (but how?). I looked out to a field, unfolding, its beauty surmounting the world, so redolent that it overpowered any stench, so bright—its light drenched this sacred place— that it made the day’s sunlight pale. There I saw a host of saints, abiding in bliss, sacredly enthroned, holding forth; I studied them, wondering if they held the heavenly realms promised to all joyful things. Reverie turned these thoughts until my guide broke its spell: “this is not heaven (as you asked yourself).” Now glinting in my path: a sharper, more alluring light, more intense, with an overpowering glare: the earlier light seemed a candle wick. A chorus echoed from this light, sweetest of any to the ears, and aromas that bewitched the nose, the redolence of that earlier place seemed but a trace now on the breeze. In my happiness I hoped to enter this light but my guide blocked the way, turned us back on the path we had just trod to the fair fields we had wandered before; he asked: did I understand the things I saw?

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The Poems 77 I did not (so I said), so he offered this: “you saw a valley burning, frozen, where hard trials scrub souls that return to earthly rewards once they have been cleaned; 990 but the hole that spit a stenchy fire forms the mouth of Hell—who rushes into it is lost forever and beyond; while that blossoming place, its youths draped in light, offers peace to those for goodnesses done— 995 though they did less than faith required— the precincts of Heaven are visible there, the domain of perfect souls, who reach it at once when they die: close by is that place of overpowering light, with aromas that bewitched your nose, 1000 and a chorus echoing in choicest strains. Seeing that you must take up the flesh and live among those doomed to die: make your habits right—what you say, what you do— so that you might reach their company.” 1005 He said these things—and all at once I saw myself becoming body again (though how it happened I cannot say). There are famous men of our clan, not born for England alone or confined to our island realms: 1010 Britain sent them across the sea to bring the faith to other folk. Among them was a holy man, a bishop, Egbert78 (so he was called), but just a boy when he 1015 left our shores—even then he loved heaven’s demesne— seeking places far from home, gave to Ireland the finest model of Christian life, sparkling with learning, like a lamp, he taught by word and deed—anyone could come to him. Generous, except to himself, 1020 a good man, he lived an exemplary life, glinting with a piety everyone knew until the day he died. His friend, Wictbert, was like him in goodness and wont, a comrade-in-exile, fairly known for the reach of his soul,

78 St Egbert of Lindisfarne died in 721; Bede offers further details at HE 5.9, 10.

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The Poems he separated from Egbert in due time, abstracted, alone, living life in contemplation. 1025 Then he built a sheepfold, second-to-none, for his Anglo-Saxon monks, dressed it with his habits and grace, attentive, always, to fattening Christ’s flock, he led it through the narrows by the right road, in devotion, to graze in a kingdom without end. 1030 He showed signs of being touched by God, grew famous, saw the future like a prophet, cementing his fame all around, then arrived at the joys of heavenly life. There were others: they crossed the eastern sea in skiffs, making for a land of faithless folk, 1035 trying to spread healing words, strewing them into untamed hearts: Willibrord was one who crossed,79 a bishop, a standout, he brought Frisians by the thousands to the side of Christ, cajoling them into heaven’s ways, dressing his long life in a bishop’s grace. 1040 In Frisia he put up many churches for God, placed priests in them, ministers of His word: when he could do no more, blessed, he fell into peace and grew still. Look: two priests took Willibrord’s example to heart, smoldering in a fury of faith: 1045 Hewald80 both were called, their life’s work—and their deaths—were also the same. One had black hair, the other white: (Hewald the Black was more devoted to books) they came into pagan Saxon realms, 1050 brought some Saxons to the side of Christ; as the habits and customs of faith came more fully into view, the Saxons (what a tragic race) feared that the cult of their olden gods would utterly, at once, fall away; they captured both men, a vicious death cut them down: 1055 Hewald the White was slashed by a sword spraying blood from its tip, strapping Hewald the Black was racked for days; both corpses were cast to the swells of the Rhine.

79 St Willibrord (658–739) was related to Alcuin, who wrote prose and metrical versions of his life; see the foregoing, 10, and the following, 97–116, carm. 3, for the metrical version, properly book 2 of the Vita. 80 Bede recounts the two Hewalds in HE 5.10, martyred c. 695.

The Poems Of a sudden, a wondrous event, both Hewalds were borne against the pulsing waves for eleven miles, floating back to their comrades and at night, where their bodies lay, a beam of light as big as sky glinted over the stars; the murderers saw it blazing without end while the dark remained. One Hewald appeared to a comrade at night: “you can find our bodies at once,” he said, “where you see the light gushing from the heights.” Nor did Hewald deceive his friend: both Hewalds were found in that very place; as befitted their worthy lives, the kindly martyrs were buried there. More than a few ministers of God’s word came from Britain to these parts: Swidbert stands out from the rest, and Wira,81 the priest: both shimmered in their day, pinnacles of Godly strength— my song can’t sing them all before it turns again to the bishops of York (my words have meandered away from there) and moves on from stories of the kings who peppered the decades after Aldfrid82 ruled for nineteen years in an age of peace: his life spun out quietly; he rests now with kin. Bosa83 sought the precincts of God; John,84 known world-wide, took direction of the church in York, kindly and faithful, learned and good, pinnacle of priests, modeling the fathers of old, wisdom coursing from a guileless soul, soaking—intently—the places he trod, making them green again. The worth of his goodness proffered Godly signs; let my Camenae85 sing the memory of these: John, father, pious one, mortifying his flesh

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81 Swidbert died in 713; Bede offers further details at HE 5.11. Wira’s identity is less secure, on whom, see Godman 87n1074. 82 Aldfrid reigned from 685 to 705. 83 Bosa died in 705. 84 John resigned the bishopric of York in 718 and died in 721. 85 On the Camenae, see previous note on vv. 431, 882.

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The Poems (attended by like-living men) repaired to a nook, close-confined, to fill his heart with heavenly sprays, to give tithes to Christ for the gift of life— from these to light upon God’s lavish riches. He reached a place off the well-worn path, ordered a search for local downtrodden folk: he wished to feed the hungry and poor. Then a boy, sick, mute, was led to him— ever lacking the power of words— his head hidden by awful scabs, its skin dressed in welts where hair used to be. John built a lean-to for this poor youth, who got used to taking a small meal there (what a tragic boy); John summoned him after seven-days’ time, bade him stick out his useless tongue: pressed onto it the sign of the holy cross, commanded the boy to speak (he had been silent so long!). That boy—so thoroughly mute—followed John’s order at once, burst through cold silence, spoke without pause in the fullness of conversation, on and on he went—all day, all the night that followed, on any topic happy—too happy—to hold forth, to reveal soulful hidden things. He could speak—his skin also healed: he grew a new head of curly hair; handsome and quick to speak, gladdened, healthy, he made for home. And this miracle (no harm in recollecting it):86 John, the shepherd, was tending his flock, on guard, alert, when he spied some of God’s holy women holed up, one of them prostrate—just a girl— a vein freshly cut on her upper arm, halfway in, so swollen that her hand was numb; the girl seemed on the cusp of death. But John, blessed bishop, made her well again with a cure owed to Godly strength; he entered her house

86 Alcuin follows here Bede, HE 5.3.

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The Poems 81 (at her mother’s behest), sick-a-bed as he said “hello,” gushing prayers, he spoke blessings on her ailing hand. Of a sudden, the girl’s strength returned, her pain scampered off: after the fashion of a miracle, from head to toe her malady lifted as Bishop John made for home. Realizing the close touch of death, the girl at once took up songs of praise to God enthroned in the clouds. She lived to be very old. Here is a tale in a similar vein: a count of the realm asked venerable John to dedicate a church to God. His wife suffered illness day upon day, flat on her back for weeks, burdening pain in the night, chilled, too weak to rise from bed, her sallow face icy, wan, her nostrils panting flickers of breath (but just). Kind John sent some sacred water to her— once used to sanctify a church— to drink, to wash her afflicted limbs. She drank: the water followed her body’s path, bringing health—her sickness faded away— she was strong, well—her hope was now deed: restored, she left her bed just then, fully cured now, brought cups to kind John, serving all who were there without pause, she (and her husband) gave thanks to God. Then this: once a different count of the realm asked John to bless a church to Christ (such was part of our bishop’s work); at the time, the count’s servant-boy was laid low by a killing disease, abiding in deathly throes, life flowing from his frame but for the breathy waves of his crippled chest that melded slender rattles—icy gasps. The count put his mind to exsequies, a coffin stood ready to bury the boy, his life was thoroughly despaired of. Heart-broken, the count asked bishop John to bless his tortured boy, to pour prayers to God, to save his life.

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The Poems What rich faith sought, John did not forbear: pious, kind, he came to the boy, blessed him, and as he took his leave, said: “Boy, grow your strength, wield your power.” When the count and John had settled in for lunch, the sick boy suddenly made a demand—asking for something to slake his thirst; the count beamed: the boy was strong enough to drink, he sent a goblet of wine to him, blessed by bishop John; the boy drank, left his bed, walked about, came to John and the count at their table, made known his wish to eat, to drink, with them: so he did—joyful, sitting with those broad-grinning men. His health held; he lived for many years. And this: Bishop John was traveling by horse, crossing a field race-track flat, some clergy friends clopped along, just youths, hankering to race their steeds, but John, kind bishop, held one boy back, warned him against such pointless games. No use: the boy ignored Bishop John, slackened his horse’s reins, bold, waywardly, he burst mid-field; his hot-headed horse bounded a ditch, the boy struggled valiantly, slid, fell, hit a rock level with the ground but hidden there under the grass— the only rock in that field! The boy’s hand and head fell hard to the stone: his head split, brain-battered, unconscious on the ground, death-like, unmoving; it was around noon when he was carried home, half-dead, by his friends. Priestly John prayed vigil during the night, visited the boy at first light, placed his hand on the boy’s head, blessed it, barked out his name, goaded him. The boy arose—as if from deepest sleep— opened his eyes, answered his much-loved father’s call, grew strong of a sudden, his powers refreshed; he rode away the next day, happy, Bishop John by his side. Our John plied other miracles (many—so they say);

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The Poems I’m not free to tell them all; the law of brevity obtrudes! I’ve told only of the doings that Bede put down in good faith and truth, when he fashioned the history of the English race from its earliest times. John grew into old age and yielded high office to another man, his heart aflame for the monkish life, he filled his days pleasing God, no longer an exile bound to the world, like an heir, he returned finally to his heavenly home. Wilfrid,87 a priest apart from the crowd, took the place of John: no heir worthier to that kind father. He was vice-bishop, and abbot, at York,88 then, owing to his towering repute he took up episcopal rewards, robing his office in goodnesses, in care. He added adornments and eloquent dedications to the holy church at York, silver vessels reflecting the light, suited for sacred services, silver altars, crosses plated in gold; he didn’t store up wealth for himself, wise Wilfrid spent it to honor God. He lived, this kindly bishop, in York, dressed other churches in costly gifts; his righteous heart bore a pastor’s care to grow his flock, to follow Christ’s commands in act and word, dazzlingly learned: some minds he fed, and some bodies, some burned for Heaven on his account, others he increased in fleshly ways; how he lived, what he said—both were open-handed gifts, a ruler doubly-bound to piety’s work, to all: dear, venerable, honorable, beloved. This good shepherd did all he could for the church, then settled on special, cloistered haunts, cleared his mind of the world, became a slave to God, surrendering his heart to contemplation, quitting the world’s varied, hollow cares; 87 Wilfrid II was bishop from 718 to 732; he died in 745. 88 See Godman 95n1218 on Wilfrid as abbot at York.

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The Poems he was on this earth, alive, yes, but his mind always haunted the heights, all-vigilant, awaiting gifts of heavenly life gathered when this life was done: he was bundled off to Heaven in angels’ arms. Wilfrid threw off weighty pastoral cares, passed the duties of his sacred seat to Egbert; he was made bishop in Wilfrid’s stead. Egbert was descended from olden kings, from noble parents—the world took note;89 Christ found him nobler still for his kindly goodnesses: laden with worldly wealth, he spread riches to those lacking, low to become richer in Heaven’s treasure-house; always caring for those left behind, with a strapping soul, divvying up his keep for the poor: what he lost on earth, he put up in Heaven. He was known to all as the helmsman of the church, peerlessly learnéd, all the folk loved him so; he lived an exemplary life, fair, engaging; no one could know what he might do in the face of fallenness: mild and severe at once; he doled out time in sacred tasks, filled with endless energy, praying by night, celebrating holy Mass by day, he put up many beautiful things in the houses of God, arrayed them in silver and gold, in gems, silk cloths on the walls with exotic shapes; he ordained only whole-souled ministers to their shrines, to celebrate the feast days to God when they came; he had choruses sing David’s songs, chanting hymns to Christ with voices in tandem.90 The bishop’s brother, Eadberht,91 was swaddled in choicest purple, too,

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89 Egbert (re. 732–766) was of the royal line of Bernicia through his father, Eata. 90 Following Mabillon, I read carmen for canna at v. 1271. A treatment of Egbert focused on concrete actions calls for a literal understanding of canna difficult to sustain here. Carmen more easily introduces the concrete point of v. 1271, viz., that Egbert had choruses sing psalmic material (Davidisque . . . carmen), which is qualified as hymnic (hymnos) in v. 1272. 91 Eadberht (d. 768) was King of Northumbria from 737–758, when he abdicated in favor of his son, Oswulf.

The Poems took up his race’s royal hold,92 expanded his kingdom’s reach, more than once terrorized hostile hosts. Times favored Northumbria then: king and bishop ruled with one heart, Egbert attending to the church, Eadberht to affairs of state, Egbert, pallium draped on his back—sent to him by the Pope—, Eadberht, crown of olden sires cuffing his hair: he was brave, strong; his brother pious and good; brothers, guardians of peace, brothers, happy to be of use to the other. Egbert was bishop for thirty-four years, Eadberht was king for twenty-one; both gained burial’s peace, happy in their goodnesses. When Egbert was young in the bishop’s seat a priest, called Bede93—singular in the good he did— sought the stars, closed his eyes on temporal life. Boy-Bede had keenly clung to books, tied his whole soul to sacred things; he was seven when his parents’ love placed him in the close-confines of the priory at Jarrow. Ceolfrith was abbot then (everyone knew his name): smitten by love of Christ, he sought foreign haunts, died an exile in Langres city,94 was buried there, happy, with a dignity he owned. Years on Ceolfrith’s body showed no taint (it was found—then returned home). Bede was raised at Jarrow friary, wrapped himself in exemplarity as a boy, zealous, sharp, though young, he always plied learning, writing—striving with a restless mind; given all that he was made a teacher (rightly so): he wrote much, his learning was of a kind, parsing secrets of sacred writ, holding forth on metrical arts, writing about time with a skill to behold,

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92 On the phrase, regalia sceptra, “royal hold,” see previous note on v. 575. 93 Bede was born in 672 or 673 and died in 735. He is famously the author of the Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum, among other writings that Alcuin touches on in subsequent verses. 94 In present-day eastern France.

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The Poems the ambit of the stars, their places, seasons, their laws; and books of history in crystalline prose; he composed many poems in the ancient style; he ever followed the olden fathers’ tracks down a level path of faith, act, and aim; Bede’s life was such that death made plain in an act of healing everyone knows: an ailing man, ringed by father-Bede’s remains, was cured through and through of his disease. I want to strum you, Balthere,95 with a pick cast by the Muses’ hands, assign lines to you, Holiness, in my poem: with your mind all peace, hold my skiff in check through steely seas, with their horrors, their flinty waves, bring me safely home to port. There is a place—nested by sea-breaks and swells, harassed by scarps that make sailors swoon and jagged coasts—where Balthere once lived like a soldier, war-bent: he conquered squadrons of the sky swooping down on him in manifold shapes; gutsy, he felled these hostile armies of the air, a blesséd man armed with a cross, driving hard on evil’s spears, faith providing helmet and shield. Kind man: once when he was alone brooding in prayers, in the reverie of heaven, he heard a sound, hair-raising, a crash, like a crowd rushing to meet a foe; then a soul plummeted from the highest clouds, fell at his feet, throbbing with fear; soon a crowd followed on, boding ill, all terror, yearning to rack it with every pain. But father Balthere, kind one, lifted the soul into a soft embrace, nuzzled it, asked who it was, why it fled the clouds, what evils it might have pursued.

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95 Balthere, a famous anchorite, died in 756, on whom, see Godman 105nn. 1325, 1327 and also M. Gleason, “Water, Water, Everywhere: Alcuin’s Bede and Balthere,” Mediaevalia 24 (2003): 75–100.

The Poems “I was a levite,96 (so said the soul in reply) with a mind full of wickedness: I once cupped the breasts of a woman—just once— ashamed to confess it when I lived in the flesh; now a howling crowd bears down on me, to rack me up, to beat me raw— for thirty days I have run them off—but I am never safe.” Of a sudden, from that crowd, a figure terrorized the soul: “You won’t run by us today—not even if St Peter were holding you by; lowly one, you’ll get your just deserts.” Holy Balthere maddened at this abuse of Peter; “Look: I am a hundred times less than the Apostles’ Prince, but, with God-Thunderer’s kindliness as my prop, I say this to you, bully, in your rage and ruin: “You won’t take this soul to Tartarus with you!” Then Balthere, kind one, like an envoy to Christ, fell on the ground, wetted it with tears, prayed to Christ for that wayward soul’s sin, poured out sacred words until his own eyes saw that soul reprieved, nuzzled in angels’ arms on top of the starry sky.

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Kind Christ did other wondrous work through kind father Balthere; there was this miracle, like one of old: Balthere walked on water, like Peter. 1365 On the jagged edge of a hovering crag, as he made his way, Balthere fell (a fluke; and so long ago), but sea-swells broke his fall, propped him up: he planted dry feet on the water’s crest, as if he were plodding through a country field; thus he walked, 1370 but, as he fell, the water took him with a lighter touch than hard ground offers a falling man: as he landed the waves coursed all about, kept the fall from harming him, then the waters firmed up, like land under foot, to keep him from sinking in the waves. 1375 He walked on water become a dirt-packed path until he came upon an aimless boat, ambled up to it—his water path led the way—clambered on, 96 Alcuin often uses levita, “levite,” = “deacon” to describe himself.

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The Poems his clothes and boots still dry; Christ, your right hand proffers what nature cannot: at your word water forms a trail for good folk, while the earth becomes a watery torrent for evil: water props up humble folk, the earth drinks in the proud. Sacred Balthere, devotedly I ask this of you: just as water carried you from the sea, keeping you safe, returning you home, pray my soul keep the world’s floods away, make it reach a sanctuary port. August Echa in these days was on everyone’s lips, a holy hermit following desert paths, turning back the charms of the world, pure, longing to hold Heaven with God the king. In thrall to living like the angels, but here, like a prophet he said many things before they fell out, though my Muse forbids further talk of them: she hurries me to my poem’s end, to the doings of my own teacher, Aelberht (by name), a sage who took up the seals of York’s revered episcopal seat after Bishop Egbert died. A good man; also just, generous, pious, kind; to the Catholic faith: protector, teacher, lover; doctor of the church, its ruler, keeper, and its ward; tilling justice, proclaiming law, crying out salvation’s way; to the helpless, hope; to foundlings: father; solace to those in need; in hardship’s grip: fierce; to the good: kind; steely in the face of pride; brave in staring down foes; humble when time proved a friend; brimming with wisdom, spartan with words, always moving, strong. Honor upon honor lifted him up; the more they grew, the more his soul was held in check by a gentle kindliness. Boys of York: keep reading my lines about Aelberht, please, I haven’t much more to say: he poured draughts of God over your senses (more than once), sweet strengths darting from a soul gushing honey. Reason, excellent and fair, always beguiled him, drew him to learning’s keep, revealed to him enlightenment’s secrets.

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The Poems 89 His ancestors were well enough known; from their care he was delivered to blesséd pursuits: placed in a monastery as a boy so his childhood might burgeon with sacred things. Aelberht lived up to the high hopes of his kin: he always stood apart; the more he grew, the more skilled he became in parsing books. He filled out in age, in goodness, in the cut of his mind, was made holy deacon when the time was right (yet a youth, he managed this office well), then, honest and green, he took priestly vows, his rank growing to the fullness of his worth. Then Aelberht, kind, talented, priest and scholar, joined bishop Egbert’s retinue—cleaved to him— (he was the bishop’s kin after all); Egbert made him defender of all clerics,97 and a teacher in York city, where he wetted dry hearts with a learning varied like the water’s flow, with a knowledge dappled like dew; he taught grammar to some (his whole heart in that work), rhetoric to others (fluency poured from him). He refined some on the grindstone of speaking truth, taught harmonies to others in an ancient mode, prepared some to trill the Muses’ songs and race to their heights in lyric feet; he taught others to know the order of the sky, the workings of the sun and the moon, the five zones of the firmament, the seven roaming stars, the constellations’ laws, their comings and goings, the winds, the movements of land, sea; the ways of humans, birds, beasts, numbers in all their complexity, the dating of Easter, the deepest secrets of sacred scripture—teaching like a revelation— he parsed meanings in the olden, unwrought law. He spotted boys who stood out, made them his own: teaching them, raising them up, loving them; many students hankered for the liberal arts:

97 On “defender” (= defensor), see Godman 112n1430.

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The Poems he taught them through sacred books. He took a pilgrim’s path, happily scoured foreign lands, a love of wisdom urged him on, and if he chanced on new studies or books, he brought them back to these parts. He went bowing to Rome, flush with God’s love, traipsing over sacred sites. Then Aelberht the scholar, perched on high, came home: royals and worthies swept him up, paid him honor all around; mighty kings wished to keep him near because he flowed, dappling their realms with dew from God. Rushing to a God-made fate, teacher Aelberht headed home—he wanted to be of use— stepped onto his own shores again, took up a shepherd’s cares at once, then the people’s will made him archbishop of York: he dressed his office in kindnesses’ care, a good pastor at every turn. He fostered God’s brood of sheep, wary on their behalf: no matter their haunt, no wolf could strike these lambs of Christ; for their fodder offering the sacred Word: no parched mouths, empty guts, troubled them. He hauled outcasts roaming boundless desert-wilds on his back, like a friend, to Christ’s fold; hunted down those resisting his gentle calls, scourging them with fear of the law. He was just: no evil king or duke was spared; he didn’t blanch in the face of imponderable cares from reading scripture—he burned for it as if the words were new; he was a natural: keen scholar, kind priest, shaping morals, strengthening minds. Father Aelberht came upon the acme of preferment but followed old habits in clothes and meals; he turned his back on worldly delights but never cottoned to a mortifying course: he was at home in moderation. He brought adornments of manifold beauty to churches, roiled with the fever of faith; on the spot where King Edwin, stalwart-in-arms, assumed the waters of baptism, Aelberht raised a spiring altar

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The Poems 91 plated in silver, gilded, with gems; he made it sacred to St. Paul, teacher to the world—Aelberht loved him more than enough; above the altar he strung a chandelier, with three grand apparatus, nine tiers in each; at the altar went the peerless standard of the Cross, its face plated gold, silver; all of it more than fine: crafted with an elegant design, but bulky for all the rich silver it held. Then a second altar went up, dressed in flawless silver, precious stones, set aside for martyrs and the Cross; a large vessel was cast at Aelberht’s command, heavy, finely wrought of gold: from it priests celebrating Mass poured wine into their chalices. Then Aelberht put up a wondrous church: planned it, saw it through, set it up for God: His house, climbing into the clouds, girded by columns thickly set thrusting under bowed arches, a space glinting with windows, ceilings, beyond compare, gleaming, a thing of beauty, dotted with chapels, with galleries capped by dappled ceilings, and thirty altars with adornments of every stripe. Aelberht bid two students raise it up: Alcuin, Eanbald, staunch minds, single-hearted, zealous to consummate this work; ten days before he died, Aelberht dedicated this church to Holy Wisdom (his bishop-adjutant helped). A servant of God, a preeminent cleric, a bishop of perfect exemplarity grew old; he handed his noble episcopal seat to Eanbald, his student, much-loved (he was happy to do it), then he sought the secrets of the cell, he thought only of God. To his other son went a treasure-trove of books dearer to Aelberht than all else: for this son had always clung to his side, thirsty for learning, accustomed to quaff Aelberht’s fluency; (do you wish to know his name?—

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The Poems the beginning of this poem will betray it at once!)98 He divvied up his wealth into separate lots: one son got episcopal preferment, treasure, land, gold; the other got a model of wisdom, a place to study, and books gathered world-wide by illustrious Aelberht, treasures second-to-none housed under one roof. You will find the olden fathers there, whatever the Roman read in Latin, whatever glimmering Greece bequeathed to Rome; the heavenly rain that the Hebrews drank; what Africa blazoned, like a liquid light; the thinking of Hilary, Bishop Ambrose and father Jerome, Augustine and St. Athanasius; what wise Orosius wrote, the teachings of Gregory the Great and Pope Leo; what Basil and Fulgentius brought out, and Cassiodorus and John Chrysostom; what Aldhelm taught, and the scholar Bede; what Victorinus and Boethius wrote, and the ancient historians Pompey and Pliny, and Aristotle, always on point, and Cicero, the towering rhetor; the poems of Sedulius, Juvencus, Avitus, Prudentius, Prosper, Paulinus, Arator are there; the works of Fortunatus and Lactantius; the works of Virgil, Statius, and Lucan; the writings of teachers of grammatical arts: Probus and Focas, Donatus and Priscian, Servius, Eutyches, Pompeius, Cominianus. Reader: you will find many other authors there, peerless in their learning, artistry, form: with a crystalline facility they wrote many books; but I can’t list every name just now or my poem will move beyond the ken of my pen. Disposed of offices, of worldly things, Aelberht, the archbishop filled out his days; there was no more good to do, time was running down; and when he had been secreted in his cell for two years (and four months) on, he made his way

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98 Vv. 1529–1530 suggest that Alcuin’s name appeared in the autograph, as Ruinart and Gale believed, which would seem to offer solid evidence of his authorship, on which, see previous, 41 with Godman 2–3, note a.

The Poems to God’s demesne, joyfully, contented, this shepherd, patriarch, and teacher: Eanbald and Alcuin were by his side. Pipe, your sounds are only sad:99 hurry, quit this, this memory, or you’ll be lost, buried in a swirl of tears. Until now the wind was at our back, hurrying us to our poem’s haven; why this urge to recollect the saddest day of my life, when of a sudden, as I watched, death, grasping for all things, closed into an endless sleep the venerable eyes of archbishop, father, teacher, Aelberht. For me a grim day; for him only light! That day orphaned me—father was gone, I swooned under a cutting load, sobbing, unmoored, as it carried Aelberht home to father-God, no more wandering the world, burdens, griefs gone. For him Christ was love, nourishment, drink, everything was Christ, life, faith, sensation, hope, light, the right road, glory, nobility. He fell into his final sleep in the fourteenth year of his reign, on November eighth; the sun was in its sixth hour. A swelling crowd gathered for his obsequies, the bishop, clergy, people of every age, were there, paying honor as Aelberht’s body was interred. Father, shepherd, highest hope of my life, when you left, I broke down, I was thrown into the world’s swells, you no longer held my hand, I roiled in vagrant waters, uncertain of the haven I might reach (if any; of what kind). As long as night and day follow on, the seasons divide the year in four, the grass grows high on the land, the stars wink in the sky, winds sweep away the clouds: for you rank, reputation, accolades will abide—ever and ever again.

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Thalia, I wanted you to make an end of my poem, but a memory came rushing in; you’re weary (I know), but sing a few lines 99 “Pipe” = fistula; consistently, Alcuin draws on diction owed to ancient Latin pastoral to describe his poem and/or his poetic talents. See foregoing at vv. 439ff. and 742ff. and the following at vv. 1597ff. and 1655.

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The Poems about a time when I was young, an event in my witnessing. A certain youth, York-born, unaffected, intent, influenced my boyhood, paid attention to me. One night, alone with his usual prayers, kneeling in a chapel sacred to Mary, a light, like an embrace, suddenly filled the place, a man soaked in white hovered in its midst, transcendent, with a flashing face; my friend slinked down, overrun by fear, but the glimmering man propped him up with soft words, offered him an open book; my friend read it, closed it; then the whitened figure said: “you have come into the light—now you will see even greater things.” He spoke, glittering, then suddenly disappeared. My friend was cut down not long later: a disease ran riot in his veins, sick-a-bed long since, death hovering about, pinched nostrils panting thin breaths; I held him—then his soul quickly flitted off, his body but a husk; yet life returned to him in due time; he told me he had seen a beautiful place of happy crowds, of strangers and friends, and members of that sacred church rejoicing. They took him up in an embrace of peace, they wished never to let him go, to make him one of their own, but someone hurried his path from there, returned him to his body and said: “the sun will come up and you will recover; but in that light another brother will die, abiding in the place you have seen fitted out. And so it was. My friend became stronger as the sun ran red, another brother died before the sun was mid-sky. Illness in this season spread griefs all around, cut my friend down; he spoke to me in the midst of his distress: “I will die gripped in this disease; I won’t resist the loosening of the flesh’s chains.”

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The Poems And so it was; pain loomed, grew, took him to the limits of life, he was sinking, his soul exposed in breathy bursts, when a vigilant brother, decent, truthful, saw a man descend from the heights, face flashing, clothes sparkling, who kissed the lips of my fading friend, took his body gingerly in his hands, embraced it, unshackled its soul from the flesh’s cell, fluttered away with it above the stars. Like a sailor unused to the sea, I have brought these lines, piled high on a raft,100 through the crests and shallows of the sea,101 helming them to the safe haven of York—rightly so, for York cared for me, took me in as its own, valued me, set me on my present path. For you, York, I have written this pastoral poem on the fathers, kings and holy ones that are yours; may those hallowed folk mentioned in these lines by their goodnesses and their prayers, helm my boat over worldly seas to the safe haven of life.

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Carm. 2 (Dümmler 206–207) Epitaph for Aelberht Aelberht takes his place in a line of Northumbrian ecclesiasts and scholars that reaches back to Bede (d. 735) and Bede’s protégé, Egbert, Archbishop of York, the nominal founder of that city’s cathedral school, whose episcopal seat Aelberht assumed upon Egbert’s death in 766. Godman argues that Egbert more likely created the conditions in which the famous school at York flourished, leaving to Aelberht the harder work of developing the library and curriculum that figured in the school’s reputation.102 Their respective roles in its development notwithstanding, the school flourished under Aelberht’s guidance. Not the least of his accomplishments was the gathering of manuscripts that eventually formed one of the great libraries 100 Alcuin calls his boat a tenera carina, which I translate by the single word “raft,” reflecting both the size of a carina but also the fact that it is tenera, “soft,” “fragile,” “untested,” etc. 101 In v. 1649, Alcuin describes himself as a nauta rudis and his boat as tenera. These adjectives, reflective of an “inexperienced” sailor and an “untested” boat, may indicate Alcuin’s poetic inexperience at the time these lines were composed. In v. 1655, he frames his poem as a pastoral project (ruralia carmina), as he does at vv. 439ff., 742ff., and 1597ff. 102 Godman lxii.

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in western Europe.103 Carm. 1.1395–1596 (previously, 88–93) offers details concerning Aelberht’s life, much of them cast in formulaic terms owed to the hagiographic model provided by Venantius Fortunatus.104 Yet glimpses of Aelberht in real time, as teacher and bishop, appear. He taught grammar, rhetoric, poetry, music, hymnody, astronomy, and exegesis; he regulated the time for Easter’s celebration and traveled to Rome; and he built a new basilica for York, the forerunner of the present Minster, which he dedicated to Holy Wisdom nine days before his death, on November 8, 780. Carm. 2 is preserved without attribution in the two ninth-century manuscripts, one of which, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 9347, records the title Presbyteri Deo gratias Epitaphium. Placing the poem immediately following carm. 1 and ascribing it to Alcuin based on the intimacy and longevity of his relationship with Aelberht,105 Dümmler also notes the affiliation of v. 3, Euborica doctor celebri preclarus in urbe (“a teacher in York, equal to that city’s fame”) with carm. 1.1431, et simul Euborica praefertur in urbe magister (“and he was made a teacher in York city”), both of which describe Aelberht.106 On stylistic grounds, Burghardt remains unconvinced that the poem is from Alcuin’s hand.107 It is not printed in Duchesne or Forster. As vv. 5–12 prove, this is an elegiac poem of commemoration, rather than a formal epitaph (as follows, 380–382).108 The repetition of “sacredness” (sacris meritis) in vv. 1–2 and 13 emphasizes Aelberht’s goodness in the world, ensuring God’s mercy at the end of his life, while petit in vv. 10 and 14 betokens his wide spiritual travels that ensured the heavenly end of his soul’s journeying. Bullough thinks the poem was likely written not long after Alcuin’s return from Rome in 781, but it could have been composed at any point after Aelberht’s death in 780.109 That Aelberht was instrumental in Alcuin’s intellectual and spiritual growth likely explains the poet’s intrusion into the verses memorializing his mentor. The poet could never resist his

103 F. M. Stenton, Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford, 1971), 188, with M. Garrison, “The Library of Alcuin’s York,” in The Cambridge History of the Book in Britain I: 400–1100, ed. R. Gameson (Cambridge, 2012), 633–664, who argues convincingly that Aelberht and Alcuin, more than Egbert, were responsible for the flourishing and reputation of the York library; see previous, carm. 1.1536–1562, for a partial list of the library’s contents. 104 Godman 109, on v. 1397, and lxii–lxiv. 105 Dümmler 162: . . . sine auctoris nomine traditur, quin Alcuino, discipulo eius gratissimo, vindicem minime dubito. 106 To which might be added vv. 1527–28, which are similar to 2.7–8, 11–12, on which, see previous, 41n8, on carm. 1. 107 Burghardt 287n1. 108 Jullien and Perelman, Clavis, 356. 109 Bullough 243.

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teacher’s charisma in life, nor, if these words are any indication, in death.110 He was, as Dümmler notes, Aelberht’s “most grateful student.”111 Albert: bishop of bishops, high priest by dint of sacred goodness and a lenient God, a teacher in York, equal to that city’s fame, always a great lover of wisdom. He filled me untried, unsteady, with the arts, teaching me first with a mind that cared. Christ led, he scurried, I followed along mindful, never falling behind, whether making for Rome (revered by all), or to the dappled kingdoms of the Franks. I wished always to be near to him, to serve, to drink wisdom pouring from father’s lips. Then: stooped heavy with sacredness and age, he tripped the light and sits now on high.

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Carm. 3 (Dümmler 207–220) On the Life of Holy Bishop Willibrord Born ca. 658, Willibrord is among the more important ecclesiasts of the late seventh and early eighth centuries. At an early age, he was sent by his father, Wilgils (previous, 2–3), an equally famous figure of some spiritual resolve, to the monastery at Ripon to be raised and educated under the supervision of abbot Wilfrid, later bishop of York (previous, 64–66). Singularly trained there, Willibrord, in due course, left England for Ireland, settling at the abbey of Rath Melsigi, whose abbot, Ecgbert, was also an English native.112 Ordained a priest in 688, Willibrord traveled to the continent in 690 on the urging of Ecgbert in order to bring Christianity to the Frisians. In this task, which involved a combination of grit, political savvy, and luck, he was aided by cohort of eleven companions. The success of the mission led, in 695, to Willibrord’s consecration by Pope Sergius I as bishop of the Frisians, with his episcopal seat established at Utrecht. Episcopal duties did not 110 On which, see Garrison 54–55, more fully developed in her “Early Medieval Experiences of Grief and Separation Through the Eyes of Alcuin and Others,” in Anglo-Saxon Emotions: Reading the Heart in Old English Language, Literature and Culture, eds. A. Jorgensen, F. McCormack, and J. Wilcox (Farnham, UK and Burlington, Vermont, 2015), 234–242. 111 Dümmler 162. 112 On Willibrord’s life up to 690, see M. Richter, “The Young Willibrord,” in Willibrord: Apostel der Niederlande. Gründer der Abtei Echternach, eds. G. Kiesel and J. Schroeder (Luxembourg, 1989), 25–30.

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hinder Willibrord’s proselytizing nor lessen his interest in the monastic life: he subsequently undertook a mission to Denmark, and in 698, he founded a monastery at Echternach. The accession of Radbod, a pagan, to the Frisian throne occasioned a temporary pause in Willibrord’s work, the resumption of which occurred after Radbod’s death in 719. He was assisted in his proselytizing tasks in these later years by Boniface, who went on to his own exemplary career as missionary and ecclesiast. Willibrord continued his work as bishop, monk, and preacher of the faith until his death, on November 7, 739, at Echternach abbey, where he was buried. Carm. 3 is the metrical half of an opus geminatum whose prose part it summarizes; that is, the second book of a two-book composition.113 Both were likely written in the 790s.114 A prefatory letter (as follows, Appendix, 384–385) to the work’s dedicatee, Beornred, Abbot of Echternach and Archbishop of Sens (as follows, 129–131), explains that the prose vita was written for public consumption by Echternach’s monks, while the metrical summary was meant for their private devotion. The poem contains a dedicatory preface of twenty-four lines and a concluding appendix of 102 lines, both written in elegiacs; and thirtytwo chapters written in hexameters totaling 353 lines. Alcuin also composed a list of chapter titles placed at the head of the poem. Carm. 3 follows its prose counterpart, though not slavishly and, as befits poetry, is more concise than the prose narratives, compressing and sometimes omitting details found in them. An important source for Alcuin’s poem is Bede’s treatment of Willibrord in the HE. Alcuin’s thematic concerns focus especially on Willibrord’s moral exemplarism and the miracles that, even before he died, betokened it.115 While there are no separate witnesses extant, carm. 3 is recorded in no fewer than five manuscripts, along with its prose counterpart. Duchesne and Forster print the prose and poetic versions of the Vita Willibrordi together, and thus, do not number carm. 3 separately.116

The Chapter Titles of the Second Book Begin Here: I. How blessed Willibrord came from Britain and Ireland to Francia. II. How this man of God came into his own as a preacher. III. How Pepin, the leader of the Franks, sent Willibrord, the servant of Christ, to Rome to be ordained archbishop. 113 Godman lxxviii–lxxxviii discusses the form more generally; J. W. Visser, Parallel Lives: Alcuin of York and Thiofrid of Echternach on Willibrord, Sanctity and Relics, Diss. (Utrecht, 2018), 47–51, discusses the Vita Willibrordi specifically. 114 Visser, Parallel Lives, 44–47 dates the Vita Willibrordi securely. 115 P. McBrine, Biblical Epics in Late Antiquity and Anglo-Saxon England: Divina in Laude Voluntas (Toronto, 2017), 257–269 offers context, summaries, and several brief translations. 116 Duchesne, cols. 1431–1462; carm. 3 = cols. 1451–1462; Forster 183–200; carm.3 = pp. 196–200.

The Poems IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI.

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How a vision came to the most blessed apostle, Pope Sergius, in which Willibrord came to Rome so that the Pope might take him up with every honor. How the blessed Pope treated Willibrord with honor, ordained him, giving him the name Clement, and loading him with gifts. How Willibrord, the man of God, returned to Francia and began at once preaching Christ’s words to all the folk. How he was tempted to preach to the Frisians and the Danes. How he baptized some of these folk, plied some wondrous deeds, then turned back to Francia. How Charles Martel, leader of the Franks, subjugated the Frisians. How Willibrord returned to preach to the Frisians and converted them to Christ’s faith. How he was given Utrecht as his episcopal seat and sent out priests to many places. How he hurried about, preaching the word of God in many places. How only certain things that Willibrord did were described in this versifying version of his life. How the servant of God was struck in the head by a sword when he was taking down a pagan temple, but he didn’t feel the blow of the sword because God was defending him. How a man who spoke ill to Willibrord, servant of God, died on the following day. How his prayers made water flow from dry ground. How his prayers made a single flask of wine suffice for twelve paupers. How his prayers filled a cask of wine. How the prayers of the man of God allowed forty men to drink to satisfaction from four flasks. How an arrogant rich man refused to drink with Willibrord, servant of God, and afterwards desiring to drink when he was no longer able, thus was forgiven by Willibrord. How in Trier Willibrord prayed and warded off a disease threatening nuns there. How Willibrord freed the family and household of a certain man from the harshest tauntings of a demon. How the man of God baptized the son of Charles, leader of the Franks, and predicted the kingdom he would one day rule. On the ways of life, and the death, of the holy father Willibrord. How the brothers, burying father Willibrord in a sarcophagus, discovered it was too short for his body, after which it suddenly stretched out to the correct length. How the fragrance of a wondrous odor spread throughout the church.

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XXVII.

How at God’s ordering, signs were accustomed to appearing in the spot where the holy man was buried. XXVIII. How a light was often seen above the bed where holy Willibrord died. XXIX. How the fragrance of a wondrous odor often wafts through Willibrord’s shrine. XXX. How a certain paralyzed woman was cured suddenly after she prayed over the body of the holy man, Willibrord. XXXI. How a certain youth was healed from chronic weakness after he was brought to the body of Willibrord. XXXII. Concerning a certain deacon, who perished in a grim death after he stole belongings from the church of holy Willibrord. XXXIII. Concerning Wilgils, father of holy bishop Willibrord, and his noble life in the world. XXXIV. How Wilgils’ wife had a vision, and how Wilgils gave up the world and grew old in a life of contemplation and how his body was buried.

The Chapter Titles End Here The Preface of the Second Book Begins Here Beornrad, priest, venerable one, look: your wish is my command! My heart burns with a vivid love for the powerful prelate, kindly bishop Willibrord; in précis I’ve run through his momentous life. Though my verses are unworthy 5 and my voice is a hoarse, husky, croak, still, Willibrord, priest, my faith carries over these words— puny, unadorned—to your temple of Christ; take them up gently (it’s all I ask), in the goodness of your heart and plead forgiveness for my sins (so I pray). 10 Bishop, reigning richly in Heaven’s fold, the gift of my poem is as nothing to your life, but didn’t God in His kindness praise the widow in the temple offering a few coins—it was all she had?117 Holy father, I carry those two coins of differing weights 15 to your temple, on my knees; the first coin is stamped in a plain style, the second shines in ancient meters. 117 The story of the widow in the temple is recounted at Luke 21:2; Alcuin returns to it at carm. 65.3.3–4.

The Poems Somewhere in scripture folk were ordered to give hair shirts, sheepskins, to the holy precincts of God;118 His holy law thundered that these not be refused— to accept gifts of a pious mind with thanks. Willibrord, best father, don’t look for grand, eloquent treasures here, only my heart, kindled by an honest love.

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The Preface of the Second Book Ends Here The Second Book Concerning the Life of Holy Archbishop Wilibrord Begins Here, An Excellent Poem by Master Albinus, Our Best Teacher and Poet. I He came out of the west, a man powerfully good, burning with the love of God, wise-spoken, intense, always in thought. Lucky Francia: he came to you in Pepin’s time:119 rich Britain mothered him to life for you,120 5 then learnéd Ireland fed him holy writ. Willibrord was his name, brimming with excellences in all he did. He sought out foreign haunts—love of Christ spurred him on— longing to sow holy seeds with the promise of eternity in places a missionary had rarely been before. 10 Pepin—worthy ruler of the Franks—relished the chance to take him in; bid him to water thirsty fields all around with draughts drawn from Heaven; Pepin firmed up this servant of God, helped him in the best of ways.

II Willibrord was all about God, his life was lit by Christ; on his holy way he ambled about the towns— whether to castles, houses, cross-roads—always, everywhere sprinkling the people’s hearts with flashes of Gospel-light, 118 The reference is to Exodus 25:3, 4. 119 Pepin of Herstal (635—December 16, 714), Mayor of the Palace of Austrasia from 680 until his death, eventually conquered the other Frankish kingdoms, becoming Duke and Prince of the Franks. He is the great-grandfather of Charlemagne. 120 Willibrord was born ca. 658.

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III Pepin, patron, known world-wide, had seen fit to grow the Church of Christ, the august gift of faith; thrilled beyond account with such a scholar of salvation, he thought it better at once to send Willibrord to Rome— the capital city of the faith—so that the pope might lift him into the episcopal rank, make him highest priest, and bishop of the church.

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IV Holy Sergius,121 highest bishop, noblest Peter’s heir, was then pope, shrewd, good, no one kinder. A vision fell upon Sergius one night (four days before Willibrord arrived) of an illustrious man coming to him in Rome; an angel from the heights told him what would be: “Look: God’s dear one hurries to this city as a guest, with a great gift from the Frankish duke; be mindful to traffic with him kindheartedly (just so); in due time you will raise him to the highest rank; let this priest have any gifts he might seek, for he is converting flocks of people to God.” The angel spoke, then returned to Heaven’s demesne.

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V The blessed pope smiled on the angel’s words, his kind heart made the Godly servant Willibrord his own: prompt in handling all things (as ordered), he lifted up this priest to the episcopacy,122 ordered him to be called “Clement” (harking back to the Fathers’ days); 121 Sergius was pope from 687–701. 122 Willibrord received the pallium from Pope Sergius on November 21, 695.

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the pope gave whatever this holy man sought, tendering many gifts of the kindly saints to him.

VI After this, Willibrord, servant of the Lord, returned to Francia, coming in the surety of high rank; all the folk were in thrall to him, yearning to drink the waters of salvation, honey-dripped, that father, standing apart from the crowd, poured for them (as was his wont), soaking their hearts with heavenly drops of Christ; wherever that kind priest went, with God’s help, he gathered a pleasant crop, filled cities, homes, towns, the hinterlands with the Catholic faith, by God’s avowal.

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VII Restless to preach beyond Francia, Willibrord sowed the seeds of God’s word to the Frisians, long-captive to pagan ways, and to the Danes, raving down through time: he had little luck turning them to the faith, their kings were wicked all around.

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VIII But Willibrord gained some souls, thanks to all-powerful God, who made him an instrument of wondrous deeds; he was turned back in peace from those lands, but kept them in his sights on behalf of Christian folk until the door of endless bliss might be opened to God’s word, in the showing of Christ; he was a prop to all folk, everywhere, always. Meanwhile Pepin’s life ran down:123 death gave his realms to Charles.

123 Pepin died on December 16, 714.

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IX Taking up sovereignty without a hitch, Charles124 grew his borders by crushing foreign lands: he even defeated the Frisians in war, carted them off in iron wagons, taking tribute from their hands.

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X Then Willibrord, gospel-preacher, went to Frisia again, bearing the message of endless life, dipping folks in holy baptism’s water; his sanctity first fitted them with kindly gifts of faith, like a light, rising in the dark of a lingering, overlong death: the sun—truly so—Christ, burst out all around—suddenly the shadows slinked away.

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XI In Utrecht Willibrord was given an episcopal seat:125 the Frisians came under his spiritual sway, that they might learn the rudiments of faith from this master. Soon churches went up, thrived, to honor endless God, learnéd men of faith were appointed in the realm to guide folks, teaching the message of eternal life, to baptize folks, feeding them Heaven-sent loaves; the hungry need not return to want: let Christ be drink, feast, for all.

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XII Willibrord, bishop known world-wide, had always made this his work, to bring to God-Thunderer a great gain of souls, to meet the Lord returning for those in his thrall, bearing greater wealth in each hand; 124 Charles Martel, Pepin’s son, was sole ruler of the Frankish realms from 718 until his death in 741. 125 Tunc data pontifici est Trajecto sedis in urbe: the subject of data est is Trajecto, conceptually an urbs, thus feminine, but attracted into the case of the prepositional phrase, in urbe, in which urbs is expressed.

The Poems girding flocks with a keen care, to swell Christ’s sheepfold with reputation and merit. He made his way about the realm, a messenger of endless life, the grace of God, enthroned on high, always easing his way, bracing this teacher’s words, deeds.

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XIII God worked a raft of miracles through Willibrord, His own: I can’t give each its full due now in verse; my busy pick can pluck but a few in précis, to set them in silouhette in my poem and prod my reader to Willibrord’s first life in prose;126 he will spy there the great bishop in the world more fully formed: his learning, teaching, family, life, habits, his gentle mind, how his heart was in thrall to God for all time, always, pondering holy writ day and night.

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XIV Look: one time God’s dear bishop Willibrord determined to bring a pagan temple down; the temple-guardsman saw it all, flared up with rage, gashed Willibrord’s head with the edge of a sword. Though kindly Willibrord felt no pain from the gash, 5 his attendants wished to slay the guard at once, but Willibrord, gentle priest, kept him from death. Still, the devil seized the guard soon enough, he paid a tragic price: in three days his bitter life ran down. See: Christ avenges His holy own (as He is wont to do). 10

XV Noble traveler Willibrord chanced a journey once: took a shortcut with his men through a field owned by a man, covetous, rich, who wouldn’t brook our bishop making a path through his green. 126 Because it is book 1 of this opus geminatum, of which carm. 3 is book 2, Alcuin calls the prose life of Willibrord “first” (prosam . . . primam) here.

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XVI While kindly Willibrord traveled to close-by127 lands, busily planting holy seeds of the life to come, he chanced upon a barren place near the ocean’s shore, breeding only parched sand, lacking sweet water ’s wash to slake his thirsty men. Blessed Willibrord wished to help his wilting friends: he commanded them to hollow out a pit in his tent, then confined himself inside, alone, on his knees, unmoving, he sobbed stinging tears to God—then, of a sudden, honeyed water bubbled up from a spring in ground no longer parched; the men drank, then took enough to sustain them on their way through parched fields—for they had just set out.

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XVII Once twelve woeful men, starving, in rags, accosted God’s helper Willibrord: the blessed priest studied them, overawed with care; “Ministers,” he blurted out, “get my flask—get it and share it128 with these men: Christ’s fullest blessing, I think, should suffice to fill the flask for all.” They drank, giddy, each gulping as much as he wished: yet the flask betrayed no change, filled with a finer Falernian.

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XVIII Noble Willibrord, as guest, had come to Echternach abbey:129 127 Willibrord is described in vv. 1–2 as pius . . . accola, a “pious neighbor”; I apply that description to the places to which he travels—i.e., “close-by lands.” 128 Miscite, “share,” also goes to the “mixing” of wine and water. 129 Although Willibrord founded Echternach early in the eighth century, was its first abbot, died there in 739, and was buried in its oratory, his roles as proselytizer and bishop kept him away for long periods; hence, he is called “guest,” hospes, here.

The Poems 107 the affairs of the church were in good order there; greeting the brothers in the customary way (as he was wont to do), he inspected the furniture set about that holy place, then entered the larder with a few of his men, where he found scarcely a cask of wine in store! Willibrord, servant of Christ, blessed this wine with his noble staff (by habit the holy man always had a crozier in hand); the next night—it’s a miracle to tell—the larderer, lingering in the storehouse alone, witnessed the wine rise in the cask until it was filled with that sweet-flowing drink. The happy man reported this to holy father Willibrord—but only him— for where this miracle was concerned kind father had made silence the rule down to the day he died; he was unwilling to seek praise in this life.

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XIX Among the folk there was a man—a host open-handed to all comers-by; excellent Willibrord the bishop was often his guest whenever he happened into those parts. One time our dear teacher came of a sudden, unannounced, when the man had no wine to serve! Father Willibrord took this in, then ordered four small flasks brought to him (his attendants always carried these about); he blessed them and spoke: “pass these flasks around, for the blessing of quickened Christ will swell the wine—I trust His gentle care in this.” So it was. Look: forty men drank the wine: in the giving of Christ there was drink for all!

XX Weary from trodding God’s path, to water and to grow His crop with Heaven-sent rains, Willibrod, servant of the Lord, kind bishop, set upon a rich man’s field,

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The Poems to rest with his parched friends for a time; that rich man began pummeling Willibrord’s horses, rustling them from his field; kind priest Willibrord offered blandishments: “please don’t turn us out from your field, come, drink with us and make a meal, let only friendship reign.” Arrogant, furious, the rich man said: “I don’t want your meal; I don’t wish to drink with you.” Willibrord the priest seized upon these words: “Then don’t drink at all if you won’t drink with me—this is what I ask.” Willibrord spoke, then went on his way (as was his wont). The rich, reckless man plodded home, burned of a sudden with raging thirst, raving, asked servants to mix some wine, attacked the goblet, but couldn’t drink! His throat blistered, burned, but vomited Bacchus’ cups, he was afire with belching flames all about; doctors were impotent against his ordeal. Then the man’s recklessness became clear: he was paying the price of Willibrord’s words; no wonder he longed to see the good bishop again! In a year’s time wise Willibrord returned; the suffering man hurried to him, confessed his bitter cups; with empathy kind Willibrord gave way, by his own hand poured the man a drink, slaked his long thirst, made him whole again; the man attacked the goblet, gullet full, washed away what he had done.

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XXI Trier is ancient, high-turreted, thickly-walled, girded by holy priories where pious people huddle about, ever-vigilant in their praises of Christ. One priory, peopled by holy sisters, of a sudden buckled under a brutal disease; hovering death stole many lives, some were long-suffering, prone, alive, but just,

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XXII A household was plagued for too long by a deadly demon run amok with a palette of terrors, a brutal phantom sweeping through— hardly an empty threat— baldly flagrant, harmful to the hilt, without respite snatching clothes, food, tossing them to the flames; one night the vicious phantom tore a sleeping baby from his parents’ arms, threw it into the burning hearth amidst the child’s cries; father, mother barely rescued it from death. No priest could exorcise this scourge until the father summoned Willibrord, servant of God, whose holy prayers purged the pest. In the name of Christ he sent holy water, for Willibrord, the bishop, saw what would be, knew the house would be destroyed by a fire owed to the demon’s hand; “don’t let the fire frighten you,” he said, “you will come to build a better house, exorcised of this curse, just remember the blessed water I sent, use it to protect yourself, God granting, you will be rid of this snaky bane, your beloved family will celebrate with you.” Father Willibrord said it, and so it was: the family faced no further snaky trials, lived safely and well in a new house.

XXIII God’s holy Willibrord spoke of life to come— events always bore him out.

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The Poems He dipped Pepin,130 son of Charles the Duke131 in baptism’s sacred font (as was Charles’ wont); then, like a prophet speaking to his followers, Willibrord had a presentiment: “this child Pepin will fly higher than any other duke who has wielded power in Francia; blessed, he will rule his kingdom in joy, enlarging his realms in lofty triumphs.” There’s no difficulty in saying this here: Pepin is revered world-wide, he is on everyone’s lips.

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XXIV Willibrord was God’s man, modest, truth-speaking, calm, an exemplar brimming with strength, kind-hearted, pliable to the meek, steely in the face of pride, not covetous, never rich, solace to those in pain; the kind priest grew old in the goodnesses of a life plied for eighty years; then on a day early in November132 he trundled to heaven’s demesne, joined angelic choruses singing Christ in hymns that reached over the sky, always, unendingly, fortunate!

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XXV The brothers managed Willibrord’s burial with a sacred urgency, praying, singing, with praises for his towering honor; they wished to place father’s body in a sarcophagus too short for his remains— they were much aggrieved—but look (wonder to tell): of a sudden the sarcophagus stretched out, fitted now for the body of kindly father!

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XXVI As death’s ceremonies piled up, a wondrous scent seared the air, tumbling through the church like a draught, delicate, divine: 130 Pepin the Short (d. 768), father of Charlemagne. 131 Charles Martel (d. 741). 132 November 6, 739; Alcuin dates the death in Roman fashion as falling eight days before the Ides of November.

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proof that a hoard of angels hovered near, smiling, singing in kind father’s honor.

XXVII The holy father, pastor, patriarch, priest, died at Echternach priory in peace. He built it to praise the Lord, now God will make miracles there: a lamp lights the great patron’s tomb, many sick are cured from a dab of its oil; penitents scamper in, sobbing, weeping evils, crimes, but their chains fall away,133 they depart in joy, their freedom is in the giving of Christ.

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XXVIII The shrine of holy father Willibrord is fixed in a spot where a light often falls from the sky: his soul quit the prison-house of flesh in that place, craved the high stars, trailing a lifetime of good, to enjoy endless light with Christ, with the saints: that light, often seen, proves it all.

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XXIX A sweet scent, like heaven’s nectar, often burns through this shrine, sweeter than any spice; many witnesses can attest to this truth, their encounters hold out the certainty of faith in the purity of their accounts. Don’t you hope Willibrord’s blessed soul is at peace, while miracles owed to his sacred remains wend their way in the world, the fittest signs of the kind of father he was? If we pray to him he can lift our griefs, if we flood this spot with tears, with a kind heart, where father, who stood apart from the crowd, became sacred in death.

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133 The arms and legs of penitents were often bound in iron rings to betoken spiritual profligacy.

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XXX Other events fell out: a woman, paralyzed, lingered for seven years, wasting away, unable to move her limbs: nearing death, scarcely dragging last gasps from her chest, she was placed prone before the tomb of Willibrord, sacred of God, hoarse, flooding the ground with tepid tears, her faith alone gained strength: she mustered hope for relief through Christ’s servant, Willibrord—nor was her hope ill-bought. Look: a cure sprinted gingerly through her limbs all at once, a fiery warmth wafted in welcoming veins, bones and sinews were all strength now—everyone thought she was glorious! She got up soon enough, body-whole, scurrying home in joy—her own two feet got her there: no more languishing in the arms of others, no more being carried about!

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XXXI Look: a youth suffered chronic, slashing weakness, atrophied, bony, palsied limbs in a war-downed body, head askew: you could see only its crown swaying side to side, often prostrate for hours, as if about to die. Such a miserable youth, yet of excellent faith, heart-whole, came to the church where Willibrord’s sacred body reposed (the great priest)— the friends of the youth carried him there— his acid tears seeking a cure. The grace of forgiver-Christ soon heard his sobs, healing coursed through his limbs, brought him back to life, nerves, muscles grew strong, energy, power, seeped into his bones, made whole at once—everyone standing around took note! Formidable, healthy, he rose up like an oak, offering prayers for his release: for health’s gift he gave thanks to all-powerful God and brought to Christ praise and glory—always, always!

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XXXII A deacon with a blistered soul rifled gifts given to his blessed church: he lifted a gilded cross—a crazy theft— that Willibrord, servant of Christ, held close on journeys at the side of the Lord— he placed many treasures in this church. This evil thief soon paid a price for his crime, just retribution followed wicked sin, grim disease slayed the hapless man, who confessed to the foul theft just before he died, revealing where he had hidden the cross. The deacon’s death spread a powerful awe into the prayers of the brothers and the villagers; now they knew that for Christ Willibrord guarded all that was his.

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XXXIII Willibrord, noble priest, sprang from an olden line: his great goodness made him nobler still. Lush Britain was motherland to him (as I sang a moment ago), Ireland then taught him well, but lucky Francia took him in, adored him, held him, his entombed body lies in her care. Wilgils, his father, was famous in his day, a holy man, wise, properly pious, reader: let me pluck some verses that sing his life so you might know his excellence. This servant of God was born of holy parents, forebears; all the folk called him Wilgils, he lived among the natives across the Humber, exemplary in all he did, roundly loved, he made his life with a wife chaste enough; she lay with her husband yet her heart was devout, like Sarah with Abraham long ago.

XXXIV God made her a seer, the future appeared in her mind, she slept, dreamed, saw the truth: a new moon appeared to her,

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The Poems its horns were bared (as nature commands) then grudgingly began to lengthen, to fill until its light spilled into a lambent world; of a sudden, like a torrent, it was on her lips; she drank, her body glowed in the darting light. Remembering, rehearsing the dream in her mind, she recalled its details, then confessed them to a priest whose life had been bruited in the church. He pondered this vision in his soul, understood it to be a presentiment from God; to the woman he explained things, prophet-like, God poured into him like the breath of truth on his lips: “Woman: you spied a waxing moon, its horns burgeoning with fresh light, on a night you and your husband were joined, begetting a new splendor to illumine the world! Woman: a baby will come of your womb, he will grow into greatness, do glorious things, ply extraordinary learning, become a bishop in time, glinting like the sun to our world: folks held in thrall to inky shadows will be bathed in the heavenly glow that he brings.” The priest spoke like a prophet, his words came to pass, events proved the truth of dreams; a boy was born to the woman, baptized, named Willibrord (on his father’s command): his life and faith, learning, habits, I have already sketched in my poem (as you know). In time Wilgils, Willibrord’s excellent father, turned from the joys of the world, wishing to serve God in thought and deed, he embraced Heaven’s life with its manifold sweetness, entered a monastery sacred to God. He took up with his brethren, lived blamelessly: patient, humble, prompt to every good thing. Then the soul of this sacred servant sought greater things, craving solitude, the path of contemplation; he perched on a promontory, where crashing waves drowned out the world, the place was better suited to his soul, he plucked flowers grown in Heaven there, broke free of the world’s black cares.

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The Poems He lived there alone, improved himself night and day: suffered countless brawls with the evil snake, armed himself with sanctity (as was his wont), while God, powerful in every way, bringing triumphs to the holy (rightly so), gave brilliant victories to His servant; through him the grace of merciful Christ brought forth astounding signs of His truth: you don’t hide a gleaming lamp in a basket,134 or set it under a bed: you place it on high, to more loftily sprinkle its kindly light! I can’t say more of these brilliant victories or astounding signs in my poem—my pick is running down— it’s enough to know this much of father Wilgils’ life, more pleasing to God, always, everywhere, The life of this servant of God is rife with examples of salvation for the folk—he was a witness for every soul. Kings attended to this servant of Christ; up and down the land all the people cared for him with love. He was God’s man, patient, even-tempered, upright, one-of-a-kind in all he did, soft-spoken, God was always on his lips.135 Later, when he put down his cares, he was remembered with a host of gifts—Christ saw that it was so— filled with goodnesses, with years, only kindnesses, rejoicing, he finally fell into the calming peace of sleep. His gladdened soul shot to heaven, clutching joys there now with the saints, without end. The brothers buried him in the church built near the shore of the sea, dedicated to the most glorious mother of Christ, glinting, Mary, in your name: in it we pray, and well take heart, that you are our future in Christ, powerful, always, in grace. Eternal virgin, in the safe haven of your womb you carried the joy of every age, the world’s life, the king of Heaven, Lord and God: 134 This image is owed to Matt. 5:15. 135 Vv. 65–66 use diction found in a description of Willibrord at XXIV.1–3, previously.

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The Poems help us, pray for us. I’m Alcuin, unskilled, the songster who sang these lines: whoever reads this, please say: “God have mercy on Alcuin’s soul!”

Carm. 4 (Dümmler 220–223)136 To Friends of the Poet Written in hexameters, carm. 4 is an apostrophic poetic epistle describing an itinerarium to important episcopal cities, monasteries, and ecclesiasts, designed, presumably, to be read in real time to the recipients named in it, if not to larger gatherings associated with them. Preserved without title in a single manuscript assembled at the abbey of St Denis early in the ninth century, now Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 528, f. 132r-v.,137 Dümmler dates the poem to no earlier than 780, the year in which Alcuin returned from a trip to Rome.138 On internal evidence, Bullough rightly narrows this to 777– 782.139 Although the poet names himself at v. 28 (Publius Albinus), making his authorship uncontroverted, Forster prints carm. 4 as one of the carmina dubia and calls it Carmen Anonymum pro Amicis Poetae.140 Burghardt considers Alcuin’s authorship secure.141 Duchesne doesn’t print it. The path followed by carm. 4 places it in locales that recall the epic story of the Anglo-Saxon missions to the continent. The poem stands in a long line of similar compositions—pagan and Christian—but seems especially to follow Sidonius Apollinaris, carm. 24, whose journey in that poem is described in terms of “frames” set in different locations, with different addressees, formulaic greetings, and lexical markers, such as dic, dicito, hic, or hinc, indicating the poem’s shifting perspectives.142 Apart from the influence of earlier models, Schaller identifies in carm. 4 something more uniquely Carolingian—a “lecture poem” (Vortragsdichtung), meant to be circulated widely and recited143—and, more specifically, a “circle poem” (Zirkulardichtung), meant to be read in real time to the individuals mentioned in the 136 S. Cardwell, Global Medieval Sourcebook: A Digital Repository of Medieval Texts, https://sourcebook.stanford.edu/text/song-iv-go-quickly-little-letter, translates the poem. 137 L. Sinisi, “From York to Paris: Reinterpreting Alcuin’s Virtual Tour of the Continent,” in Anglo-Saxon England and the Continent, eds. H. Sauer and J. Storey (Tempe, AZ, 2011), 276–278, reviews the history of the manuscript. 138 Dümmler 220, n. 3 repeats verbatim the view of Forster 449, note a. 139 Bullough 316. 140 Forster 449–450. 141 Burghardt 15–16. 142 Sinisi, “From York to Paris,” 278–279. 143 D. Schaller, “Vortrags- und Zirkulardichtung am Hof Karls des Großen,” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 6 (1970): 14–36.

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poem. On this view, carm. 4 provides the means by which courtier-poets might cultivate contact otherwise precluded by the roving nature of the Carolingian court and the difficulty of continental communication.144 Attempting to account for the familiar tone that often arises in Alcuin’s instructions to his cartula, Sinisi understands carm. 4 to be addressed, instead, to a student-portitor, entrusted with an epistula or libellus, who requires detailed instructions regarding appropriate greetings in delivering the letter or book to Alcuin’s continental sodales.145 This view takes into account the occasionally breezy tone Alcuin assumes in apostrophizing his cartula and resists understanding that tone to measure Alcuin’s status among continental ecclesiasts. Godman argues that carm. 4 reveals a shrewd observer of a familiar scene rather than the tentative tones of a newcomer, but, given that the poem was composed no later than 782, Alcuin’s personal acquaintance with the figures he identifies is, at best, minimal. Bullough seems correct in finding in the poem’s words an effort to cultivate men with whom he had recently become acquainted on his journey to and from Rome in the early 780s.146 The poem is comprised of nine frames of varying lengths, registers, and tones.147 After an apostrophe in which the poet urges it to hurry over the ocean in order to reach the mouth of the Rhine (frame 1 = vv. 1–5), the cartula is told to make its way to Utrecht to greet Alberic, the bishop there (frame 2 = vv. 6–10). It is encouraged next to hurry to and through Dorestad, an important mercantile center, and to expect that the merchant Hrotberct will prove to be an inhospitable host. Instead, the cartula should make its way to Litora, where, the poet is certain, Jonas will provide proper food and lodging (frame 3 = vv. 11–16). Moving on to Cologne, the cartula must greet Ricwulf, the bishop there (frame 4 = vv. 17–19), before it sails to the confluence of the Rhine and the Moselle, then crosses the Moselle to Echternach abbey, where Samuel is abbot (see as follows, 129–131; frame 5 = vv. 20–25). Should the cartula gain entry to the abbey, it must seek out abbot Samuel at once, greet him with appropriate reverence, and proffer the books Alcuin has sent (frame 6 = vv. 26–35). If Samuel intercedes on Alcuin’s behalf and bring the poet’s greetings to Charlemagne and his courtiers, the cartula must greet the king properly and then make its rounds to no fewer than nine figures designated by name, including Paulinus of Aquileia, Peter

144 P. Godman, Poets and Emperors: Frankish Politics and Carolingian Poetry (Oxford, 1987), 43–45, agreeing with Schaller. 145 Sinisi, “From York to Paris,” 287–292. 146 Godman, Poets and Emperors, 45; Bullough, 318 with n209. 147 I follow Sinisi, “From York to Paris,” 279–287.

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of Pisa, and Rado, Charlemagne’s chancellor and abbot of St Vedast (frame 7 = vv. 36–51). The cartula then is to travel to Mainz and to bring the poet’s greetings to bishop Lull (frame 8 = vv. 52–55) before reaching Speyer and Bassinus, that city’s bishop (frame 9 = vv. 56–58). Finally, the cartula is to make its way to St Denis, to greet and praise Fulrad, the abbot there (frame 10 = vv. 59–63). Little poem: hurry on the ocean where whitecaps rush, on gusty winds seek the mighty mouth of the fishy Rhine spilling into the sea, roiling the waves; let your prow be set by a doubled148 tow-rope to stay it from a sudden return to the waves! If Alberic,149 my own, rushes down to the shore, run to him, say “Hello, bishop, lord of cattle;”150 while in Utrecht, no more than a night’s journey for you, Prior Hadda151 sates you with honey, porridge, butter— Frisia152 doesn’t have oil or wine! Take leave of Dorestad then, let the wind catch your droopy sails:153 glum Hrotberct154 won’t offer you respite there— he’s a greedy merchant, he hates your song. So sail up to Litora, to my poet Jonas:155 he offers comfort to weary wayfarers,

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148 Alcuin describes the tow-rope as praelongus, “overly long,” but it seems length allows for the extra strength that doubling brings, since length alone offers no protection against the breaks and swells of the Rhine as it enters the North Sea. 149 Alberic was the nephew of Gregory of Utrecht, whom he succeeded as bishop in 775. 150 Vaccipotens = “lord of cattle,” explained by A. Delahaye, Quand l’histoire déraille . . ., trans. J. Fermaut (Bierne, 2009), 123. 151 Otherwise, unknown. 152 An area encompassing the northern part of present-day Netherlands and northwestern Germany, Frisia was an important economic center in Carolingian Europe. 153 Dorestad was a flourishing center of trade in the Carolingian period, but civil and military depredations in the ninth century, not least owed to Viking incursions, led to its decline and abandonment. In the twelfth century, a new settlement grew up near the older city, now called Wijk bij Duurstede in present-day central Netherlands. 154 This figure is otherwise unknown; on the name, see S. Lebecq, “On the Use of the Word “Frisian” in the 6th–10th Centuries’ Written Sources: Some Interpretations,” in Maritime Celts, Frisians, and Saxons: Papers Presented to a Conference at Oxford in November, 1988, ed. S. McGrail (London, 1990), 87, with Sinisi, “From York to Paris,” 280n22. 155 I read litora as a place-name for the islet off present-day Düsseldorf, reported by Bede at HE 5.11, and I understand Jonas to be the abbot of the monastery founded by Swithberht there. Litora makes sense geographically: it is located between Dorestad (vv. 11–13), from which the cartula arrives at Litora, and Cologne (vv. 17–19), to which it travels next; and rhetorically, since Alcuin uses place-names here to better articulate the journey up the Rhine to the confluence of the Moselle that follows. See Bullough 316 and n. 202; Sinisi, “From

The Poems he has mounds of vegetables, fish, bread. Then Cologne will fall generously before your eyes—I see it now— in a humble key greet father Ricwulf156 there, say: “Beloved, your praises will always be spoken by me.” Then make for towns further up the Rhine, your skiff hurrying through the waves, until you reach the River Moselle (your hope all along).157 Cleave the Moselle with oars, then check the boat, put up on shore, seek the holy precincts of father Willibrord by foot and the confines of Samuel the priest.158 Let the Muses announce you at the gate (don’t forget), speak firmly, like Apollo, to the minister-boy at the door: say “Publius159 Albinus sent me from Britain to bring sweet greetings to father Samuel—who’s sweeter!” If you find your fullest voice in this moment, like a suppliant, reveal yourself to Samuel alone, kiss his holy feet and say “Samuel, father, priest, live on, be well!” Let him see the noble fathers’ books you’ve brought: Priscian, Phocas160—Samuel celebrates such gifts, if Neptune hasn’t tossed them to the waves! Should Samuel wish to bring you to the king’s court (if chance allows),161

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York to Paris,” 280n23; and, on the place-name in Bede, A. Dresden, “Beda Venerabilis und der älteste Name von Kaiserwerth,” Düsseldorfer Jahrbuch 28 (1916): 211–218. Bishop of Cologne, ca. 772–794. The Moselle empties into the Rhine at Koblenz. The cartula leaves the Rhine and begins a journey up the Moselle, eventually reaching by foot the monastery at Echternach, founded by Willibrord, whose abbacy was assumed in 775 by Samuel (= Beornred), later archbishop of Sens (as follows, pp. 129–131). Samuel is named subsequently in vv. 29, 31, 32, 34, 36, and 42. “Publius,” = Puplius in the manuscript, is not a scribal error for Pupulus or pupillus, since the name is found in carm. 7 (Puplius Albinus Carlo haec inclyta lusit), whose acrostical form demands this precise spelling. The contexts here and in carm. 7 involve the Muses; the name is, perhaps, a playful way for Alcuin to elevate himself in their company, not least by reminding readers of Virgil’s and Ovid’s praenomen, while also punning on pupulus, “boy,” and pupillus, “student,” both of which go to Alcuin’s self-effacement in relation to the powerful figures his cartula greets. Priscian and Phocas were Latin grammarians of the early fifth century; Bullough 317 notes that the gift of these grammars to Samuel at Echternach betokens the earliest evidence of the school of York supplying copies of ancient secular works to a continental center of learning. Charlemagne’s court (= “the king’s court”) was itinerant until 796, when it became settled at Aachen—thus the sense of “by chance” (= forte), on which, see Sinisi, “From York to Paris,” 283 with note 31, and Bullough 318.

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The Poems run to the fathers, brothers, nobles there, say hello, at the feet of the king spread out your songs (every word!), say again, then again “hail, best king, hello, be my protector, guardian, and defender, don’t let grudging words do me harm—on the lips of Paulinus,162 Jonas,163 Alberic,164 Samuel,165 Peter166— or anyone who wishes to carp at me: frighten them—make them keep their distance, fade away, be gone!” Then whisper to Peter: “teacher, be well—do it so only he can hear— but stand back: he is harsh and cuffs with Hercules’ club!”167 Then, gladdened, hug the neck of master Paulinus, kiss his honeyed lips ten times! Greet Ricwulf,168 Raefgot,169 Rado170—rightly so— sing to them slowly, say “happy friends, brothers, greetings, be well!” Perhaps then you will come to Mainz (a city that stands apart); to learned Lull171 there say hello, model churchman, ablaze with wisdom, equal to such praises for the ways he lived. And Bassinus,172 so good, a credit to Speyer’s folk, kind father, commend me to Paul173 the protector, he took us in, like a nurse, made brothers of us both. Kind Fulrad;174 who dares to pluck you on the lyre?—

162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174

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Paulinus (ca. 726-ca. 804), patriarch of Aquileia, on whom, see as follows, pp. 152–153. On Jonas see the foregoing v. 14n. On Alberic, see the foregoing v. 6n. On Samuel (Beornred), see the foregoing v. 25n. Peter of Pisa (744–799), one of the intellectuals gathered at Charlemagne’s court, a grammarian by training. In place of Herculeo claro, reported in the manuscript, Schaller proposes the more sensible Herculea clava, which I translate here. See Schaller, “Vortrags- und Zirkulardichtung,” 18. On Ricwulf, see the foregoing v. 18n. Otherwise, unknown. Rado (d. 807), chancellor for Charlemagne (776–794) and Abbot of St. Vedast (790–807); see Sinisi, “From York to Paris,” 283n34, and below, carm. 89, pp. 288–298 for inscriptions in honor of the church dedicated to St Vedast. Lull (ca. 710–786), St Boniface’s successor as Bishop of Mainz, was also the first abbot of Hersfeld monastery. Bassinus was Bishop of Speyer from 761 to 782. Paul the Deacon (ca. 720-ca. 799), one of the intellectuals gathered at the Carolingian court, most famous as the author of the Historia Langobardorum. Among important political appointments under Charlemagne, Fulrad (710–784) was Abbot of the monastery of St Denis. Given St Denis’ distance from Speyer, it seems likely that Fulrad is to be understood to form part of Charlemagne’s itinerant court—a place he

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your goodnesses outrun the Muses’ songs; still, highness, father, let this ivy dress your holy head— with your accustomed kindness— or let me simply say hello to you! Now, poem, go, hurry, clamber onto the looming boat, let its bowed keel swim the Rhine under you: don’t let tawny blocks of gold weigh you down (so I ask)— culled from the earth by folk wearied of work; don’t let castles, villas, cities, flowery fields check your path, smite your senses, for even an hour; flee, quit delay, hurry, run, fly away: may you discover our friends safe, healthy, gladdened, strong—and take heart; God of every power, bring them well-being down through time, bring them in their bliss to Heaven’s hall. Then, when your work is done, make for home— don’t look back— know by heart the words you heard, so you can fill me in, when spring pushes ruddy buds through the ground and lets me watch you playing in our care, singing new songs for us again. Then I will plait garlands of gold from fresh flowers, and you, friend, will linger in delicate fields.

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Carm. 5 (Dümmler 223) To Damoetas (Richulf) A riddle inspired by a comb that Richulf sent to Alcuin as a gift, carm. 5 is copied out by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 219.175 The poem can be profitably read with epis. 26 (as follows, 385), written to Richulf, in which Alcuin expands on the poem’s details and provides a solution to the riddle.176 Poem and letter thus informally gesture toward an opus geminatum (previously, carm. 3, 97–116), an important part of the Anglo-Saxon literary tradition in which Alcuin was raised. Evidence of that tradition can also be seen in the choice to compose in riddles (as follows, often inhabited in his long life of service to the king. The fact that the lone manuscript in which the poem is preserved is from St Denis does not militate against this view. Fulrad’s epitaph follows, carm. 92.2, 308. 175 Duchesne, col. 1730; Forster doesn’t print it. 176 Veyrard-Cosme, Tactitus Nuntius, 130–132, treats this letter in the context of earlier Anglo-Saxon literary influences, but see also 119–132 for a discussion of Alcuin’s tendency to write in veiled ways or, more broadly, to traffic in secretive, cryptic, or enigmatic modes of expression, of which this letter is one example.

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233–236), since literary riddling reaches back to Aldhelm, who composed his Aenigmata in the seventh century, and to other Anglo-Saxon figures, such as Tatwine (d. 734), “Eusebius” (sometimes identified as Hwaetberht),177 and Boniface (d. 754).178 Alcuin’s poetic output contains other riddles: carm. 64.1–2, on a furnace (as follows, 236); 92, on a bath (as follows, 307); and 100.3, on an oven (as follows, 325); but carm. 5 is his most traditional and fully formed riddle.179 Combs designed along the lines described by Alcuin survive from the Carolingian period, such as the one buried with Cuthbert, which, like Alcuin’s comb, is made of ivory and has nearly the same number of “teeth,” fifty-six (or fifty-eight) in total, sixteen on one side and forty (or forty-two) on the other.180 It and others like it help readers visualize the “beast” that Alcuin has in mind and the imagination at work in composing this good-natured poem. Given by Alcuin the pseudonym (Flavius) Damoetas,181 Richulf was born into a noble Frankish family from the Wetterau. He entered into Charlemagne’s service first in 781, as a Missus Dominicus to Bavaria. Following the death of Fulrad in 784, he was made head of Charlemagne’s royal chapel, and when Archbishop Lull of Mainz died in 787, Richulf was appointed his successor, in which position he served until his own death in 813. He was a long-serving and much-trusted member of Charlemagne’s ruling circle, furthering the king’s political power while performing his archiepiscopal duties as a leading member of the Western church. Richulf’s friendship with Alcuin is equally long-lived, witnessed in a series of letters that reveal paternal concern, warm intimacy, and genuine care for a friend only infrequently seen.182 An epitaph by an anonymous author survives, comprised of seven elegiac couplets.183 177 On which, see E. V. Thornbury, Becoming a Poet in Anglo-Saxon England (Cambridge, 2014), 57–58. 178 On riddling more generally, see M. Danesi, The Puzzle Instinct: The Meaning of Puzzles in Human Life (Bloomington and Indianapolis, 2002), passim and, on Alcuin, 12–13, 40–41, 153–155, 166. 179 On the ways in which Alcuin comports with riddling traditions, see P. Sorrell, “Alcuin’s ‘Comb’ Riddle,” Neophilologus 80 (1996): 313–316. 180 Sorrell, “Alcuin’s Comb Riddle,” 313. 181 Damoetas figures in Theocritus, Id. 6 and Virgil, Ecl. 3, where Alcuin encountered him; see N. Hopkinson, ed. and trans., Theocritus Moschus; Bion (Cambridge, 2015); R. A. B. Mynors, ed. P. Vergilii Maronis Opera (Oxford, 1969). 182 Sent to Richulf not long after he had become archbishop of Mainz, epis. 4 (Dümmler 29–30) offers a larger view of his office, using the imagery of Christ and the fishermen as a backdrop; epis. 25 (Dümmler 66–67; Allott 121,129) helps to place Richulf in the context of other friends and/or students with whom Alcuin was close; while the brief epis. 35 (Dümmler 77) gives vent to the isolation Alcuin’s feels when separated from his good friend. Richulf is also addressed in epis. 212 (Dümmler 352–353) and mentioned in epis. 207 (Dümmler 345. l.5) in a letter otherwise addressed to Arn (as follows, 153–155). 183 Dümmler 432, in the Tituli Saeculi Nones Ineuntis.

The Poems A beast had sneaked suddenly into my room: two heads—wondrous image— joined at the jaw, horrific with its sixty teeth! Their meal grows from a living body whose dishes are neither flesh nor sown; these teeth scarf down neither fruit nor wine; they don’t decay in their gaping mouth. Damoetas, my own: do you know what sort of beast this is?

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Carm. 6 (Dümmler 224–225) Verses to Charlemagne on the Holy Cross Translated by Brett Caplan There is evidence of carmina figurata in the Greco-Roman literary tradition, and classical Latin poets, most notably Ovid, sometimes gesture in their verses toward a visual space.184 But so-called picture poems were developed most fully only in the late Latin tradition, in the poetry of Optatian Porphyry (fl. ca. 325), who wrote a series of such pieces to honor Constantine on the occasion of his twentieth year in power and also, presumably, to flatter the emperor into calling the poet back from exile. The genre likely arrived at the Carolingian court through the influence of Venantius Fortunatus, who confected his own carmina figurata in the sixth century.185 Alcuin’s turn at the genre comes late in the eighth century, when he and his pupil, Joseph the Scot (d. ca. 800), presented Charlemagne with a collection of such poems, to which Alcuin contributed carm. 6, verses in honor of the Holy Cross; and carm. 7 (as follows, 126–129)—a panegyric for Charlemagne. While both of Alcuin’s acrostics attend to Christian themes, they cultivate a new poetic space in the ways they negotiate sacred and secular at once. Carm. 6 is overtly Christian in its depictions of the Cross and of Christ as rector, while carm. 7, no less Christian, takes as its topic the insuperability of Charlemagne as king. Among others, notable practitioners of the acrostic include Boniface (d. 754; as follows, 279–280) and Theodulf (d. 821). The form perhaps reached its zenith in the ninth century, in the collection confected by Alcuin’s favorite student, Hrabanus

184 On which, see F. Ahl, Metaformations: Soundplay and Wordplay in Ovid and Other Classical Poets (Ithaca, NY and London, 1985), 51–52. 185 Fortunatus, carm. 2.4, 2.5, 5.6a in F. Leo, ed., Venanti Honori Clementiani Fortunati Presbyteri Italici Opera Poetica, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi 4/1 (Berlin, 1881). On Optatian and the Carolingian poets, see U. Ernst, Carmen figuratum: Geschichte des Figurengedichts von den antiken Ursprüngen bis zum Ausgang des Mittelalters (Cologne, 1991), 168–188.

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Maurus (as follows, 202–205), the In honorem sanctae crucis—a cycle of twenty-eight carmina figurata, energized by the Holy Cross as a symbol of an all-encompassing history.186 The poem is preserved in a single manuscript, Bern, Burgerbibliothek 212, f. 123, copied out in the ninth century, with a title ascribing authorship to Alcuin (Alcuinus abbas conposuit hos versus qui in hac pagina continentur: “Father Alcuin composed the verses found on this page”). Duchesne and Forster do not print it. Comprised of thirty-seven hexameters, each containing thirty-seven letters, it offers praises to the Holy Cross set against the backdrop of the celebration of Easter. Its four sides, a, b, c, and d on the diagram that follows,187 represent the four corners of the world. A line divides the poem at its midpoint, i—k as follows, which, coupled with the middle line on the horizontal axis, l—m as follows, form a cross. A diamond surrounds the cross, created by diagonal lines running from the top-center of the piece to the middle of the right and left margins, thence down to the bottom-center, e—f and g—h, as follows. The diamond surrounding the cross represents the world redeemed by the instrument of Christ’s death, the symbol of His faith,188 and, since it is the hardest of precious stones, the adamantine nature of Christian faith for those who follow and celebrate the cross.189 In the translation, the letters that form the picture and its frame are in bold. a: Cross of worldly grace from Christian blood. b: Don laurels to be bloodied by eternal Heaven. c: Cross in four parts, pious truths of the world. d: During Christian rule, ghost hold your crown. e-f: Ecclesia bleeding on earth you unchained. g-h: Eucharist births the earthly virtues sowed. i-k: Eras washed in your faithful fountain stand. l-m: Our leader on earth raises times in his image.

186 C. Chazelle, The Crucified God in the Carolingian Era: Theology and Art of Christ’s Passion (Cambridge, 2001), 75–131 studies Hrabanus’ carmina figurata. 187 Adapted from Godman, Poetry, 143. 188 Godman, Poetry, 143. 189 On the artistry of the cross in the context of carmina figurata, see I. Garipzanov, Graphic Signs of Authority in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, 300–900 (Oxford, 2018), 256–259, 303–308.

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C R O S S O F WO R L D L Y G R A C E F R O M C H R I RU L E R O F M E N F R O M T H E CRU C I F I X G O OV E R T H E W I C K E D S T OCKAS C E N D S O U S C I O N A N D L AM B C O L LA P S E DHA N G S O S O N L E A D S H I S S H E E P T OWE L F A R E E N I N C A R N A T E L E A D S T O H E AV E N F ROM T N E X T H U N T E R S K I L L O U R S A V I O R I N C F E T T E R E D O U RAD AMU N CHA I N E D U S O ON A C R O S S D E L I V E R E D HE I S F O R U S T U P F R OM T H E B A S E A K I N GDOM F O RM E D R I G H T F U L LO T E X T E N DW I T H Z E A L T O P A I N E D HE R E F O R T H E H ON E S T H E R E S AN D F R E E I N G S OMA N Y D OYO U O U R H O L RA Y O F DAWN E T E R N A L A BOV E T I M E O U TH E D I V I N E E N D U R E DWOUN D S T O S A V S E E NOW J O S E P H L O F T I E R S A L V A T I O P AGA N D R E A D T H E C R U C I F I X I O N C O N IMB U I N G A L L W I T H T H E F A I T H O F D I V OU R L E AD E RON E AR T HR A I S E S T I ME S UN I F I E R I R A I S E S O N G S T O Y O U S A L V SWE E T H O N O R E D V O I C E S HA L L S I N G T TO DAV I D I T I S G R A N T E D FO R A L Y R E I RU L E R P R A I S E S I N H I S BU S K I N H A L L UN I T E TO P R E P A R E U S A L LA S A N E S S E TA K E U PHO L Y C H R I S T S O F A I T H F U L L H I S P E N OYO U S A C R E D P I OU S S U N Y O U S I N G F L A GOF H O L Y V I R TU E B R I N G C H ON E A R T H I NUN I S O N T H E NAM E S O F Y O F R OM L I N D E NUN T O A L L S TO R I E S O F T TU R N P I E R C E DNOWB Y A VA I N N E WBUR HO L D F A I T H F U LCH R I S T I N Y O U R E S S EV I L S N A K E L E S THE O P E ND I V I S I O N WO R T H Y R U L E R O F M A N H E S A V E S A F A I ON L Y H E R E T U R N S A L I V E TH ROU G H D E R U L E O V E R S A T A N A L A N D A TWA R H I S R LA U D E D C R O S S T O H E A VENE A R T HMU S DON L AUR E L S TOB E B LOOD I E D B YE T E

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Carm. 7 (Dümmler 226–227) Verses to Charlemagne Translated by David Sacks Comprised of thirty-seven hexameters, each containing thirty-seven letters, carm. 7 is preserved in Bern, Burgerbibliothek 212, f. 125v, where it is separated from carm. 6 by four acrostics composed by Joseph the Scott, whose authorship of carm. 7 it asserts. But the second mesostich, in which he names himself, makes clear that Alcuin is the poem’s author (Puplius Albinus Carlo haec inclyta lusit). Alcuin’s carm. 6 and 7 thus can be understood to frame a discrete acrostical collection of six poems, four composed by Joseph the Scott, with Alcuin’s carm. 6 and 7 bookending them.190 Duchesne and Forster do not print carm. 7. 190 These particulars are treated by M. J.-L. Perrin, “La poésie de cour carolingienne, les contacts entre Alcuin et Hraban Maur et les indices de l’influence d’Alcuin sur l’In honorem sanctae crucis,” Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest 111.3 (2004): 333–351, who, though not as an acrostic, also provides a translation into French [=https://journals. openedition.org/abpo/1256?file=1].

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Carm. 7 is organized around the numbers 9, 18, and 27: the vertical figurata originate on the ninth, eighteenth, and twenty-seventh letters of v. 1 (a, b, c, as follows), while the horizontal figurata are the ninth, eighteenth, and twenty-seventh verses (e, f, g, as follows). The horizontal verses each begin with the name Flavius Anicius Carlus, the Roman tria nomina, but applied to Charlemagne, thus linking the king both to the Roman imperial line, through the name Flavius, the first-century imperial name adopted by Constantine; and to Roman nobility, through the name Anicius, the aristocratic Roman family whose most famous member was Boethius. The vertical lines, by distinction, speak of the powers of the poet and their limits in articulating the proper praises of the king. The first and third mesostichs (a and c, as follows) begin with the words ducite and dicite, while the middle versus announces Alcuin’s authorship (b, as follows). Through the three lines of each axis that create the figurata, the poem celebrates the number three, pointing up the triune power of God in the world, while also emphasizing the Cross, nine of which are created by the versi intexti. The figurata also create sixteen squares, the four sides of which affiliate the king with natural and cosmic phenomena associated with the number four: seasons, directions, elements, and the natural and cosmic materiality and stability of creation. The themes the poet pursues, going to Charlemagne’s political prowess, the necessity for praise, and the poet’s own limitations as an artist, affirm the ways in which carm. 7 is at once political in its diction and symbolism and Christian. In this regard, the model of Optatian Porphyry seems especially important, allowing Alcuin with more authority to bring Charlemagne into an ancient and imperial space.191 a. b. c. e. f. g.

Pull from prone Muses to the King new gifts. To Carl did P. Albinus make play from favors. Communicate well my songs for a savvy king. May these palms grand please Charlemagne. Greetings to Charlemagne across the ages. Charlemagne to you I recite these my poems

191 Bullough 375–376 doubts the importance of Optatian, but Perrin, “La poésie de cour carolingienne,” 336–348, and Godman, Poets and Emperors, 56–59, demonstrate otherwise.

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T Y T R U S T I S COMM E N D E D ON G P L A I N TOE N S C O N C E C A L L O N T H EMU S E S B O L D A D O P T S H A RM I N G E A R T H RU L E R I T S HUN S I N L A U D LOW I N G O P E NN O P R A I S E D S I R E I C O N I C O N E A R T H I B E GW I T H ACA L M P E A C E MA Y T H E S E P A LM S G R A N D P L E A S E C H A R L EMA G N E L E T N O WM Y R E E D F L U T E P L E A S E F E S T O O N E D O F T Y O U H A P P Y O N E M Y K I N G A F L U T E I N T E N S E I N H U E W H O A S F O U N D E R T O Y O U L Y R I C S A V OWS P I E R I A N T O U S E N A M E S F A T H E R S B E C O M I N G R EW A R D S J O Y I N O U R P O EMT O N A M E A L I E G E Y O U R E L A Y H I S A I R O S I R E O F O U R R E A L M R E N O W N W I T H G L O R Y B Y Y O U T O H O P E L E S S A H O P E A S U R E T Y W E L LMU S T Y O U B E P I O U S M A J E S T Y G U A R D S T R O P H E O F Y O U R O D I S T G R E E T I N G S T O C H A R L EMA G N E A C R O S S T H E A G E S B Y L A W L E T T H E P I P E P L A Y Y O U R H O N O R S A L W A Y S P Y T H I A N MO D E A N D W O R K C A S T A L I A N S H E P L A Y S B E S T T R U S T F O R Y O U R P E O P L E B E A MG R A N D T O U S L E T B E N D T H E W O R L D T O P U R E L O V E A S Y O U B I D I T P R A I S E A S E L F L E S S R U L E R I N M O S T F A M O U S L A Y L O Y O U W I N K I N D K I N G L A U D I N G O D E O F B E T T E R S B Y T H E M E R I T S Y O U D O B Y H O N O R D O T R A I N E A R T H A U G U S T C O N V O Y O F M E N F A M E D I N E X A L T E D D U T Y C H A R L EMA G N E T O Y O U I R E C I T E T H E S EMY P O EM S B Y D R Y A D S N A M E H I G H L O R D E X T O L F AM E D M U S E S W H O M F L U T E I N H U M B L EME T E R D E L I V E R S T O Y O U L E T S A X O NWO R D I B E G O F P A S T O R S A V A I L F A V O R F A T H E R H I G E S T F O R T H A T G R A C E O F Y O U R S M I L D S I N C E N O W I D A R E D F L Y V I A O L D P A R K S A N D L E A S T H A T R U B Y F L O W E R S B YO L D C U S T O M I A S H E R D E R M A Y A M A S S T O W E A V E G A R L A N D S T O A N O B L E H O L Y B E A T H A N D S T R O N G A N D S A F E I N R E I G N U N E N D E D T W B W F Q R E

O O Y H E U A N

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Carm. 8 (Dümmler 228) To Samuel (Beornred), Bishop of Sens “Samuel” is Alcuin’s nickname192 for Beornred, a native of England, who came to the continent around 775 in order to assume the abbacy of the monastery founded by Willibrord at Echternach. Stenton describes Beornred as Alcuin’s cousin,193 doubtless owing to their shared kinship with Willibrord— a connection that placed Alcuin in legal possession of the monastery of St Andrew, founded in England by Willibrord’s father, Wilgils. Family ties thus likely encouraged Beornred to prompt Alcuin to write a life of St Willibrord (previously, 97–116), while inspiring Alcuin to agree to the task. The resulting work is an opus geminatum; that is, a work in prose and poetry, as Alcuin informs Beornred in epis. 120 (as follows, 384–385), his prefatory letter to the Life. There, he explains that the prose was designed for the public consumption of the monks at Echternach, while the poetry was intended for the private devotion of Beornred’s students. Beornred became Archbishop of Sens in 785, but retained the abbacy of Echternach thereafter. He died in office in 797 and was buried in Sens, at the monastery of St Pierre-le-Vif.194 192 On the practices attending to pseudonyms at the Carolingian court, see M. Garrison, “The Social World of Alcuin: Nicknames at York and at the Carolingian Court,” in Alcuin of York: Scholar at the Carolingian Court, 59–79, a re-working of her more expansive treatment in Garrison 142–251. 193 Stenton, Anglo-Saxon England, 219. 194 The details of Beornred’s life are summarized by M. Costambeys, “Beornred (d. 797), Archbishop of Sens and Abbot of Echternach,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, online https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/60150. Accessed 10 October 2017.

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Written in hexameters, carm. 8 seems to take shape against the backdrop of a possible visit by Samuel to Echternach, where, as v. 17 suggests, Alcuin seems presently to be holed up. The request is hardly unusual, since Samuel was Echternach’s abbot, and yet the poet resists it, offering, instead, a series of reasons why Samuel’s archiepiscopal seat at Sens is to be preferred just now. The phrasing of the poem’s opening, with the formulaic “there is,” perhaps gestures toward the rhetoric of a riddle, going to the ways the poem says something beneath its ostensible topic. One way this may be so is suggested in the poem’s structure: vv. 1–13 describe a ruinous scene of disobedience and famine at the monastery, whereas vv. 14–27 depict Samuel in his archiepiscopal seat, with its bounties of food, drink, and comfort. The fames thus depicted at Echternach, while explicitly providing a reason to postpone Samuel’s visit, might also be understood to betoken a kind of spiritual mortification that the monastic life privileges and that Samuel, as abbot, has forsaken. The natural bounties and physical delights of Sens, then, become a way for Alcuin to point to a competing, and presumably less satisfying, spiritual life, in which physical comfort trumps corporal deprivation. The two parts of the poem thus go to the two spiritual lives Samuel pursues in his dual roles as abbot and bishop. The explicit message conveyed to Samuel by Alcuin is to stay away from the depredations currently being suffered at Echternach. The implicit note is one of judgment: on Alcuin’s view, Samuel may be too presently pampered to handle a life of spiritual rigor at his abbey. The poem is extant in two ninth-century manuscripts: Bern, Burgerbibliothek 394, f. 226v-227r, and Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 13029, f. 12, an incomplete witness, copying vv. 1–3, 5–11; and in two tenth-century manuscripts: Leiden, Bibliotheek der Rijksuniversiteit, Voss. lat. F 70, f. 71v, and Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 8674, f. 110v. All except Paris 13029 ascribe authorship to Alcuin, who is named also at v. 26. Duchesne and Forster do not print it. Beyond epis. 120, Beornred is mentioned in Alcuin’s letters in epis. 49 (Dümmler 93, l. 18), written to Richbod, and in epis. 88 (Dümmler 133, l. 2), written to an unnamed young student. There is an unscrupulous servant195 (but under my yoke): he feeds me at the appointed hour, a veritable steward and butler, hostler and cook, washer, baker, keeper of the kitchen’s fire.

5

195 “Servant” = scripulus, the alternate spelling for scrupulus, the diminutive of Classical Latin scrupus, “a sharp bit of stone.” The word more abstractly means “uneasiness,” “difficulty,” “trouble,” “scruple,” etc. See Charlton Lewis and Charles Short, eds., A Latin Dictionary (Oxford, 1879), 1649, s.v. scrupus with DMLBS, s.v. scrupulus. H. Waddell, trans., More Latin Lyrics from Virgil to Milton (New York, 1977), 187, has “sorry little scrub.” The English adjective “unscrupulous” picks up some of the sound and sense of scrupulus.

The Poems But if I send him on some jaunt, out to where the highways meet, he refuses to return to me (I wish I knew the reason why). Do savage slavers have him chained, shuttered in some smoky cell with no relief from that dark vault? And so everyone goes, like a fugitive at every hour: hunger, evil and exacting, disperses them, thins them up—its nature is to never slacken. Bishop, holiest, remain in Sens, where your household can stay with you, fill their posts, stalwarts, no slackers, expectation must not lure you on to the sweet fields of the Sauer: for whatever food or drink remains will be scarfed down at hunger’s harsh command. Let the Yonne and the Saone with their fishy fills fatten you, sate you, fill all of Sens with Bacchus’ vines. And if a wether with its horny head should wander to your serving tray, may your sacred kiss first bless that beast before more and many up and down the hall rend and pillage it limb to limb with sacred praises on their lips. Samuel, while you sit warm before your fire, happy, love the hearth, but keep your Albinus in mind—and, unendingly, be well.

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Carm. 9 (Dümmler 229–235)196 On the Fall of the Monastery of Lindisfarne The monastery of Lindisfarne was founded by Aidan (d. 651), who traveled to Northumbria from Scotland ca. 635 at the request of Oswald, that kingdom’s ruler, to become bishop of his realm. Lindisfarne became, in short order, both the seat of the bishops of Northumbria and also a center of Christian proselytizing. Among more than a few notable monks associated with it, Cuthbert (d. 687) was abbot there and also famously linked to it as bishop. In 793, in their first significant attack in Western Europe, the Vikings sacked Lindisfarne, laying waste to the heart of Christianity in the north of England and desecrating Cuthbert’s shrine. Not the least of the losses suffered were the lives of many monks, who, if they survived, were often forced into enslavement or imprisoned. 196 English translations are M. J. B. Allen and D. G. Calder, Sources and Analogues of Old English Poetry: The Major Latin Texts in Translation (Cambridge, 1976), 142–146, and Godman, Poetry, 126–139.

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Carm. 9 is Alcuin’s poetic response to this raid. Written in elegiacs, it is addressed to Hygebald, Lindisfarne’s bishop, and to its surviving monks. It develops themes explored in two letters Alcuin sent to Hygebald more immediately after the attack, in which he urges moral reform in the face of the brevity of human life (epis. 20–21; Dümmler 56–59). The poem, along with the prose letters that it ramifies, thus gesture toward an opus geminatum.197 Alcuin’s vision is both global and local, touching on the depredations suffered in the past by Rome, Jerusalem, and other parts of Europe, and the rhythms of rise and fall that seem to betoken human history. But the examples offered by the scriptural past in figures great and obscure strive to teach Hygebald and his surviving monks that God corrects and forgives, that spiritual resolve leads to eternal rewards, even in the face of the harshest odds. The diction of carm. 9, with its images of violence, impermanence, and discord, takes in more than a few moments from the Classical Latin epical tradition, not least Virgil, Ovid, and Lucan. Moral exemplarism is thus energized by epical diction that emphasizes human frailty and turpitude but also the certainties of God’s saving grace. The poem is preserved in two manuscripts: London, British Library Harley 3685, f. 47v-50v, from the fifteenth century; and Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 233r, which dates to the first decade of the ninth century and records only vv. 231–240. Forster edits these verses as carm. 280,198 and, following Vienna 808, also prints vv. 231–240 separately, as carm. 215;199 Duchesne prints as carm. 178 the complete poem.200 After Adam had forsaken Paradise’s groves— evicted, humbled—he came into this world of woes, stooped in exile, he was punished (and his race) for the deathly theft and deceits he had plied. Mortal life rushes to manifold ends, no one escapes the waffling days, in our fated course sadnesses mix with joys: happiness was never constant, no one has days of unalloyed glee, no one holds pleasures always granted, below the towering sky nothing abides without end; all things change as they are wont: this day brings laughter, another cries pain, lucky dice won’t stop the rush of time.

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197 Thus, D. A. Bullough, “What Has Ingeld to Do with Lindisfarne,” Anglo-Saxon England 22 (1993): 97 with n. 15. While the similarities among letters and carm. 9 establish his authorship securely, Burghardt 170–172 offers further details of Alcuin’s composing hand. 198 Forster 238–240. 199 Forster 226. 200 Duchesne, cols. 1711–1715.

The Poems Foul fate upends good fortune with griefs, like the ocean swelling, then pulling back; now kind day glints, but in shadows inky night will come; spring bursts with buds; winter smites their bloom; God’s gables are daubed with fair stars that rain-swollen clouds suddenly snatch! Burning mid-sky, the sun is led off when the South-wind surges, thunders, from above; lightning slashes mountain-tops it favors, its fires are used to singeing tree-tops: suddenly, surely, ruination grows to more, finds its way to greater things by chance, bad luck. The world, withering, wilting, is witness, brimming with riches, laid waste by the seas. In the prophets’ calling to every corner of the earth you see kingdoms ruined—as they said it would be. Babylon: a city honored in the land, a powerful citadel for kings, for all its power fell, lost Chaldea’s realms; Persian: standing apart from the crowd, girded by great triumphs in war, a women felled you with her own hold of arrows!201 Greedy fate took Alexander astride the world, at the summit of power, filled with success. Rome, the world’s capital and glory, golden Rome: for you there remain only craggy ruins and a warlike majesty, felled by the sword, like the shards of useless roofing glimpsed in the mud. What might I sing of King David’s city, blesséd, brilliant, incomparable in the world? God’s temple was in your fold, His followers, praises, glory, strength, and the sacred children of the Fathers, rejoicing; yet, who gazes on you now but weeps, your precincts are held by infidels. Judea: few wander your ancient cities now, all around your praises have run down; the lofty Temple of Solomon held the world in thrall, until it was ravaged by Chaldea’s torches;202

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201 The Persian in question is Cyrus II the Great (ca. 600–530 B. C. E.), who, according to Herodotus, was killed fighting the Massagetae army led by Queen Tamaris. 202 “Chaldea” (Caldea) = “Babylonia;” Alcuin refers to the eighteen-month siege of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar II (re. 605–562 B. C. E.), which ended in 587 with the destruction of Solomon’s Temple.

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The Poems then Rome’s juggernaut felled the Temple again: its walls and roofs scattered embers now;203 look: Shiloh’s ruins still abide: the holy ark of all-powerful God was there.204 Beauty of our making gives way just so— thus fame down the ages sweeps by like a ghost; as a parched man can only dream of a flood on his lips, so a poor man will dream himself rich in worldly treasures. But why tell only of olden times and grieve, why this dirge for the ancients’ tragic days: our age groans under a worsened lot, our world suffers now under grim rule. Vast Asia cries out, choked by pagan chains, tyrannized, ravaged by God-hating folk; Africa—one of our world’s three parts—205 is now mastered by lords bearing devastation.206 Spain, peerless once in making war, now serves a power it abhors,207 heathens’ hands have stolen or smashed any beauty or adornment of the churches of Christ. May global griefs lighten local woes all around: that he might suffer less who suffers alone. Now the kindly house of God entombing Peter— Apostles’ chief, first Father on high— is gutted by deceitful hands (so they say) while thieving heretics stole the riches of the place. The Goths had their day, all of Italy grieved, God-haters, grinding churches down: blood gushed from the saints, and pooled where His kindly worth was once plied. For nine years every precinct in Gaul endured

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203 The Second Temple, replacing Solomon’s Temple, considerably enlarged by Herod the Great (re. ca. 37–1 B. C. E.), was destroyed by the Romans in 70 C. E. 204 Shiloh, a center of Israelite worship prior to the construction of the Temple of Solomon, housed the tent (tabernacle) of worship in which was placed the Ark of the Covenant. 205 Isidore, Etym. 14.2, divides the world into Asia, Africa, and Europe; see W. M. Lindsay, ed., Isidori Hispalensis Episcopi Etymologiarum sive Originum Libri XX, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1911). 206 Alcuin refers to the Muslim conquests of the eastern part of the Roman empire, Mesopotamia, the Persian Empire, and of North Africa that occurred throughout the seventh century. 207 Following Isidore, Etym. 9.2.126, Alcuin uses Hesperia to denote Spain rather than Italy, overtaken by the Muslims early in the eighth century.

The Poems the wrath of the Huns that razed its wares, fires roiled holy churches, cities, hamlets, strongholds—and their folk. Jesus: why do you warrant such doom in the world? Your judgment is hidden—I cannot know. In Heaven’s keep another life awaits your disciples, where warm peace abides, where conflict abates. As fire tests gold, pain purifies the just:208 a cleaner soul covets the skyward stars; for the just this life is only pain, you’ve heard this sung many times in scripture: a father grips his son in love, yet often scourges him, makes him sad;209 through bitter blows God tested the saints, then lavished happiness in Heaven. Holy Brothers, don’t let flux upend your lives, nor worldliness roiling like the waves: the disordered order of the world ever was—and will be: fixed in faith, let joy be as nothing to you: bedbound—a man once contended in the fields for a stag—old age impends, drags him down; who once reclined happily on his purple chaise now struggles to cover his shivering bones with a sheet; with inky gloom the deepening day blots eyes that used to count crumbs fanning the floor; hands that flashed swords and woeful weapons now falter, failing a body they can scarcely feed; a clarion voice all at once cleaves its throat, sounds a choked murmur for those cupping their ears; What more might I sing? Youth fades, the body’s beauties perish, fail, skin, wasting away, clings to bone, but just; a man become old doesn’t recognize himself: what he was once another will be, nor will he remain what he is now, he will be his own thief down the manifold years:210

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208 Cf. Zechariah 13.9. 209 Cf. Hebrews 12.6, 7. 210 The “thief” is widespread in scripture, not least at Matt. 24:43–44, where Christ is described as a “thief in the night” at the second coming. Here, however, the image seems an emblem of the fall and of the promise of redemption: because they were never truly his, the old man, like a thief, steals the years granted him. The subsequent

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The Poems so the day unseen will change bodies, minds, may it be of better profit in goodnesses plied. Then let us love Heaven evermore, and Heaven’s things that never die—not worldly things withering away. Here time slips by, nothing unchanging beguiles the eye, in Heaven what will be, will be. Reader, my own, I ask you, beg you, level your mind heavenward; look: there you will embrace your soul’s abandon. World-wanderer, your hope won’t fail you there; there you will see a homeland your love desires, coming to it you will find endless life and its joys that you will grip until the end of time. Then you will be joined to Christ, His denizen rejoicing in timelessness: He abides there without end, there you will always be with Him. Why do you grieve the loss of gold; it bowls you over, makes you cry? To enrich God is better than gold! Son, what kind of vanishing beauty moves your feet, makes you cry, complain, as you long for things doomed to die? One who loves the world, but not Christ, grieves such things, crave Christ, not gold—so I pray! Let me turn to you, brothers, since I care for you, I’ll speak a few lines in a lower key; you are a royal race, a reverent brood, for God holy parents brought you into this world, prick up their ears thirsting for heavenly rewards with kind souls and minds, a nurturing touch; then might they shelter sacred sheep evermore, gathered for God in souls as one; don’t let grim temptation crush your heart, assaulting you like some hostile, wicked hand:

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couplet completes the thought: since time is not something Christians possess and it augurs mental and physical decline, Christians should strive to do good in the years granted them (vv. 117–118). The monks of Lindisfarne must therefore recognize the surety of salvation through Christ, rather than dwell on the vicissitudes of life lived in stolen time.

The Poems let it swell a longing for a better life, and goad your mind’s journey to God without end: those in dire straits He saves, who wounds and cures, hits and heals, destroys and relieves. Perdure in holy prayers no matter the hour, let Jesus sheathe you in kindness no matter the place. Grow into bliss with your heart as one, do what a pious mind commends: then a shield will come down from the keep of God, His right hand guarding, guiding you. Hold the Fathers in your minds: from on high pious help was always theirs, granted them by Thunderer-God: Moses offered his hands, pitched a sacred fight more with prayers than with strength of arms; many thousands of people who wished him harm were cut down by King Hezekiah’s tears, and died; then gentle God let him live fifteen years more: he was failing and wailed a prayer to Him.211 Brothers: I will sing of a past well-known to you, of olden deeds plied by Lindisfarne’s bishops: a fire once burned back on itself when excellent Aidan,212 the bishop, prayed to keep Bamburgh city from flames; and Eadberht,213 kindly bishop, father (your own), prayed, calmed gusty winds threatening death; and Cuthbert,214 towering father, bishop, shepherd, priest, glory of your church, prayed— the Lord listened—he did a mountain of good; no need to tell it in these lazy lines: Bede, the teacher known world-wide, once made Cuthbert’s fame a hero’s tale;215 crowded with praises, acclaimed far and wide, Britain still asks for his help with kind prayers. If you cleave to the wisdom of Lindisfarne’s bishops— with love of God eternal, immovable in you—may these men and their ilk guard your flock with bold prayers, protect your cells, turn the enemy back. 211 212 213 214 215

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This and the previous couplet are recounted, respectively, at Isaiah 38:5–6 and 37:36. Aidan (ca. 590–651) was Bishop of Lindisfarne, 635–651. Eadberht was Bishop of Lindisfarne, 688–698. Cuthbert (ca. 634–687) was Bishop of Lindisfarne, 684–686. Alcuin means Bede’s metrical Life of St. Cuthbert, in Jaager, ed., Bedas metrische “Vita sancti Cuthberti;” Bede’s prose life of Cuthbert is in Colgrave, ed., Two Lives of St. Cuthbert.

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The Poems Brothers: you’ve read that days to come will be better than days gone by—so it will be for you,216 if you hope in the Lord with all your heart— Who punishes, then gives you better relief. I see you, Hygebald,217 bishop, scion of sacred line, feeding the folk, tending to holy haunts, stooped by a mountain of cares that so gruesome a wound came on your watch. Brother, beloved, I mourn your loss, tears flood my face, my heart aches, breaks, my grief grows upon itself,218 like a scream caught in my throat:219 oh how that day must be grieved by all, when heathen gangs came from world’s end, of a sudden sought our shores in their skiffs, looting the fathers’ reverend tombs, polluting churches sacred to God: Sorech, the purest vine of God-Christ was of a sudden fodder for foxes’ maws;220 the living stones set about the altar were lost,221 look: my lute grieves all the more for them; and the altar—used to bearing gifts to Christ— fell victim; I believe it was a sacred gift. Joyous for them—though it broke our hearts— making for Heaven on that day, become comrades of the saints in sacred blood, submitting to the sword for Christ: I do not think they need our griefs,

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216 See 1 Peter 1:11. 217 Hygebald was Bishop of Lindisfarne, 780–803. 218 Ingeminans, “doubling up,” “increasing in intensity,” [= “my grief grows upon itself”] puns on ingemans, “moaning,” “groaning,” “sighing.” Is the growth of Alcuin’s grief visualized in the growth of ingemans into ingeminans? 219 Tacito sub murmure; a murmur can be loud or soft, but qualifying tacito suggests a loud murmur that goes unexpressed; otherwise, tacito is redundant. The phrase seems to complete the thought of the line: Alcuin’s grief is growing, perhaps so quickly that it gets stuck in his throat—like a silent scream, intense, but unheard. 220 Sorech, the valley from which Delilah came (Judges 16:4) is associated with the vine or vineyard of Isaiah 5 in exegetical writers from the third century onward. The image is sometimes negative, but much more common are positive depictions that contrast the vine of Sorech with the vines of Egypt or of Sodom, on which, see J. S. Kloppenborg, The Tenants in the Vineyard: Ideology, Economics, and the Agrarian Conflict in Jewish Palestine (Tübingen, 2006), 41–43. 221 The image comes from 1 Peter 2:5, in which the servants of God, like living stones, are built into the sacred house He provides, becoming a holy priesthood offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Christ.

The Poems a better life took them for its own. Hygebald, bishop: put aside mourning, tears, Christ has them now for Himself, comrades beyond space or time; make yourself more the ready in your exemplarity so that there are no sadnesses where you tend. A glorious patience heralds life without end, as God’s truth-telling voice once decreed.222 Sad priest: with patience bear the burden of Christ: Job the victor will see you through, and the church’s soldier, Paul, with a thousand wins, serene, he didn’t grieve his own mortal wounds. No soldier takes the victory-palm without a fight, heinous war offers rich rewards to God’s own. By sword, murder, disease, weaponry, fire, the holy seek blessed realms in death: the martyr glories in emblems of war, conquering under their strength; after battles waged here he rules in Heaven’s citadel. If, in your life, you have angered all-seeing Christ, set your habits straight at once, that the kindly shepherd save His excellent fold, lest the wolf snatch them up in his terrible traps. God must not be blamed in these sufferings: our lives must be borne in the better, at once, our prayers must bend to His kind clemency: that He wend these wounds away from us, that His mercy offer solace to His followers, making their days brim with triumphs; that we sing hymns of praise with gladdened hearts to God enthroned on high forever, everywhere, at once: praise and worship Him, honor Him, strength and blessings to Him, let there be a song to Him: great glory to God without end.

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Carm. 10 (Dümmler 235–236) To Aethelheard and the English Bishops Aethelheard was Abbot of Louth and Bishop of Winchester before becoming in 792 Archbishop of Canterbury. Owing to his associations with Offa, 222 At Luke 21:19, Christ avers that patience will secure the lives of those who believe in Him, even in the face of great persecution.

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King of Mercia, to whom he owed his archiepiscopal appointment, Aethelheard was forced into exile in 796, when a rebellion by Eadberht Praen of Kent against Mercian influence in Kent made Aethelheard’s position in Canterbury untenable. Aethelheard fled to the protection of Ecgfrith of Mercia until 796, when Ecgfrith’s successor, Coenwulf, defeated Eadberht Praen and imprisioned him, leaving Aethelheard free to return to Canterbury. Because the supremacy of Canterbury had been challenged under Offa, who had secured papal approval of a division of the archbishopric of Canterbury by raising Lichfield to archiepiscopal status, Aethelheard worked after his return to Canterbury to re-establish Canterbury’s primacy in the English church. Travelling to Rome in 801, Aethelheard convinced Pope Leo III (as follows, 149–150) to reverse the elevation of Lichfield and restore Canterbury to its former unrivaled position south of the Humber River. Alcuin’s friendship with Aethelheard reaches back to the years before he left for the continent and appears in sometimes stark relief in the poems and letters extant that bear witness to it. While Alcuin disapproved of Aethelheard’s decision to leave Canterbury in the aftermath of Offa’s death and the rise of anti-Mercian power in Kent, he surely appreciated Aethelheard’s insistence on the unity of the English church founded in the ministry of Augustine of Canterbury. In this, as in other aspects of his reign, Aethelheard appears an effective and energetic archbishop, concerned to preserve the integrity of his see and to ensure the health and discipline of the English church.223 Aethelheard died on May 12, 805 and was buried at Christ Church, Canterbury. Written in hexameters, carm. 10 forms the conclusion to epis. 17 (as follows, 386–389), a lengthy letter written to Aethelheard in the aftermath of the sack of Lindisfarne in 793 (previously, 131–139). The poem and letter thus form an opus geminatum—a “twined” work of poetry and prose (previously, 97–98)—a genre also cultivated in the writings of Aldhelm and Bede. The poem geminates the parts of the letter praising, while exhorting, the English bishops, Aethelheard chief among them, drawing on military imagery and offering encouragements in a time of ecclesiastical strain. Citing the hymn Urbs beata Hierusalem, which Alcuin may have known, Bullough senses hymnic echoes in the poem, while also noting reminiscences of Gen. 2:6, 10 in v. 6: “paradise’s sacred spring, vital source,” (vos fontes vivi, paradisi et flumina sacra).224 The letter helps to make better sense of the imagery on which Alcuin draws, not least, the use of “city” and “salt” as epithets for Aethelheard. 223 A. Williams, “Aethelheard [Ethelhard] (d. 805), Archbishop of Canterbury,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, online https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/8910. Accessed 11 November 2016. 224 Bullough 417–418, whose reading I follow here.

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The poem is preserved in at least eight manuscripts, dating from the ninth through the seventeenth centuries. Six manuscripts record epis. 17 without the poem. Duchesne prints the poem at the conclusion of his epis. 28 and also separately, as carm. 180; Forster prints it at the conclusion of his epis. 9.225 Undying city, earth’s salt,226 world’s light, twelve signs from the heights,227 twelve months, one year, twelve hours, one day,228 twelve stones in the lofty lineage of Christ;229 you speak: the heights will open and close.230 Scholars of the lofty life, apothecary of salvation, paradise’s sacred spring, vital source, gilding the church, hope to all, a door admitting light; a legendary race, a temple built of Solomon’s strength. Fathers, now, here: see how Britain blooms all-out, through you bountiful in deserts the virtues bring. One-souled, allied: picket the camps of Christ, with faith’s shield stave off weapons the wicked wield. Your hearts run as one, a lofty strength makes you brave, your judgments are just, your humility stoked by piety’s reserve, teachers to all, leaders kind to their flocks, I beg you: everywhere, forever, be faithful to God, increase the profits gained in His work, grab the loftiest prizes of His highest space, hold the kingdom of the sky with Christ and the saints.

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225 Duchesne, cols. 1532–1537 [= letter]; cols. 1536–1537 [= poem]; carm. 180 [= col. 1718]; Forster, bk. 1, part 1, 13–17 [= letter]; 16–17 [= poem]. 226 Terrae sal = “earth’s salt,” seems to recall Matt. 5:13, where Christ uses the same phrase of his disciples. Similar phrasing is found at Mark 9:50 and Luke 14:34. Salt symbolizes strength, superiority, and, in its role in staving off decay, protection from evil. 227 Dümmler 235n2 says that “twelve signs from the heights” (bis sex signa poli) indicate the twelve archbishops of Canterbury, but they could also betoken the twelve signs of the zodiac, especially given Alcuin’s interest in astronomy. 228 Alcuin may have in mind John 11:9: “are there not twelve hours in a day?” but twelve hours is for Alcuin the standard division of the day, excluding the hours of night. 229 This seems to recall, especially, the figure of Joshua, who was one of twelve young men representing the tribes of Israel sent to spy on the land of Canaan (Numbers 14: 7–8) and who, upon seeing the Lord stand before him and the River Jordan parted by Him, commemorated the miracle with a cairn made of twelve stones representing the twelve tribes—foreshadowing the twelve apostles. Twelve also symbolizes the twelve minor prophets, the twelve Sibyls, the twelve gates of the new Jerusalem, the twelve baskets of bread in the loaves and fishes story, the twelve signs of the zodiac, and, as a multiple of three (the trinity) and four (the world = the four corners of the globe), twelve is also a symbol of Heaven and earth. 230 Matt. 16:18–19.

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Carm. 11 (Dümmler 236)231 To Arn (?) Duchesne printed carm. 11 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 181, while Forster prints it as carm. 255 under the rubric Versus ad Varios.232 The poem’s addressee, otherwise unnamed, is called alme pater (v. 5). Dümmler suggests Arn as the figure meant.233 Based on features that affiliate it with works known to be authentically from Alcuin’s hand, Burghardt considers the poem genuine. These include word placement within lines, alliterative practices, common turns of phrase (e.g., dulcis amor; semper ubique), metrical habits (e.g., the “a” of lavere scanned long), themes shared across poems, including the concept of earthly friendship continuing in heaven and the image of the poor widow offering two coins to the temple. Given that he was Alcuin’s favorite student, Burghardt also finds determinative that Hrabanus Maurus, carm. 15. 5–10 are identical to 11.1–6.234 Arn may be the addressee, but there is no way to know with certainty. Composed in elegiacs, the poem exploits images of passion’s fire and the sweetness of human concord to counter the debilities of human fallenness that seem presently to haunt the addressee.235 On Arn, see as follows, carm. 18, 153–155. Love’s flame has fractured my heart,236 yellow-hot, newly stoked: not sea, not land, nor the forested Alps can check its course, can hold it back, from licking your flesh, father, prop, from dousing your heart in tears, beloved. Why weep so bitterly, sweet love, 231 232 233 234 235

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The Poems acrid cups from a kindness honey made? If the world mingles pleasing with distasteful things, all finery quickens to a various fall, each joy dissolves to saddening tears, for nothing stands, all the little live things die. Wholeheartedly may we flee a world withering in our sight, grasping, glimpsing, with all our heart, let us struggle after Heaven’s delights, a kingdom come, a heavenly hall estranging no friend, where a heart singed by love clings to desire. Father, hurry to me with your ravishing prayers, that our love may never be parted. See joyfully with a gladdening heart (I pray it) the trifles that a great love sent: like the coins our tender teacher praised, when the barren widow added them to the temple’s wealth.237 Sacred love is better than every gift, so is a firm, vigorous, abiding faith. Dearest father, let divine gifts follow and precede you at once: always, everywhere, be well.

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Carm. 12 (Dümmler 237) To Charlemagne and His Children Duchesne edited carm. 12 from the St Bertin manuscript, where it was copied as two successive poems, his carm. 182 (= vv. 1–6)238 and 183 (= vv. 7–14). Forster observed and strengthened this separation, making vv. 1–6 his carm. 256 and vv. 7–14 carm. 236.239 Dümmler joins these poems, acknowledges his composite—cum prioribus versibus coniunxi, quamvis Q [= Duchesne] separatos ediderit—but offers no explanation for it.240 While the witness of the St Bertin manuscript printed by Duchesne seems preferable, the grounds for joining these pieces are not entirely lacking. The first and final couplets are controlled by the repetition of the verb “hold” (conservet), in the sense of “preserve” or “protect,” for the poem enjoins God, also repeated in the first and final couplets—“God” (Deus, v. 1); “God’s right hand” (Dextra patris summi, v. 13)—to attend to six individuals (including one group of 237 238 239 240

The story of the barren widow is told at Mark 12:42. Duchesne, col. 1719. Forster 233–234 [= carm. 256]; 230 [= carm. 236]. Dümmler 237 n. on [XII] 7–14.

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individuals) whose well-being is important for the realm. This catalogue of royal figures further organizes these verses. First in the catalogue is Pepin, Charlemagne’s son, called Julius—a name that evokes the militarism of Julius Caesar in token of Pepin’s military exploits against the Avars, whom he defeated in 796. Next is Gisela, the king’s sister, whom the poet calls Lucia (carm. 41, below, 184–185). There follows a figure described as a wordsmith (“wielding words,” verbipotens), otherwise unknown, but presumably a member of the royal family (or at least a member of the royal circle), whom Alcuin calls Mathematica (“Matha” in the translation). Bertha, a daughter of Charlemagne, is next, whom Alcuin calls Delia,241 then come “children” (puellis); that is, the other royal or noble offspring. Finally, Charlemagne is addressed as the “happy father” (Felix . . . pater, v. 11), whose paternity is matched only by that of God, whose right hand is called upon to hold, protect, and guide this illustrious group in the poem’s final couplet. The printing of carm. 12 as one poem or two does nothing to solve the problem of identifying Mathematica, the figure named in v. 5. Alcuin often uses pseudonyms to burnish themes or articulate esteem. While Julius evokes Caesar—or, perhaps Iulus, Aeneas’ son—Lucia brings to mind St Lucia, the martyr killed early in the fourth century in the persecutions of Diocletian. At the same time, Delia links Bertha to the erotic figure that animates Tibullus’ elegies, while Charlemagne, whom Alcuin often calls David, is simply “father” (pater) here, affirming the king’s imperial paternity, not to say proximity to God the father. Mathematica remains elusive. It has been understood to be a second pseudonym designating Lucia; that is, Gisela, mentioned in v. 3.242 But it seems unlikely that Alcuin would use two pseudonyms to designate Gisela in the space of two lines, especially since Gisela is never called Mathematica elsewhere. Moreover, the et (“and”) that coordinates the thought of vv. 3–4 and 5–6 (“and Matha, my own . . .”) also has the effect of separating syntactically what comes before (Gisela) from what follows (Mathematica). Neither was Gisela, as Mathematica is described, famous for her skill with words (verbipotens). Finally, if Mathematica and Gisela are the same figure, readers encounter Alcuin bidding farewell to her twice in the space of three lines. The word mathematica denotes “mathematics” in the contemporary sense, but also astrology, divination, or star-gazing, meanings found regularly in Alcuin’s large output.243 Those senses of the word can perhaps point to a tentative identity for this figure. In carm. 26 (as follows, 164–167), Alcuin speaks of one whom he calls mea filia, who, so he hopes, will gaze 241 On Bertha as Delia see Garrison, “Social World of Alcuin,” 71nn36, 37. 242 H. Scheck, “Nuns on Parade: Memorializing Women in Karolus Magnus et Leo Papa,” in Reading Memory and Identity in the Texts of Medieval European Holy Women, eds. M. Cotter-Lynch and B. Herzog (New York, 2012), 19. 243 DMLBS, s.v. mathematicus 1, 4, 5, 7,

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upon stars in the sky, praising God for the firmament’s arrangement: “May my daughter look to the dotted sky at night,/settle into lasting praises of God in His power,/Who dapples heaven with stars, the earth with grass,/ Who spoke, and on earth made every wondrous thing” (Noctibus inspiciat caeli mea filia stellas,/adsuescatque deum semper laudare potentem,/qui caelum stellis ornavit, gramine terras,/omnia qui verbo mundi miracula fecit; carm. 26.41–44). This figure is normally identified as Gundrada, an important spiritual and moral leader at court, and also an intellect of some power.244 Her interests in spiritual and intellectual pursuits are articulated in carm. 26 against the specific backdrops of astrology and of the ability to praise God for the act of creating the firmament and the earth. The same contexts are evoked here in carm. 12. Mathematica betokens in her very name the firmament and God’s role in creating it, but she is also enjoined to take strength from the “sweet poems” that she composes in celebration of God, for she is verbipotens, “a woman wielding words.” Alcuin’s normal pseudonym for Gundrada, “Eulalia,” also betokens the idea of being verbipotens, since eulalia in Greek means “well-spoken.” This has the effect of perhaps strengthening the affiliation of Gundrada and Mathematica, especially since the epithet applied to Mathematica, verbipotens, brings together two words found in the verses that attend to Gundrada in carm. 26: potentem (26.42) and verbo (26.44). Barring new evidence, the issue will remain controverted. Let God, gripping the world, hold you in every haunt and age, Julius, a young man, our hope, love and glory. Lucia, live on, happy in God, a virgin incomparably gleaming, in every age, Lucia, the pure one, prevail. And Matha, my own, let sweet poems strengthen you— you, a woman wielding words, without end prevail. Delia, strumming phrases on brilliancy’s lyre245 makes your heart bloom with gusto in every haunt. For all the children of the King: life and health (Christ deigning), prevail without end, down through time, each of you. Happy father to have tendered such buds become flowers, insuperable of rank and distinction to the world. Let God’s right hand hold these daughters and sons— and their father, sheltering, guiding them all.

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244 Bullough 440–441; Garrison 179–182 discusses Gundrada’s appearances in Alcuin’s letters as a moral exemplar, while her learning is suggested not least in the fact that the De animae ratione is addressed to her (as follows, 273–278; 408–410). Both she and her brother, Adalhard of Corbie (d. 827), were cousins of Charlemagne. 245 This line is lacunose: Delia doctisono . . . plectro; Dümmler 237 suggests tangat to fill the gap. Duckett, Alcuin, 94, with n38, understands this line to suggest a facility with music.

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Carm. 13 (Dümmler 237)246 To Charlemagne Duchesne edited carm. 13 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 184; Forster numbers it carm. 227.247 Written in elegiacs, this brief poem is among the more intimate pieces addressed to Charlemagne. Alcuin acclaims the well-being of court and king as a gesture of public celebration, but pseudonyms point also to a private space in which David, Homer, and Flaccus (Horace) are arrayed as poet-friends who care for each other. The profusion of pronouns points up the lyricism of these lines, while the adjective “sweet” (dulcis, dulce), deployed four times in vv. 5–6, places at the poem’s center the sweetness that friendship animates. The world is run by powerful people, the poet would seem to say, but the ability to articulate its order and to celebrate how it feels to be alive in it, falls to the poet, especially when he knows that his friends are safe. David, yes, your servant Homer came, bearing the joyful news you spoke. Your Flaccus was heart-happy then, knowing that you and your brood were safe. My sweet love, sweet presence of Christ, your sweet zeal, the sweet sound from your lips. David, may you and yours (my friends) win out in every age, strong and green in all your haunts; be well. I’ve sent the messenger back to your care: let him sing for you, cherish you, serve you.

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Carm. 14 (Dümmler 237–238) To the Royal Son Written in hexameters, carm. 14 is preserved anonymously in a ninth century manuscript, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 18375, f. 3v. Duchesne prints it as carm. 188, Forster as carm. 237; Burghardt considers the poem authentic.248 The poem enjoins the Pierides to take up a song that offers praises to “the royal boy” (regali . . . iuveni, v. 3). This could be Charles the Younger (772–811), the second oldest son of Charlemagne by birth, though the oldest in terms of the king’s heirs active in courtly life; or it could designate Pepin (773–810), originally called Carloman but renamed when he was still a boy, perhaps as a reproach to his oldest (half) brother,

246 Jaeger, Ennobling Love, 48–49, translates and briefly discusses the poem. 247 Duchesne, col. 1719; Forster 228. 248 Duchesne, cols. 1720–21; Forster 230; Burghardt 181–83.

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Pepin the Hunchback (767–811), who fell out of favor and was replaced in Charlemagne’s attentions by Pepin and Charles the Younger.249 While the poem’s addressees are the Muses, Alcuin is careful to use synonyms to designate them—“Pierides” (v. 1, Pierides), “flower bearers” (v. 6, florigeri; translated as “Bear your flowers”), “Camenae” (v. 12, Camaenae), to which “Castalia” (v. 7, Castalidum), can also be added. “Muses” appears only at the poem’s end (v. 16, Musis). These dictional choices emphasize discordancy. The Pierides, after all, unsuccessfully contended with the Muses and were turned into magpies for their affrontery,250 while, in their roles as figures associated with women in labor, the Camenae symbolize the distresses of childbirth. These sorts of discords are betokened, too, in the poem’s initial phrase, “Pierides, go on . . .” (Pergite, Pierides) an allusion to Virgil, Ecl. 6.13, where conflicts are also powerfully at hand. Virgil begins in propria persona, refusing to write the poem that Varus has requested on the latter’s martial exploits (vv. 1–12). Instead, the present poem is ventured, whose opening lines contain the phrase Alcuin has borrowed (v. 13). Thereafter, Chromis and Mnasyllus come upon the drunk, sleeping figure of Silenus and bind him with the garlands that formerly adorned his hair. The nymph Aegle appears to assist them as they paint Silenus’ face. Awakened by this activity, Silenus agrees to sing and nature responds affirmatively to his artistry. His song is digressive, touching on creation, order, and the myths that attend to these themes (Pyrrha, Prometheus, Hylas; vv. 31–44); the sad love stories of Pasiphaë and the bull, and Atalanta, which introduce erotic misalliances into the song (vv. 45–63); Gallus (vv. 64–73); Scylla and Philomela (vv. 74–81); thence the poem’s conclusion as night falls (vv. 82–86). In gathering his varied poetic materials, Silenus seemingly achieves concord only through his ability to create from disparate and sometimes violent themes a song whose form at least gestures toward unity. Virgil would thus seem to point to the figure of Silenus especially as an emblem of poetry’s power to ameliorate the discords of human action that he otherwise describes.251 249 C. Booker, “By Any Other Name?: Charlemagne, Nomenclature, and Performativity,” in R. Grosse and M. Sot, eds., Charlemagne: les temps, les espaces, les hommes. Construction et déconstruction d’un règne (Turnhout, 2018), 409–416 treats Carolingian understandings of naming/renaming in specific respect of Carloman and Pepin. 250 Ovid, Met. 5. 293 ff., on which see William S. Anderson, ed., Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Books 1–5 (Norman, OK, 1997), 497; 525–527; on Ovid in the Carolingian poets generally, see P. Lendinara, “Mixed Attitudes to Ovid: The Carolingian Poets and the Glossographers,” in Alcuin of York: Scholar at the Carolingian Court, 171–215, whose sense of Alcuin’s knowledge of Ovid seems conservative. 251 On these themes see M. C. J. Putnam, Virgil’s Pastoral Art: Studies in the Eclogues (Princeton, 1970), 195–221 and W. Clausen, Virgil, Eclogues (Oxford, 1994), 174–178; on Alcuin’s use of Virgil more generally, see L. Holtz, “Alcuin et la réception de Virgile du temps de Charlemagne,” in Einhard: Studien zu Leben und Werk, ed. H. Schefers (Darmstadt, 1997), 67–80.

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For Alcuin, the stakes are similar. There are clear linkages between Silenus and Alcuin’s royal boy, especially in token of the garland and the hues of color that cross his face, so that Alcuin would seem to affiliate royal power to the Virgilian power to create. Alcuin, too, can sing of the affiliation of politics and of the world and confect a vision of concord from the discords of postlapserian existence. But Alcuin’s vision is broader, beginning as it does in the pastoral antinomies of Virgil’s landscape but ending in the powerful injunction that the royal boy live forever with God. The poem falls squarely in the tradition of pieces composed by Alcuin in a pastoral mode, and though the poet does not name himself as author in its lines, its subtleties and the practice of allusivity in it bring it into the ambit of Alcuin’s other pastorals of equal exemplarity (see as follows, 215–223). Seemingly on the very grounds of its exemplarity Burghardt doubts Alcuin’s authorship.252 Pierides, go on plucking blossoms with a thumb that sings, where flowers thrive, near the rill, at the water’s source: for the royal boy make chaplets that salve first sin while his virtues shade his face in sacred purple, as noble as his father—it’s on everyone’s lips—praised up and down the world. Bear your flowers, ladies, run the meadows that bewitch our eyes and at the summit where Castalia flows proclaim a lineage for this boy: let a towering virtue flash a ruddy honor from there and let the lily of wisdom clarify the world in lambent white; in time and out, let justice flash like violets in the flickering light, let a discipline used to darkness tinge his face in sacred purple, like the crocus. Camenae, dress this boy in chaplets like these so that his head glitters like the sky, venerated up and down the world. Boy, brightest one, prick up your ears to these words, my gifts, on my versical lyre I wanted to pluck a little song with the Muses’ help, to say hello to you in a way that will outdo time. I hope you grow green with flowering staves in the years as they run away from you

252 Burghardt 181–183.

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and, as time winds down, hold the kingdom of heaven with God, hip to hip.

Carm. 15 (Dümmler 238) To Pope Leo Edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 189, these elegiac couplets are Forster’s carm. 223.253 In the poem’s first half, as befits the figure most closely associated with Christ on earth, Leo’s power as pope is writ large in the world, by dint of his proximity to God (v. 2), his attentions to the betterment of all (v. 3), his fatherly role (v. 4), his wielding of justice, and his pious concern even for the lowliest pauper (v. 6). These worldly roles transform into something more akin to Christ’s actions in the world in the poem’s second half, where the humanity of Christ and the power of His love ratify Leo’s exemplarity. Born in Rome in 750, Leo III assumed the papacy in 795, upon the death of Hadrian I. His pontificate marked the continued affiliation of secular and spiritual interests in the figures of the pope and of Charlemagne, begun in earnest during the reign of the king’s father and Leo’s predecessor, the culmination of which occurred on Christmas Day, 800, when Leo crowned Charlemagne as Holy Roman Emperor. The king had come to Rome to sort out the details of an ugly attack on Leo perpetrated by relatives of Hadrian I, which resulted in serious injury to the pope and his flight from Rome. In due course, Charlemagne saw to it that the attackers were exiled and that Leo was returned safely to Rome. Leo was an assiduous defender of the Western church and he was not averse to intervening in politics when he felt such intrusions necessary, not least in restoring to power King Eardwulf of Northumbria, a figure known also to Alcuin. Upon Charlemagne’s death in 814, Leo was met again with local hostility, though in this case, he was able to defend himself and his throne. Leo died in 816. Thrive ceaselessly, timelessly, holiest pope: you are Leo, the victor, God’s beloved child. Tending to goodness in the world, Christ’s trumpeter (and clearest player), head of the Church, beacon, brilliancy, father: tilling justice, coveting a goodness that is true, unstinting to the poor, gleaming in duty’s decency,

253 Duchesne, col. 1721; Forster 227.

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The Poems recognized the world over, graceful when your goodness is praised, among the titles beholden to your goodness is love. Father: be tender, dutiful for the love of Christ and for His sheep, like angels, that your right hand guides. May timeless God warm you, protect you, lift you up, with a richness equal to all you’ve done; may you come into a kingdom that knows no end, of His giving, in Heaven, where the saints abide. And now: be well—I’ll say it until my voice gives way!

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Carm. 16 (Dümmler 239) To Angilbert A native Frank, Angilbert (ca. 760–814) was, at a young age, sent to Charlemagne’s court to be educated and there came under the tutelage of Alcuin and other teachers. In due time, he became a confidant of Pepin, Charlemagne’s son, while remaining an important member of the Carolingian court circle. Not the least of his political roles was appointment as primicerius palatii to Pepin after the royal son was granted the kingship of Italy by his father. Angilbert may have been married to Bertha, Charlemagne’s daughter, but, in any case, fathered at least one son with her, Nithard (ca. 800–844), who went on to have a career as courtier and historian. Angilbert is associated with the monastery of St Riquier, where he lived for the last two decades of his life and, as its lay-abbot, increased the holdings of its library and sponsored the rebuilding of the monastery’s church (carm. 66, as follows, 241–243). Angilbert’s poetic output is small. Perhaps his most famous piece is his carm. 2 (Dümmler 360–363), a verse-epistle addressed to Charlemagne and his court that articulates, as it celebrates, the natural and political orders of the world. Structure augments competing modes of order: the poem’s narrative is interrupted by a series of refrains, versus intercalares, modeled on Virgil, Ecl. 8, that organize the hierarchies the poem affirms—king, family, court, and church—with the king placed first in the catalogue of figures addressed and Angilbert’s own monkish brethren addressed at the poem’s conclusion. Yet, the poem’s refrain works against a strictly linear understanding of its themes, for it provides for readers multiple points of entry, thus creating a circular space in which the unity of God’s creation is affirmed against the backdrop of the human hierarchies that serve it.254 In form and function, 254 On Angilbert’s Zirkulardichtung, see Godman, Poetry, 112–119.

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Angilbert’s poem is similar to carm. 4 (previously, 116–121), the Zirkulardichtung written by Alcuin to continental ecclesiasts in the early 780s. Alcuin regularly designates Angilbert by the nickname “Homer.” Duchesne edited carm. 16 from the St Bertin manuscript as vv. 9–16 of a larger poem comprised of twelve elegiac couplets, his carm. 201, with vv. 1–8 now Dümmler’s carm. 87 (as follows, 280), and vv. 17–24 now Dümmler’s carm. 116 (as follows, 369–370); Forster also prints the twelve couplets as one poem, his carm. 238.255 The grounds for separating these couplets into three discrete poems are strong, not least the fact that the lines that form each piece attend to different addressees. Meter also provides a rationale; for, unlike the other sixteen verses of the poem, most of the verses of carm. 16 are written in epanaleptic distichs, with the initial phrasing of the hexameter of each couplet repeated in the concluding phrasing of the pentameter. Only in the final couplet does Alcuin nearly revert to the normal phrasing, with the initial phrase of the hexameter, est mihi certa fides, almost, but not quite repeated in the conclusion of the pentameter, sit tibi certa salus. Yet this couplet, too, gestures toward the epanaleptic form by offering a more involved species of repetition. The first words of the phrase offer different inflections of the verb “to be” (est, sit), while the second words are the personal pronouns “I” (mihi) and “you” (tibi) but in the same case. The third words, certa, truly repeat, while the fourth words are substantives that go to aspects of spiritual integrity. Perhaps in gesturing toward the epanaleptic form in these ways allows Alcuin to emphasize his care for Angilbert, the addressee of vv. 7–8, at the expense of Samuel, the pseudonym for Beornred, Abbot of Echternach and Archbishop of Sens (above 129–131), who commands the poet’s attention in vv. 4–6. Holy Father, I beg you, a suppliant, through my songs, remember me, Holy Father, I beg you. Sweet Homer, I pray, remember Flaccus, the poet, be mindful, like Samuel, sweet Homer, I pray. Help an old man, I ask, through his friends, there is a place in Sens, help an old man. I am concerned about you, brother, dearest, with Christ and His saints, let there be a certain safety for you.

255 Duchesne, col. 1724; Forster 230.

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Carm. 17 (Dümmler 239) To Paulinus of Aquileia Paulinus of Aquileia was born ca. 725 in northern Italy and was educated at and eventually became master of the patriarchal school at Cividale. He came to the attention of Charlemagne after the king’s successful military campaigns in Italy, at which point, due to his excellent training, Paulinus became an important figure among the intellectuals and ecclesiasts gathered around Charlemagne. Nor was his role exclusively as a scholar. Paulinus was, in time, appointed a missus dominicus by Charlemagne and also took up political tasks for Pope Leo III in his role as papal legate. Paulinus was at the Carolingian court when Alcuin arrived, and he seems to have spent most of the 780s there. During this time, Paulinus and Alcuin cultivated a warm friendship, witnessed not least in the extant poems translated here and as follows (152–157). Perhaps the pinnacle of his career came in 787, when Charlemagne appointed Paulinus to the patriarchate of Aquileia. He took up his episcopal duties thereafter with much energy and acumen. As patriarch, he made important contributions, along with Alcuin, to the disputes over Adoptionism, continued to compose exegetical treatises, and played a role in the conversion of the Avars. Paulinus is also a poet of some importance.256 His output includes a planctus on Duke Eric of Friuli, religious poems, his rhythmic verses on Lazarus,257 and hymns written for liturgical celebrations. Paulinus seems to have taken up his poetic project after he became patriarch. He died ca. 804. Carm. 17 is preserved anonymously in one ninth-century manuscript, Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 225v-226r. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 212, Forster as carm. 239.258 Alcuin names himself in v. 6. One of his more intimate poems, Alcuin concludes carm. 17 by focusing on erotic longing in order to emphasize his devotion to Paulinus.259 The poem shares an almost-identical opening verse with carm. 18, addressed to Paulinus and Arn (as follows, 153–155), less a measure of poetic debility than a way to affirm the friendship Alcuin shares with them. The lines are hexametrical. Love, dip your reed in the font of Christ, soak my soul in heavenly strains, strengthen me to sing thanks to Paulinus (rightly so),

256 Godman, Poetry, 7–8. 257 On Paulinus as a poet, see Godman, Poetry, 26–27 and his comments on the verses on Lazarus, 90–107. 258 Duchesne, col. 1727; Forster 230–231. 259 The homoerotic element in Alcuin’s poetry is muted, if it is present at all, on which, see Bullough 110–117.

The Poems who drowned my ears with sweet-sounding songs: down through time, remember your like-souled friend, make your sacred refrain: “Albinus, prevail.” How festive that day had been, when your letter was read to me, inscribed at the start with a greeting long-sought: every word flowed to me like the honey of love, my eyes read, then re-read, happy not to see the world, all around, my mind’s eye spying a new sort of bliss, ever-coming, happy in the highest that father was well: God keep you safe for all time. Italy praises you, her glory, founder known across the world, planting justice, a lover of holy kindness. My mind is on fire for you—but is restrained by sacral chains— covets you, roves the world for you, circles you, breathes you in, grasps you, is hidden with you in the ageless ark of my heart.

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Carm. 18 (Dümmler 239–240) To Paulinus of Aquileia and Arn Carm. 18 was edited by Forster from a ninth-century manuscript commissioned by Archbishop Liuphram of Salzburg (re. 836–859) and preserved at the monastery of St Paul in Regensburg. Now lost, Forster prints carm. 18 under the rubric of Addenda et Supplenda as carm. 12.260 The poem is not printed in Duchesne. Alcuin names himself in v. 9. In Old German arn means “eagle;” thus, to Alcuin, Arn is aquila, “eagle” in Latin. Born in or near Freising in ca. 750, but perhaps Italian by descent, Arn became a priest in 776 and then took up residence at the monastery at St Amand, which he served as abbot even after his elevation to the episcopal seat in Salzburg in 785. Arn was a devoted leader of his bishopric but was equally involved in political affairs across the Carolingian empire. Not least, he was sent on a mission in 787 to Rome in order to elicit the mediation of Pope Hadrian in the ongoing discord between Tassilo III, the Bavarian duke who sponsored Arn’s journey, and Charlemagne. The mission ultimately failed, but Arn seems not to have suffered for it, becoming, in due course, an important ally of Charlemagne in Bavaria. This alliance brought rewards. In 798, Arn was appointed the first archbishop of Salzburg and, early in the new century, he took on the additional 260 Forster 612, 615 (= carm. 12).

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task of serving as one of Charlemagne’s missi dominici. Arn was also involved in Charlemagne’s campaign against the Avars and, upon its successful conclusion, the Avars’ lands were placed under his episcopal control. During the revolt against Pope Leo III (previously, 149–150), in which Leo fled from Rome in the face of opposition from supporters of his predecessor, Arn was sent by Charlemagne to Rome to insist on Leo’s legitimacy and restore some semblance of order. But politics could hold Arn for only so long. By the second decade of the ninth century, he seems to have retired from the active life, devoting his remaining years to episcopal duties. He died in office in 821, outliving Alcuin by nearly two decades. Written in elegiacs, carm. 18 affiliates Alcuin and Arn through the love that writing affirms. Yet, here, the love that Arn (“Eagle,” v. 2) feels for his “father” (v. 3), not Alcuin but Paulinus, patriarch of Aquileia, encourages Alcuin to insert himself into the company of Arn and Paulinus as a third member of this “trio” (v. 9). The possibility of being so included seems, as the poem concludes, to energize Alcuin, allowing him to boast in terms that call on powerful symbols of ancient Latin poetry-writing (vv. 18–19): the Pierian pick of the Muses; Orpheus, whose song was so potent it reversed death; Linus, the son of Apollo and Terpischore and the teacher of Orpheus and Hercules; and Virgil himself, whose poetic perfections Alcuin claims he will be inspired to outdo, if only his poem tugs Arn and Paulinus to him. On Paulinus, see the foregoing, 152–153. Love, dip your reed in the font of Christ,261 confect some verses for my Eagle: his love for father makes every heart smolder, places father forever on everyone’s lips; agelessly, endlessly, let God say hello to him, cover him, lift him, grow him green. For him my heart is singed, bound with sacred chains, aching, searching, loving him, he’s all I recall. Let Albinus be one-third of this trio, a friend to both, trumpeting these words amidst sacred tears. See: a triple rope never frays262 nor a love among three that grows firmly green: for where three are gathered in Christ’s name pious, amidst them, there He stands.

261 This line, with minor changes, is also the initial verse of carm. 17 (previously, 152). 262 The image is owed to Eccl. 4:12, as my student Jacob Ihnen points out.

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The Poems Remember this—and be always strong, let me see your happy countenances soon (God willing). Then, lungs filled from head to toe, let me sound happy songs with my Pierian pick! No one outsings me: not Orpheus, not Linus, not even Virgil, as long as I have your hearts in my hands.

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Carm. 19 (Dümmler 240) To Paulinus of Aquileia These five hexameters are preserved in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 226r, where they fall between carm. 17 (previously, 152–153) and carm. 20 (as follows, 156–157) without ascription or separation. Alcuin names himself in these surrounding pieces, increasing the odds that carm. 19 is also from his hand. Duchesne edited the poem as his carm. 213,263 and its separation from carm. 17 (= Duchesne, carm. 212) and 20 (= Duchesne, carm. 214) presumably reflects the witness of the St Bertin manuscript. Forster follows Duchesne in observing the separation, making carm. 19 his carm. 240, but reports Catelinot’s view that carm. 19 may be an epitaph for Paulinus, while averring that this cannot be true if the witness of Vienna 808 is accurate.264 Burghardt is categorical in understanding carm. 19 to provide the concluding verses to carm. 17,265 and even though he prints carm. 19 separately, Forster makes a good case for reading the poem in this way. On his view, “here” (hic, v. 1), “this bed” (hocque cubile, v. 2), and “this temple” (hoc templum, v. 3), refer to the “ark of my heart” mentioned in the concluding verse of carm. 17 (pectoris . . . arca, v. 18).266 On the other hand, carm. 19 might be understood to stand on its own as an expression of Alcuin’s longing to be buried with his good friend in a particular church. I understand v. 4 to depict Alcuin in this otherwise unnamed setting, warding off possible intrusions of the “enemy” (v. 3), who might disturb his reverie and thus separate the friends by disrupting his thought. The Latin adjective translated here as “beloved,” in v. 5, carus, may pun on the noun caros, i, the “sleep of death.” On Paulinus, see the foregoing, 152–153. Let Paulinus sleep here agelessly, and pray, let father, who is worthy, dignify this bed. 263 264 265 266

Duchesne, col. 1727. Forster 231 with note m. Burghardt 215. Forster 231, note m.

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Carm. 20 (Dümmler 240–241) To Paulinus of Aquileia Preserved in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 226r-227r, dating from the ninth century, these hexameters are copied out there without separation from carm. 19, which they follow. Duchesne edited the poem from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 214; Forster prints it as carm. 241.267 The poem is unascribed in the manuscript and Alcuin doesn’t name himself in its lines, but its proximity to carm. 19, not to say 17, which 19 follows in Vienna 808, makes Alcuin’s authorship difficult to deny, since the poet names himself in these pieces.268 V. 43 is repeated at carm. 55.4.1 (as follows, 211), while v. 44 replicates the final (hexametrical) line of epis. 9, written to Adalhard of Corbie (Dümmler 34–35, with two words, finem and sacri, in reverse order). Carm. 20 seems to be a leave-taking, perhaps written in the late 780s when, or after, Paulinus left Charlemagne’s circle for the episcopal duties that consumed the rest of his life. It combines high praise with images of the poet’s desolation at separation and his seeming worry over Paulinus’ well-being.269 On Paulinus’ life, see the foregoing, 152–153. Father, pastor, patriarch, priest, Paulinus,270 my soul’s better half, the part better known: in your mind make a place for Albinus at the altars, amidst tears like honey staining his face, say: “in your gentility, God, show compassion to my friend, in your kindness forgive his turpitude, with other holies let him praise you without end;” and Christ—God’s glory without limit, His wisdom: my heart lies before you, destitute, please, forever, hold Paulinus in your hand, keep him warm, point the way, let virtue, like a flower, make him bloom. God’s mother, Mary, holiest virgin: for Paulinus demand every prosperous thing (my prayer), let him be vigorous, strong, brimming with Christ’s love.

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267 Duchesne, cols. 1727–1728; Forster 231. 268 Thus Burghardt 218 views Alcuin’s authorship as settled. 269 The letters from Alcuin to Paulinus often revisit this theme; see the foregoing, n. 259 on carm. 17. 270 Alcuin’s Latin is equally alliterative: O Pauline pater, pastor, patriarcha, sacerdos.

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Saints, gathered and dear, ears thirsting for God’s soaring admonitions, lurching forward, fathers, prick up your ears—never cease to do it, even now, with Christ, in His heavenly demesne, cast prayers (your duty) clambering for Paulinus’ safety (my demand) and for God on high who sees all things: may Paulinus be vigorous, strong: he has followed Christ’s path. Children of God, born of the sacred Church, like one body lying low for God: care for Paulinus down the years (for he is mine), pray for him, for his life, ask Christ to make him vigorous, strong, safe for as long as he breathes. Angels, as you flock about the countenance that feeds us, without pause in the heights of heaven, where Father lives evermore, hankering hands extended, but humble-hearted, I beg you: defend Paulinus with your prayers, let him reign, rejoice, a comrade to your decency and be by your side in endless praises to God, gripping Heaven’s blessed kingdom, always happy. Choicest father, take these little verses with you (a request), read them, and when you do, let your heart call your son to mind. Christ be love, virtue, beauty, all things to you—Christ, the way and life, salvation, hope, praise, glory, forever, sing Him, unendingly, let him inhabit your heart, then He will give to you Heaven’s demesne (where the saints abide): remember your son through Him (I demand it), who entices you into Heaven’s hall, built beyond time. Now, evermore, my Paulinus, mine alone: prevail. This is my teary-eyed end: there is no end to our holy love.

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Carm. 21 (Dümmler 242–243) To Theophilactus Theophilactus (“protected by God”) is the name of the librarian to Pope Hadrian I and of an eighth-century Bishop of Todi.271 Given the proximity of Todi to

271 Dümmler 242 n1.

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Rome and the small chance that two Italian contemporaries might have the same Greek name, it seems more than likely that, as Bullough suggests, they are the same person.272 In 786, with Bishop George of Ostia, Theophilactus was sent to England by Pope Hadrian I in order to put ecclesiastical affairs in better order. Alcuin accompanied these important figures to his homeland or met them there. The delegation was charged with smoothing relations with King Offa of Mercia and in reasserting papal hegemony over the church in England.273 The poem’s concluding verses mention Pope Hadrian I directly (“good and apostolic name” [pio nomine apostolico; v. 32]; “pastor sitting high in the Apostle’s chair” [pastori summo sedis apostolicae; v. 34]) and both Theophilactus and Hadrian are addressed in the poem’s concluding couplet (“Fathers, both of you . . . prevail”; vos . . . patres . . . valete; v. 37). The cartula (“report”) mentioned in v. 31 would seem to designate the document that Theophilactus and George were asked to submit to Hadrian as a result of their mission. Alcuin’s focus shifts at vv. 11–12 from the praises owed Theophilactus to those passages in scripture that commend friendship. In vv. 13–14, he draws on Sirach 9:10, which compares friendship to old wine, and on 1 Thessalonians 5:21, which commends the testing of all things and the preservation of all that is good. Important further on (vv. 25–26) is the story of the Samaritan told at Luke 10:34–35, which suggests the ways in which friendship can be initiated and grow.274 Details about Theophilactus’ life are lacking. Composed in elegiac couplets, carm. 21 is preserved in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 227r-228r, dating from the ninth century, which records, between vv. 28 and 29, the line inclita nos fratres unda fides genuit. Either Duchesne removed this extraneous verse or the St Bertin manuscript from which he worked didn’t record it. He edited the verses as carm. 215; Forster brackets the extraneous line and prints the poem as carm. 243.275 Theophilactus, father, noble teacher of wisdom, known far and wide, incomparably praised, Heaven sees in you an illustrious scribe whose heart-borne gifts are ageless. Rome, unrivaled, world’s capital, calls you teacher: you’re always telling us how to be saved. Sacred goodness has taught you to be unfailingly gentle:

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272 Bullough 357. 273 On this trip, see Stenton, Anglo-Saxon England, 214–217. 274 A. Fiske, “Alcuin and Mystical Friendship,” Studi Medievali ser. 3, 2 (1961): 565–568, reads the poem against the backdrop of friendship. 275 Duchesne, cols. 1728–1729; Forster 231–232.

The Poems she has lived for a long time in your incomparable heart. Like a friend in the fold of your love, let that goodness lift me up, I pray it, Holiness, even though I’m unknown to you. Scripture sings songs that teach, reveals the praises owed to wisdom: like wine that is just now pressed, let a friend age with you: the bouquet of friendship will be the sweetness you taste. Paul, learned, known world-wide, once said: “Test everything first; retain what is good.” On bended knee, please, don’t put me off: let me prove myself your brother; let unfailing piety decide. Christ’s love is accustomed to embracing the world, gathering the crowd in its fold, who lingers in it clamps Christ to heart, God is love—authentic, nothing stronger. A friend who can help must not be scorned and strengthens a new friend to help him more: like Christ, the Good Samaritan came forth with two coins to care for a man’s grievous wounds. My prayer: like a brother, may that kind of goodness lift me up, for grace has made us brothers in Christ. Theophilactus, who knows more than the rest, this is what I crave for you: let learning course from your sacred mouth; let a report be written, published world-wide, signed by that good and apostolic name, and as your praises grow from more to more, outsized rewards will accrue for the pastor sitting high in the Apostle’s chair. Commend me to his affection (I beg), let him commend me like a father to Christ in his prayers. Fathers, both of you, unendingly, in and out of time, prevail, with Christ’s hand sheltering, guiding you.

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Carm. 22 (Dümmler 243) To an Anonymous Friend Dümmler suggests that the addressee of these elegiacs may be the antagonistic student to whom Alcuin wrote a conciliatory letter (epis.

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58, Dümmler 101–102),276 though Forster suggests Osulf, another of Alcuin’s students.277 The addressee must remain uncertain, though the strong feeling animating the poem is not in doubt. The poem is preserved in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 228r, dating from the ninth century. Duchesne prints it as carm. 220; Forster, as carm. 262.278 While nothing internal to its verses links it to Alcuin’s hand, carm. 22 is nestled among a group of poems, most of which are unproblematically ascribed to Alcuin. For this reason, Burghardt considers Alcuin’s authorship probable.279 Beloved son, I’m baffled: why do you rage at father? Soon enough you’ll be on your way, far off (as seems to be your wont). All tears, you depart—in grief you leave father behind: I am judged wicked, at fault (rumor flies). Angered, yes: but I have said nothing hot-heartedly, I have resolved to speak only tenderly to you. Use these words happily (as is their wont); speak of me now as I speak of you—this is all I can ask.

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Carm. 23 (Dümmler 243–244) On the Poet’s Cella Composed in elegiacs, this much-studied poem is printed by Duchesne as carm. 222, where, presumably reflecting the St Bertin manuscript from which he worked—or his misreading of it—Duchesne incongruously places the thirteen hexameters that form carm. 27 prior to the nineteen elegiac couplets that comprise carm. 23,280 printing a poem in fifty-one verses that mixes two meters and takes in two addressees, Charlemagne, and an otherwise unidentified cella. Forster rightly separates the initial thirteen verses from what follows, not least on thematic grounds, printing carm. 23 under the rubric of carmina dubia, with the title Versus de Cella Cormaricensi, affiliating it with the monastery at Cormery. He avers that it was likely written by one of Alcuin’s students.281 Many have since so

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Dümmler 243 n1. Forster 235, note d. Duchesne, col. 1730; Forster 235. Burghardt 217. Duchesne, cols. 1731–1732. Forster 456 with note a.

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thought, not least Burghardt,282 who feels that the use of the word magister especially militates against Alcuin’s authorship. On the other hand, credible arguments have been articulated in favor of Alcuin’s authorship, perhaps definitively by Godman, that are now generally accepted.283 It is likely worth accepting, too, Godman’s view that Alcuin designates by the term cella a locus amoenus that betokens the palace school, at the time of the poem’s composition apparently in decline in light of the departure of Alcuin and Angilbert, mentioned in v. 21.284 Bullough’s notion that the poem is addressed to Angilbert cannot be correct.285 It is, in fact, addressed to the cella, which is described in its opening lines in diction drawn from the so-called vernal monologue of Georgics 2, the pastoral landscapes of the Eclogues, and parts of Aeneid 6. These ancient associations assist Alcuin in making cella a complicated word that betokens both the concrete world of the palace school, peopled by teachers and students, and the idealized space of personal emotion and memory.286 Because the English sense of “cell” is usually pejorative and, in any case, does not take in the ideal and personal senses of the Latin cella, I leave the Latin untranslated here. The tripartite structure of the poem seems intentional: two groups of sixteen verses (vv. 1–16; 17–32) are organized by the repeated phrase “my cella,” (mea cella) in vv. 1 and 17, the first lines of their respective parts, while the poem concludes with three couplets (vv. 33–38) that enjoin the readers to Christ’s permanence and away from the transiency of the world’s allurements. Yet, as much as the poem commends eternity over momentary beauty, it seems also to celebrate that beauty in its Virgilian imagery and cadences, in the symmetries of nature it commends, and in the careful attention paid to the evanescent attractions of a world that must be resisted, apparently, by evoking its detailed glories.287 282 M. L. Uhlfelder, “Classicism and Christianity: A Poetic Synthesis,” Latomus 34 (1975): 224–231; F. Brunhölzl, Geschichte der lateinischen Literatur des Mittelalters, 2 vols. (Munich, 1975), vol. 1, 285; Burghardt 220–232. 283 P. Godman, “Alcuin’s Poetic Style and the Authenticity of ‘O Mea Cella’,” Studi Medievali 20 (1979): 553–583; J. I. McEnerney, “Alcuini Carmen 23,” Res Publica Litterarum 8 (1985): 179–185; and, most recently, S. Gibertini, “Alcuino di York, Carme 23 Dümmler: una lettura,” Eikasmós: Quaderni Bolognesi di Filologia Classica 16 (2005): 337–359. 284 Godman, “Alcuin’s Poetic Style,” 578–580, but see McKitterick, Charlemagne, 140 with n6; 348, who links the cella to York, as does C. Newlands, “Alcuin’s Poem of Exile, O Mea Cella,” Mediaevalia 11 (1985): 19–45. 285 Bullough 345. 286 I analyze the Virgilian diction in my “Alcuin’s Cell Poem: A Virgilian Reappraisal,” Latomus 49 (1990): 839–849; Gibertini, “Alcuino di York,” 341–358, offers a detailed commentary on Alcuin’s classicism. 287 I expand on this view in “Alcuin’s Cell Poem,” passim; Godman, “Alcuin’s Poetic Style,” 578–580 also understands the poem in this way. A. Orchard, “Wish You Were Here: Alcuin’s Courtly Poetry and the Boys Back Home,” in Courts and Regions in

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The Poems My cella, my sweet home, beloved (to me), my cella, endlessly, eternally: goodbye. Trees embrace you with branches that sing, like a copse, heavy-headed with flowers. Curing grasses will bud all about the fields: the doctor plucks them with a healing hand. Streams embrace you with banks of flowers: a fisher tends to his nets, happy just to be alive. Branches bent with fruit waft through your haunts, your gardens, where lilies and roses shuffle white and red. No bird misses a chance to noise morning songs: their throats offer praises for the maker-God. A teacher’s voice, like a nurse, once echoed in you sacredly, handing down books of wisdom, and holy praise for the Thunderer once noised in you at set times, with souls and voices of peace. My cella, I mourn you with words like tears, heart-torn, grieving, I mourn what has happened to you: you fled poetry of a sudden, all around, strange hands hold you now, Flaccus, Homer, will never know you again, boys will never wander your halls in song. Every beauty of our time of a sudden alters, everything changes each upon each, nothing abides, resists change, endlessly, glooming night blackens sacred day: winter’s chill slashes the blossoms’ beauties, a sadder wind clips the peaceful sea. A holy youth once drove the stags afield, where an old man now feebly presses his stick. In our desolations why do we covet the world slipping down, that flees us into ruin, everywhere, evermore? Flee, fleer, go ahead. Let us love Christ evermore, let love of God hold our hearts evermore. Let His goodness keep harsh foes at bay, apart from His servants, snaring our souls for Heaven. With all our hearts we must offer Him praise, love Him: He is goodness, glory, and life: He is the One who saves us.

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Medieval Europe, eds. S. R. Jones, R. Marks, and A. J. Minnis (York, 2000), 21–43, emphasizes the power of repetition in the poem. Godman, Poetry, 124–127 is an English translation.

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Carm. 24 (Dümmler 244) To the Goths Written in hexameters, carm. 24 is preserved in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 230v. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 223; Forster, as carm. 261 with some changes introduced from the lost Regensburg manuscript.288 Alcuin names himself (Albini) in v. 14. The poem seems to have accompanied a batch of short letters (“notes” in the translation; has . . . litterulas, v. 9) addressed to laymen and/or churchmen in Gothia.289 By “Goths,” Alcuin designates the inhabitants and region of Septimania in presentday southern France, bordered, roughly, by Spain on the southwest and Provence on the east. The word “Olympian” in v. 11 can mean “Heaven” or “celestial”290 but here seems to suggest the earthly power of the Goths. Five extant letters are addressed to bishops, abbots, monks, and/or laymen in Gothia, all of which deal with the thorny theological details of Adoptionism and/or touch on sacramental practices, and some of which are among the lengthiest in the collection.291 None of the letters seem to have been written later than ca. 800. This perhaps allows carm. 24 to be dated near to that year. The specific letters mentioned in this poem, on the other hand, are not known. Good Goths, without end, evermore, flourish, chosen people of the Lord, nation known to the world: hello. How many did you conquer to the hilt long ago, in wars everyone has on their lips; conquer now the foes of Christ, brandishing the shield of faith, hurl dauntless weapons that redeem. All around, like a nurse, God will be Helper, if a faith that never bends abides in your heart, if excellence’s work follows faith’s good gifts. Roam over these notes peacefully in your mind (my prayer), God’s goodwill has sent them on their way. Olympian Goths: God grant all favor to you, meting out to the crowd noble joys of an endless kingdom. My plea: as you pray tenderly don’t lose track 288 289 290 291

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Duchesne, col. 1732; Forster 234–235. Dümmler 244n2. DMLBS, s.v. Olympus 1, 2. Epis. 137 (Dümmler 210–216; Allott 131, 136–137); epis. 138 (Dümmler 216–220); epis. 187 (Dümmler 313–315); epis. 200 (Dümmler 330–333; Allott 111, 117–118); and epis. 205 (Dümmler 340–342).

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The Poems of Albinus (never once): he fashioned these words for you. May God, whose power knows no end, save you in the amplitude of time, meting out to you His endless kingdom evermore.

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Carm. 25 (Dümmler 245) To Pope Leo Written in hexameters, carm. 25 is preserved in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 230v-231r. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 216; Forster numbers it carm. 224.292 Unascribed in the manuscript, Burghardt is nonetheless confident on stylistic and lexical grounds that the poem is authentically from Alcuin’s hand.293 The poem celebrates the city of Rome and Pope Leo III’s (re. 795–816) affiliation with it but also reflects a larger Carolingian interest in Rome as a physical place and as an emblem of empire. On Leo, see the foregoing, 149–150. Mother Rome, holding sway, known to all, glory of the world: hello: down the ages may your sons flourish in your embrace. Pope Leo, apex of the world, boundlessly decent, be strong, emblem of righteousness, enthroned like a beacon, blazing decency, be well (Christ’s gift) amidst triumphs that will never end, 5 holding Peter’s keys on high, learned, recognized in every haunt, may Rome pray for you without stint, ceaselessly, everywhere, may those who inhabit her olden walls, may the saints in their holiness, pray for you without stint, keep you safe all around. Saints, Romans, Leo, star of the Roman race, 10 without cease, in and out of time, Lord have mercy, prevail.

Carm. 26 (Dümmler 245–246) To Charlemagne Written in hexameters, carm. 26 is preserved by Duchesne, who edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 221; Forster numbers it carm. 228.294 Composed in 796, the poem takes its place in Carolingian literary culture alongside Angilbert’s carm. 2 (Dümmler 360–363) and Theodulf, carm. 25 (Dümmler 292 Duchesne, col. 1729; Forster 227. 293 Burghardt 216. 294 Duchesne, cols. 1730–1731; Forster 228.

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483–489), verse-epistles enjoined to make a journey at the behest of their authors in order to do their bidding (see also carm. 4, previously, 116–121). Alcuin’s poem draws on a tradition reaching back at least to Sidonius Apollinaris but also cultivates something more uniquely Carolingian—what Schaller calls a “lecture poem” (Vortragsdichtung), meant to be circulated widely and recited but also, more specifically, a “circle poem” (Zirkulardichtung), meant to be read in real time to the individuals mentioned in the poem.295 Carm. 26 presumes to answer a letter from Charlemagne and includes praises of the king and narratives attending to members of his court. The treatment of figures is hierarchical, beginning with the three divisions of clerical rank in the court chapel and progressing through physicians, the palace school, the imperial chancery and scriptorium, officials of the court chapel, Charlemagne’s cousin, Gundrada, who evinces an enthusiasm for astrology, Angilbert, and secular officials. Godman posits a lacuna after v. 51, considering the poem as transmitted to be incomplete owing especially to what he considers its abrupt ending:296 whereas Theodulf and Angilbert offer valedictory praises for Charlemagne, Alcuin concludes his piece with what seems to be a humorous self-depiction that places him in the company of the cooks and the cup-bearer, expressing a preference for hot porridge. But the porridge may be the point: Theodulf uses porridge in his carm. 25 as a metaphor to criticize Alcuin’s poetry. If Alcuin plays along with this depiction, then he will have no choice but to end his poem as he does, since porridge betokens his artistic failures, and nothing more need be, or can be, said.297 David, sweetest, beloved of God: from court a letter of your kindness came to Flaccus298 (as I call myself), bearing the hallowed gift of your good health: may God-of-every-power increase your wellbeing (my wish). You are praise and hope to your own; you are joy up and down the land, you are the church’s glory, ruler, defender and lover; you have chosen ministers299 worthy of their lot

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295 Schaller, “Vortrags- und Zirkulardichtung,” 4–36. 296 Godman, Poetry, 121n51. 297 G. R. Knight, “Talking Letter, Singing Pipe: Modalities of Performance at the Carolingian Court,” Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age 79 (2012): 40–47, especially 45–47, also argues for different reasons that the poem is not lacunose. See also the n. on v. 51, as follows. 298 Flaccus = Quintus Horatius Flaccus = Horace (65–27 B.C.E.), the Roman lyric poet. “Flaccus” is one of several pseudonyms Alcuin assumes in his poetry. 299 “Ministers” (= ministri) has a range of meanings; here, the sense is general, designating the three clerical ranks taken up seriatim in vv. 9–11: priests, deacons, and sub-deacons, for which reason in v. 10 it can only mean “deacons”; that is, “ministers” in the sense of

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The Poems for sacred orders, and your chapel’s well-known posts. See: Christ’s priests hew to their own laws, deacons acquit themselves well serving their honor’s rank, sub-deacons300 take heart under their own fixed chief. The doctors soon rush in (Hippocrates’ clique): bleeding patients, mixing cures in a pot, cooking, offering draughts. Doctors: you treat the folk gratis to ensure Christ’s blessing upon your hands; all of this pleases me; praise to the worthy doctors’ guild! Was Virgil, verse-maker, the court’s lone sinner? Was that father of words unworthy of a teacher to bring fine poems to the boys at court? How will Beleel301 spend his days, his mind swimming in songs of Troy? I wonder why he didn’t hold the palace school in the stead of father Virgil?302 What of Drances, slow-moving, white-haired, wise, stiff-handed in war?303 Stumpy Zaccheus has climbed to the top of a tree, to glimpse a tribe of scribes running up, through paper, pen he gives help to the poor: let the boys’ scribal hands beware of bribes—be clean!304 Each courtly group has its own teacher: like the priest Hildebald, who stands apart, all soul, guiding other priests in deed and word,

300 301 302

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“servants” of priests. On these differences see Knight, “Talking Letter, Singing Pipe,” 43n292, and Schaller, “Vortrags-und Zirkulardichtung,” 14–36. Sub-deacons = nathanei, a term biblical in origin, on which, see Godman 119n11. Beleel = Bezeleel, the builder of the tabernacle described at Exodus 31:1–11; 35:30–35; 38:22–23; here, designating Einhard, on whom, see the following, carm. 30.2, 172. “In Virgil’s stead” = sub nomine patris—i.e., “in the name/place of the father”; Virgil is called “father” (pater) in v. 19, which controls the meaning of pater here, but pater also puns in this line on the idea of Alcuin as intellectual “father” of Einhard and also a founding “father” of the palace school. Drances appears at Aen. 11.336ff. as a figure who, in Turnus’ condemnation of him, thinks rather than fights. At carm. 39.10 (as follows, 181–183), Alcuin uses diction drawn from Virgil’s depiction of Drances to qualify Regenbert, bishop of Limoges. Garrison 194n279 reviews Drances’ possible identity at court, but he remains unknown. Zaccheus is the short-of-stature tax-collector described at Luke 19:1–10, who climbed to the top of a sycamore tree in order better to see Jesus pass by. The name designates Ercambald, head of the royal chancery from 797 to 812, the office responsible for official documents; thus, Ercambald’s work plied “through paper, pen.” The “swarm of scribes” are the chancery’s copyists, whom Alcuin enjoins against bribery—a crime committed by the biblical Zaccheus, who promises to repay his victims fourfold (Luke 19:8).

The Poems leading them, a crystalline model of salvation.305 The deacons306 follow you, Jesse, teacher:307 your voice charges through the royal chapel like a bull, it becomes you, in the pulpit, reading God’s word to the folk; the Lector Sulpicius308 tags after you, a guild of white-mantled readers in tow, let him teach them, guide them, in elocution. Idithun trained choirs in sacred chant: now they pour out sounds like nectar, full-voiced, as one, let them learn number, rhythm, feet—the very props of music. May my daughter look to the dotted sky at night, settle into lasting praises of God in His power, Who dapples heaven with stars, the earth with grass, Who spoke, and on earth made every wondrous thing.309 Homer:310 for you Flaccus will play a song on his pipe until you return to the chapel royal.311 May Thyrsis312 and Menalcas313 be well without end, let Menalcas browbeat the kitchens’ cooks so that Flaccus314 has porridge hot on the dish;

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305 Hildebald, who succeeded Riculf as bishop of Cologne in 784, was made arch-chaplain of Charlemagne’s court in 791. He was appointed the first archbishop of Cologne in 794 and died in 818. Alcuin also mentions Hildebald in an inscription for the Church of St Peter in Cologne, on which see as follows, carm. 107.2, 3, (336–337). Naming Hildebald in v. 30 is my addition; Alcuin simply says “priest who stands apart” (presbyter egregrius). 306 Here ministri = “deacons,” on which usage see the previous n. to v. 7. 307 Bishop of Amiens until 831 and leader of the deacons in the royal chapel, Jesse died in 836. 308 Sulpicius is leader of the lectors in the royal chapel, responsible for reading scriptural passages during the Mass; see Godman, Poetry, 121n36–7. 309 “Who spoke” = verbo—i.e., “by word” = the act of creation performed through speech in Genesis—but also Christ, the “Word” of God; “every wondrous thing on earth” = omnia . . . mundi miracula = “miracles” but also the wonders of the created world. 310 Homer = Angilbert (ca. 760–814), Alcuin’s student and an important Carolingian political and ecclesiastical figure (previously, 150–151). 311 “To the chapel royal” = sacram . . . ad aulam, rather than “to the sacred court,” as Godman, Poetry, 121, has it. The poem has focused for most of its lines on ecclesiastical figures and offices, and there is no reason to qualify the court as “sacred.” 312 Thyrsis = Meginfrid, the camerarius, chamberlain, and arcarius, keeper of the moneychest. A full biographical accounting of Meginfrid is offered by J. Nelson, “Alcuin’s Letter to Meginfrid,” in Penser la paysannerie médiévale, un défi impossible?, eds. A. Dierkens, N. Schroeder, and A. Wilkin (Paris, 2017), 111–125, https://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/27986?lang=en. Thyrsis appears in Virgil, Ecl. 7, where he loses a singing contest to Corydon. 313 Menalcas = Audulf, the court seneschal/steward, the administrator of the royal household, on whom see S. Airlie, “The Captains and Kings: the Aristocracy in Charlemagne’s Reign,” in Charlemagne: Empire and Society, ed. J. Story (Manchester, 2005), 92–93. Menalcas appears in Virgil, Ecl. 2, 3, 5, 9, and 10. 314 See previous note on v. 2.

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The Poems and may Nemias315 fill cups with Greek wine: he always has a cask with him!316

Carm. 27 (Dümmler 246–247) To Charlemagne and His Son This brief hexametrical poem asks Christ to grant longevity and protection to Charlemagne and to one of the royal sons. There are perhaps echoes of Horace, carm. 3.1.4, “I sing for boys and girls” (virginibus puerisque canto) in the diction of v. 1, “every boy and girl,” (omnibus . . . pueris . . . puellis). This goes to Alcuin’s sense of the importance of Charlemagne as an exemplar to the rising generation, much as Horace stakes out in Odes 3.1 a moral exemplarism for “boys and girls” in a Rome already corrupted by Horace’s time.317 Duchesne edited the poem from the St Bertin manuscript as vv. 1–13 of his carm. 222, which concludes with carm. 23 (vv. 14–51), presumably reflecting the St Bertin manuscript from which he worked, or Duchesne’s misreading of it.318 Forster rightly separates the pieces, printing carm. 27 as his carm. 229.319 Royal prince: take every boy and girl to your breast, be vigorous down the lengthening days, Christ grant you happiness—to live year upon year— and the joys of a kingdom that cannot end. Praise, glory, life, redeemer, Christ, protect the world in every hour and year, forever, for all. Christ keep David, much beloved, down the years, joyful, happy, guiding us to our wonts. “Amen,” we must say in response, all of us, everywhere; soft one, kind one: pity us, the lowly ones, we belong to you, a pastor who is loveable. Christ reward you—you!—down the days. Now is the time to thrive again; forever flourish as time unwinds!

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315 Nemias is the biblical Nehemiah = Eppinus or Eberhard, the court cupbearer. Nehemiah rebuilt Jerusalem during the second Temple period and was governor of Judea under the Persian king Artaxerxes (465–424 B.C.E.). 316 Godman, Poetry, 121n51 understands this verse to provide an “abrupt” ending to the poem and therefore considers the poem lacunose. But the images of eating and drinking tug readers back to the images of vv. 12ff., where doctors deal with eating and drinking as part of their cures. Too, the idea of celebrating courtly society by concluding with images of drink makes good, rather than abrupt, sense. The poem seems complete as it stands. 317 On Horace and Alcuin, see Garrison 261–268. 318 Duchesne, col. 1731. 319 Forster 228.

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Carm. 28 (Dümmler 247) To Leo Holding the Apostolic Seat at Rome Written in hexameters, this encomium for Pope Leo III begins with a catalogue of vocatives both global, “Highness” (pontificalis apex; v. 1), and local, “pastor (like an apostle)” (pastor apostolicus; v. 3), affirming the insuperability of Leo as a figure bestride the world in ways large and small. As Alcuin’s praise-pieces often do, carm. 28 concludes with a plea that the pope not forget the friend who has composed this poem for him, thus securing his authorship.320 The poem was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 252, where it is titled “To Leo Holding the Apostolic Seat” (Ad Leonem Sedis Apostolicum). Dümmler added “Roman” (Romanae) to the title, translated as follows; Forster prints it as carm. 225.321 To Leo Holding the Apostolic Seat at Rome Highness, leader, priest, bishop loved by God, teacher holy as the saints, pastor (like an apostle), mighty Leo, pope, be well. Radiancy, splendor of the Church, glory of the Roman people, powerful hope of salvation to them, to their home: uniquely learned, in name and deed a star, celebrated the world over, a monument to virtue. May unending God, who founded the world most tenderly, and His incomparable heir, who saved us all, wrap you in His arms, govern your safety as time falls out; in His tranquility let Him proffer times that favor you, help you convert the crowd to the dogmas of Faith, send you, happy, on your way, through the manifold gift of your work to see that face forever, blessed, enthroned, perched on the clouds, arm in arm forever with Peter, first apostle, happy under the vaulting sky, with Christ, with His nourishing praises. Leo, acclaimed far and wide, rule the kingdoms of the West like a teacher, let letters fly, signed with your holy name, over land and sea, countries and kingdoms, cities, 320 Thus Burghardt 17. 321 Duchesne, cols. 1737–1738 (mislabeled as 1757–1758); Forster 227.

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The Poems rattle the crowds as they read words that make them pure. Don’t let death’s weeds pollute life’s seeds: let Heaven’s milky wheat grow from your mouth that all of God’s people might happily live. Let them be glad to hold Heaven’s realms with you unendingly, ceaselessly, let God in His highness thunder assent, like a gift. Live happy in God—happy—unendingly, live: you are the world’s golden light, salt of the earth, safe haven, glory of the church, a crown of glistening gems. Keep Albinus in mind; may Christ’s grace forget you not, protect you, holiest bishop, in and out of time.

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Carm. 29 (Dümmler 248) To an Anonymous Bishop(s) Both poems gathered by Dümmler as carm. 29 are addressed to unidentified figures. Carm. 29.1, two elegiac couplets, is a prayerful plea to a bishop/ friend, called carissime . . . praesul (“Bishop, dearest,” v. 1) and dulcis amor (“sweet love,” v. 3) whose well-being presently concerns the poet, who enjoins his friend at the poem’s conclusion to remember him. Duchesne edited this piece from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 254; Forster numbers it carm. 245. Carm. 29.2, uniquely two hexameters followed by an elegiac couplet, seems to be a poem composed to accompany a letter, perhaps addressed to the same figure mentioned in 29.1, who, in addition to praesul (“bishop,” v. 1), is now called sancte pater (“holy father,” vv. 2, 4). Duchesne edited this piece as his carm. 255; Forster, as carm. 246.322 Duchesne prints 29.2.2 as if it were a pentameter. Burghardt suggests that the addressee of 29.2 might in fact not be the same figure, but, by the same token, there is nothing to suggest otherwise. The metrical oddity of 29.2 would certainly support at least the separation of the hexametrical vv. 1–2 from the subsequent couplet forming vv. 3–4. If 29.2 is comprised of lines that once were part of a missive sent in real time, they could reflect verses imbedded in it or contained in its covering, while not necessarily joined to it.323 Dümmler presumably organized 29.1 and 2 under the same number not least because of the repetition of praesul, “bishop,” the final word of the initial lines of both pieces.

322 29.1 and 2 = Duchesne, col. 1738 (mislabeled as 1758); Forster 232. 323 On tying and covering letters, see as follows, 271–272 on carm. 83.2.

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1 Bishop, dearest, for me let Christ keep you from harm (no exceptions), in His meekness, always present, this is my prayer. My sweet love, my heart has lips that sing you like a song; you: be mindful of me; you: prevail without break.

2 Bishop: let no hand but yours untie this letter; holy father, open it, read it happily. Open it, if you wish to know its secrets, still: no hand but yours, holy father!

Carm. 30 (Dümmler 248) To Paulinus of Aquileia and Concerning Einhard Carm. 30 is in two parts: 30.1 is an elegiac couplet addressed to Paulinus of Aquileia, while 30.2 is a longer poem composed in hexameters that concerns but is not addressed to Einhard. Duchesne edited both from the St Bertin manuscript as one piece, his carm. 256; Forster also keeps the verses intact and prints them as his carm. 242.324 On thematic, not to say metrical grounds, Dümmler’s separation of these poems seems sensible, while it is also easy to agree with Burghardt that 30.1 at one point provided the conclusion to a letter or comprised the wording of the covering to one. Since it is copied out in the St Bertin witness with 30.2, the couplet might have, in fact, provided the covering for 30.2, sent in real time along with a letter of some sort to Paulinus.325 Born around 775 in the valley of the river Main, Einhard was initially educated at the monastic school at Fulda, and then was sent by Abbot Baugulf to the Carolingian court for further training, where he eventually came under the tutelage of Alcuin. A close adviser and confidant of Louis the Pious, Einhard eventually grew weary of the political intrigues animating life under Charlemagne’s successor and retired to Seligenstadt, where he died in 840.326 Einhard’s most famous work is the Life of Charlemagne, a

324 Duchesne, col. 1738 (mislabeled 1758); Forster 231. 325 Burghardt 260; Dümmler 248n3 first suggested thematic similarities between 30.1 and the concluding verses of epis. 95 (Dümmler 139–140); see also below, carm. 83.2, 271–272 on tying and covering letters. 326 Duckett, Alcuin, 106–108 offers a portrait of Einhard at court.

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biography of the king written between 814 and 821 and modeled, in part, on Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars. In 30.2 Alcuin plays on the fact that Einhard was short, not least by comparing him to nard and calling him “Nardulus,” a diminutive of nard that is similar in sound to “Einhardus.” In epis. 172 (Dümmler 284–285) and at carm. 26.21 (previously, 166) Alcuin also calls Einhard “Bezeleel,” after the Old Testament craftsman,327 owing to Einhard’s ability to craft accomplished poetry and prose. On Paulinus, see the previous, 152–153.

1 Letter, quick, say hello to father Paulinus, say: “Father Paulinus, sweet friend, be well!”

2 A small door, a small person, are in this house! Reader, don’t turn your nose up at nard because it’s small, pungently it wafts across the grass’ head. The tiny bee brings sugary honey to you. Look: the pupil of the eye is small, yet powerful enough to make us move. So it is with Nardulus, master of this house: reader, go, say to the world: “You, Nardulus, Shorty, be well!”

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Carm. 31 (Dümmler 248–249) To Macarius (Richbod) Written in elegiacs, carm. 31 was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 258; Forster numbers it carm. 247.328 Alcuin names himself in vv. 3 and 14, securing his authorship. The poem brings into its orbit Adalbert of Ferrières, the “dark” figure of v. 4, mentioned also in carm. 56 (as follows, 213–215); and, in v. 9, the monks (Bergenses) associated with the monastery of St Peter, Berg, near modern-day Liège.329 In the poem’s penultimate couplet, Alcuin enjoins these monks to attend to the Decalogue (haec praecepta decem); that is, the ten commandments, though possibly, as Dümmler thought, the brief commentary on them, the De decem verbis legis, sometimes ascribed 327 Exodus 31:1–11; 35:30–35; 38:22–23. 328 Duchesne, cols. 1738–1739 [1738 mislabeled as 1758]; Forster 232–233. 329 Forster 232 note x reports Mabillon’s identification of the monastery, repeated and accepted by Dümmler 249n2.

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to Alcuin (previously, 19).330 If carm. 31 accompanied a letter (cartula), as v. 11 seems to suggest, it is otherwise unknown. Given by Alcuin the nickname “Macarius,” Richbod was associated with the monastery of Lorsch in the years prior to his arrival at Charlemagne’s court, where, during 778–784, he met and was taught by Alcuin.331 The literary record witnesses the development of a close friendship, betokened not least in Alcuin’s admonitions concerning Richbod’s seemingly excessive love for Virgil.332 In 784, Richbod returned to Lorsch to assume that monastery’s abbacy. In 792, he assumed a second abbacy at Mettlach and was made the first archbishop of Trier. He held these offices simultaneously until his death in 804. The resonances of the nickname Macarius lead in several directions. There are three figures so named. Macarius of Jerusalem was bishop of that city in the early fourth century, an opponent of Arianism, and present at the Council of Nicaea. He died ca. 335. Macarius the Alexandrian was an exemplary, hermetic figure who traditionally endured several extreme acts of mortification. He died ca. 405. Alcuin associates Richbod, on the other hand, with Macarius the Egyptian. This Macarius lived a long life (ca. 300–390) of ascetic renunciation and mortification. He was a disciple of St Antony and founded a monastic establishment that eventually drew thousands of adherents. The Vitae Patrum calls Macarius the “master of the monks,”333 a title that would make sense in application to Alcuin’s Richbod, since he arrived at the Carolingian court as a monk and left it in 784 to become abbot at Lorsch. I have sent these gifts to you, pastor, Macarius: prevail, unendingly with Christ, with His saints. Let Albinus hover in your mind; may the grace of Christ remember you. And you, my dark one, be white for God, my own dark one, why no word? How do you fare? Listen (all the same): may God be your every love, food and drink, shield and king, life, health; shout His praises evermore, and teach the monks of Berg (as I ordered): who pleases you most, let him sit at your feet. And in your good heart, night or day, I pray, 330 331 332 333

Dümmler 249n3 following Forster 233 note y. Bullough 345 articulates a plausible chronology for Richbod’s active life. As epis. 13 (Dümmler 38–39) makes clear. Bullough 345n44.

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The Poems clasp the Decalogue that my letter sings. Say these words (on my command) over again, and remember me: “Christ, don’t forget Albinus, your pauper.”

Carm. 32 (Dümmler 249–250) To Corydon In this poem written to “Corydon,” an otherwise unnamed student who seemingly has taken to drink and squandered his talents, Alcuin draws on Ecl. 2, written in the voice of the shepherd Corydon, who sings in Virgil’s poem of his unrequited love for Alexis. Godman senses in the poem’s lines a change in tone from “grandiloquent praise of the pupil . . . to mock bewilderment at his drunken misdemeanors.”334 Whether mock or not, Alcuin’s concerns in respect of his student’s drinking also seem to suggest a tension between the more worldly life of the priest that his student has become (“Corydon is a priest,” presbyter est Corydon, v. 34) and the monastic life from which this student came and to which Alcuin, as his teacher, would have him return. The playful tmesis of v. 3—Te cupiens apel—peregrinis—lare camenis, with the verb appellare cut by peregrinis—is difficult to duplicate in English335 but perhaps is meant to suggest the sobbing of the teacher in grief over his student’s demise or to make readers visualize the way in which student and teacher are separated, which gulf is lessened only through poetry. It could also represent the drunken speech of the wayward student. This elegiac piece was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 259; Forster numbers it carm. 263.336 Think of it: plucked from ravening waves, your own Albinus had arrived, this time thanks to God, cloud-enthroned, merciful. Longing to call to you with exotic songs, Corydon, ah, Corydon, friend, sweet enough for me. Wherever you flew through the looming halls of kings, like a bird dipping wing on white-capped waves: you sucked books of wisdom like baby’s milk, like sacred breasts, with your lips.

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334 Godman, Poetry, 122; see also J. I. McEnerney, “Alcuini carmen 32,” in Proceedings of the Patristic, Medieval, and Renaissance Conference, eds. J. C. Schaubelt, J. Reino, and P. Pulsiano (Villanova, PA, 1986), 43–49. 335 Though Godman, Poetry, 123, v. 3, manages to do so. 336 Duchesne, cols. 1739; Forster 235.

The Poems You grew older, grew used to solid food devoured in your heart, drank Falernian unmixed, tapped from olden stores, nothing escaped your mind then, whatever in their antiquity the Fathers had seen, your noble genius saw all things, the words of God were open to your speech, your voice filled sacred haunts. I hear them still: your learned tunes, like a poet of old, you beat the ancients at their game: what of those songs? Your head, your heart had sung, but now words fail: why do they fail? Words fail you because you are weak (perhaps?), or (as I think), Corydon, do your words doze? Once a scholar, Corydon dozes! Dumbstruck: drunk! I hate you Bacchus! You muddle sacred understanding, you shut off Corydon’s words. He wanders drunk now in his haunts, forgets Albinus, forgets himself. To Father, arriving, there are no songs to say hello; still, listen: farewell. “Corydon, you’re a bumpkin!” Luckily, like a prophet, Virgil said this once: “Corydon, you’re a bumpkin.” But Ovid said it better still: “Corydon is a priest!” To Corydon, evermore: be well.

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Carm. 33 (Dümmler 250) For an Altar Doubtless based on the fact that vv. 1–4 are a prayer to Christ, while vv. 5–10 are a prayer for an altar, otherwise unidentified, Dümmler prints carm. 33 in two unnumbered parts corresponding to these gatherings of verses. Presumably reflecting the witness of the St Bertin manuscript, Duchesne prints them as one piece, his carm. 260, to which he adds as a conclusion the three distichs that make up carm. 41 (as follows, 184–185). His carm. 260 thus comprises sixteen lines, vv. 1–10 in hexameters, the rest in elegaics. Forster groups these lines as carm. 206 but separates the hexametrical vv. 1–10 from the elegiacs that follow.337 However one wishes to affiliate the ten hexameters that comprise carm. 33, Dümmler was correct on metrical, 337 Duchesne, cols. 1739–1740; Forster 225.

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not to say thematic, grounds to separate the elegiac carm. 41 from them. His decision to separate vv. 1–10, on the other hand, is explicable but not definitive. The repetition of the phrase qui tibi vota ferant . . . laudis (“let them offer you votives of praise”), which falls in vv. 3 and 8, two lines after the poem’s start and two lines before the poem’s end, strengthens the idea that these lines form a single inscription with two addressees but whose focus overall is Christ. At 33.2.1, Dümmler sensibly supplies lector, “reader,” for a lacuna left unresolved by Duchesne and Forster. Alcuin’s authorship is confirmed by his name in the final line of 33.2. A future editor of Alcuin’s poetry will need to revisit the decision to print carm. 33 as two pieces (as follows, 436–449). Enthroned in the clouds for all time, prop us up: Christ, hear the prayers of those serving you, souls bowed, let them offer you votives of praise, as you scatter endless life like a peaceful gift. Reader: for God each one pours tears at this altar; don’t push me out of your mind: for I have sung songs of Christ. Hear the prayers of those who serve you, Christ: lingering on the altar, let them offer you votives of praise, give us good gifts, full of heaven and salvation. Reader of this song: remember Alcuin (so I pray).

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Carm. 34 (Dümmler 250–251) To an Unknown Bishop The first couplet of carm. 34 articulates Alcuin’s request that an otherwise unnamed bishop stay with him for the night, while the remaining five couplets offer a prayer for the continued well-being of the poet’s domus. Owing to this shift in topic and addressee, Burghardt thinks the initial couplet of carm. 34 is a separate poem.338 Presumably reflecting the witness of the St Bertin manuscript, Duchesne edits the six couplets together as carm. 262; Forster, as carm. 248.339 The poem is written in epanaleptic distichs, with the initial wording of the hexameter reprised in the conclusion of the pentameter. In the repeated phrasing of vv. 3–4, o me cara domus (“my home, honey-like”), Burghardt rightly hears echoes of carm.

338 Burghardt 19, 228–229. 339 Duchesne, col. 1740; Forster 233.

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23, o mea cella (“o my cella”; previously, 160–162). By naming himself in v. 2 Alcuin affirms his authorship.340 Bishop, much loved, I pray: stay here for the night and keep Albinus in mind, Bishop, much loved, I pray. My home, honey-like, a sweet living-place, much loved, be happy until the end of time, my home, honey-like. May the Fathers’ holy wisdom abide in your care, learned in your haunts, the Fathers’ holy wisdom. Prevail, be vigorous, famous, unendingly, in these gifts, in growing wisdom, prevail, be vigorous. No bumpkins must dwell under cover of this place, keep your distance from here: no bumpkins! Protect you, rule you, Christ’s grace without end, with Christ’s comrades: protect you, rule you.

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Carm. 35 (Dümmler 251) To an Unknown Bishop Composed in epanaleptic distichs, this poem is perhaps written to the bishop addressed in carm. 34, not least owing to the similarities of the poems’ initial lines. The possibility that “patriarch” (patriarcha) in v. 9 might designate Paulinus of Aquileia, so called in carm. 20 (previously, 156–157), is lessened by the epithet, “famous boy” (puer inclite, v. 15), hardly applicable to Paulinus, who was as old as or older than Alcuin. Presumably, the poem is, instead, addressed to a former student or, at least, someone younger than Alcuin who is (or at one point was) involved in the monastic life. Duchesne edited carm. 35 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 263; in Forster’s edition, it is carm. 249.341 Bishop, much loved, I pray this letter goes with you, be mindful of father, Bishop, much loved, I pray. Sweet love to me, my son, keep safe down the years, until time fades away, may Christ be sweet love to you. On your lips (never stop!) salvation’s decency sounds, Christ’s praises sound on your lips (never stop!). Deep down, in contemplation, in what you do: mete out solace to wretchedness,

340 Burghardt 229–230. 341 Duchesne, col. 1741; Forster 233.

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The Poems never stop loving Christ, deep down, in contemplation, in what you do. To the crowd be a father, pastor, patriarch, priest, To the poor, to the downtrodden, to the crowd be a father. Exalting the church, you make salvation wholly beautiful, leader, you see all, exalting the church. May God’s grace, on high, all around, be your comrade-in-arms and add to your just deserts, God’s grace, on high. Say (my demand) hello forever, to your brothers, famous boy, to Albinus say (my demand) farewell forever. Happy days impend for us, for you, forever, happy days impend. Care for me, and may Christ care for you (in every haunt): care for me, as I care for you.

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Carm. 36 (Dümmler 251) To an Anonymous Figure As carm. 265, Duchesne prints this brief elegiac piece from the St Bertin manuscript but joins it with carm. 38 (as follows, 180–181), forming a twelve-line poem of two elegiac couplets and eight hexameters that presumably reflects the St Bertin witness; Forster prints the same twelve lines as carm. 235.342 Clearly distinct thematically, not to say metrically, from carm. 38, Dümmler rightly prints carm. 36 as a separate poem. Burghardt thinks the verses once functioned as a metrical conclusion to a letter no longer extant whose content, were it known, would clarify the meaning of the poem.343 Perhaps the addressee is the angry figure recalled in carm. 22 (previously, 159–160), now withholding forgiveness in order to goad the poet to write. In v. 2, Alcuin uses the epithet, sospita dira, applied by Virgil to Juno, in her fury, to further qualify the anger of the poem’s addressee; thus, the appearance of Juno in the translation. The powerful image of the goddess attempting to drown Aeneas in the opening of the Aeneid is recalled here in respect of the Muses that may suffer, on Alcuin’s view, for his recipient’s intransigence and also affirmed in the images of Moses parting the Red Sea.344 A riddle-like ending helps to cement Alcuin’s devotion to the addressee, while acknowledging the larger and unarticulated stakes involved. The sound-play encouraged by Moses/Muses furthers the poem’s intimacy. While Alcuin’s authorship can only be surmised, there 342 Duchesne, col. 1741; Forster 230. 343 Burghardt 263. 344 Juno is otherwise to the Romans Juno Sospita; she threatens Aeneas at Aen. 1.34–123.

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is something of his verbal artistry in the poem’s opening line, Quae cupis, ut veniat, venias nec carta caveto, that exploits words and their sounds in ways typical for him. Not least, the repetition, not to say alliteration, of veniat, venias organizes the middle of the line, with three words preceding (Quae cupis, ut) and three words following (nec carta caveto), while the initial hard “c” of these words (two on either side of veniat, venias) makes their alliterative placement all the more emphatic. Stinting forgiveness won’t bring the letter you seek: don’t let Juno drown your Muses. When Moses’ stick pounded the sea apart, did he also cut his heart in two?

Carm. 37 (Dümmler 251–252) To Angilbert and Charlemagne Carm. 37 is preserved without title in Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Rep I 74, f. 62v-63r, dating from the ninth century. Duchesne, working from the St Bertin manuscript, prints it identically as carm. 270, as does Forster, as carm. 231.345 Vv. 1–8 are written in epanaleptic distichs, while vv. 9–22 revert to normal elegiacs. The turn in elegiac form corresponds to a shift in the poem’s addressee, prompting Burghardt to propose dividing carm. 37 into three smaller poems: vv. 1–6, addressed to Angilbert (Homer); vv. 7–8, addressed to Charlemagne (David); and vv. 9–22, which he thinks form a metrical conclusion to a letter for which vv. 7–8 provide an introduction.346 The shifts of addressee and meter make credible Burghardt’s sense that these lines should be separated, but it seems difficult to think, as Burghardt does, that Alcuin would be bold enough, in vv. 7–8, to tell Charlemagne what he must say. Any future editor of Alcuin’s poetry will need to contend with Burghardt’s views (as follows, 436–439). Schaller offers an alternate understanding of these lines, reading vv. 7–8 as the conclusion to vv. 1–6, in which Alcuin orders (dic, dic, “say it again and again”) Angilbert to convey his—that is, Alcuin’s—greetings to Charlemagne.347 He thus understands the verses that follow (9–22), to comprise an epistolary poem conveying those greetings, introduced by vv. 1–8. On this reading, it is possible to argue for the integrity of the poem as preserved. If read as one piece, the shifts in elegiac forms, corresponding with shifts in addressee, acknowledge differences of rank, power, and esteem, but also 345 Duchesne, cols. 1742–1743; Forster 229. 346 Burghardt, 266–267. 347 Jullien and Perelman, Clavis, 51.

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go to the discrete functions of the opening verses addressed to Angilbert and the longer poem they introduce, written to Charlemagne. Alcuin names himself in v. 8, making his authorship unproblematic. On Angilbert, see the foregoing, 150–151. Be well, sweet Homer, be strong as time winds down, always, unendingly, sweet Homer, be well. In our hearts let sweet delight abide, let Christ abide in our hearts. Light, life, the way, our redemption, let Christ be loved, Christ, be our light, life, the way, our redemption. Endlessly, the world over, sweetest David, prevail—say it again and again— Flaccus is in love with David, endlessly, the world over, prevail. My sweet love, David, prevail down through time, I covet your presence endlessly, when you let me sing the Muses’ words (and join in) or spy stars that scrape the firmament like glitter; when I study the nobility of ancient cadences with you, or steal into the olden fathers, as a shiver runs down our spines, pondering sacred sayings that will forever set us free and whisk us above the stars. This is salvation, authentic wisdom—nothing else— who loves this endlessly is God-beloved, who gave kingdoms, may He give eternity’s demesne, and eternity’s unbroken life and its bliss. Let Christ, only goodness, please us beyond all pleasures, directing, shielding the days that remain.

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Carm. 38 (Dümmler 252) To Charlemagne and Two of His Daughters Carm. 38 is preserved without title in Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Rep I 74, f. 63r, dating from the ninth century, where it is copied out as a poem in eight hexameters. Presumably reflecting the witness of the St Bertin manuscript, Duchesne edited carm. 38 as his carm. 265, the first four lines of which are the elegiac carm. 36 (previously, 178–179), whose conclusion the hexametrical carm. 38 provides (vv. 5–12), forming a twelve-line poem; Forster prints the same twelve lines as carm. 235.348 Distinct thematically

348 Duchesne, col. 1741; Forster 230.

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and metrically, Dümmler rightly separates the elegiac from the hexametrical lines. The rhetorical playfulness of carm. 38 sometimes steps on immediate clarity. I understand binas in v. 3 to mean “two daughters,” reflective of the gifts of children and of songs (carmina) that Christ/God supplies to Charlemagne. In the poem’s second half, then, these two daughters are each addressed, in v. 5, “my daughter” (mea filia) and v. 6, “most famous daughter of David” (David subolis clarissima). Alcuin concludes with the hope that all three are well, daughters and king. As the poem reaches its conclusion, the poet fully exploits those features of his rhetorical arsenal, not least repetition and alliteration, that make this among the more unique of Alcuin’s authentic pieces. David gave Albinus a burden of gifts: let Christ burden David in just the same way. Christ adds songs to song—and two daughters: without end let good God exalt every gift. Daughter, my own, let God make you burst with gifts, and let the brightest girl of David’s brood also bloom unendingly with gifts—everyone, happily bloom! Greetings, be well, be strong, farewell—all of you: goodbye!

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Carm. 39 (Dümmler 252–253) To Bertha Preserved without title in Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Rep I 74, f. 63r, dating from the ninth century, Duchesne edited carm. 39 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 264; Forster, as carm. 234.349 Composed in hexameters, the poem is addressed to Charlemagne’s daughter, Bertha,350 (filia, v. 1), whom Alcuin calls Delia (v. 11),351 a name that evokes Tibullus’ lover, and, through her, the theme of the amator exclusus, the shut-out lover.352 The connection is by way of contrast, since Tibullus’ Delia protects her poet, whereas Alcuin’s Delia has seemingly ignored him to such an extent that he has lost all poetic inspiration and departs in the face of a storm that presently rages. (vv. 2, 4). But, as Alcuin goes on to say (vv. 5–7), Delia 349 Duchesne, cols. 1740–1741; Forster 230. 350 Bertha figures also in carm. 12 (previously, 143–146) and 40 (as follows, 183–184). 351 Dümmler 253n2, identifies Delia as Bertha or Gisela, but Garrison, “Social World of Alcuin,” 71nn36, 37, affirms that Bertha is the figure meant. 352 On Alcuin’s use of Tibullus see M. Garrison, “Alcuin and Tibullus,” in Poesía Latina Medieval (siglos V-XV): Actas del IV congresso del “Internationales Mittellateinerkomitee,” Santiago de Compostela, 12–15 de Septiembre de 2002, eds. M. C. Diaz y Diaz and J. M. Diaz de Bustamante (Florence, 2005), 749–759.

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can make good on her slight by doing the poet’s present bidding; that is, by praying for Regenbert, Bishop of Limoges.353 The necessity for prayer on Delia’s part is seemingly owed to Regenbert’s imposition of excessive tithes on the churches and priests of St Martin and environs, the details of which are reported in epis. 298, addressed to Regenbert (as follows, 390–391). The letter betrays no confidence that Regenbert will halt the collection of these exactments and makes clear Alcuin’s view that the bishop is acting outside the bounds of his authority in imposing them. Regenbert thus needs Delia’s prayers, as Alcuin puts it, in order to be “saved” from pursuing this policy further, while those of the bishop’s underlings who enforce it will be spiritually lost, as vv. 8–9 suggest, an outcome epis. 298 affirms by means of a quotation owed to Acts 8:20. Still, Alcuin holds out hope for Regenbert: the scriptural tag from Matthew 10:8 that Alcuin cites in epis. 298 explains to the bishop the spiritual inaptness of his exactments, while the conclusion to carm. 39 depicts Regenbert apart from the crowd of those collecting them, persevering in his episcopal work with a wisdom betokened by his snowy head. This view of Regenbert is furthered in v.10 in light of diction found there that evokes the figure of Drances, whose hair is described in identical terms by Alcuin at carm. 26.23 (previously, 166). This image, in turn, tugs readers to Aen. 11.336 ff., where Drances appears as one who, in Turnus’ condemnation of him, thinks rather than fights. This presumably betokens the gist of the prayer Alcuin would have Delia invoke, viz., that Regenbert ponder carefully the stakes involved in this dust-up over the relationship of spirit and money, the hope being that he will think before offering resistance to Alcuin. The poet identifies himself as Flaccus in v. 1. Daughter, since you paid no attention to your Flaccus, your poet decided to go away (poor me), shivering from top to toe, a verse of Virgil scarcely hovering under breath,354 wild winds goading me with snow, relentless gloom. Still, atonement is possible, if you can muster prayers to save Master Regenbert, to protect this powerful bishop, your patron. Let his underlings run to ruin,

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353 Dümmler 252n2 and Duckett, Alcuin, 94–95, agree on identifying the figure named in v. 6 as the bishop of Limoges. Garrison 252–255 offers two plausible readings of carm. 39: one in which Regenbert is a positive figure; another in which he is a figure of reproach; either reading requiring emendations to Alcuin’s Latin. 354 Duckett, Alcuin, 94, understands Alcuin in this line to write to Delia in jest to say that he finds comfort for her neglect of him in the poetry of Virgil.

The Poems 183 wielding axe, sledge, and shovel,355 let him persevere, alone in his white-haired work. All I ask is that you bring him around; be well, my Delia, without end.

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Carm. 40 (Dümmler 253) To Charlemagne and Bertha Without title, carm. 40 is preserved in Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Rep I 74, f. 63v, dating from the ninth century. Duchesne edited these thirteen hexameters from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 261; in Forster, they are carm. 233.356 The storm imagined in the opening of carm. 39 would seem also to animate this poem, but Alcuin adds, in carm. 40, details to the snub he otherwise describes in general terms in carm. 39; most notably, that, despite the present tempest, he was not asked to remain at court with his patrons. For this reason, the poet reports, he departed, sad, weary, and hungry (vv. 1–5), understanding the snub to mean that Bertha and Charlemagne, called by their pseudonyms, “Delia” and “David,” are no longer interested in the poetry he normally provides (v. 9). But the passing of the storm and the return of the sun, perhaps heralding a wider change from winter to spring, mean that the power to compose will return to Alcuin, just as poetry will make a triumphant return to court. The “swirling” (ruit, v. 1) that describes the wintry storm of the poem’s initial verses symbolizes in the poem’s concluding lines Alcuin’s newfound engagement with poetry in a fresh season of light and warmth (ruet, v. 12).357 Alcuin’s hexameters are energized by several allusions to the poetry of Virgil. The initial line of the poem, for example, “snow, sheets of sleet, swirled down the heights” (nix ruit e caelo, gelidus simul ingruit imber), would seem to be owed in part to Aen. 12.284, “the iron rain breaks in” (ferreus ingruit imber). This poignant moment in the concluding book of Virgil’s epic, marking the beginning of the final battle between Aeneas and Turnus that will lead to Turnus’ demise and Aeneas’ victory, suggests the violence of the present storm while portending the more positive outcome Alcuin goes on to imagine. In the same way, the wording of v. 9, “David and Delia don’t care for songs” (carmina non curat David, nec Delia curat), 355 In addition to 1 Chron. 20:3 and 2 Sam. 12:31, my student Jacob Ihnen points to 1 Cor. 9:10 or Is. 41:15–16 as further possible sources of these symbols, none of which are positive. 356 Duchesne, col. 1740; Forster 230. 357 E. V. Thornbury, “Aethilwulf poeta,” in Latinity and Identity in Anglo-Saxon Literature, eds. R. Stephenson and E. V. Thornbury (Toronto, 2016), 54–72, esp. 59–60, discusses Alcuin’s identity as a patronized poet and offers a translation of carm. 40; see also M. Lapidge, Anglo-Latin Literature, 600–899 (London and Rio Grande, OH, 1996), 62–64 with a translation in n84.

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would seem to take shape in part from Virgil, Ecl. 2.6, “you care nothing for my songs” (nihil mea carmina curas) and from Ecl. 8.103, “he cares nothing for songs” (nil carmina curat). The first linkage takes readers back to an early moment in the second Eclogue, in which Corydon bemoans the fact that Alexis does not seem to care for his compositions. These words thus help Alcuin to articulate the feelings of abandonment and emotional isolation owed to his patrons’ seeming indifference. Similarly, the line from Ecl. 8, falling near the end of Virgil’s poem, links Alcuin’s sentiment to Alphesiboeus’ condemnation of Daphnis for not seeming to care for the gods or for songs—a sentiment that ramifies the neglect Alcuin laments in his present circumstances. Both moments draw on features of pastoral that Alcuin would seem to emphasize: poetic competitions that point up his own performances at court that, for the moment, are unwanted; the connection of poetry to strong feeling; and the affiliation of poetry and nature. Snow, sheets of sleet, swirled down the heights, but for Albinus there was no one to say: “wait in town on the storm, let the sleet slacken, stoke your soul in Parnassus’ gurgling warmth.” Stomach growling, old, sad, your poet went away: gloomy boys mourned Flaccus in a song. The pipe in winter stills itself of airs, tongue-tied, stammers a paltry line, just this: “David and Delia don’t care for songs.” Yet, when Phoebus returns the sun to us, when Flaccus’ olden power returns, he will swirl down to David, more happily in the Muses’ words: health, life, peace for David then, amid wordy musical wars.

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Carm. 41 (Dümmler 253) To Gisela Carm. 41 is partially preserved in the ninth-century Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Rep I 74, f. 63v, where vv. 1–3 are followed by a blank folio with which the manuscript concludes. Duchesne edited the poem from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 260, where it is joined with and provides the concluding six verses to carm. 33 (previously, 175–176). Forster prints these lines as one poem, carm. 206, but separates the two pieces with a blank line.358 Written in elegiacs, the addressee of carm. 41 is Gisela, Charlemagne’s sister, among the more 358 Duchesne, cols. 1739–1740; Forster 225.

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accomplished and important members of the royal circle by dint of talent and in token of her proximity to power. As he often does in his letters to her, Alcuin instructs Gisela in carm. 41 in spiritual matters, specifically enjoining her to avoid the pitfalls and allurements of the present day and to turn to Christ instead and always. The tone and topic of this piece, not to say the letters sent to her, make better sense when readers understand that Gisela was not living strictly, if at all, in a monastic setting. The advice otherwise would be churlish.359 The first half of the poem’s final pentameter is lacunose, though the sense of the line is clear enough.360 My sweet love, sister, celebrated without end, hello: remember to pray for your brother (just you). Revile the pleasures that haunt the day, spectacles, treasures that flit away: as a lesson, learn this through and through. For you, Christ be love, power, praise; Christ remain all things. Without end let Christ be on your lips.

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Carm. 42 (Dümmler 253–254) To Charlemagne Written in elegiacs, carm. 42 is preserved in two ninth-century manuscripts, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 14089, f. 93r-v, and Erfurt, Universitätsbibliothek, Bibliotheca Amploniana, Fol. 10, f. 100v. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 268; Forster, as carm. 230.361 The poet names himself in v. 18 (Flacci). The poem dramatizes what its opening lines describe, viz., the plucking of flowers of eloquence from the storehouse provided especially by Virgil, whose half-line from Aen. 6.535, roseis Aurora quadrigis (“dawn [with] . . . ruddled chargers”) is plucked and planted by Alcuin in his first verse.362 Such “transplanting” of eloquence, as Alcuin goes on to say, involves 359 Contrary to the opinio communis, Gisela was not Abbess of Chelles, nor even closely associated with this monastery apart from her role as patron. Gisela’s abbacy is, in fact, Mabillon’s invention, by whose authority Dümmler so describes her in many of his summaries of Alcuin’s letters to her. In none of those extant letters does Alcuin identify her as abbess, nor do any contemporary writers of annals, charters, or letters. On Gisela’s identity, see J. Nelson, “Alcuin’s Letters Sent from Francia to Anglo-Saxon and Frankish Women Religious,” in The Land of English Kin: Studies in Wessex and Anglo-Saxon England in Honour of Professor Barbara Yorke, eds. A. J. Langlands and R. Lavelle (Leiden, 2020), 355–372. 360 Dümmler 253n6 notes that carm. 20.36–38 offer some clues as to what Alcuin intended, if not wrote. 361 Duchesne, col. 1742; Forster 228–229. 362 P. D. Scott, “Alcuin as a Poet: Rhetoric and Belief in his Latin Verse,” University of Toronto Quarterly 33 (1963–1964): 248–249, treats these initial verses and translates vv. 1–6.

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Charlemagme’s approval, both in terms of the florilegia chosen and respecting the King’s eventual judgments concerning the students’ (pueris; “boys,” vv. 6, 9) mastery of olden words. A concern of the poem’s concluding verses, on the other hand, attends to Charlemagne’s wise judgment in recognizing that the poet has not purloined older words, as some poets do (vv. 13 ff.), in order to plagiarize, but rather, has chosen them in order to teach eloquence. Of course, this declaration is complicated by the figures Alcuin mentions in affirming his worry; for Entellus and Dares tug readers back to Virgil, Aen. 5.362–484, and thus, dramatize the act of purloining that Alcuin otherwise rejects. To that complication can be added an understanding of Alcuin’s use of Dares and Entellus as an act of self-defense, to which the verb defendere (“wrap your arms around,” vv. 11, 18) points. Entellus, recall, is the aged Sicilian champion who, against his will, boxed with and defeated the much younger Trojan, Dares. In epis. 145 (Dümmler 231–235), addressed to Charlemagne, Alcuin calls himself “old Entellus” in a letter that derisively rejects younger scholars’ thinking on the calculations of the so-called saltus lunae and the beginning of the new year.363 Alcuin thus assumes in this letter the role of “old Entellus” in order to assure the king that, though away from court and retired, he is still able to defeat his younger opponents, when necessary, in scholarly competitions. The same sentiment seemingly animates the closing lines of carm. 42. Much like the younger scholars at court who have botched their calendrical work, those whose poetic zeal gets the better of them in dealing with olden words must be defeated.364 Entellus may also provide a pun on clientellus, a term Alcuin uses more than a few times to describe himself in respect of the king. When dawn runs red, ruddled chargers dazzling, her new light soaking the glassy sea, an old man swipes his thumb, shatters sleep from night-bound eyes, breaks out of a coverlet-jail, and runs headlong into olden fields, grabbing flowers for the boys, to plant new lessons on eloquence. David, brightest judge, a sweet love tendered these lessons to you, hoping your piety might approve,

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363 Garrison 241–244 offers further details on this letter. 364 M. Albieri, “Jerome, Alcuin, and Vergil’s ‘Old Entellus’,” Journal of Medieval History 17.2 (1991): 103–113, argues that, rather than the Aeneid, Jerome’s letter to Augustine (epis. 102) is the source of Alcuin’s nickname. Both are likely in Alcuin’s mind. Veyrard-Cosme, Tacitus Nuntius, 148–161 more fully considers Jerome’s presence in Alcuin’s letters.

The Poems if they be judged worthy for your boys to learn by heart, to pass on to you, wisdom’s prop. Wrap your arms around your poet, tenderly, as before (thus I pray): for I have sent small and prayerful gifts to you. There are many who wish to purloin words, rather than credit to the world the words they’ve said, confusing eagerness for wisdom, tainting the sweetness of the olden bards. King: may your wisdom’s bounty resist their kind: wrap your arms around old Flaccus’ few words. Let them remember young Dares and father Entellus, lest the praise they covet make things worse. May Christ’s grace fill you with unending gifts, King, our praise and glory: flourish in and out of time.

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Carm. 43 (Dümmler 254–255) Verses to Leo, Apostle of the City of Rome Duchesne edited carm. 43 from the St Bertin manuscript, where it bears the title, Versus eiusdem ad Leonem Apostolicum Urbis Romae, printed (without eiusdem) by Forster, who numbers the poem carm. 226.365 The poet names himself in v. 44. The poem heralds the incomparability of Leo, using more than a few epithets found also in carm. 28 (previously, 169–170) to praise the Pope, including “Highness” (pontificalis apex; v. 1; carm 28.1), “pastor (like an apostle)” (pastor apostolicus; v. 2; carm. 28.3), “splendor of the Church” (decus ecclesiae; v. 7; carm. 28.4), and “praised roundly” (laus mundi; v. 7; carm. 28.17, translated there as “acclaimed far and wide”). In addition to offering Leo’s praises, Alcuin attends, in carm. 43, to the ways in which the pope’s zeal for acting in the world affiliates him with the company of saints. The depredations suffered by the martyrs mentioned in v. 33 might go to the attack upon Leo in 799 (previously, 149), in which the Pope narrowly escaped with his life, the resolution of which was eventually brought about through Charlemagne’s intervention. As Alcuin notes in vv. 39–42, the poem was sent to Rome by a messenger (“boy;” puer) on behalf of the archbishop of York, Eanbald II (re. 796–808). It is written in elegiacs. V. 23 is corrupt and the translation adds some words to make the thought of the line complete. On Leo, see the foregoing, carm. 15, 149–150. 365 Duchesne, cols. 1745–1746; Forster 227–228.

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The Poems Highness, first priest in the world, pastor (like an apostle), Leo, pope, be well. Father, venerated by the people, acme of honor, incomparable, ensconced in the holy city, rightly so, learned far and wide. Sowing, growing justice, you covet the goodness that redeems, duty-bound, staunchly so, only truth on your lips. Splendor of the Church, praised roundly, clergy’s glory, we follow your lively example, a species of salvation, mightily so; let God, standing outside of time, proffer countless years, happily: then you’ll add more upon more to the holy flock, accept praises, rewards, meant only for you, sacred priest, until time winds down in the holy city of peace. Let the dogmas of God’s law be revived, world over, in thought, in action, sacred priest; like the olden fathers when they roamed the world: their words now make scripture sing; may the honor of their goodness be feted world-wide, their names are written on high, the world chants them in an unstopped song: the Church was built by such folk. These are the deeds, the eagerness, of a pastor potent in the world: to the talents entrusted to him he has added more upon more— no doubt! The fullness of time hastens its hunt, as the sacred poets once sang, like prophets: God, who judges from the heights is vigilant about our lives: He wants to give us our just deserts. In fidelity let the servant embrace what he is owed: happily he walks into God’s final bliss. Holy father, you will hear the company of saints sing your praises: your fame will fill Heaven’s demesne, you will come into blessedness then for the goodnesses of your life; but in the here and now, for you, may life be soft. Martyrs have scorned countless depredations to occupy Christ’s blessed, heavenly place. Pastor, happy, you walk in their footsteps sacredly, blessedly learned, with goodness, urging the glory of Heaven, in its endless bounty,

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The Poems to accept you, to let Christ and the saints embrace you. Bishop Eanbald, a lover of your goodness, sent this boy bearing trinkets; Kind Leo, let your goodness take him up to be your own (my plea): my son, but your servant, like Albinus, who sent this poem to Leo the great, father, shepherd of the Church.

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Carm. 44 (Dümmler 255–257) To Wizo Carm. 44 is preserved in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 795, f. 199r-v, which copies the poem to v. 35 inclusive. Forster prints vv. 1–35 as reported in the manuscript under Carmina Dubia, as Ad Candidum Romam Abeuntem, and relegates the poem’s remaining seventeen verses to Addenda et Supplenda, carm. 9,366 where they were copied out from the ninth-century Regensburg manuscript—now lost. Wizo was likely born before 770 and traveled to the continent in 793 on the recommendation of Higbald, Bishop of Lindisfarne (d. 803) in order to study with Alcuin. After Alcuin’s retirement to Tours in 796, Wizo spent part of his time there with his teacher and divided the rest of the year between Salzburg to stay with Bishop Arn (previously, 153–155), and the court at Aachen.367 To Wizo are ascribed the so-called Dicta Candidi presbiteri de imagine Dei, a gathering of passages attending to the Trinity, the nature of God, and the application of logic to theological problems; and the De passione domini, a commentary on the passion as depicted across the gospels.368 Carm. 76.1 includes Wizo as one of several recipients, styled “sons” by Alcuin (nati, v. 9). The pseudonym Candidus is a calque for Wizo,369 “wise one” in Old

366 Forster 457 [= vv. 1–35]; Forster 613–614 [= vv. 36–52]. 367 Duckett, Alcuin, 229–230. 368 J. Marenbon, “Candidus [Hwita, Wizo] (fl. 793–802), theologian,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, online https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/61649, accessed 12 September 2021, treats these and several other works possibly from Wizo’s hand; several of them, including the Dicta Candidi, are discussed and edited by him in Marenbon, From the Circle of Alcuin, 152–170; see also his “Alcuin, the Council of Frankfort, and the Beginnings of Medieval Philosophy,” in Das Frankfurter Konzil von 794: Kristallisationspunkt Karolingischer Kultur, Akten zweier Symposien (vom 23. Bis 27. Februar und vom 13. Bis 15. Oktober 1994) anläßlich der 1200-Jahrfeier der Stadt Frankfurt am Main, ed. R. Berndt, 2 vols. (Mainz, 1997), vol. 2, 603–615; and, on issues of authenticity, F. Dolbeau, “Le Liber XXI Sententiarum (CPL 373): Édition d’une texte de travail,” Recherches Augustiniennes 30 (1997): 162–165. 369 Garrison 159–160 with n53.

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High German; or for Witto, which Wizo is sometimes also called, akin to “witta,” “white,” thus “Candidus,” “white” in Latin. Dümmler rightly notes that the circumstances animating carm. 44 go to a trip to Rome that Wizo made in the company of Arn of Salzburg in 798 or 799.370 This makes sensible the reference to Pope Leo III in v. 9 (“Father, first in the world”; primus in orbe pater), the descriptions of Rome found in vv. 7 ff. and elsewhere, and Alcuin’s wish near the poem’s conclusion to be given some relics of the saints. Alcuin reports in epis. 225 (Dümmler 368–369), written to Theodulf of Orléans, that Wizo was in Rome when Charlemagne visited the city in 800 to investigate charges leveled against the often-embattled Pope Leo III (previously, 149–150). Since Alcuin demurred when Charlemagne asked him to form part of his official mission to the pope, it may be that Alcuin sent Wizo in his place.371 Composed in elegiac couplets, the poem draws on the theme of the classical propempticon, the poem of safe-return (vv. 39–40). Candidus, carrisime, sadly my heart follows you; my prayer: that your heart holds me wherever you are. Sweet son, may God’s grace, and Christ’s, spilling out from the vaulted sky shadow you trekking through place upon place; through fields, forests, rivers, Alps, may it grant your journey a happy course, until a much-coveted day finds you in the hills of Rome, where the holy lintels of St Peter loom. Let Father, first in the world, gently bear to Christ, above Heaven’s steepled heights, your prayers, that trickle from the mouth of your heart, as you cry, lying prostrate at the altar of God. Then, through airy citadels with walls set to crumble, you will come to the place that belongs to Paul, to his goodness, then, heart-broken, grieve the sign, the murder of father, of son, taut on the cross. But then: Candidus, run like a wanderer through the churches of the saints, their devotee, with “praise be to God” ever on your lips, who conceded these patrons to the world, standing in Father’s heavenly demesne, before His throne,

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370 Dümmler 255n2; Garrison, 187n157, concurs; Marenbon, “Candidus,” places the trip in 799. 371 Duckett, Alcuin, 230, though in epis. 178 (Dümmler 294–296), written to Charlemagne, Alcuin seems to suggest that he felt no one could take his place.

The Poems their blood, ruby-red, conquered earthly realms, their decent shoulders carrying Christ’s cross. With soul bowed, ask them to come to you evermore, gently, in your prayers, ask without end. Let your tears drip forever for these pious dead, on the sacred stones that mark their sleep. My prayer: pay attention to the goings-on in the city, with pious comrades, soak it up, act properly at all times, and forget nothing: I expect to hear it all. Goad, be an example, through you make God’s sacred church bloom. And if the grace of clement Christ keeps you from the eyes of the Pope, ask for ashes, clothes, or (perhaps) some saintly hair or a joyful splinter of the sacred cross; let God hold us endlessly in His arms, in His goodness, everywhere, evermore. Do these things well (Christ allowing them), and return to father in triumph; now go, quickly! Don’t let Phoebus catch you lingering in the hall, wanderer, rise with Lucifer, rejoice. The flame-throwing sun, wind, cold, clouds: nothing hinders you on your hurried path to father. Love conquers all,372 swifter than the east wind racing, so go, hurry, fly, be quick: Jacob must see Joseph before his eyes,373 back home: then he can die in happiness. What more might my song say? Happy, happily, son, make your way on every path, God’s mercy allowing it. Let the creator grant all prosperity to you, beloved of your father, sweet son, prevail.

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Forster prints them as carm. 232.374 They were composed in honor of Charlemagne’s imperial coronation, which occurred on Christmas Day in the year 800. As often, the king is addressed as David in token of his political, spiritual, and intellectual exemplarity. To these excellences are joined verses that bring in Pope Leo III, whose local difficulties in Rome allow Alcuin to praise Charlemagne in specific respect of spiritual and moral resolve, and in token of the king’s role as one who metes out justice. In turn, Alcuin places Charlemagne in the company of Aeneas, averring that he must, in Virgil’s words, lift up the conquered but put down the proud (erige subiectos et iam depone superbos, v. 67 with Aen. 6.853). Yet, the articulation of spiritual and political power is never far from Alcuin’s mind, nor is the poet ambiguous about the primacy he assigns Charlemagne in ruling the church through the figure of the pope. The poem’s conclusion plays on the registers of epic diction and Christian teleology. The translation of empire from the Virgilian imperium sine fine to a Christian notion of “salvation without end” is emphasized here, in the same way that the old Roman imperium has been taken up by Charlemagne, who also in Alcuin’s rendering now holds an imperium over the church at Rome. May my pipe sound poems for David375 dear: David will be feted in a laurel-topped song. David: the people’s love; David: their praise and glory, splendor of the realm, hope and crown for his own. Muses: wend your way choir-like through Italy’s towns, shouting: “David always, everywhere, be well!” Let sky, land, sea, diamoned-voice, echo you; let the world say “life, health, honor to him.” Let Heaven’s holy flock long for this in prayers, let gentle Christ grant this from Heaven’s keep: that kind David live, rule, happily down the years, world-wide, to the folk’s acclaim! And when his life winds down to its end, let this fortunate king hold Heaven’s sacred realms with Christ. David: may my pipe sound these words to you: that you might read them with your usual care (my prayer). My heart, and this love song, follow you, chanting you, praising you, at midnight, at noon, on my knees at the altar of kind father Martin,376

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374 Duchesne, cols. 1743–1744; Forster 229–230. 375 “David” = Charlemagne. 376 Alcuin was appointed abbot of the monastery of St Martin of Tours, to which he retired in 796.

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look: my sobbing love demands all good things for you. Honored father:377 let mercy always run with you, justice’s glory, piety’s love, so that the folk might rejoice as you pass through their towns, all of them, everywhere as one, young with old. Best father of the realm: let your excellences come to us here,378 that your praise, honor, glory might endure. You are pater patriae, pastor of a noble flock: may the wicked fear you, may the pious love you; don’t let some folks’ evil intent snatch you from our side: they prefer what is theirs to yours, to the Lord’s. Rome, the world’s head, mount of incomparable honor,379 hides sacred gifts, like troves of treasure, but now grieves the gore of a ruptured womb; may her torn body soon be healed by you, so that the peace of like minds might guide father and folk:380 may their souls be as one whom one faith holds. Pious Peter bore them for Christ, confessed his love, bearing Heaven’s keys in the world, lest the water’s white-capped waves flood the land where calm waters used to flow. King: much in the world demands your correction, Ruler, Glory of the Church! Simony spreads, an all-around evil, God’s secret gifts are given as bribes,381 that He in his eternity freely intended for all, just as the giver freely takes them from Him; judgment now depends on a giver’s gift, that makes wizened men turn justice on its head: brimming with bribes, witnesses come into their cups,

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377 “Honored father” = sancte pater; the phrasing gestures toward an honorific of the pope, but goes to Charlemagne’s spiritual paternity over his realm. 378 Charlemagne is in Rome, while Alcuin remains in retirement at St Martin’s. 379 Vv. 31–36 are translated into German in B. Wolf, Jerusalem und Rom: Mitte, Nabel— Zentrum, Haupt, Die Metaphern “Umbilicus mundi” und “Caput mundi” in den Weltbildern der Antike und des Abendlands bis in die Zeit der Ebstorfer Weltkarte (Bern, 2010), 225–227; and the foregoing, carm. 26 (164–168), on the caput mundi theme (and here as follows, v. 63 where it is reprised). 380 “Father” = Pope Leo III; the “people” = the people of Rome; the reference is to the uprising against Leo in 799 that precipitated Charlemagne’s journey to Rome in that year. 381 When the mystica dona (“secret gifts”) are given out they become muneribus = “favors,” “gifts,” “prizes,” “presents,” etc.; hence, the sense of worldly contamination picked up in the English word “bribes.”

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The Poems wicked drunkenness means the case is dismissed! A clawing power crushes such suffering souls: they drink, that the rich might gain more wealth. Thieves swarm and steal without stint, for their friends are the avengers of crime! King: let your imposing sway hold such doings in check, for God made you ruler of the realm: your people are as a flock; you, brilliant herdsman to a singular brood, father looming over the land. As your nobility is second to none, so your wisdom, virtue, praises owed you, your honor, glory. The prayers of those held in thrall look, and look again, for you, waiting on the intentions of your kindly heart. Rome, the world’s head, gazes on you as defender, with father,382 with her people, with a gentle love of peace. May your sacred will covet their return to the gift of peace through God’s pius words. Lift up the conquered, put down the proud,383 that peace and piety might rule sacredly, all around. Shepherd, apostle-like, first priest of the world, through you let father rejoice with the folk.384 Let the ruler of the church rightly rule through you, King, let the hand of the Lord, powerful and great, take your helm, so that you might live happily, ruler world-wide, to do all of God’s bidding, advancing His cause. Let the airy angel coming from the sky’s citadel abide with you in dark and light, walk at your side, King, as you advance with success, evermore, protect you, rule you, as you wend your way home, that Francia is gladdened to take you up a victor, meeting you, heavy-handed with palms. May Christ, meekest author of the world, grant this, that you come with all speed, David, much beloved. And, holding every power, may Christ’s clemency grant that I see your face again in the world, and be glad. O father, shepherd, ruler, nurturing hope of your own, let there be for you life, and beyond it, salvation. Farewell!

382 “Father” = Pope Leo III. 383 The line is owed to Virgil, Aen. 6.853: parcere subiectis et debellare superbos. 384 Here “father” = Charlemagne, whereas “shepherd, apostle-like” = Pope Leo III.

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Carm. 46 (Dümmler 259–260) To Friducinus Carm. 46 is preserved in two ninth-century manuscripts, London, British Library Harley 208, f. 79r, and Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, n. a. l. 1096, f. 62r-v. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints it as carm. 282, under the title Ad Friducinum.385 He thought the poem’s addressee was the abbot of the English monastery at Wearmouth and Jarrow, to whom epis. 282 was sent (Dümmler 440–441). But the addressee of that letter is Friduinus, who is styled “father,” whereas, in carm. 46, Friducinus is called “son.” Dümmler doubts that the same figure is meant, since, on his view, apart from the slight difference in spelling, it can hardly be the case that one man could be to Alcuin both “father” and “son.”386 Nothing else is known of either figure, and no letters, apart from epis. 282, touch on either of them. The poem is in elegiacs. Send peaceful words, little letter, to Friducinus, my son, endless hellos as you run your course; say: sweet love of the father prevail without stint, in every haunt, with sacred holiness, with a richness that is good. Son, in places sacred to saints, tug Albinus, your faithful father, to mind, pray for him unceasingly. Be pious, placid, go, girded by restraint, wise in counsel, brawny in goodness, speaking the truth, faithful of heart, praising Christ with words dipped in duty. Painstakingly praying for the saints, lest their aid pass you by, feasting (but in moderation) with companions who love what is fair, princely to those in need, like a father to those who suffer. Defend your own haunts from pillage and crime, don’t let your own (by chance) be threatened by force. David said: “I did not see the righteous man abandoned, nor his child in need of sacred bread.”387 The pauper’s din climbs to Olympus’ throne:

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385 Forster 258. 386 Dümmler 259n3, who also reports Forster’s understanding. 387 The quotation is owed to Psalm 37:25: non vidi iustum derelictum nec semen eius quaerens panem.

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The Poems Christ will hear the poor man’s prayers. Don’t let your table smell of a thief’s loot, or your home reek of a wretch’s haul. Have a priest devoted to God at your table (often), one who serves Christ (little matter if he roves or is poor), not a wordsmith devoted to spewing hate, tossing words to your ears that must never be said.

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Carm. 47 (Dümmler 260) To Monna Carm. 47 is preserved in two ninth-century manuscripts, London, British Library Harley 208, f. 79v, and Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, n. a. l. 1096, f. 62v, immediately subsequent in both manuscripts to carm. 46. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster pairs it with carm. 46 and designates both as his carm. 282 but gives 47 the title Aliud Carmen ad Quemdam to distinguish it from 46, which he prints under the title Ad Friducinum.388 Monna, or Monn, was an English priest whom Alcuin styles “Monimagnus,” joining Monna’s Old English name, “Monn,” “man,” to the Latin magnus, “great.” Monna is, thus, a “great man.” Composed in hexameters, carm. 47 seems to be sent to Monna in token of a journey he is about to undertake to Tours (vv. 6, 8) and further afield (vv. 11 ff.) and brims with advice about living in the best ways no matter where Monna might find himself. In epis. 38 (Dümmler 80–81), the only extant letter to Monna from his hand, Alcuin calls his good friend “Anthropos”; that is, “Man,” a Greek calque of Monna’s Old English name. The poet identifies himself in v. 6 and styles Monna a “son” to whom he, the poet, is like a “father.” Monna is otherwise an unknown figure. Let the Muse swoop down to say hello to the great Man, to him, down the days, let God grant an endless hello. Let a crowd of hallowed saints about the world talk him up to Christ in prayers that never slacken (my prayer). At the coming-time let him come whole, son of father Albinus, let him come happy to the brightening city389 where holy Martin rests his blessed flesh. Christ’s grace permitting, stand before me (so I pray), but, son, serve God by acting parts that please Him, make his softness cover you over and again, 388 Forster 258. 389 Alcuin designates Tours by the phrase “brightening city” (praeclaram . . . urbem).

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The Poems let Him guide you with favor out in untried places, let His clemency lead you (gladdened) home again to me. Wherever you wander, whatever you do, examine the world with restraint, attend to your own salvation. My prayer: don’t drink too much, son, or feast—this does enough damage to the world! Gluttony, drunkenness bring illnesses that cuff: when a tree is burdened by poisoned fruits, an immoderate man eats the harm and grows ill. Speak the truth, speak of well-being, with restraint, eat, drink. May your heart be constantly awake in prayer, your discernment clean, praise the Lord in the haunts of sainted fathers.

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Carm. 48 (Dümmler 260–261) To Arn Carm. 48 is preserved in three ninth-century manuscripts, London, British Library Harley 208, f. 78v-79r, through v. 20; Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, n. a. l. 1096, f. 61r-v, through v. 16; and fully in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm 14743, f. 166v-169v. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints it as carm. 244.390 Alcuin emphasizes the power of poetry to celebrate the friendship that separation mars, enjoining his words to search for and find his “eagle,”391 in order to remind Arn of his love amidst the cares and contemplations of his friend’s growing responsibilities.392 Always in Alcuin’s view, too, is Arn’s salvation, which the poet fears will be left in the lurch as a result of his worldly concerns. The poem is written in elegiacs. On Arn, see the foregoing, carm. 18, 153–155. My poem: search the fields and mountains for Eagle, a priest of great name and merit. Find him out, and, if he’s well, sing to him a thousand psalms; for my sake say: forever be strong. Tell him: father, nurturer, don’t forget your teacher in holy-soaked prayers, in the sacred precincts of the blessed.

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390 Forster 232. 391 See the foregoing, 153–155 on Alcuin’s nickname for Arn. 392 The friendship is treated by M. Diesenberger and H. Wolfram, “Arn und Alkuin, 790 bis 804: Zwei Freunde und ihre Schriften,” in Erzbischof Arn von Salzburg, eds. M. Niederkorn-Bruck and A. Scharer (Vienna and Munich, 2004), 81–106.

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The Poems Say it on your knees in prayer, say it with tear-stained face, say: priest, blessed one, let justice wander from your lips. Resist the caresses of our age, their empty promise, the dread and panic in the hollow heart; time for a faith bursting with words like salve to grasp your heart, glutted with the love of God. Priest, let an untrammeled judgment prompt your words so that whatever sounds trip your tongue please Christ, whose breath, Bishop, must please your heart, haunt it, fill it, make it pure. God’s endless brawn must hasten your dread, not a mundane power taking shadowy flight. Let God, who judges insuperably, meting out just deserts, lay piety’s peaceful prayers upon your lips. Various are the dangers that fill our days to the brim— the holy fathers once sang of such times— the ages run down, customs, words, deeds, dissolve, life will turn its back on time. Day or month, night, hour, year, depart as they are wont—as water flows from the fountain’s stream. The sadness of days falls upon our joys: as night becomes the day that inevitably fades, of a sudden come joys and sadnesses, he flickers out who once had burned: all will cross over and away. Arn, father, while time is your friend, in contemplation, in writing and prayer, do those things that please God. Let a heart that holds His love like a flower sing Christ’s praises, preach the truth. Let all your actions be for the good and in every moment be chaste (doubly attractive to God). Do it: Christ the judge will be thoroughly pleased; do it: God will save you unstintingly. Bishop famous to the world, remember me, your teacher, (I demand no less) in prayers, in holy precincts, with your sacred tears, and proffering His softness from the heights, let Christ forgive me: my life, wicked, riddled with sins, demands it (hence, my prayer). Pastor without end, patriarch, priest, be well, Christ be for you love, light, the way, life, safety.

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Carm. 49 (Dümmler 262)393 The Story of the Rooster Written in hexameters, carm. 49 is preserved in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm 14743, f. 169v-171v, dating from the ninth century. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints it as carm. 278.394 While there are elements of earlier fabular material to be found in his version of the rooster and the wolf, not least from Aesop and from Phaedrus, Alcuin seems also to draw on postclassical versions of the story and to initiate a fair number of imitations written in Latin and, eventually, in the Western vernaculars, in succeeding centuries. To the fabular tradition, Alcuin adds a moralizing focus. In Christian terms, the rooster is associated with vigilance and with the heralding of the new light of day and, therefore, the Resurrection.395 Alcuin brings these associations to his depiction, but rather than a figure of Christian steadfastness, Alcuin’s rooster momentarily loses his focus, boasts of his own incomparable powers, and puts to the side the vigilance that otherwise keeps him safe. A wolf, ever watchful for such slips, quickly gets the rooster in his maw, and all is about to be lost for the bird. But the rooster’s vigilance comes with a modicum of cleverness, and, playing on the pride that moments earlier had led to his own downfall, the suffering bird begs the wolf to sing for him, averring that the wolf’s voice is famously harmonious, and pleading that he be allowed to die only after hearing it. The wolf succumbs to the rooster’s flattery, opens his mouth to sing, and allows the rooster to escape. From the safe perch of a high branch, the rooster reminds the wolf that pride often leads to hunger. A bird, the rooster, as its name goes, announces the light, scampers shadows on the land, knows time, ready to crow, rules chickens’ flocks in thrall to his power. God praises him for his intelligence (as He says):396 disrupting our time under darkened covers. It hurts to tell: once as a rooster was making his way, pecking for food, the roads’ narrows hemmed him in, seeking a meal, all alone, at a crossroad, crowing, over-bold, bursting with ego,

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393 J. Ziolkowski, Talking Animals: Medieval Latin Beast Poetry, 750–1150 (Philadelphia, 1993), 241, offers an English translation. 394 Forster 238. 395 Ziolkowski, Talking Animals, 47–60. 396 Job 38:36.

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The Poems he was snatched by a wolf lying in wait, felt the world closing in, yet he didn’t miss a beat, lighting on his wits to escape: “Wolf, I’ve heard rumors of you, mighty one, a tale strange to say: how your voice, brimming with strength, bellows a baritone like a crystalline chant. I don’t grieve being eaten by your cursed lips, only that I am cheated out of learning from you the truth of that strange tale!” The beast believed these words, head swollen, in thrall to the rooster’s praise, opened a throat stretching to Hell, lengthened his ravenous jaws, exposing a yawning, boundless craw. Of a sudden the winged first herald of light was free to leap up, fly, cling to a branch of a tree. In control of his destiny again, the bird soon bellowed this song from his branchy perch on high: “Who bursts with unfounded pride is deceived (rightly so), who is smitten by gossamer praises won’t eat, chattering meaningless words before meals.” This fable looks to those (whoever they be) who have lit upon salvation’s work, but who are robbed of it by vile tricks, listening to the breezes blowing lies, brimming with hollow gossip.

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Carm. 50 (Dümmler 262–263) To Aethelheard Composed in elegiacs, carm. 50 provides the conclusion to epis. 311 (as follows, 391–393), written early in the ninth century to Aethelheard, Archbishop of Canterbury. The poem is preserved with epis. 311 in the seventeenth-century Cambridge, Trinity College 1468 (0.10.16), pp. 144– 147 (no. 104), letter = pp. 144–146, poem = pp. 146–147; and in two eleventh century manuscripts, London, British Library Cotton Tiberius A XV, letter = 123r-124r, poem = 124v-125r, (with damage); and London British Library Cotton Vespasianus A XIV, letter = 154r-v, poem = 154v-155v. Duchesne and Forster don’t know the poem, nor does Forster print epis. 311. Given its length, careful development, and shared themes, it is proper to consider poem and letter as an opus geminatum, with prose and poetry “twinning” each other.397 On Aethelheard see the foregoing, carm. 10, 139–142. 397 In addition to epis. 17 and 311, Aethelheard is the recipient of five letters from Alcuin’s hand: epis. 128 (Dümmler 189–191); epis. 230 and 231 (Dümmler 374–376); epis. 255

The Poems Priest of priests, Aethelheard, father, be strong: may the All-powerful grant only good things to you; you have walked Christ’s teachings: be the glory of the church, distinctive in duty, succinct in speech. Be large of hand, happy of heart, Christ tripping off your tongue, be piety’s love, egregiously good. Who comes to you: let him leave ever happy: for penury be hope, for suffering be solace; on their way to a heavenly repose, be a leader to the people of God, that they might follow you up to the firmament’s end. With green words, root seeds that swell, that faith might burst in living hearts. Let Lucifer breaking against the night light you up in word and deed. Resist the allurements of this age, the charms of power that silence Truth. Let no king nor judge nor dear friend exclude piety from your sacred lips. This present life briefly runs until death quickly hastens its silent gait, its bony fingers scratching the door of life, snatching, bearing away, all you clutched. Hold that disagreeable day in your mind like a presentiment lingering in dark or light, so that Christ descending from the heights finds father watching over his demesne—finally blessed, and happy on that day to hear the fostering voice of God, gladdened for all you did: “Servant, beyond death, bursting with faith, come into the blessed realms of an ageless father.” And don’t forget me on that day; say: “Softest Christ, pity Albinus the pauper now” (this is my prayer for you). Now I see a presentiment of myself, gliding in the hours of my life,

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(Dümmler 412–413); and epis. 290 (448). Alcuin mentions Aethelheard in epis. 101, l. 5 (Dümmler 147–148), addressed to King Offa of Mercia (re. 757–796); epis. 129, l. 24 (Dümmler 191–192), addressed to the people of Canterbury; and epis 232, l. 29 and l. 4 (Dümmler 376–378), written to Eanbald, Archbishop of York (d. 796). A handful of letters, with generic episcopal addressees, are perhaps intended for Aethelheard, too, including epis. 130 (Dümmler 193); epis. 256 (Dümmler 413–414); and epis. 291 and 292 (Dümmler 449–450).

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The Poems whenever God’s peaceful day might come—whenever. Listen: with a devoted heart and kind prayers help me on my way to Christ.

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Carm. 51 (Dümmler 263–264) To Hrabanus Maurus, Einhard (?), Benedict of Nursia, and Anonymous Monks Hrabanus Maurus was born ca. 780 and studied at Fulda398 but, in 802, that monastery’s abbot, Ratgar, sent the promising student to Tours in order to be further trained by Alcuin at St Martin’s. Student and teacher had cultivated a friendship by letter prior to Hrabanus’ arrival, and their devotion is witnessed in the nickname “Maurus,” given to Hrabanus by Alcuin, the name of St Benedict’s dearest student. In addition to the association with St Benedict, Alcuin may have chosen this moniker as a calque: “Maurus” means “black” in Greek and thus accords well with the color of a raven, the meaning of Hrabanus—“Hraban” or “Raban”—in Old High German.399 Hrabanus taught briefly at St Martin’s after Alcuin’s death but returned to Fulda, where, in 822, he became abbot, resigning his post in 842 in order to devote more time to his scholarly projects. The world intruded in 847, however, when Louis the German (802–876) appointed Hrabanus to the archiepiscopal seat in Mainz—a position of influence and of no little difficulty, given the increasing turmoil enveloping the Carolingian empire by the middle of the ninth century. Hrabanus continued at his scholarly projects nonetheless, writing prolifically on theological and exegetical topics. He also produced a body of important poetry, including, most famously, the In honorem sanctae crucis, a cycle of twenty-eight carmina figurata, written between 810 and 814, comprised of intricate picture-poems that take the Holy Cross as the symbol of an all-encompassing history.400 This ambitious project, as much a visual as verbal work of art, was urged on by Alcuin, as epis. 142 (Dümmler 223–224) makes clear.401 Hrabanus died in 856.402 398 The history of Fulda is well-documented, on which, see J. Raaijmakers, The Making of the Monastic Community of Fulda, 774–900 (Cambridge, 2012). 399 Garrison 172. 400 See M. Perrin, ed., Rabani Mauri In honorem Sanctae Crucis, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis, vol. 100 (Turnhout, 1997). 401 On the collection see D. F. Bright, “Visual and Textual Structures in Hrabanus Maurus, In honorem Sanctae Crucis,” in The Classics Renewed: Reception and Innovation in the Latin Poetry of Late Antiquity, eds. S. McGill and J. Pucci (Heidelberg, 2016), 380 with Chazelle, The Crucified God, 75–131. 402 On Alcuin and Hrabanus, see A. Classen, “Alkuin und Hrabanus Maurus: Zwei Gelehrte der karolingischen Renaissance,” in Künstler, Dichter, Gelehrte, eds. U. Müller and W. Wunderlich (Constance, 2005), 805–824.

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A gathering of six poems, carm. 51 was preserved in the St Bertin manuscript, from which Duchesne edited them presumably as they were copied out there, as six successive pieces, his carm. 166–171.403 Forster prints 51.1 as carm. 279,404 with the remaining five pieces falling in succession as carm. 250–254. The collection, so-called, is clearly monastic in character, and given Hrabanus’ presence in at least one of these pieces, and perhaps Einhard in a second, it has been surmised that these brief compositions are affiliated with the monastery at Fulda, but nothing can be said about their provenance with certainty.

1 Alone of the six pieces written in hexameters, this brief poem presumably formed the covering of a more formal letter of recommendation on behalf of an otherwise unknown “boy,” whom Alcuin puts forward to his monastic brethren. Read these words and say (so I ask): Christ, keep Alcuin! Well-born, beloved brothers, furthering father’s posterity: my soul, stoked in kindness, sent this boy. Take him up!

2 These three elegiac couplets are addressed to Hrabanus, the “Maurus” of v. 1, Alcuin’s nickname for Hrabanus. Boy, Maurus, blessed to Benedict: Albinus the poet sang poems for you composed in bantam lines, a yawning faith in my soul wishes you every gain, to live evermore, everywhere, happily, in God. Pour prayers to the Thunderer on my behalf (as your piety is wont): make Christ snatch His own servant from harm.

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3 Composed in elegiacs, these lines playfully seem to attend to monastic tonsuring, but the addressee is unknown. 403 Duchesne, col. 1709. 404 Forster 238 [= 51.1]; 233 [= 51.2–6].

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The Poems Cut your hair, not your goodness, be strong, vigorous, in and out of time (my prayer). And while you pour tears for Christ in Benedict’s hall, remember, sweet friend, that I am yours.

4 The addressee of these two elegiac couplets, called nate, may be Einhard (previously, 171–172), a figure always associated with Fulda. You, son, more noble, prevail—I pray with a heart faithful to you that you don’t forget to pray for me. Snippets of books don’t harm their handler if his mind seeks the heights in the love of grand God.

5 These elegiac couplets are addressed to a group of monks. Alcuin commends himself to their collective prayers after enjoining them to follow the examples of the fathers. You, faithful men, brothers, fathers, be well, may God, who does all things, embrace you, guide you. Wholeheartedly observe the olden fathers’ commands, with hand, mind, soul (my prayer). My plea: commend me to Christ in pious prayers, make Him forgive my sins on every side.

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6 Composed in elegiac couplets, this poem honors Benedict of Nursia (d. 547), author of the monastic rule that bears his name, whom Alcuin enjoins to protect monks everywhere. Peerless pastor of monks, Benedict, prevail, your words fathered them into the world, prayerfully guide them now. Let learned men pray before God’s throne, as they are wont to do, with words each fathered for the Lord. Then you will have brought them, Father, nurturer,

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to the sanctuary of God, cloud-enthroned, according to their just deserts. Pray for your own monks on every side, make your flock grow, father, beloved. The larger the flock, the greater your glory. Look: you must save your servants by being good.

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Carm. 52 (Dümmler 265) To an Anonymous Friend Written in elegiacs, carm. 52 was edited from the St Bertin manuscript by Duchesne as carm. 160,405 where it follows a series of inscriptions composed for the monastery of St Hilary of Poitiers. The St Bertin witness may indicate that the anonymous addressee of the poem, called “brother” (frater) in vv. 5 and 9, was affiliated with this abbey. Forster edits the poem as carm. 257.406 Alcuin names himself in v. 20, using the nickname Albinus that he regularly employs in compositions attending to monastic settings. His addressee, about to embark on a journey, is commended to Christ’s safekeeping, while assured of Alcuin’s enduring devotion. The poem is corrupt at v. 12. The final three couplets, vv. 19–24, are separately copied out, with minor changes, as carm. 55.3 (as follows, 210–211). Let an angel dashing down from heaven guard you without end: sweet friend, be on your way. My soul follows you, bursting with love, heart-felt, coveting every bounty for you. Brother: Christ made you my friend; let Christ, without stint, keep you safe for me. Of a sudden we were equally father and son: be glad for our shared prosperity. Brother, sweetest one, you, you have left my sight; my heart grieves with a burden of pain (so I plainly say). How near you are I don’t know; yet to see me is to see you— you abide; All that I have heard is “rejoice”! Still and all, hold me present without end (here I am, with my prayer), and I will ceaselessly hold you present, father. God, be present to me, to you, in the gathering of time, 405 Duchesne, col. 1707. 406 Forster 234.

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The Poems God, be good, lenient, glory, life, save us! God’s love, in goodness, here joined two friends, let Him yoke us again, heaven-sent, in jubilation. Brother, friend, take these little lines with you (as I ask), to remember Albinus, your unceasing friend. Through plains, hills, forests, and rivers, go, but look: Christ ever hovers about your path, be well, always, in the prayers of the saints, without end, now and evermore, sweet friend, be well.

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Carm. 53 (Dümmler 265) To an Anonymous Friend These fourteen hexameters were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 161; Forster numbers them carm. 258.407 Addressed to an unknown monastic friend (“brother;” frater, v.1) about to undertake a journey, Alcuin hopes for his safe sojourn and return. On dictional and structural grounds, Burghardt doubts the authenticity of this piece.408 Brother, run the beautiful road with its narrow course, as it tugs you back to the hall where the Lord’s roof vaults: there, perhaps, your feet can stay clean, the blue-sky rain won’t drench your hair, the wind doesn’t threaten, no hail-borne storms, 5 no fear of stolen clothes, of beastly maws: no bear, tiger, lion, or boar pair up, wander in; no crowned serpent strikes you walking near; you are more than safe as you make your way to bed. So: sound godly praises on your lips, 10 bear Christ the good in your soul’s respite: let Him guide your movements, your thoughts, what you say, may He be leader, path, ruler, your love and protector (everywhere), sweep you away, whisk you back all whole.

Carm. 54 (Dümmler 266) To Credulus Carm. 54 is preserved in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 234r-v. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints 407 Duchesne, col. 1707; Forster 234. 408 Burghardt 157–158.

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it as carm. 264.409 Written in Adonics, the addressee is called Credulus, in Latin “devoted,” “faithful,” “trustworthy.” The figure meant is most likely one of Alcuin’s Anglo-Saxon students, and the relationship evinced is one of warm intimacy shared between spiritual father and son. Nothing else is known of Credulus, although he does appear briefly in the conclusion to epis. 233 (Dümmler 378–379), in which two friends, Calvinus and Cuculus, are asked to bring Alcuin’s greetings to him. For purposes of rendering Alcuin’s Adonics in ways that gesture toward poetry, I have re-arranged the Latin phrasing in what follows, while retaining the original number of lines. See n. 411, as follows, for a line-by-line rendering that accords with Alcuin’s original phrasing. Credulus, my son, my dear, I will sing sweet praises to you now in a two-footed song: truly, be well! Let Christ be for you peace, strength, the way, always, everywhere, be fully in His love, I pray for it, see! May He protect you ever more, every minute, every hour, so that nothing can bring you hurt. Stooped old age firmly moves in: a head’s crown shows signs of white, proof, perhaps, that death is near: be prepared— I pray for it, see— to go to the One-of-Every-Power, with your heart on fire! 409 Forster 235.

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The Poems Peace always to you, Credulus, son, dear, faithful, first in a father’s affection, a disciple sweet in love. You hoard sacred wisdom, like an ark of faith, a trumpet of life, a herald of salvation, first of your brood.410 For the folk let your voice climb Olympus’ highest gates, opening the temple of light, where kindly praises echo to Christ. Let this song be on your lips (so I ask), in your heart, and remember father, (so I beg), and be happy always, forever. May the grace of Christ, the glory of heaven, accompany you with perpetual life, peace to you ever more.411

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410 Primus in aula = “first in the hall;” presumably the chapel or court with which Credulus is affiliated in England. 411 Here is a line-by-line rendering: Now, in a two-footed signs at the top of a head herald of salvation, song, praises show white and prove first in the hall! Credulus, that are sweet, that death For the folk let your voice to you, my son perhaps is near: open Olympus’ my dear, I will sing: 5 be prepared— 25 highest gates, 45 truly, be well. I pray for it, see— and the temple of light, Always, everywhere, to go where praise to Christ for you let Christ be to the all-powerful One, resounds in kindness.

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Carm. 55 (Dümmler 266–269) To Anonymous Friends/Inscriptions Carm. 55 gathers ten poems copied out in succession in the lone manuscript that records them, the ninth-century Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 19410, pp. 51–54, with the interpolation of six verses between 55.2 and 3 rightly excised by Dümmler. Duchesne doesn’t know these poems. Forster prints only 55.1, as his carm. 259.412 As a group, these pieces are among the more intimate of Alcuin’s output. Jaeger reads carm. 55.1 and 4 against a homoerotic backdrop.413 Carm. 55.3 is nearly identical to carm. 52.19–24 (previously, 206). The addressees throughout are individual friends or groups of friends, presumably in monastic contexts. Carm. 55.6, 7, and 9 are likely inscriptions or gesture readers toward viewing them as such. 10 is incontrovertibly an inscription, but not from Alcuin’s hand. The proximity of these pieces in Munich 19410 to a gathering of inscriptions strengthens the idea that these folios in the manuscript represent some sort of epigraphic collection, perhaps centered on Roman examples (see the following on 55.10). Excepting poems 2 and 4, written in hexameters, the poems gathered here are elegiac.

1 In addition to Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 19410, p. 51, which copies out the ten poems in the series in succession but lacks the final couplet of 55.1, these twelve elegiac verses are also recorded in two other ninth-century manuscripts, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 14311, f. 225v-226r; and Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek peace, the way, strength. rejoicing at heart. I ask that this song Full in love 10 Peace to you always, 30 be on your lips, sing it, 50 of Him be, dear, faithful hold it in your mind, I pray for it, see. Credulus, son, and remember You, always, first in affection father (so I beg). may He protect, of the father, Be happy, every hour, 15 a disciple 35 always, forever. 55 every minute, sweet in love. May you be accompanied so that no one to you You are a hoard by the grace of Christ, can bring harm. of sacred wisdom, the glory of heaven Stooped old age the ark of faith, with eternal life, firmly comes on: 20 and trumpet of life, 40 peace to you always. 60 412 Forster 234. 413 C. S. Jaeger, “‘Seed-sowers of Peace:’ The Uses of Love and Friendship at Court and in the Kingdom of Charlemagne,” in The Making of Christian Communities in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, ed. M. F. Williams (London, 2005), 77–92; see also his Ennobling Love, 43–50 with Bullough 110–117.

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808, f. 232r, where these lines are copied out between carm. 109.15 and 18 (see as follows, 347–349), inscriptions written for the monastery at Salzburg. Forster prints these lines as carm. 259. The poem praises the durability of friendship amid the allurements of the world. In v. 12, Alcuin identifies himself as “Albinus,” the name he often uses in compositions for monks or monasteries. A sweet love sobs for a vanished friend, the land pulls away, keeps him hidden, a devotion hard to find among men cast this friendship, the world impends with a thousand complications: he alone will abide in my soul. Silver is inferior, tawny gold less precious, he gleams more brilliantly than all the world’s plunder. The lone desire of my mind covets him, seeks him out, for itself, to seize him, cradle him, revere and worship him. Think of it: you’ll be joined to me by an immense adoration, you, my mind’s repose, you, my sweet love. God save you until time recedes; and don’t forget your Albinus evermore, everywhere. Goodbye.

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2 These hexameters witness a close friendship grounded in intellectual mentoring and spiritual resolve. When comes the season of love that I covet, that day when I might see you again? Boy, revered by God, sparkling with studies, live on, be well, in every happy way, as time runs on, surrounded by goodness, decency, wisdom, always, For you let dignity, refinement, Christ’s praise and glory, abide.

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3 These elegiac couplets celebrate friendship as the poet says farewell to a comrade about to undertake a journey. With some minor changes, these lines are identical to carm. 52.19–24. Brother, friend, take these little lines with you, remember me (my plea), for I am your friend without end.

The Poems Through plains, hills, forests, and rivers, go, but look: Christ ever hovers about your path. Unendingly, be well, through saintly prayers, evermore, and now, evermore, sweet friend, goodbye.

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4 These six hexameters seem to provide a conclusion to a longer, now lost, poem. Vv. 1–2 are akin to carm. 20.43–44, addressed to Paulinus of Aquileia (previously, 152–153), and to the two verses which form the conclusion to epis. 9, addressed to Adalhard of Corbie (Dümmler 34–35). The poem articulates the longing of friendship that separation engenders. I will end my poem with welling tears, but I will never end my heart’s one love. Dearest, I wrote this poem with welling eyes, let Christ, the good, staunch the flow414 so that I can see your face again: on that day I will be whole.

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5 The speaker of this elegiac poem enjoins God/Christ to protect him as he sleeps, a sentiment that perhaps affiliates these lines with an inscription for a monastic dormitory. God, protect me lying in this bed (my demand), keep me safe in your shadow as I sleep in the hall, don’t let some dead-of-night thief sneak in, God, be what you alone can be (as I hope): Christ, be at hand to your servants all over the world, be steadfast, guardian, a good king and father.

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6 These elegiac lines, perhaps, are an inscription for a monastic refectory or a wine cellar. Trusty guest, send your servant to me, sweet friend, if you want wine that comes more sweetly. 414 I understand Alcuin to use the diminutive, ocellus, here to indicate eyes swollen from excessive crying.

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The Poems My prayer: be a happy man in this hall, venerated, hastening to you I will bring sweet wine. Yet I will talk of wondrous things, meted out, rightly so, believe me, since drinking wine isn’t allowed.

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7 These three elegiac couplets seem to continue in the vein of 55.6, forming perhaps an inscription for a monastic refectory or for placement over an individual table in it. The sentiment is for those eating to be satiated of body and soul after suffering the privations of hunger and thirst. Christ, be present, bless the meals taken up now, let those dishes fill your servants to the hilt. You feed our bodies and souls (we seek it), with food laced in sweetness: nourish us, invigorate us, evermore. For your generosity had given food and drink to your people, parched, wandering, rightly seeking it.

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8 These three elegiac couplets call for a servant-boy to kindle a fire as a storm of hail and snow blows down on a monastery. Boys, it’s cold, snatch some leaves from the woods; see: there’s snow, and the hail rains down. Hurry, wood up the fire, single-mindedly, if you wish to warm your arms and legs at the hearth. Make the bellows blast crowds of air, warm these shivering monks with a blaze (my prayer).

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9 These lines, written in elegiacs, seem to be an inscription composed for the safekeeping of a monastery or perhaps a monastic church. My prayer: let this sacred house abide, let it be a safe haven, Christ, speak blessings down on it. Fire, lightning can’t lay it low, it isn’t tormented by laziness, hardship, lack of food, nor demon breezing by, nor gathering of lying thieves: my prayer: may only goodness and safety abide in this place.

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10 Immediately subsequent to carm. 55.9, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 19410, p. 54, copies out five elegiac verses taken from the sepulchral epitaph for Pope John II (d. 535), and following the witness of the manuscript, Dummler edited these five lines as carm. 55.10, not knowing they formed part of a twelveline papal inscription.415 He rightly posited a lacuna after v. 5, since this incomplete epitaph is followed in the manuscript without break by six rhythmic verses that comprise an inscription presumably at one time part of Rome’s monumental landscape, treating of Christ (v. 1), the Virgin Mary (v. 2), and a chorus of martyrs and virgins (vv. 3–6). These verses mark a shift in the manuscript from poems properly forming carm. 55 to a gathering of Roman inscriptions, and the proximity of Alcuin’s poetry to them may owe something to Alcuin’s wish to send back to Carolingian ecclesiasts copies of Roman inscriptions collected in various syllogae.416 Any future editor of Alcuin’s poetry will, perforce, need to remove carm. 55.10 from the corpus (see as follows, 436–439). Alive in the goodness of his heart, fattened in Christ’s hall, rejoicing in the ease of being good, alluring in his willingness to follow, filled with a crystalline love, living in peace, by the law of tranquility, beloved of the people, worthy of high honor.

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Carm. 56 (Dümmler 268–269) To Adalbert of Ferrières and Others Carm. 56 is three brief poems, gathered by Dümmler under the same number.

1417 These seven hexameters are preserved in two ninth-century manuscripts: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 14614, f. 15r, which forms the conclusion of a letter written by Candidus (epis. 39; Dümmler 557–561), copied out at f. 8r-14v; and Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 13581, f. 122r, which falls at the end of Candidus’ letter, copied out at 415 E. Diehl, ed., Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae Veteres, Vol. 1 (Berlin, 1924), 186 prints the full inscription. 416 G. B. de Rossi, ed., Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae, Vol. 2, Part 1 (Rome, 1888), 286, no. 7, is the incomplete papal epitaph, and 8 is the Roman Christian inscription. 417 Vv. 1–3 are translated in Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 185.

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f. 118r-122r. Dümmler later thought better of his decision to include carm. 56.1 among Alcuin’s carmina, averring that, since they provide the conclusion to one of his letters, these lines should, in fact, be ascribed to Candidus. Dümmler chalks up the error to the fact that in Munich 14614 Alcuin’s commentary on Ecclesiastes immediately precedes Candidus’ letter.418 Given its place in Candidus’ letter, the poem should be removed from Alcuin’s corpus (see as follows, 436–439). An unnamed recipient, “that man” (illi) is mentioned at v. 7. Forster and Duchesne don’t print the poem. A time will come when brothers will mingle, when glad ones will cotton to jubilation. All things have their time: love be unendingly strong. Feed fathers and novices at Christ’s sacred bidding, toughen them to the taste of sweet words. Poem: be on your way, swift, girded by hellos, bear them all: say (I demand it) to that man alone: “untie me.”

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2 A three-line hexametrical piece, carm. 56.2 is preserved imperfectly in no fewer than ten manuscripts, of which most copy only vv. 1–2, lines that also provide the conclusion to epis. 174 (Dümmler 287–289), addressed to Charlemagne, where they are joined, in most witnesses, to carm. 75.2 (as follows, 261). The third verse of 56.2 is copied out in two manuscripts, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 13581, f. 125v; and Clm. 14614, f. 256r; and, on their witness, Dümmler prints the piece with three, rather than two, lines. Duchesne prints vv. 1–2 with carm. 75.2 at the conclusion of his epis. 11; Forster does the same at the conclusion of his epis. 80.419 Neither knows the third verse. The addressee of the poem must be Charlemagne, to whom epis. 174 is addressed, in which Alcuin thanks the king for informing him of Pope Leo’s latest sufferings and encourages him to make peace with the Saxons in order to better protect the church. From spiring Olympus, gingerly, may tender Christ guide you, rule and revere you, attend and adorn you, love you. Be tough now and green down through time (Christ deigning).

418 Dümmler 561n1. 419 Duchesne, cols. 1502–1503; Forster, Book 1, Part 1, 117–118.

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3 These two elegiac couplets are preserved in the ninth-century Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 14614, f. 259r. Duchesne and Forster don’t print the poem. At some point before 796, Alcuin assumed the titular abbacies of the monasteries of St Peter at Ferrières, St Lupus at Troyes, and the pilgrim hostel of St Josse, near Etaples, preferments granted him by Charlemagne.420 His student, Sigulf, succeeded Alcuin as Abbot of Ferrières, and in due course, was succeeded by his own student, Adalbert, who held the abbacy at Ferrières until 821. Adalbert studied initially at Tours before venturing to Salzburg, where he came under the tutelage of Bishop Arn (previously, 153–155), becoming Arn’s chaplain prior to assuming his monastic duties at Ferrières. Owing to his dark hair, Alcuin uses the adjective niger (“raven,” “dark”) as a nickname for Adalbert. He is enjoined in this brief piece to the study of sacred scripture in order to ensure his salvation. Adalbert, raven friend (so dark!): hasten to the lessons of your teacher that bear great increase to your soul and as your fallen mind permits, learn reverence for the sacred book, to be tough enough to gain vaulting joys.

Carm. 57 (Dümmler 269–270) To the Cuckoo In the Carolingian period, the cuckoo is less a symbol of sexual infidelity and cuckoldry and, instead, stands for figures who deserve mockery or who are lazy—resonances owed to Roman antiquity. In his poems on the cuckoo, Alcuin draws on these earlier linkages and also on a more specifically Christian affiliation that makes the cuckoo a foolish monk.421 Written in elegiac couplets, carm. 57 gathers diction and imagery drawn from Virgil’s Eclogues to create a pastoral lamentation for the cuckoo—a stand-in for a student who seems to have left the safe haven of Alcuin’s care. Two shepherds sing in various registers of grief over their lost bird, though Daphnis, the younger of the two, assumes a pessimistic posture, with the older Menalcas more regularly hoping for a better outcome. There is no consensus as to the identities of the “trio,” as Alcuin describes the bird and the two shepherds at v. 45 (tres olim fuimus). By the nickname Menalcas, Alcuin regularly designates Audulf, the seneschal and steward at Charlemagne’s 420 Stenton, Anglo-Saxon England, 189 and Bullough 342 offer details. 421 On these qualities of the cuckoo, see Ziolkowski, Talking Animals, 56; on the ancient tradition, see Lewis and Short 487, s.v. cuculus, and the examples there provided by Plautus, Pliny, and Horace.

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court, though here, the name might stand for the poet himself.422 Scott has gathered much evidence culled from the letters of Alcuin and Arn, bishop of Salzburg (previously, 153–155), to argue that Daphnis designates Arn and, further, that the wayward cuckoo is Dodo, one of Alcuin’s students.423 The Virgilian affiliations in the poem link Alcuin’s words especially to Eclogue 5, a poetic competition between Mopsus and Menalcas that centers on Daphnis, cut off, in Virgil’s terms, by a cruel death (exstinctum . . . crudele funere, v. 20). In Virgil’s poem, however, Daphnis is not one of the competing singers, but rather, the object of the song, and there is no cuckoo. It is worth pondering, too, why Alcuin depicts the student recalled in his poem as a cuculus, rather than identifying him in some way by a pseudonym, pastoral or otherwise. On the other hand, the traditions that link the cuckoo to a slothful figure or a foolish monk can easily apply to Dodo, strengthening the view that the bird stands for him, since epis. 65 (Dümmler 107–109) depicts Dodo as wayward figure given over to the allurements of the world and in need of Alcuin’s care and protection. Carm. 57 is preserved in three ninth-century manuscripts: Valenciennes, Bibliothèque Municipale 405, f. 2r-3r, lacking vv. 9–10, lost through haplography, and vv. 39–52; St. Gall, Stiftsbibliothek 899, pp. 117–118, with the same omissions; and Ghent, Bibliotheken de Rijksuniversiteit 306, p. 219, the only complete copy. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints it as carm. 277, omitting vv. 9–10, 24–25, and 39–52.424 M. D. M. D. M.

Daphnis, sweetest, grieve our cuckoo: savage stepmother snatched him suddenly from us. Grieve him with a voice sadness shakes: Menalcas, the elder, go first, begin, I insist. How the cuckoo once sang for me, but now wicked time has snatched him from the clutch. Cuckoo, where did I abandon you? Cuckoo, that was a horrible day. Let men, birds, beasts, appear, come together, search for cuckoo now.

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422 J. Fleckenstein, “Alcuin im Kreis der Hofgelehrten Karls des Grossen,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilization, 20, argues that Menalcas is Audulf; and Garrison, “Social World of Alcuin,” 61, does not list Menalcas as a possible nickname for Alcuin, thus also implicitly affiliating Menalcas with Audulf. Those arguing for Alcuin as Menalcas include P. D. Scott, “Alcuin’s ‘Versus de cuculo:’ The Vision of Pastoral Friendship,” Studies in Philology 62 (1965): 513; and F. Stella, La poesia carolingia Latina a tema biblicio (Spoleto, 1993), 402–404. R. P. H. Green, Seven Versions of Carolingian Pastoral (Reading, 1980), 9–10, understands carm. 57 to be the handiwork of a minor poet attempting to imitate Alcuin. 423 Scott, “Alcuin’s ‘Versus de Cuculo’,” 517–519. 424 Forster 237–238.

The Poems D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D. M. D.

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In every haunt, grieve cuckoo, men of all stripes; cuckoo is dead, lost to the world. Not true! May he come when the fields grow green, rousing us, crooning happy songs. Will he come? Who knows; is he drowned? I shudder. 15 Snatched, killed, in whirring waters. I’ll hate myself if Bacchus has made cuckoo drunk, Bacchus steals boys, pollutes them with wine. If cuckoo lives, let him come, scurrying back to a warm nest, don’t let the raven’s savage claws cut him up. 20 Cuckoo, who took you from father’s nest? Who snatched you? Stole you? I can’t say if you’ll come! Look: if you love poetry, come at once! Look: come at once, no delays; (as I pray). And this: don’t walk, cuckoo, if you can run: 25 Daphnis, the boy, longs to hold you again. Spring blooms, it’s time, cuckoo, to get out of bed! Menalcas, your father, grows old, covets you. Our boys graze on fields of books, only cuckoo is gone; who feeds him, I wonder? 30 I bet immoral Bacchus starves him now, subverting every good thing (as he does). Grieve cuckoo: everyone, grieve cuckoo now, he quitted us smiling, he returns sobbing, I think. I hope yet to embrace cuckoo as he cries, 35 again together, we can grieve with him as one. Boy, famous in the world, grieve your fate, cry, grieve your fate from head to toe. If you’re not made of stone, grieve (so I pray), and remembering, perhaps you, too, can grieve. 40 A father’s sweet love for his son caused these tears, son suddenly snatched from his father’s embrace. Brother loses brother, his own, much loved, what might he do except cry, evermore. Let him cry. A trio once, one soul, we were; 45 now we’re scarcely two: one of three is gone. He will flee, yes, flee, leaving a bitter song: cuckoo dear is gone. Let us sing songs that chase him down in grief, 50 songs tug cuckoo back, perhaps (so I think). Cuckoo, whatever places hold you now, be happy, without end, and evermore remember us wherever you roam. Goodbye.

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Carm. 58 (Dümmler 270–272)425 The Debate of Winter and Spring Copied out in nearly sixty manuscripts dating from the ninth through the eighteenth centuries, carm. 58 evinces an extraordinary gathering of witnesses unlike no other poem of Alcuin’s collection. Although ascriptions are not lacking in more than a few manuscripts, none link the poem to Alcuin’s hand, and the earlier manuscripts transmit the poem anonymously, with the lone exception of one that ascribes the verses to Virgil.426 The sheer number of witnesses is a telling piece of evidence against Alcuin’s authorship, since his poetry is otherwise so thinly and unevenly preserved. Apart from Virgil, whose authorship can hardly be taken seriously, carm. 58 is linked in later manuscripts to Ovid, Bede, and Milo of St Amand. The poem can be dated to the Middle Ages with some confidence, not least based on certain metrical and grammatical slips.427 Forster linked the poem to Alcuin based on its proximity in the Regensburg manuscript with carm. 59 (as follows, 222–223), his carm. 260—a poem more securely assigned to Alcuin that also takes as its focus the cuckoo.428 In the first edition of the Anthologia Latina, Riese included the poem but removed it from the second,429 citing Dümmler’s view that the poem was written to Dodo by a disciple of Alcuin or perhaps by Alcuin himself.430 This tentative view was, in fact, a response to Ebert’s attempt to locate carm. 58 more securely in the Carolingian court circle by affiliating the cuckoo with Dodo, if not Angilbert.431 Because of linkages to Horace that he identified in carm. 58, Von Winterfeld ruled out Alcuin, since Horace, on his view, was unknown

425 Godman, Poetry, 145–149 and H. Waddell, Mediaeval Latin Lyrics (New York, 1977), 82–86 also offer English translations. 426 Copied out by Adémar of Chabannes in Leiden, Universiteitsbibliothek, Voss. lat. O. 15, Part E, f. 21v, who gives it the title Virgilius de vere et hyeme. 427 F. Zogg, “Palaemon and Daphnis in a Medieval Poem: The Vergilian Challenge of the Conflictus Veris et Hiemis,” Vergilius 63 (2017): 127 with n. 11; C. Castillo, “La composición del “conflictus veris et hiemis; atribuido a Alcuino,” Cuadernos de Filología Clásica 5 (1973): 53–61, uses these slips to argue against Alcuin’s authorship, while admitting his influence on the author, perhaps as a teacher. 428 Forster 613, Addenda et Supplenda, carm. 8, with note a. 429 A. Riese, Anthologia Latin sive poesis Latinae supplementum, Pars Prior, carmina in codicibus scripta, Fasciculus II: Reliquorum librorum carmina (Leipzig, 1870); sec. ed. (Leipzig, 1906), 161, no. 687 with note. 430 E. Dümmler, “Über die Gedichte ‘De Cuculo’,” Zeitschrift für Deutsches Altertum und Deutsche Literatur 23 (1879): 67–71, a response to A. Ebert, “Naso, Angilbert, und der Conflictus Veris et Hiemis,” Zeitschrift für Deutsches Altertum und Deutsche Literatur 22 (1878): 328–335; see also E. Dümmler, “Die handschriftliche Ueberlieferung der lateinischen Dichtungen aus der Zeit der Karolinger I,” Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für Ältere Deutsche Geschichtskunde 4 (1879): 87–159. 431 Ebert, “Naso, Angilbert, und der Conflictus Veris et Hiemis,” 328–335.

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to Alcuin. He posited, instead, the likelihood of an Irish author, since some writings of Horace circulated in Ireland throughout late antiquity.432 More recently, McEnerney and Godman433 have both argued for Alcuin’s authorship, the former more insistently, the latter affirming, if not Alcuin’s hand, then his rhetorical and pedagogical influence in carm. 58. The number of witnesses to it and the diversity of places in which it was copied out and circulated point to a poem of unusual popularity, especially given its anonymity. If the poem is to be understood to come from Alcuin’s hand, then scholarship has paid attention to it all out of proportion to the other poems of his collection. The matter of authorship must remain controverted. Whoever wrote it, carm. 58 is the earliest debate poem in Latin and moves from verse to verse with careful bows to Virgil’s three poems.434 Vv. 1–8 introduce a scene in which shepherds gather from the heights to celebrate poetry and the approach of spring heralded by the cuckoo. The innovation the poet practices in his verses comes in the shift from what promised to be a typical pastoral contest into something more global, not to say unique, viz., a contest between the seasons, in which each sings its own praises and denigrates the shortcomings of the other (vv. 9–42). Animated in a vigorous back-and-forth between one season that must relent and another that grows stronger as the poem proceeds, Alcuin dramatizes the point in time when such a shift naturally occurs; that is, when winter appears spring-like or spring still offers winter’s chill—a precise moment in which nature seems unsure of its direction and the labels used to describe the natural world falter—if only briefly. Thus, vv. 43–55 provide the inevitable and fitting conclusion, in which spring arrives in the figure of the cuckoo, dramatizing the constant rhythms of nature but also the faltering perceptions of humans, who, at least for a moment, entertained a debate of winter and spring as if to suggest winter might in fact claim victory. The poem is written in hexameters. Suddenly they were crowded there: shepherds of every flock down from the craggy heights, in the light of Spring, in the branchy shade, to celebrate the Muses’ joy as one. Young Daphnis came, and Palemon, his elder, plotting to sing the cuckoo’s praise. Spring arrived in a chaplet of flowers, and icy Winter, shaggy, with frozen hair,

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432 P. Von Winterfeld, “Wie sah der Codex Blandinius vetustissimus des Horaz aus?,” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 60 (1905): 31–37. 433 J. I. McEnerney, “Alcuin, Carmen 58,” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 16 (1981): 35–42; Godman, Poetry, 20–21. 434 Zogg, “Palaemon and Daphnis,” analyzes the poem’s Virgilian backdrop.

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The Poems a big fight was brewing over the cuckoo’s song!435 Spring sportingly sang three verses to start: Spring I hope my cuckoo-bird dearest comes: the folk welcome this visitor most of all (as he knows) on their roofs, singing fine, red-beaked songs!

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Winter Then Winter, hung in ice, craggy-voiced, shot back: cuckoo better stay away, let him sleep in his inky cave; his wont: carrying hunger endlessly about.

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Spring With smiling blooms I hope my cuckoo comes, let Phoebus’ friend, ageless, kind, chase the chill: Phoebus loves cuckoo in the soft, swelling light. Winter Don’t let the cuckoo come: there’s a chance he’ll make us work; he stirs up trouble, upends the ease we love, runs everything to ruin: the seas, the land struggle.

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Spring Stiff Winter, why do you cant abuse to cuckoo? Holed up in your inky cave, barely able to move, gorged on Venus, drunk on Bacchus-the-fool! Winter These happy feasts are riches to me: resting sweetly, a hot fire in my cave. Cuckoo knows nothing of this; all that traitor does is work!

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435 His certamen erat cuculi de carmine grande; is the fight described here betokened in the “struggle” of grande to be properly read with certamen, while placed next to carmine, and also a “struggle” against the false form grande = grandi?

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Spring Cuckoo will come with a flower-filled beak, serve honey, build houses, ride on waters like glass, father offspring, dress up the happy fields.436

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Winter I hate the things that please you most: I like to count my money stored in chests (I covet wealth), I like to revel in eating, and to endlessly rest! Spring Stiff Winter, always on the cusp of sleep, who would store up your riches, gather your wealth, if Spring and Summer first didn’t do your work?

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Winter What you say is true: they work for me down the months, they are enslaved by my yoke, under my sway, their labor’s fruits are stored up for me as master. Spring You are no master—just a pauper, haughty, weak, left to your own devices you would starve, except that the cuckoo comes bearing food!

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Palemon Seated on high, gladdened, Palemon spoke, and Daphnis with his horde of kind shepherds: “Winter, not one more word: wastrel, unyielding, let cuckoo, the shepherds’ sweet friend, come, let smiling shoots sprout up and over our hills,

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436 These activities are purposefully ambiguous, betokening both the kinds of labor the cuckoo encourages as a bird in spring but also going to the busy, productive life the bird pursues in its own right.

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The Poems let there be food for flocks, sweet rest in the fields, let branches bursting green be a canopy for the weak, let the goats come to pail swollen with milk, let the birds honor Phoebus with a legion of songs. Look, cuckoo, come now, at once, sweet love, the folk welcome your visit most of all, the world waits on you: earth, sea, sky, hello, sweet glory, cuckoo, only hello!!”

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Carm. 59 (Dümmler 273) To the Cuckoo Carm. 59 was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 199, where it forms the final thirty-two verses of a fifty-four-verse piece comprised of carm. 64.2, a six-verse riddle of two hexameters and two elegiac couplets (as follows, 236); and of carm. 115, an inscription of sixteen hexameters (as follows, 367–369).437 Forster rightly separates these pieces, editing carm. 59 as carm. 260.438 The use of the byname “Albinus” secures Alcuin’s authorship.439 The poet uses the image of the cuckoo in v. 1 to announce the coming of spring, then exploits diction owed to Virgil’s Eclogues, evoking the pastoral idealism of those poems as a means to celebrate the monks at York, to whom these verses are addressed. There is no sense here, however, as there is in carm. 57, that the cuckoo is meant to designate Dodo or any other figure. Instead, images of nature energized by pastoral diction abound, employed as a means to urge right living away from the snares of love and drink. Of the Eclogues, 5, 7, and 8 seem especially important as sources of Alcuin’s diction.440 The poem is written in hexameters. Cuckoo shouted from lofty limbs just now: the land, rainbow-splayed, will beget flowery buds. The vine pushes shoots bearing Bacchus from sprigs, while the nightingale, with energy to spare, nests in a rusty bush and shakes our minds with changeable songs. The sun transited the midsection of sky, Phoebus, all glitter, defeated kingdoms of shade; and swimming to you across the great sea’s plain, 437 438 439 440

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is Albinus’ letter with father’s hello. Boy, holy one, living in York, there is no law (I think) against hugging Virgil’s notes, of a sudden, just now, you can conjure up poems from a sleepy heart to fill Frisian ships with sacred songs:441 such gifts (as you know) please father, who brings excellence to the ears of rulers, guides an heir through the fields of paternity: a master, nobly crowned with a heaven-sent wisdom. You, boy, beloved of your father (exceptionally), heir, praised by all, everyone’s glory, with a smile take up the gifts cast from Heaven: your reward, your glory, will ever endure. Don’t let drunk Bacchus chain you to his cult, don’t let wine blot out wisdom written on your heart, don’t let that Cretan shameless boy pull you down from safety’s heights, arrows that pierce girding him. Don’t let the world, malingering, debauched, seduce you with emptiness, flooding fluttering hearts with whirring waters. Know by heart the sayings that proffer sacred safety, evermore sing Christ with sounds sweet on your lips, He is food and drink, music, praise and glory to us, let Him give to you a kingdom of bliss (so I ask), and bring you into the company of His saints above the clouds, evermore.

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Carm. 60 (Dümmler 273–274) To Angilbert Unknown to Duchesne, the elegiac carm. 60 was edited by Forster from the Regensburg manuscript as carm. 7, Addenda et Supplenda.442 It narrates a dispute between Alcuin and Angilbert that has led both friends to forego further communication. Alcuin exploits in vv. 1–2 the swan and cuckoo, who sing in their accustomed ways but who, as stand-ins for Alcuin and Angilbert, swan and cuckoo, respectively, also point up the unnatural silence of poet and friend, or father and son. The swan may hark back to Horace, Odes 4.2, where Pindar is affiliated with this bird in a seemingly unflattering light, while the cuckoo is 441 Frisia was an important trading partner with York; see the foregoing, 118 with n. 152. 442 Forster 613.

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linked in the eighth century with the image of a foolish young monk and brings with it also connotations of sloth.443 Alcuin thus can be understood to ascribe to his student laziness and bad judgment, which may account for the falling-out dramatized here. The letters evince a long and warm friendship, making this poem stand out all the more for the contention on which it focuses.444 The swan keeps to his accustomed notes, the cuckoo knows how to make his own sounds, the seas, springs, stars hew to their paths (God guiding the way): why no songs for Homer from Flaccus (of a sudden), has the son forsaken poems for father? We’re mute, silent, without a voice: why? Once our harmonies sweetly poured, like honey, our pact was peace, a reverent love joined us at the hip, and God, our Peace, made love better, stronger, selected for Himself (among his children) peace-lovers, each of us coveting it as sons of God. Bitter grudge: fade away, as honeyed friendship returns; flee, perish, as friendship abides! Sweet love, where might I find you again? It cannot be possible: a son hates his father? Beat back hatred, if you can; return to me more quickly still. Let father and son be rejoined at the hip: then Flaccus will sing sweet songs for Homer, and Homer will sing in kind! High Christ, God, consummate our love, and you, son, Homer, my sweet: prevail.

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Carm. 61 (Dümmler 274–275)445 To the Nightingale The dirge for animals is common in late ancient and medieval Latin poetry, and Alcuin’s poem to the nightingale takes its place among such poems. The bird is often associated with the brightness of sunrise, when it sings 443 See Ziolkowski, Talking Animals, 55–56 and previously, 218–222. J. I. McEnerney, “Alcuini Carmen 60,” Res Publica Litterarum 13 (1990): 179–181 thinks about the poem’s ancient resonances. 444 S. Viarre, “Un portrait d’Angilbert dans la correspondance d’Alcuin?” in De Tertullien aux Mozarabes, Tome II: Antiquité tardive et Christianisme ancien (Vie-IXe siècles), eds. L. Holtz and J.-C. Fredouille (Paris, 1992), 84–95 analyzes the friendship as revealed in the letters. 445 Other English translations: Godman, Poetry, 145; Scott, “Alcuin as Poet,” 244; Waddell, Mediaeval Latin Lyrics, 88–89.

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most aggressively, while, in its dedication to song throughout the long night, some medieval bestiaries link the nightingale with a dutiful, if poor, mother. In the Western literary tradition, the nightingale reaches back to Penelope’s dream at Od. 19.515 and to Ovid’s rendering of Philomela’s sad history at Met. 6.401–674. More immediately influential for Alcuin, too, is the riddling tradition represented by Aldhelm, Aen. 22.3, whose phrasing, spurca colore tamen sed non sum spreta canendo (“I’m drab, but still my singing’s hard to spurn”),446 seems to inform Alcuin’s seventh verse here, spreta colore tamen fueras non spreta canendo (“you were colorless and everyone sneered, yet no one ever despised your song”). Earlier authors who treat of the nightingale include Pliny, Ambrose, and Eugenius of Toledo.447 Among Alcuin’s more well-known compositions, carm. 61 has been widely studied and translated. Not the least of the poem’s virtues is its reliance on ancient diction. For example, the description of the nightingale in v. 15 as felix o nimium (“a surfeit of glee . . .”) affiliates the bird with Dido, who is so described at Aeneid 4.657 (heu nimium felix). In a similar vein, the image of fallen humanity in v. 21 “smothered in wine and dreams” (vino somnoque sepultos) links sinful Christians to Virgil’s description of Troy at Aeneid 2.265 (somno vinoque sepultam), which, in Virgil’s reckoning, is about to suffer its tragic demise. In these and other moments in the poem, Alcuin thus manages to negotiate the space between pagan and Christian diction and imagery as a means to burnish the emotional loading of the scenes he imagines for his readers. In this way, Virgil’s words make Alcuin’s lament for the absent nightingale both sinister and hopeful; sad and joyous. The present gloom of Dido’s death and of Troy’s calamity point, after all, to a more positive future, that is, the outcome the Aeneid portends: the end of an arduous journey in safety and in a place destined for greatness.448 Nor are Virgil’s words the only ancient diction Alcuin mines. Much energy is supplied in the poem through the affiliation of Alcuin’s nightingale and Corinna’s parrot, arrayed in Ovid, Amores 2.6, which helps Alcuin to affirm the piety of the nightingale by linking his bird to the goodness, faithfulness, and simple affection of Ovid’s pet. The nightingale, in turn, builds on these qualities in its natural inclinations to sing of creator and created, becoming a creature of incomparable devotion that Ovid’s words help to ramify.449 446 The Latin and its English translation are owed to A. M. Juster, Saint Aldhelm’s Riddles (Toronto, 2015), 12–13. 447 Juster, Riddles, 99, offers some historical comments; J. Williams, Interpreting Nightingales: Gender, Class, and Histories (Sheffield, UK, 1997), 226–246, gathers the texts in Greco-Roman literature and in Christian Latin poetry that treat nightingales. 448 J. I. McEnerney, “Alcuini Carmen 61,” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 30.1 (1995): 7–10, studies the Virgilian resonances in the poem. 449 I follow here the reading of my student, M. I. Kim, “A Parrot and Piety: Alcuin’s Nightingale and Ovid’s Amores 2.6,” Latomus: Revue d’études Latines 51.4 (1992): 881–891.

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Carm. 61 was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 192; Forster edits it as carm. 276.450 Scott offers sound reasons for seeing in the poem the authorial hand of Alcuin, not least by noting similarities among the poet’s verses that focus on nature and nature’s birds. Citing the poet’s admonitions to readers and the importance of God’s praises, Burghardt agrees that the poem is from Alcuin’s hand, and his and Scott’s judgments seem correct.451 Nightsinger nesting in the broomy brush, what hand tore you from me grudged my joy: you poured songs sweetly to the brim of my heart, soaked a saddened soul with honey-laced notes. Let winged cohorts rush in from all sides, at once, to join the Muses’ dirge with my grief for you: you were colorless and everyone sneered, yet no one ever despised your song: a wide warble trumpeted from a throttled throat, always singing sweetly in the Muses’ varied notes, a narrow throat always chanting “Maker-God.” In night’s secret shadows the bird sang sacredness without end, her voice worthy to be worshipped, noble, decent: little wonder choirs of angels praise God without end, their models the perfections of her voice. A surfeit of glee makes her sing the Lord, day, night, with a special zeal on her lips, evermore; songs were sweeter to her than food, drink, or being among her flying crowd. This is nature’s work, and the fostering maker of nature: you have praised Him with unremitting voice, teaching us, smothered in wine and dreams, to break the mind’s sloth that sleep wields. Look what you made: a song sung for singing’s sake, nature more nobly your goad, inspiration enough for you. In our own time and place, we should have made our own songs of praise, goaded by the brawn of our reasoning minds. A gift, lasting and best, will abide, in and out of time, for the one praising deathless God, hovering in the sweep of the sky. 450 Duchesne, cols. 1721–1722; Forster 237. 451 Scott, “Alcuin as a Poet,” 233–257, esp. 243–245; Burghardt 189–190.

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Carm. 62 (Dümmler 275–281) Precepts for Monastic Living in Monostichs Carm. 62 is introduced by five hexameters of general instruction, followed by 200 hexametrical monostichs that articulate monastic best practices. It is preserved in no fewer than fourteen manuscripts, ranging in date from the ninth through the thirteenth centuries. Duchesne prints the poem as carm. 179; Forster, as carm. 1 in Carmina Supposititia.452 Duchesne’s St Bertin witness ascribed authorship to Alcuin, while Forster titles the poem Monostichon Beati Columbani, following the poem’s earliest editors, Canisius in 1601 and Goldast in 1604, who both ascribe authorship to Columbanus (d. 615), associated with monasteries at Luxeuil and at Bobbio based on the incipit in St. Gall, Stiftsbibliothek 197, p. 281: “Here begins the little book of a certain wiseman reported to be St. Columbanus” (Incipit libellus cuiusdam sapientis et ut fertur beati Columbani). Burghardt thinks that the word “certain” (cuiusdam) and the phrase “reported to be” (ut fertur) indicate that the attribution in St. Gall 197 is conjecture and avers that Columbanus was likely named in the incipit owing to the presence in carm. 62 of some verses ascribed to him.453 While no manuscript asserts his authorship, there is external evidence roughly contemporaneous to Alcuin to link carm. 62 to him. In his Excerptio de arte grammatica Prisciani, written in the first half of the ninth century, Hrabanus Maurus refers twice by name to Alcuin as the author of carm. 62. In making the etymological point that nolo is derived from non and volo, Hrabanus points to carm. 62.40 as an instance in which nolo is used, introducing this verse with the phrase, “and thus Albinus in the Monastic Precepts (Et Albanus (sic) in Monasticis).454 Later in the same treatise, Hrabanus describes a species of learned poetry in which “maxims are written along the lines of those found in the Monastic Precepts of Albinus” (qua sententiae scribuntur, ut est . . . Monastica Albini).455 A second witness, contemporary to Hrabanus, is Lupus of Ferrières, who writes in a letter dated to 837 of the “moral verses which Alcuin is said to have produced” (versibus moralibus, quos Alcuinus dicitur edidisse).456 Collectively, this evidence urges Burghardt to ascribe carm. 62 to Alcuin’s hand. Columbanus’ authorship bears the witness of most manuscripts, and some who would see his authorial hand in carm. 62 emphasize the presence in the poem of complete verses taken from Columbanus’ Carmen ad Sethum. This argu452 453 454 455

Duchesne, cols. 1715–1718; Forster 546–548. Burghardt 175, 177. PL 111, col. 653. PL 111, col. 670C; weight must also attach to the fact that in his own poetry Hrabanus borrows complete verses from carm. 62, as Burghardt 177 notes. 456 L. Levillain, ed., Correspondance: Loup de Ferrières, 2 vols. (Paris, 1927), 1:64.

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ment, however, hinges on the ability to safely ascribe the Carmen ad Sethum to the Columbanus associated with Bobbio, since some have thought that the Columbanus in question might be the like-named eighth-century monk of St Trond.457 Assuming Columbanus is, as most think, the sixth-century monk of Bobbio, it is worth noting that diction pointing back to the Carmen ad Sethum says nothing about authorship, since Alcuin could have borrowed Columbanus’ words, while the contemporary witnesses of Hrabanus Maurus and of Lupus are difficult to dismiss.458 Of the influences bearing on the composition of carm. 62, the Commonitorium—a fifth-century elegiac poem by Orientius—is important, but also the elegiac Fabulae Aviani—a collection of forty-two fables, perhaps from the fifth century. Most important are the Disticha Catonis—a late antique collection of moral maxims that was popular in medieval schoolrooms as early as the sixth-century and down to the eighteenth. Alcuin’s reliance on the so-called “Cato” is demonstrated by Boas’ list of parallels.459 Devotedly let a brother read these rules, to come into their fullness in all he does; let him seek a worthy life under virtue’s flag, whether he hopes to be accounted excellent among men, or to merit God’s kingdom for being good, for appearing the comrade evermore to God-Christ. 5 To come into all that he prays, let the man of God live up to these decrees. Live faithfully in God having followed Christ’s writ. Let the tenets of God’s law be as riches to you. A solid mind overtops the body’s strength. Wisdom is better than all worldly treasure. 10 Teaching good things must ever be loved. The soul swathed in Christ’s love is best. Praying demons down is a towering strength. Don’t abandon a dear friend who needs your wise word. An abundance of pleasure foments dire disease. 15 Don’t be stingy or covetous of hand.

457 M. Lapidge, “Epilogue: Did Columbanus Compose Metrical Verse?” in Columbanus: Studies on the Latin Writings, ed. M. Lapidge (Woodbridge, 1997), 274–285, but M. Herren, “Some Quantitative Poems Attributed to Columbanus of Bobbio,” in J. Marenbon, ed., Poetry and Philosophy in the Middle Ages: A Festschrift for Peter Dronke (Leiden, 2001), 99–112, questions Lapidge’s view that the Carmen Ad Sethum is written by Columbanus of St Trond rather than Columbanus of Bobbio. 458 Burghardt 176–177 expands on this important point. 459 M. Boas, Alcuin und Cato (Leiden, 1937), especially 51–57; the text is in J. W. Duff and A. Duff, eds. and trans., Minor Latin Poets II (Cambridge and London, 1934), 585–621.

The Poems Ever let salvation’s worthy words sound and sound from your lips. Don’t let your mind swim in sour settling of scores. Be a person of peace, with a towering sweetness. Beware that victory doesn’t become defeat. Bear a father’s power when he speaks in anger. Look: think of life’s every day as your last. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Covet to conquer the eight vices. Let a dray crammed with victories carry you to heaven. May your words be reined in by your soul. No man is good unless he is always fair. Who conceals wickedness doesn’t deserve clemency. Who is unused to goodness is soon inured to wrong. Don’t offend anyone (so I ask) with anthems or quips. Enjoy listening as much as speaking to a friend. Let your gut and your groin be slaves to the soul. Piety doesn’t lose what it seems to give away. A good name comes in kindly acts, not wealth. Live so that no one can mock you in word or deed. Pity, weep, for a down-and-out friend. Don’t give weapons to a raving man (snatch them up, if you can). A coddling teacher often harms a student. Never put a stranger before a friend. Don’t believe everything you hear. Give yourself up, live everywhere for Christ. If you love Him put your possessions down, seek only what belongs to Christ. Not yourself, nor the world, but love Christ alone. When speaking with a sage, be spartan of words. Who is blind of soul is blind to the world. The wealthy’s great disgrace is the suffering poor. Wisdom grows evermore with more learning. Judgment for all stands most firmly in facts. The judge will come, meting out justice to all. A glorious suffering gives eternal life. Moderation will ennoble you more than anger. A steady mind will make for excellent habits. Act with sense (so I ask), to guide you in what must be done. Every age has its burdens. Boy: ponder the truths that antiquity models. Lucky he is to make his case in the hearing of a wise man.

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The Poems As words are true, the mind will take them in. He is rich all around who bursts with friends. Don’t prefer a new companion to an old friend. You will struggle to find a true-blue friend. Act with excellence: you will make a noble name for yourself. No one has more than the friends he makes. Who gains, when someone doesn’t help a friend? Faith alone will be enriched in the kindly gift of itself. Let the troubles of a pained soul not step on gentler things. The truth always will out. What is worse than a hostile brother in your midst? Don’t assent to evil in word or deed. Better not to exist at all than to live a misshapen life. A fine mind surpasses all treasure in the gain it brings. Maintain your life with only virtue. Life must be lived, lost. Planfullness lightens a load to be borne: what suddenly arrives seems more burdensome. A ruler for all, pious, kind, is a joy. Anyone’s death, anywhere, tells our own. The suffering of one man teaches another to be happy. You will gain no rewards for helping a bounder. Let every man be as a brother to you dear, let God be as a kind father. Every hour inches us closer to death. No one is praiseworthy until he dies. Each tree is known by the taste of its fruit. A great teacher lives the lessons he teaches. Remember: do to the rest what you would have done to you. Heavenly glory remains for poor but just folk. Don’t do to the rest what you would not wish done to you. Use honest weights, fair scales: don’t have two measures, two scales. Correct a wise man: he will thank you for your care. If you do what is right, you needn’t care about gossip. Though a master, don’t despise a slave’s fit wisdom. Among guests take a middle path when you speak. When you sin, chastise yourself at once. When you clean a wound, pain is the best medicine for pain. The blessing of the Lord will make lustrous riches. A blessed mercy bestows eternal life. Use the wealth you have sought, don’t be labelled greedy.

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The Poems 231 Learn from learned men: teach the unlearned. Don’t debate one who never shuts up. Many can speak, few can think. Don’t let gladnesses raise, sadnesses smash, your soul. Stand close to good people if you can’t be the best. The more restraint you show, the greater you will be. Examine yourself before accusing another. Judge: you will be arraigned on your faults, not on those of another. Be good in like measure to the good; when harmed, don’t harm the harmer. A friend who can help should not to be shunned. When you are happy, beware of unhappy things. Don’t do things you warn others against. Let another’s life be a teacher to you. Anger breeds hatred, peace rears love. Let all you say be grounded in wisdom’s pluck. Restraint in speaking is a towering virtue. Believe in true-God, direct your steps to Him. Fear of the Lord lights the heart: love Him always. Hoping in the Lord, no one will ever be confused. A skill-souled man is better than a man brave of arms. Wisdom of mind surpasses a body’s brawn. Don’t apply your soul to hordes of treasure. Sweet talk will increase your circle of friends. Turn to the Lord: don’t be late to the righteous road. Don’t waver as you work through all that must be learned. Let the Lord’s safest path hold you evermore. Be pleased to speak of justice, peace. I pray it ever please you to have kindly peace on your lips. Let the words of salvation ever echo in your prayers. A wise king better defends folks from harm. A foolish king runs his people to ruin. For a king fair wisdom is a towering glory. Don’t avenge your hurts on someone else. A miser ever loves destruction, lies, thefts. Let God’s gifts be enough for you. Who is man, wandering here, dust, a clump of clay, to be proud? Wickedness begins with overweening pride. With every strength attend to your salvation. One day reveals the sorts of friends you have. Don’t pardon yourself: you have sinned of your own accord.

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The Poems To a friend who can keep secrets tell the secrets that you keep. Tamp down envy that too much refinement brings. Envy’s dark curse blackens a fine reputation. Act with a plan: your efforts will shine through. Let the believer in the Lord keep salvation’s mandates. Let a wise man ever fear his judge’s anger. Do at once things fate gives you to be done. Don’t keep company with an unjust man. Water flows on and away, as do the years of our lives. Death, like a glutton, levels all worldly joys. The Lord, kind, clement, will have mercy on us. Don’t complain in your heart about those who do good. Don’t give favors in haste. Let your mind first treat of words to be spoken. Let a devoted doctor treat you when you are sick. As you can, do ever well by a dear friend: a new friend, like new wine, will age. Don’t turn your back on a friend in need. A friend loves and endures, faithful at every turn. As gifts follow work, kind day follows night. May your soul be noble in trying times. Through the sharpness of your mind see first what impends. While life allows it, cleanse black sin with the water of your tears. Don’t travel to wickedness, wash it clean with tears. Don’t let your soul serve ruinous wealth. Who spurns the middle lessens what is greater. The company of saints holds no faithless man. The fool will hate the words of a wise teacher. A chatterer makes even sour monks laugh. No sin is worse than celebrating injustice. Keep a keen eye on the keeper of your secrets. Correct the sinner, hold close the friend. It is better to correct, than to lose, a good friend. Who forgives his brother is forgiven by Christ. The wise man forbears to speak of himself. A fool never stops, his words draw scorn. A talker strips his soul of noble rewards. To fear the Lord God is a towering glory. Fear the Lord in your heart: this is wisdom’s nub. Fire tests gold; temptation, the just man. Trust in the Lord and to you mercy will come.

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The Poems Who desires the good joys of Heaven: love Christ! The blessing of a father makes for happy sons. Never add to the burdens of the beggar, down-and-out. Always God-of-every-power takes wisdom’s lover to be his own. Speak carefully, act promptly. There is only sin in bearing false witness. The blessing of the Lord brings troves of treasure. Give generously to a friend of less fortune. A friend’s love is endless and more precious than gold. He will be rich who does a hard day’s work in the fields. Who follows hatreds will always feel want. A faithful heart is better than all the world’s wealth. The number of the just mightily glorifies sovereignty. Look: fear the Lord and live happily down the years. A man, happy, just awaits heavenly joys. The impious one gazes at awful costs for his sins. A wicked ruler sends the folk headlong to ruin. A gentle mercy prepares you for the eternal life. Who follows goodness rises well at first light. A wise man’s words can save the crowd! A strong hand dominates its enemies in war. Lazy folk will be slaves to hard, heavy work. The language of peace wins over the crowd. Give your words sharpness and strength. Who fears God’s rules abides in peace. Right learning brings eternal salvation. He loves his son who sets him straight with a whip.

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Carm. 63 (Dümmler 281–282) Riddles Literary riddling in Anglo-Saxon England reaches back to Aldhelm (ca. 640–709), who composed his Aenigmata in the seventh century,460 and to other Anglo-Saxon figures writing in the eighth—not least, Tatwine (d. 734), “Eusebius” (sometimes identified as Hwaetberht),461 and Boniface (d. 754).462 Earlier authors are important in establishing a larger tradition, 460 On Aldhelm and the riddling tradition see Juster, Riddles, 74–78 and above, 121–123, on carm. 5. 461 On which see Thornbury, Becoming a Poet, 57–58. 462 For the larger context of riddling, see Danesi, The Puzzle Instinct, passim, and on Alcuin, 12–13, 40–41, 153–155.

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too—not least Symphosius (d. ca. 400), whose Aenigmata influenced Alcuin through the example provided by Aldhelm. Alcuin seems also to have felt Symphosius’ inspiration directly in carm. 92 (as follows, 307–308)—an influence that makes sense, given the important place accorded Symphosius in school curricula. In addition to carm. 92, Alcuin’s riddling output includes carm. 63 and 64 (as follows, 234–236), and carm.100.3 (as follows, 325). Beyond these few poems, Alcuin demonstrates no consistent engagement with the genre: there is no larger collection of riddles from his hand and, compared to Symphosius or Aldhelm, he merely dabbles in this form. Carm. 5 (previously, 121–123), the “comb” riddle, is perhaps Alcuin’s most traditional and fully-formed piece in this genre. Epis. 176 (Dümmler 291–292) touches on several of the riddling themes mentioned in carm. 63.5 but with considerably more complication.463 Finally, more than a few moments in Alcuin’s pedagogical works touch on or exploit features of riddling, most notably, the Disputatio Pippini cum Albino (previously, 14).464 Carm. 63 was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as three poems: 63.1–3 is printed as one poem of ten hexameters, his carm. 200; 63.4, seven hexameters, is his carm. 253; and 63.5, seven hexameters, is his carm 257.465 Forster follows this arrangement of lines but prints the three poems in succession: 63.1–3 as carm. 273, 63.4 as carm. 274, and 63.5 as carm. 275.466 As they are discrete riddles on specific words, Dümmler rightly separates Duchesne 200 (Forster 273), making them carm. 63.1–3. The St Bertin manuscript is the lone witness for 63.1–4; 63.5 is separately witnessed in two ninth century manuscripts: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 18375, f. 91v (with an additional riddle attached); and Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 8319, f. 41r (vv. 1–5 only); and one from the eleventh century: Vatican Library Reg. lat. 421, f. 27v-28r (also with an additional riddle attached). The solutions to the riddles of carm. 63 involve removing and reconfiguring letters of Latin words. Since these changes cannot be translated, the relevant Latin words are printed in Latin parenthetically in the titles.

1. Evil, Apple, and Mule (Malus, Malum, Mulam) I once caused death, yet they say I am nothing, but you can eat me if you read me in a certain way, or ride me if you switch my vowels! 463 On which, see Garrison, “Social World of Alcuin,” 74–76, and Veyrard-Cosme, Tacitus Nuntius, 128–130. 464 Duckett, Alcuin, 114–117, discusses riddling in the pedagogical traditions mined by Alcuin in the Disputatio but see now Bayless, “Alcuin’s Disputatio Pippini, 157–178. 465 Duchesne, col. 1724 [= 63.1–3]; col. 1738 [mislabeled 1758; = 63.4–5]. 466 Forster 237.

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2. Virtue, Incense, Man, and Poison (Virtus, Tus, Vir, Virus) I am six little letters: a famous power, but break up my name in the center of things: one part touches on Divinity, the other attends only to man; remove the fourth letter and you have poison!

3. Sensible, Old Woman, and Sow (Sanus, Anus, Sus) A man is totally sensible when he has gray hair, but with the first letter gone, a matron is there, remove the next two: it’s a sow with bristly hair!

4. A Great Man, Lamb, Hand, Magician, Mouse, and Old Woman (Magnus, Agnus, Manus, Magus, Mus, Anus) A priest celebrated Mass with his name intact, remove the first letter, there appears Easter’s lamb; remove the third letter, find a lending hand; remove the fourth: he mixes potions and spells; add the first to the two at the end: find a thief! Remove the first and third letters (wonder to say), a decrepit old woman, leaning on a stick, runs up and down the palace halls.

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5. Is, Not; Mine, Yours; I, You (Est, Non; Meum, Tuum; Ego, Tu) Reader, making the journey through the lofty palace, tell me two monosyllables that cause every fight; tell me two pronouns that disrupt dear respite; tell me two pronouns that designate all. Tell me about these words that each letter spells, how a thing that never was speaks with you! Read this, solve the riddles quickly, or pay me a bull!

Carm. 64 (Dümmler 282–283) Riddles Duchesne edited carm. 64 from the St Bertin manuscript. 64.1, in elegiacs, is his carm. 198, vv. 19–24, while 64.2, two hexameters and two elegiac couplets, is his carm. 199, vv. 1–6.467 Forster prints 64.1–2 as carm. 221 and 467 Duchesne, col. 1723.

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222, respectively, editorial moves that Dümmler rightly followed.468 The first couplet of 64.1 forms the final couplet of carm. 100.3—an inscription for the monastery at Nouaillé (as follows, 325). Burghardt would separate 64.2 into a two-verse hexametrical poem, comprised of vv. 1–2, and a four-verse elegiac poem, comprised of vv. 3–6. He blames the joining of these lines on a scribal error in the St Bertin manuscript, since both pieces riddle the same object.469 On metrical grounds alone he is likely correct, and the pieces ought to be decoupled by future editors of Alcuin’s poetry (as follows, 436–439).

1. Oven Traveler, dripping rain, if you wish to know what I can do for you, first, give your gift, and thus have mine. Mine is a grumbling belly, nourished by a blazing fire, nestled under a square top, where a smoky odor lifts away. Fleeing December’s icy rain, a stranger soon comes to me, yet from me he flees to the florid fields in summer!

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2 Look, I am beautiful outdoors, but more useful inside, my belly is hot, while my head blows with the cold. The stranger eagerly loves me in winter, but refuses to come near me in summer. My mouth is in my belly, it burns on the hearth, my nose is in a square throat breathing smoke.

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Carm. 65 (Dümmler 283–285) Inscriptions for Bibles By the end of the eighth century, the Vulgate had become degraded over hundreds of years of careless copying. In a letter to Gisela and Rotrud written in 800 (epis. 195, Dümmler 322–323), Alcuin mentions working on a revision of the Old and New Testaments at the request of Charlemagne, who ordered an empire-wide reform of ecclesiastical practices, including the revision of the liturgy, prayers, and the by-now-error-ridden Vulgate. The Bibles mentioned in carm. 65 are a witness to Alcuin’s work in this vein. None of Alcuin’s revisionist Bibles survive, but two ninth-century copies, the so-called Vallicelliana Pandect, Rome, Vallicelliana, B 6, f. 342r-343v, 468 Forster 227. 469 Burghardt 198.

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and the Moutier-Grandval Bible, London, British Library Additional 10546, f. 448v, reflect Alcuin’s work in this regard and witness the poems gathered as carm. 65 that celebrate it. Neither manuscript witnesses all—or exactly the same—poems, and a few of the poems are copied out separately in other manuscripts, including the Regensburg, edited by Forster (see as follows on individual poems for these witnesses). The Vallicelliana and MoutierGrandval Bibles contain some poems from a Bible commissioned by Charlemagne and given to him in the summer, 800, while the Vallicelliana also contains poems from a Bible given to the king at Christmas, 80l, most likely for use at the church of the Virgin Mary dedicated at Aix-la-Chapelle in that year. The Moutier-Grandval Bible also contains a few poems from a copy most likely made for St Martin’s, which became under Alcuin’s direction a leading center for bible production in the late eighth and first half of the ninth centuries.470

1 These elegiac verses are preserved in British Library Additional 10546, f. 448v, and Vallicelliana, B 6, f. 342v, but also in the ninth-century Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 15176, 4r-v. Duchesne prints it without number immediately subsequent to Alcuin’s commentary on the Gospel of John; Forster prints it as carm. 2 under Inscriptiones Sacri Codicis.471 These verses were composed for the beginning of a copy of the Bible ordered by Charlemagne and given to him in the summer of 800. In this opening piece, Alcuin distinguishes between a pandect—that is, a single-volume Bible— and a bibliotheca—“a library”—that is, a gathering of scriptural books into smaller volumes which collectively make up the Bible. A multi-volume Bible was typical until the Carolingian period, and Alcuin played an important role in the development of pandect Bibles.472 Reader: when this sacred book is on your lips, remember to call it by its proper name: pandect; bibliotheca, a gathering of many books, 470 Based on extant copies and fragments, it is estimated that at least two Bibles were copied at Tours every year in the first half of the ninth-century; see D. Ganz, “Carolingian Bibles,” in The New Cambridge History of the Bible From 600–1450, eds. R. Marsden and E. Ann Matter (Cambridge, 2012), 325–337, esp. 330–334. 471 Duchesne, col. 685; Forster 203. 472 On the Bible as pandect—a single-volume Bible—or as bibliotheca—a “library” of volumes containing gatherings of biblical books or individual copies of them, grouped in generally consistent ways—see P.-M. Bogaert, “The Latin Bible, c. 600-c. 900,” 83–84, for the pandect; and L. Smith, “The Glossed Bible,” 364, on the bibliotheca, both in Marsden and Matter, The New Cambridge History of the Bible.

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2 The manuscript witnesses for the elegiac carm. 65.2 are identical to those of 65.1. Duchesne, without number, and Forster, as carm. 2 under Inscriptiones Sacri Codicis, both print 65.2 immediately subsequent to 65.1.474 The poem is in two parts, since it is copied out independently of 65.2.1–4 in British Library Additional 10546, where it follows 65.1. The couplet that forms the poem’s second part also provides the final couplet of 65.1a, in Dümmler’s ordering, the final poem of the collection (see as follows, 241). Both parts were intended for the beginning of a copy of the Bible ordered by Charlemagne and given to him during the summer of 800. Alcuin’s authorship is confirmed by his name in the final line of the second poem. Noble reader: I pray these divine scriptures of God please your eyes, mind. The Holy Spirit dictated them from Heaven’s keep, where true faith and caring salvation glint. __________________ Who may read these lines, remember to pray for me: I am called Alcuin: you, be well for all time.

3 These elegiac couplets were written for the beginning of a Bible given to Charlemagne at Christmas, 801, likely for use at the Church of the Virgin 473 Ps. 118:103, 127. 474 Duchesne, cols. 685–686; Forster 203.

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Mary at Aix-la-Chapelle. The manuscript witnesses are Vallicelliana, B 6, f. 342v and Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 15176, 4r-v. Duchesne prints the piece immediately following 65.2, as does Forster, as part of carm. 2 under Inscriptiones Sacri Codicis.475 To great God’s temple some brought lavish gifts that the joyous folk praised, piety on their lips; but truth to tell: the Lord prefers the widow’s two little coins to the offerings of the nobility.476 King, I do not bring small presents to your trove, although I play in life a lowly role: my hands are full instead with the Lord’s unrivaled gifts, Heaven’s words that I carry to you, best King: in equal measure you read the Testaments’ pious voices, old and new, put up in this sacred book. I bear them without stint to the holy sacraria of the church that your mind, fond for God, built of late, to make this pandect available for the praises of Christ, echoing God’s lofty word evermore.

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4477 In addition to British Library Additional 10546, f. 448v, and Vallicelliana, B 6, f. 342v, carm. 65.4 is copied out in no fewer than nine manuscripts dating from the ninth through the fifteenth centuries.478 Duchesne and Forster print it immediately following 65.3.479 These elegiac verses formed the conclusion of a copy of the Bible ordered by Charlemagne, but in more than a few manuscripts, they also function as a colophon to a variety of works.480 Saved from raging waves, a savage sea, the sailor makes port with a happy heart: so the writer, worn down, is happy enough, rests his pen under a burden of work. 475 476 477 478

Duchesne, cols. 686–687; Forster 203. The story of the widow’s gift to the temple is recounted at Luke 21:1–3. Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 202–203 offers an English translation. P. Lendinara, “The Poem ‘Nauta rudis . . .’ in Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts: More than a Colophon,” in Limits to Learning: The Transfer of Encyclopaedic Knowledge in the Early Middle Ages, eds. C. Gilberto and L. Teresi (Leuven and Paris, 2013), 219–241, offers a full survey of the manuscript tradition. 479 Duchesne, col. 687; Forster 204. 480 Lendinara, “The Poem ‘Nauta rudis . . .’ passim, surveys the wide use of carm. 65.4 as a colophon.

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The Poems Let the sailor thank God for respite in life, let the writer thank Him for rest after toil.

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5 Composed in elegiacs, carm. 65.5 is preserved in Vallicelliana, B 6, f. 342v. Duchesne and Forster print it immediately after 65.4.481 These verses provide a dedication for the conclusion of a Bible sent to Charlemagne at Christmas, 801, and likely were intended for use at the Church of the Virgin Mary at Aix-la-Chapelle. Travel on, book, sacred, small, more famous than any poem, triumphant, peaceful, God sparing you now. Seek the glinting castle of the noble king, that you might rest always in Christ’s sacred shrine. Bring gifts of peace to God’s every servant, that the Lord’s hand protect and govern them: in my heart they live, in my faith, with a holy and eternal love, my tears mark my wish that they thrive and do well. The End.482

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4a483 Preserved in British Library Additional 10546, f. 448v, these sixteen hexameters were written for the conclusion of a Bible copied for the monastery at Tours. In the manuscript, it follows 65.4 without interruption; hence, Dümmler calls it carm. 4a and numbers its lines as if it were attached to 65.4, while printing it separately.484 Duchesne and Forster don’t print it. One goodness rules all, nodding assent, gathering up all of time. He abides, fathers no change: this is true salvation, the blessed life; you: beguiled by empty things, run to them, chained in your soul by arrant desire. This will be respite, stone-solid, from your toil, your eternal haven with its watch undisturbed, a place apart for suffering souls, always there. This is Father and Son, and fostering Holy Spirit, 481 482 483 484

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Duchesne, col. 688; Forster 204. Finit [= “The End”], the final word of 65.5 as Dümmler prints it, is a scribal comment. Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 190–191, offers an English translation. Dümmler misnumbers v. 20, which is in fact the prior line, Sanctorum, per quos cognoscitur ille creator.

The Poems one King, of every power, one in three; one love, reader, who is yours evermore, who sent to you the greatest gift of holy books, in them come to know the Creator, King, maker of all things, Creator, Savior of humankind, Savior Christ: to Him, praise and glory without end!

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1a These elegiac couplets are witnessed in British Library Additional 10546, f. 448v, and were written for the beginning of a Bible intended for the monastery of St Martin of Tours. In the manuscript, they follow carm. 65.1 without interruption; thus, Dümmler calls these verses carm. 1a and numbers them as if they follow on 65.1 while printing them separately. The final couplet of 65.1a is also the second part of 65.2 (previously, 238). Forster edited vv. 1–6 from the Regensburg manuscript and prints them as carm. 5 under Addenda et Supplenda.485 Duchesne doesn’t know this piece. Alcuin’s authorship is secured by his name in vv. 3 and 8. Christ, Eternal Giver of every good thing, accept these holy gifts from your keep that Albinus, father, suppliant, offered, heart ablaze, to the praises of your name. Let your hand keep him safe through eternity’s day, that he live with you contented in the arc of the sky. Who may read these lines, remember to pray for me: I am called Alcuin: you, be well for all time.

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Carm. 66 (Dümmler 285–286) For Bibles Copied for Gerfrid Apart from what can be surmised from carm. 66—perhaps composed at his request—little is known of Gerfrid.486 He held the bishopric of Laon from 774 until his death in 799 and, as Alcuin makes clear, was involved in the rebuilding of churches and in the copying of scripture. Edited as two poems by Dümmler, Duchesne prints carm. 66 as one piece comprised of forty-two hexameters, his carm. 50; Forster, as Inscriptiones Sacri Codicis, carm. 4, also prints carm. 66 as a single poem.487 Dümmler’s separation is surely correct, given the different purposes to which each piece is put. Both pieces are preserved in the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne. 485 Forster 612. 486 Not to be confused with the like-named Bishop of Münster who succeeded his uncle, Liudger, in 809 (as follows, 278–279). 487 Duchesne, col. 1687–1688; Forster 204.

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1 These hexameters are a preface for a Bible copied at Gerfrid’s request (v. 13) and presented as a gift at the dedication in 798–9 of the newly rebuilt church and monastery of St Riquier, sponsored by Angilbert—“Homer” to Alcuin (previously, 150–151). Alcuin’s Life of St Riquier (previously, 10–11) was also inspired by Angilbert’s rebuilding project. These verses were perhaps intended to be read to the assembled celebrants. This holy book, under one cover, gathers the testaments, old and new, in their transcendency: life-giving, prescriptions for salving the soul, God dictated, then the saints transcribed! Uninfringeable faith, Heaven’s start, is here. What Moses, the good lawgiver, once wrote, what sacred prophets sang about the coming of Christ, what history tells of the Hebrew people, what David sang in mystic hymns of praise, what the Apostles taught long ago, what Jesus did when he came to the world, this book brings together, under one cover. Gerfrid, the bishop, had ordered it copied, to praise Christ, to praise Mary, to lend a hand to readers at prayer: may they read the sweetest words of the Lord and recall the Author who ordered them written. Reader, as if in prayer, say: “Christ protect Gerfrid,” “may he live in eternity’s bliss.” Reader, be well, cared for to the hilt, echo words for God Christ, heaven-bound, with the right sense: a vast reward will abide for you.

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2 Carm. 66.2, in hexameters, is an inscription composed at the request of Gerfrid, seemingly for adorning the cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary in Laon and rebuilt by him. Alcuin names himself in the poem’s final verse. This nurse-maid, God’s house, worthy of reverence, Christ’s place, had fallen into ruination, laid low over time:

The Poems then Gerfrid, bishop and priest, gathered up its fostering reins, goaded by God’s love, renovated it from top to toe: walls, roof, painted columns, priestly robes and vessels, new priests, sparing no cost, doing what was right. Whatever Gerfrid held was God’s; giving gifts with a largening mind, to festoon this church with all his might, so that the Lord’s glaring beauty might decently glimmer, and the church shout divine praises: at the Lord’s seven hours he brought life to the church. Gentle one, Christ God, have it all (be thrilled), vows prayed from your servant’s hands (my hope), and you, God’s mother, holiest virgin, Mary, hear the prayers of those others who serve you well: these holy precincts are made sacred in your name. Let praise for Christ, devotion, esteem, abide, forever. Reader, all I ask is for you to say: “Christ, save Albinus.”

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Carm. 67 (Dümmler 286) For a Bible Copied by Ava This poem is inspired by—and is also about—Ava, mentioned in vv. 1 and 14, presumably a nun of the monastery of Chelles, since epis. 84 (Dümmler 127), written to Gisela, (previously, 184–185), identifies Ava as such. Dümmler noticed a similarity between this poem and verses found at the end of an evangeliary, written in honor of Ada, identified in a necrology as the sister of Charlemagne.488 It seems more likely, however, that Ava is the nun of epis. 84. Written in hexameters, carm. 67 is of a piece with carm. 66 and celebrates Ava’s role as a scriptural copyist—a task unusual for a woman but the norm at Chelles, one of the rare scriptoria in the Carolingian period peopled by women. The poem is copied out in Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 228r-v, dating from the early ninth century. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 202; Forster copies it as carm. 5 under Inscriptiones Sacri Codici.489 Ava the nun made this little book, an outsized fear of God forced her hand, 488 Dümmler 286–287n4. 489 Duchesne, col. 1724–1725; Forster 205.

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The Poems to make the Church glorious, to save her soul: she uncovered a world that once only bloomed, what happened when time began, the rules of redemption God gave, like a gift, the miracles of Christ (his head scraping the clouds), the hope of unceasing life at time’s end. This little copy contains Truth alone, render it an energetic honor. Christ, in your power, hand down endless life, like a gift, to Ava the nun, who made this little book. After the maelstroms of this madding life, she merits a quiet that cannot end, joined with the saints—ever, ever.

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Carm. 68 (Dümmler 287) Introduction for a Bible Composed in hexameters, carm. 68 is preserved in no fewer than a dozen manuscripts dating from the ninth through the twelfth centuries. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints vv. 1–18 as carm. 6 under Inscriptiones Sacri Codicis.490 More than a few of the manuscripts witness only vv. 1–18, which enumerate the books of scripture and offer an introduction to a Bible copied out ca. 810 in Tours. Dümmler prints the colophon that more than a few of the manuscripts witness as vv. 19–25, in which Alcuin is named as the figure who ordered the Bible copied, whose introduction these lines provide. Several manuscripts contain a title, though none identically. Dümmler prints the title from Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek 1 (A I 5), Incipiunt Versiculi Albini Magistri, translated as follows. The Little Verses of Master Albinus Begin Here Moses’ Pentateuch is put up in this book, the wars of Joshua, the general; and the old fathers’ days, Ruth, Job, two books of Kings, sixteen holy prophetic books, the psalms of glinting David, three books of Solomon, king of peace: these are joined to the book of Wisdom, to the Chronicles’ two books, to the books of Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Judith, 490 Forster 205.

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The Poems and to two books covering the Maccabean wars. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John gather the famous goings-on when Christ was saving the world. Holy Luke reported what the Apostles did, in fourteen letters blessed Paul’s teachings come, there are pious words of Jacob, Peter, Jude, John, and John’s Revelation closes out the book. Blessed reader, read these books with joy for the praises of Christ, for your own salvation out of time. Alcuin, servant of the church, ordered these books copied out, bullied by love of Christ. Reader, whoever you are, as you read these Godly words, I ask, heart bowed down to God, that you cry prayers to the Lord for me, that Christ’s kind grace might preserve me without end, that clement Christ might grant peace to my heart in the eternity that is His alone. Praise, glory, always, to Christ.

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Carm. 69 (Dümmler 288–292)491 Introduction for a Bible Composed in elegiacs, carm. 69 is preserved in four manuscripts dating from the ninth through the fifteenth centuries. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem; Forster prints it as carm. 6 under Inscriptiones Sacri Codicis, where it follows immediately on carm. 68.492 The poem provides an introduction to a copy of the Bible, and the books of scripture it describes are ordered identically in it and in carm. 68.493 The final four verses of the poem provide a conclusion to the descriptions of sacred scripture that otherwise command the poet’s attention, and two of those verses, vv. 201–202, are owed to a couplet inscribed above a portrait of Ezra adorning the opening of the Codex Amiatinus, allowing for the possibility that Alcuin either saw the Codex Amiatinus or, more likely, knew one or more of its sister-pandects, the so-called Ceolfrith Pandects, copying 491 A partial translation into English is in G. Wieland, “Legifer, Dux, Scriptor: Moses in Anglo-Saxon Literature,” in Illuminating Moses: A History of Reception from Exodus to the Renaissance, ed. J. Beal (Leiden, 2014), 188–189. 492 Forster 205–207. 493 M. Garrison, “Alcuin, Carmen 69, and the Ceolfrith Pandects,” in All Roads Lead to Rome: The Creation, Context, and Transmissions of the Codex Amiatinus, eds. J. Hawkes and M. Boulton (Turnhout, 2019), 129–142, reviews prior scholarship on, while thinking anew about, the form, function, and intended recipients/audience of carm. 69 and its Bible.

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this opening couplet from one of them to serve as a colophon to the Bible that carm. 69 accompanied.494 A different influence informs v. 203, which borrows diction from Juvencus, The Four Books of the Evangelists, praef. 22. There, Juvencus affiliates imagery of Christ descending in a flaming cloud with the ability of his poem to save him—and it—from the fires of the world or of Hell—a theme Alcuin exploits as a way to announce the perdurability of his poem and the eternity of the words which it introduces. When Adam had been cast from the glorious garden into this doomsday of pain and death, he grieved a price fitted to unspeakable sin: he, his whole race, was now beyond the pale. Yet a goodness, all strong, had not cast to despair the work of sublime piety: a soft solace to our tears tendered bounties from Heaven, wrapped in its own beneficence, so that its piety might be praised, loved, without end, with heart, head, and hand, all around, equally: a soul mindful of right will hold whatever is good, God’s highest grace gave it without stint. Yet scripture’s books are His greatest gifts, singing the run of events, of every age, holding up in God’s telling the dawn of the world, predicting kindly Christ down through time, they gave a reason to love God without stint, a path, life, a haven of Truth. Have these books, read them, with sparkling soul, be gladdened to live in Heaven’s round with Christ, without end. They number by count seventy-two— this is beyond dispute— a number venerable to us as the sacred number of Christ’s disciples.495 Heaven’s start is in these books, for God’s very breath whispered their words. This codex culls them all, one holy body of books,496

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494 Garrison, “Alcuin, Carmen 69,” passim, investigates the claims, based on the presence of this couplet, that Alcuin knew Amiatinus and/or the Ceolfrith pandects. 495 At Luke 10.1, Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples to the places he intends to visit. Alcuin’s couplet is briefly contextualized by K. Corsano, “The First Quire of the Codex Amiatinus and the Institutiones of Cassiodorus,” Scriptorium 41 (1987): 21–22. 496 Continet iste uno sancto sub corpore codex: Alcuin puns on corpore, which means “body” and “book,” an aural playfulness energized by placement. Codex is synonymous here with pandect, the gathering of biblical “books” under one cover, on which, see also above,

The Poems gorgeous gifts of God. Reader, kind one, don’t doubt that you hold God’s word, the law old and new,497 life-giving, Truth’s wisdom, salvation’s riches without end. Who would learn sacred writ will find it here, the holy fathers’ reverent words: what the kindly bearer-of-laws once wrote of the world’s start, the creation of things:498 how God-all-powerful birthed nature’s keep, how clever humankind came to know it all; read how God first formed a man and how he fled, exiled at His command;499 why an ungodly brother, for want of goodness, drenched his heinous hand in brotherly blood.500 Then come the crowd of Fathers by name: through them runs the blessed order of time. Noah, a safe haven, the world’s respite, was born then: the great flood coursed in his time, God’s ark ran the seas, fresh hope for the world, crammed with children of every tribe.501 Then crippling pride built a looming tower, folks’ voices lost their harmony there.502 Abraham, the father, counted stars in the sky: God had promised him a son.503 The exiles of Isaac and Jacob were long,504 through them twelve tribes of a holy race came up.505 Then the peerless boy Joseph was sold a slave into Egypt,

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carm. 65.1. The norm in Alcuin’s day was for “books” of the Bible to circulate individually or in small gatherings. I.e., the Old and New Testaments. “Kindly bearer of laws” = Moses, whose writings form the Pentateuch. Alcuin follows, in vv. 36–40, the general story of creation told at Genesis 1 and the creation and fall of Adam and Eve recounted in Genesis 2–3. Cain and Abel = Genesis 4. Noah and his descendants = Genesis 5–10. The Tower of Babel = Genesis 11:1–9. At Genesis 15:5, God promises Abraham as many descendants as the stars he might count in the sky. The life of Isaac, son of Abraham, = Genesis 17; 21–22; 25–26; the life of his son, Jacob, = Genesis 25–35. The sense of “exiles” goes to the centuries-long exile of Abraham’s descendants from Canaan but also to more specific instances of exile suffered especially by Jacob (see, e. g., Genesis 31). By Leah, Rachel, Bilhah (Rachel’s maid), and Zilpah (Leah’s maid), Jacob fathered twelve sons, the progenitors of the twelve tribes of Israel.

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The Poems owed to his brothers’ black treachery; his kindly father suffered so.506 But of a sudden he left prison to rule pharaoh’s realms, led his father and brothers into Goshen’s fields;507 the book of Genesis tells it all, down to the harsh day of Joseph’s death:508 then a new pharaoh, all wickedness, bound God’s servants in stiff chains; Exodus tells of the times of grand Moses: leading his people at God’s command, raining down ten plagues,509 unflinching, driving God’s sacred flock away from Egypt’s evil kin, they ambled dry-footed over water,510 chanting joyous songs to the Lord, the law511 came down from Sinai’s crest on tablets cast by the sacred finger of God that pious Moses, law-giver, with a burning face,512 bequeathed to the crowds as he quit the heights; ordering folk, struggling vagabonds over desert-stretches, to build a dwelling set aside for God with tables, vessels, boards and lanterns, the holy of holies for God’s ark. The Bible’s third book, Leviticus, sets out priestly practices, the course of holy festal days, Aaron’s vestments, and his sacred sons. The fourth book tells the numbers’ mystical march, God’s folk arrayed by tribe and troop,513 the veiled words of the prophet, old Baláam, falling, foretelling many truths.514 For forty years through a wasted silent world a dry people roamed faithless to God, until Moses’ biting words renewed the law that gives life

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506 Joseph’s early years = Genesis 37, though the role of Joseph as an interpreter of dreams is omitted in Alcuin’s accounting. 507 Joseph and his family coming into Goshen = Genesis 47. 508 Joseph’s death = Genesis 50:24. 509 Ten plagues = Exodus 7–11. 510 Red Sea = Exodus 14:10–31. 511 The law = Exodus 20–23; 34:1–26. 512 Moses’ face = Exodus 34:27–35. 513 Tribe and troop = Numbers 1–3. 514 Oracles of Baláam = Numbers 23–24.

The Poems when he sensed death’s day approach. Scripture’s fifth book,515 holds singular stories calling up God’s gifts to the folk: a wicked, wandering desert-lot denied the Lord, and fell; then kindly lawgiver Moses died—as God ordained. Joshua rose up, a chieftain foremost in arms, bringing folk to a land God gave; his battles piled up with dazzling wins, his sword ran the Canaanites to ruin, he doled out God’s noted realms to all, the tribes and tracts, linked to patriarchs’ august names; scripture’s sixth book has Joshua astride the world, takes its title from his name; then he died and judges ruled the folk years on, down to the days of Saul; the seventh book516 of scripture tells the tale: the tribes, days, places, struggles, victories and names, the Heptateuch runs its course with this book, called Judges, the book of Ruth follows it—a woman amply known. A warrior for faith, Job took up arms without fear, presaging the days when God was Christ. Scripture writes the life of prophet Samuel, and Saul, felled on a sinful Philistine sword, mighty Israelite, raised up in his prime. David517 held the sacred realms after him, a poet chanting psalms into hymns, gesturing toward Christ’s life among men, from whose royal seed Mary stemmed, blessed, kind, virgin-mother of God. David died: King Solomon ruled the kingdom in peace, overjoyed to build sacred temples to God. Rehoboam, his son, divided the realm, holding only Judah as king; wicked Jeroboam took up with the Samarians, the first king to foster the worship of calves: two kingdoms standing against the other, two brothers at war. Other kings took their places in history,

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The Poems sinfully guilty, burdened with crimes; people and leader were exiled then, suffering their just deserts. The times of the kings is told in four books,518 to the fall of the sacred city, its king, and people. Then come the prophets’ peerless books, named for them—sixteen in all— and sing of Christ’s days to come: Jeremiah’s lament over Joshua and his kind; a book of hymnic songs—the Psalms, sung by David, king, father of Christ;519 Solomon’s three books—author extraordinaire;520— two volumes of exempla: a book called Wisdom is first: Jesus’ coming is gleaned in its name; next is sacred Paraleipomena,521 taking stock of ancient law; then the books of Ezra, Nehemiah, Judith, Esther, Tobit: an angel, a journey, pious works, showed his goodness;522 two books record the famous Maccabeean wars, the nations and races conquered then. This is holy writ, the Old Testament, every word breathing sacredness. The days ran down to John the Baptist’s age, where the gospel’s holy honor alights: through it sacred books tell tales, making plain the revelations of Christ’s arrival, glinted day of light streaming into the world: black shadows kept their distance, then fled. With angelic hosts, God’s four evangelists flash, singing of Christ’s sacred days in the world: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John write the hallowed deeds of Christ—of God.

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518 1 and 2 Kings and 1 and 2 Chronicles. 519 Matt. 1:1 calls Jesus the “son of David.” 520 Three books = Ecclesiastes, commonly attributed to Solomon; Song of Songs, traditionally called Song of Solomon; and Prov. 10:1–22; 16; 25:1–29; 27, those parts of Proverbs that record Solomon’s poetry. The Book of Wisdom was often called the Wisdom of Solomon, but Alcuin mentions this book at v. 139. 521 Paraleipomena = 1 and 2 Chronicles, considered one book. 522 Tobit is an emblem of perdurable faith in God, proven not least by the assistance given to his son, Tobias, by the angel Raphael, as Tobias was making his way to Media to retrieve ten silver talents left there by his father [= Tobit 4:1–12:22].

The Poems St. Luke describes the apostles in the world:523 their teachings, labors, journeying. Paul wrote fourteen letters to followers, cities, peoples; picked by Christ, a unique teacher in the world, scattering His words to countless folk. Jacob, John, Peter, Jude, also wrote exalted words in eponymous books: of John reclining on Christ’s chest, a pious exile discerning much to come: evil’s recompense, goodnesses’ glory; while scripture’s last book blooms with Heaven’s mysteries all around. These books are God’s legendary gift, laden with Heaven’s store, in them are life, salvation, glory, riches. Absent scripture no one can know God, His precepts, or Heaven’s blessed realm, scripture glints with wisdom, truth, with praise, reward, life, and salvation. Absent scripture, error seduces the mind that cannot learn God’s holy words where the wisdom of eternal life abides: glory, light, piety, the very God revealed. Whoever might come to His hallowed words in the holy body of this book as a lector reciting in church: knows to sound the accents properly, but let his reading bring out sense, sections, clauses, phrases,524 let a soft voice prick up the ears of the church, so that every listener might speak the praises of God: to Christ, king of kings, Lord of lords, glory, light, strength, praise, honor, and salvation, land, sea, sky feel His power, He wished His name to be written on the world, His kindness saved it from a despiteful foe, dying on the cross, in the flesh, triumphant. With customary care may He guide Charles, the king, protect him, rule him endlessly,

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523 Luke is the author of the gospel that bears his name and of the Acts of the Apostles. 524 Garrison, “Alcuin, Carmen 69,” 135–137, correcting Godman, Poetry, 138, explains the technical meanings of cola et commata in v. 185.

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Carm. 70 (Dümmler 292–293) Verses for a Copy of the Gospels Carm. 70 gathers six tituli found in the ninth-century Codex Aureus, a copy of the four Gospels produced at the court of Charles the Bald, now Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 14000. Until recently, the opinio communis held that these tituli were composed by Alcuin for a Gospel book, now lost, but partially preserved in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 5577, dated to the eleventh century. Forster is the first to have noticed the similarities between the tituli in the Codex Aureus and in Paris 5577, and in his edition, he added nine verses from the Codex Aureus to the verses of Paris 5577 and corrected the Paris verses using the Codex Aureus as his model.525 Dümmler took his lead from Forster, put to the side Forster’s categorization of these lines as Carmina Dubia, and removed the brackets from those lines introduced from the Codex Aureus to those of Paris 5577. Left unexamined were the relationship of Paris 5577 to the Codex Aureus, not to mention the plausibility of ascribing either or both versions of the tituli found in them to Alcuin. Dutton and Jeauneau have since argued persuasively that the two manuscripts represent two distinct Gospel books and that the tituli contained in Paris 5577, while copied out amid the works of Alcuin ascribed to him in Paris 5577, are not from his hand. Instead, they prove that these tituli were copied in the manuscript owing simply to the availability of space. Moreover, in studying the diction of the tituli in the Codex Aureus, Dutton and Jeauneau demonstrate affinities of word choice and imagery between the tituli and the poetry of John Scottus Eriugena that argue convincingly against Alcuin’s authorship.526 Any future editor of Alcuin’s poetry will need to revisit the placement of carm. 70 unproblematically in the works of Alcuin and in the edited form its poems currently take (as follows, 436–439).527 525 Forster 456–457. 526 E. Jeauneau and P. E. Dutton, “The Verses of the “Codex Aureus” of Saint-Emmeram,” in Études Érigéniennes, ed. E. Jeauneau (Paris, 1987), 593–638. 527 For these reasons Jullien and Perelman, Clavis, 512, place carm. 70 in pseudepigrapha.

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On the front of a codex, these verses are found, where an image of Christ and images of the four Evangelists and the four Prophets are preserved. Painted variously in a square, a crowd of saints spies great joys: Isaiah, confident in his towering thought as Jeremiah sings the wonders of the Lord; Ezechiel describes the seat of God as Daniel tells of Christ cut from a mountain. Matthew writes of Christ’s human birth as Mark roars, a lion gnashing its maw, Luke lows with kind love in a song of Christ. John: you steal glimpses of Heaven in your writing, in your mind.

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These words are found on another page, where the lamb, the twentyfour elders, the earth, and the sea are depicted. The earth brings forth a nourishing fare, the sea’s face is girded by ample shore. Lamb, they endlessly venerate high-enthroned God: He poured His blood, cleaned the sins of the world on a cross; lamb: clean the wounds of Charles, the king. A flock of elders, white-robed, an order of revered men gathered like apostles, presses near with Heaven’s crowns, praises, adores, loves, and fears with souls bowed down.528 Charles, princeps, spies you with a crystaline gaze, praying to live with you down through time. In the same place a lamb alone is depicted. My teaching: by the law of Moses in a time to come this lamb endured deathly wounds for humankind. Where the right hand of Christ is depicted. The Father’s right hand guides the world with strength: He led his own son across to Heaven. 528 The twenty-four elders are described at Rev. 4:4.

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The Poems At the end of the Gospel of John. And Charles, princeps, kind, living like a saint: this codex glints, made by his might. What the writers say at the end of their book Cleaving holy seas, we have come now to the end, our skiff has its safe haven.

Carm. 71 (Dümmler 293–294) Prefaces to the Gospels As carm. 71, Dümmler gathers two poems. 71.1 is twenty hexameters variously preserved in six manuscripts, dating, with one exception, from the ninth century. Duchesne and Forster don’t know the poem. Carm. 71.2, ten elegiac verses, is preserved in three manuscripts from the ninth century and one from the thirteenth. The poem is copied out in these manuscripts with Alcuin’s Interpretationes nominum Hebraicorum progenitorum Iesu Christi (see the foregoing, 17). Duchesne edited this treatise as a homily, sometimes ascribed to Bede, under the title Homilia in Nativitate Beatae Mariae Virginis, but does not include the poem.529 Forster prints this treatise with the title it goes under now, with the poem providing its conclusion but lacking vv. 9–10.530 71.1 is comprised of four five-verse prefaces, one for each of the four Gospels, but printed as a single, twenty-verse, hexametrical poem, replicating the witness of Trier, Stadtbibliothek 23, in which it appears as one piece in the evangeliary of Prüm. These verses are not always so copied. In Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek, Weiss. 26 (4110) they remain intact but fall at the end of the gospels, rather than, as in Trier, Stadtbibliothek 23, at the beginning. In other witnesses, they appear separately as five-verse poems at the beginning of each of the gospels to which they belong. That they are not to be considered a unified work of art goes without saying, given their intended function in the evangeliaries in which they are found. While 71.2 is unproblematically ascribed to Alcuin, the attribution of 71.1 is less clear, seemingly based on Alcuin’s association with Bible production at Tours and the lack of an obvious older source for these prefaces, such as Jerome. But there is no scholarly consensus, and any future editor of 71.1 will have to revisit the inclusion of it in the works of Alcuin, not to say the 529 Duchesne, cols. 1197–1205. 530 Forster, Book 1, Part. 1, 449–456 [= treatise], 456 [= poem].

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decision of Dümmler to edit them from one witness that prints these pieces as if they were a single poem (see the following, 436–439). In v. 1, Matthew is evoked in his affiliation with an angel; for the Latin e sacro spiramine fretus (“held on a sacred whisper”) seems to suggest the appearance of an angel to Joseph recounted at Mt. 1:20–21. Vv. 2–3, on the other hand, affiliate Matthew with the articulation of Christ’s genealogy found at Mt. 1:1–17, which traces Jesus’ paternity from Abraham, through fourteen generations of patriarchs, down to Joseph. Alcuin stresses the power of Matthew’s vision in articulating this genealogy and offers it as a reason for the Evangelist’s depiction as a man. In vv. 6–10, Mark is depicted as Peter’s interpreter—a notion that goes back to Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History (3.39), in which the historian notes that Mark’s gospel was thought to have been a transcription of Peter’s reminiscences. Mark’s typical association with the lion is rightly exploited, too, while the nod to Egypt reminds readers of Mark’s traditional position as the first bishop of Alexandria. Luke is depicted in vv. 11–15 in his role as a doctor and, if my understanding of v. 12 is correct, Alcuin plays in this line on the idea that Luke beheld Mary and Christ in a vision.531 Two other aspects of Luke’s history, attending to priestly rights and recording the deeds of the apostles, go, respectively, to the evangelical work traditionally ascribed to Luke that occurred in Egypt and Greece and his authorship of the Acts of the Apostles. Finally, John is described as a virginal figure, recollected at the Last Supper reclining on Christ’s chest (vv. 16–17) and celebrated as the eagle, owing to the ways in which he revealed in his gospel the truth about the humanity and divinity of Christ. Carm. 71.2 offers the treatise on Hebrew names to Charlemagne, but, as is often the case in Alcuin’s poetry, the conclusion of 71.2 points in multiple directions. The “King” of v. 9 can be understood to designate Charlemagne or God (or both), while the slender body and the boundless heart of the poem’s final line (v. 10), in recalling v. 1, also point to the poet’s own largeness of heart, whose bounty makes his body pale in comparison.

1 Matthew, held on a sacred whisper, sweet teacher flitting about the Fathers’ names, revealing, celebrating, Jesus’ line: because he saw it clearly, cleanly, he comes to us with the face of man.

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531 The line reads: scribens gesta dei novit moderamina mentis; the final two words, I understand to suggest, with the verb novit, a presentiment of Christ and Mary.

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The Poems Mark brims with words of divinity (says Peter), snarls like the voice of a quitted beast, betokened as a lion, fierce-faced, fittingly, his faithful teachings kept Egypt safe, fulfilling norms the Apostles laid down. Luke, the doctor, leaning on the lips of God, wrote His deeds, knew their music in his mind, remembered to take up priestly rights, saw himself in the guise of a winged ox, and recorded what the apostles did. John, the virgin, falling on Christ’s chest at the supper that flowed with life, on wings, like an eagle, sought the heights, to reveal God become Man: how the crowd beheld the Word made flesh.

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2 King, look upon this slender gift, and know it brims with boundless love, Albinus, yours alone, has offered it to you—here it is! Rulers proffer boundless gifts, treasures in and out of time but impoverishment puts up these poems, two emblems of diminishment. Don’t think I’ve ignored holiness, King; turn your pious face—you who deserve veneration—to the holy names of the Hebrew Fathers brought out in a Latin lilt! Poem, on bended knee, bring this slender gift to the king: a slender body holds a boundless heart.

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Carm. 72 (Dümmler 294–295) To Charlemagne These twelve hexameters are preserved in the ninth-century Vatican Library, Palat. Lat. 1448, f. 71r. Duchesne and Forster don’t know the poem. It is addressed to Charlemagne, whose interest in the firmament Einhard’s Life of Charlemagne confirms, where he recalls that Alcuin taught the rudiments of astronomy to the king. Alcuin indicates in the poem that he is sending to Charlemagne a “calendar book” (libellus annalis, v. 2–3) and also the “Arguments of Wise Men” (argumenta sophorum, v. 3), ascribed by him to Bede. Alcuin’s libellus annalis is lost, though debates about its contents abide and likely remain unsolvable. Certainly,

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Bede figures as one of its sources, but the summary of Alcuin’s astronomical teaching in carm. 1 points to an awareness on Alcuin’s part of Easter-tables and other material not associated with his illustrious predecessor. This is perhaps confirmed by the evidence of short, ninth-century astronomical and computistic texts that, on Bullough’s view, seem to have been included in a collection assembled by Alcuin in England or during his earliest years on the continent.532 Whatever the association of these texts to the treatise introduced in it, carm. 72 also celebrates the curiosity of Charlemagne as patron and as one who is now, by dint of his previous training under Alcuin’s care, unable to learn anything new from him. Instead, the poet enjoins the king to study the stars directly and to recollect, as he does, the limitless bounties of God enthroned (vv. 9–11).533 As he often does, too, Alcuin worries he will get lost in his patron’s larger attentiveness to God and so, in the poem’s conclusion, he urges Charlemagne also to remember him (v. 12). Sweetest Lord, as you had commanded me, pen quickened, I dashed off a calendar book, and wise words from those of old that Bede once wrote, wondrous teacher: far off now, yet famous still, timekeeper of the West. You began them once, sensitive to their wonders: I have nothing new to teach you now; my advice: put your mind to the stars; let God, holding us in His palm, amplify wisdom’s tender gifts and lead you through the sky, palatial, diffuse, to a place where contentment reveals Christ, gazing on you without end; without end, be well (I make my demand!)—and remember Flaccus, who belongs to you.

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Carm. 73 (Dümmler 295) To Charlemagne This hexametrical poem forms the dedication to a copy of the De categoriis decem, sometimes called the Paraphrasis Themistiana—a late 532 I follow here Bullough 257, 359–361, but see also A. Borst, “Alkuin und die Enzyklopädie von 809,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilization, 53–78 and E. M. Ramírez-Weaver, A Saving Science: Capturing the Heavens in Carolingian Manuscripts (University Park, PA, 2017), 31–35. 533 On astronomy and computistics as a medium of intellectual exchange with Charlemagne, see D. Lohrmann, “Alcuins Korrespondenz mit Karl dem Grossen über Kalendar und Astronomie,” in Science in Western and Eastern Civilization, 79–114.

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fourth-century paraphrase of Aristotle’s Ten Categories, given to Charlemagne. Owing to the importance of the Ten Categories in Augustine’s intellectual formation, it makes sense, as vv. 7–8 make clear, that Alcuin believed this work to derive from a translation made by Augustine.534 The popularity of this treatise is proven by the thirty-plus manuscript witnesses, whose copying spans the ninth through the fifteenth centuries, some of which also copy out carm. 73. Duchesne prints the poem at the head of the Disputatio de rhetorica et de virtutibus (previously, 13), followed by carm. 80.2 (as follows, 269); Forster prints it at the start of the De dialectica (previously, 14), followed by carm. 77.1 (as follows, 264–265).535 This small book preserves the ten categories of nature, that demand the attention of our minds: with zest she tumbles into our senses. Read it, and praise a talent wondrous and long, it goads you to drill your mind as of old, swathing promised days in patent honors. It pleased Augustine, the teacher, to bring over these words in a Latin key, from the treasure-trove of olden Greece. Majesty, I send them on to you, because they make you smile, read them, wisdom’s minion and lover.

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Carm. 74 (Dümmler 295–296) To Charlemagne Carm. 74 forms the conclusion to epis. 171 (Dümmler 281–283, as follows, 394–396), addressed to Charlemagne. It is preserved along with the letter whose conclusion it provides in manuscripts dating from the ninth through the seventeenth centuries. Duchesne prints the letter with poem as epis. 14; Forster, as epis. 84.536 The letter asks the king to confirm Alcuin’s treatise against Felix, the Adversus Felicem Urgellitanum Episcopum; praises Charlemagne’s astronomical work; and outlines some of Alcuin’s own theories regarding the course of the sun, the moon, and the zodiac. Carm. 74 treats the same zodiacal themes and contextualizes the king’s request for writings on such topics, reporting that illness has intruded, though the royal order is powerful enough to have aroused Alcuin from a heavy fever to offer a recusatio.

534 Bullough 376–377; see also Rädler-Bohn, “Re-Dating Alcuin’s De dialectica,” 82–84. 535 Duchesne, col. 1319–1320; Forster 334. 536 Duchesne, cols. 1508–1510; Forster, Book 1, Part 1, 123–125.

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Written in elegiacs, the poem falls into two thematic halves, with a four-verse concluding coda. The first dozen lines describe Alcuin’s illness (vv. 1; 3–4), recollect what the king has ordered (vv. 2; 5–8), and introduce Hippocrates, who the poet imagines would order patient-Alcuin to earth-bound pursuits just now (vv. 9–12). As the poem reaches and crosses its midpoint, however, Virgil’s famous words—“love conquers all” (omnia vincit Amor; Ecl. 10.69)—are used to affirm Alcuin’s devotion to Charlemagne. He will persevere out of love, proven in the writing of vv. 13–24, in which Alcuin avers that he has, after all, composed something about the firmament (vv. 15–16). Illness, he recognizes, has likely imposed deficiencies that mean it probably will not pass muster, and yet, if what he has sent is an “image” of him just now (v. 19), Alcuin has nothing to fear. Debility surely will soften the king’s judgment and, after all, the poet has, in the meantime, done as he was asked despite infirmity. He promises, in any case, “greater” things once he is well (v. 22). Vv. 25–28 are copied out in the manuscripts and printed by Duchesne and Forster as the proper conclusion to the poem. They may well have been intended as such, but Dümmler places a line between v. 24 and the remaining verses, for they may also reflect verses that accompanied, or perhaps even covered, the letter whose conclusion vv. 1–24 provide. In fever’s gluttonous grip, I am barely now—barely—alive; yet you push me to clamber to the vault of Heaven, while illness prompts me to seek the greening earth, meadows, grasses, fields, hills. You have ordered me, Good One, of a sudden to clamber to the high-held stars—you made my sickly feet obey— to pick apart the Zodiac’s heavenly signs, to point out where, how many, and their sky-bound rote. I think Hippocrates would rather scour the fields with Flaccus and his boys just now, than trace Heaven with its golden signs or count the days by sun and moon. Still, the Poet famously sings it in a phrase: “love conquers all;” let love conquer me! I’ve traced Heaven’s regions and stars (just a sketch), at your command: a boundless love swells my heart. Consider now, Your Goodness, if it passes muster or if my sketch requires the pumice stone, and if the image doesn’t lie (in your estimation) I will depart fearing nothing, David, glorious to the world,

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The Poems and if it is perhaps worthy of your nod, this hobbled man will clamber for greater things (as I can). If deathless God swells life’s years, this is goodness: we cling to whatever He gives. __________________ Poem, run up hills, through flowing fields, sing this couplet (make it your own); don’t ever stop: “David, let God’s good word amplify your life, raise it up—you are beloved of God.”

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Carm. 75 (Dümmler 296–297) To Charlemagne The individual poems that comprise carm. 75, each composed in elegiac couplets, provide conclusions to letters written to Charlemagne. Dümmler presumably prints them together by dint of their shared addressee and owing to the proximity of the letters in Alcuin’s epistolary collection and in the manuscript tradition that preserves them (see as follows under the separate pieces). The ascription of these poems to Alcuin’s hand is certain. The letters in which they sit are of a kind. Epis. 172 (Dümmler 284–285; Allott 75, 92–93, as follows, 396–397), whose conclusion is provided by carm. 75.1, is a newsy letter in which, among several topics, Alcuin thanks the king for returning his treatise written against Felix of Urgel, the Adversus Felicem Urgellitanum Episcopum (previously, 6), notes the king’s responses to it, considers several mathematical problems, and thinks about illiteracy at Tours, where the letter was written. Poem 2 (with two initial lines from 56.2, previously, 214), not printed by Dümmler and thus not translated here), provides the conclusion to epis. 174 (Dümmler 287–289; Allott 103, 110–11, as follows, 393–394), dated to June 799, in which Alcuin thanks Charlemagne for informing him of the attack on Pope Leo III (previously, 149–150) that had occurred in April and for bringing him up to date on the current state of affairs with the Saxons. Finally, poem 3 closes epis. 177 (Dümmler 292– 293; Allott 104, 112, as follows, 397–399), dated to August 799, in which Alcuin asks that the king defend the pope and the papacy, and, owing to ill-health, begs off participating in the journey to Rome that Charlemagne is about to undertake. Each poem possesses unique thematic energies. Poem 3, the longest of the three, can be divided into two parts, the first of which, vv. 1–7, attends to the ways in which Charlemagne is affiliated with the goodness and power of Christ. This allows for a thematic shift in the poem’s second half, vv. 8–14,

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in which Alcuin focuses on Charlemagne’s incomparability as a ruler, not least in connection with the king’s defense of Pope Leo mentioned in the letter to which the poem is attached. Charlemagne eventually avenged Leo’s attackers on the pope’s behalf and restored him to the papal throne that he had briefly abandoned for safer havens. Poems 1 and 2, on the other hand, focus on Charlemagne’s beneficence and make the case that his incomparable rule should continue. Here, as often, Alcuin designates the king by the pseudonym “David,” betokening a king who sits bestride the world in biblical ways and who, as patron, is associated with both poetry and power.

1 75.1 is preserved in manuscripts dating from the ninth through the seventeenth centuries. Duchesne prints letter and poem as epis. 15; Forster prints both as epist. 85.537 Let wisdom’s ageless treasures bloom at your side, burnishing your praises, dignity, sway. Poem (my own): to sweet David whisper hallowed hellos as many times as letters found in these lines.

2 75.2 is preserved in manuscripts dating from the ninth through the seventeenth centuries. Duchesne prints the poem as the conclusion of epis. 11; Forster, at the conclusion of epis. 80.538 My heart bursts with the crowd: Best One, your goodness, rounded in faith, the practice of kings, saved a man hobbled with age. My prayer: with clement eyes read this gathering of ABC’s; a love of goodness set them in place. Let hallowed stars, the sward, grounded and green, 5 and all live things roar: “all around, David, prevail;” let earth and sky, people and seas, birds and beasts roar as one with voices that can’t be counted: “Father, prevail.”

3 The poem is preserved in manuscripts dating from the ninth through the eleventh centuries. Duchesne prints it at the conclusion of his epis. 12 537 Duchesne, cols. 1510–1512; Forster, Book 1, Part 1, 125–126. 538 Duchesne, cols. 1502–1503; Forster, Book 1, Part 1, 117–118.

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without the initial lines of carm. 56.2; Forster prints it with his epis. 81, also without the initial lines of 56. 2.539 David, dear to all: may Christ, cloaked in goodness, offer the counsel of harmony and strength, may His right hand take you, protect you, without end: in a flash you and yours have won! In every haunt, until time ends, may the name of that Very One be on your lips, acclaiming the goodness of His power! See: you bring hope to our lives, a figure of strength, just so for Leo, the sheep, safe, hastening to your fold. If any sad one comes to you seeking sacred wisdom, he returns happy in father’s godly gifts, he discovers the end of his search, grasps hope. Little wonder we send praises, like hymns, to Christ, who gave the world a guardian for our time, a Ruler like you, bearing the potent justice of God.

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Carm. 76 (Dümmler 297–298) Poems from the Commentary on Ecclesiastes According to his anonymous biographer, Alcuin wrote three works devoted to the words of Solomon: his commentary on Ecclesiastes and commentaries on the Song of Songs (Compendium in Canticum Canticorum) and on the Book of Proverbs (In Proverbiis Salomonis), now lost.540 The three poems that comprise carm. 76 form parts of Alcuin’s Commentary on Ecclesiastes (Expositio in Ecclesiasten, previously, 8), composed for his students, Onias, Candidus (previously, 189–191), and Fredegisus, as Alcuin notes in a dedicatory letter that precedes the treatise (epis. 251, Dümmler 406–407, as follows, 399–400). The letter concludes with carm. 76.2, written in elegiacs, which imagines a metaphorical scene of reading and enjoins readers to the salvation its words promise. The brief 76.3, on the other hand, comprised of two elegiac couplets, was presumably used in real time as a note of transmittal, when the commentary was delivered to Arn, Archbishop of Salzburg (previously, 153–155). By distinction, 76.1, the longest of the poems, provides an afterward written in elegiacs that enjoins the reader of the commentary to persevere in its words no matter the difficulties impending. The poems are preserved in situ with the commentary 539 Duchesne, cols. 1504–1505; Forster 119–120. 540 Vita Alcuini 21 and previously, 7–8.

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in manuscripts dating from the ninth through the twelfth centuries. Duchesne prints the commentary with the concluding 76.1 but doesn’t know 76.2 or 3; Forster prints the commentary followed by 76.1 but prints 76.2–3 as Addenda et Supplenda, carm. 1 and 2.541

1 This book unveils a palette of thought in flurried styles, may it gladden any who read its lines. Boy: let your mind brood over it, take pains, don’t cast your thoughts into Epicurus’ pit. Alcuin roams the pious fathers’ sacred fields to gather blessed blossoms from holy soil, longing to plait wreaths to fit the brows of boys too young to don chaplets of grander size. Sons: thoroughly learn these, my words (so I ask), let eternity’s days fill your mind; all the allurements of our age are frail and far, flowing out of reach, beyond touch, like the rushing sea. Rail against souls crammed with vanity’s store, firm up your hearts with love of God; death soon quickens to every hour, moment, hauling us to the presence of a Judge, where all we have done is arrayed in crystalline relief—as this book explains. Old, young, rich, poor: let each one fear, gaining their just deserts that will abide through endless days, evermore: blessings for good folk; for evil folk, ruin: the unholy are cast into the demon’s inky gloom, the righteous reign with Christ in a citadel of light. Happy-heartedly take up these Easter gifts; when you pray, remember who sent them to you. Who holds this holds a book snatched from the fire: it’s raw—barely cooked in that flaming pit. Sons: let your piety trim its errors (so I pray), don’t let a loose tooth chew on it, don’t let an angry eye rush to scatter it to the wide winds—as it is wont to do.

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541 Duchesne, col. 370–371; Forster, Book 1, Part 1: 446–447 [= 76.1]; Forster 612 [= 76.2–3].

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2 Who fears to cleave proud rivers in a modest skiff, lest the ravening south-wind make it founder: let him sail his own cutter in waters at peace, that take kindly to the flowery meadows they race. Who fears to explore with soulful skill the deep-running ideas of towering thinkers: let him read my commentary, happy, still-souled, that a crooked hand bore from the ancients’ troves. Live ever in God; to live for this world is death; to live for God is true life. Sweet sons: I pray the grace of Christ keep you happy in salvation’s holy work.

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3 Deliver this commentary to Arn, the great bishop, let him read it—and soon return it to me. Peace be yours, life, salvation, always, holy priest, and remember me, without end be well.

Carm. 77 (Dümmler 298) Prologue to On Dialectics; Prologue to On Orthography Carm. 77 takes in two poems, both written in elegiacs, joined by Dümmler based on their association with treatises attending the liberal arts. They are not otherwise affiliated. 77.1 forms a poetic prologue to Alcuin’s De dialectica (previously, 14), a pedagogical treatise that takes the form of a dialogue between Alcuin and Charlemagne. Alcuin suggests in vv. 5–6 that he brought some of the sources for the De dialectica with him from England—or that they were sent from there—while enjoining his reader, perhaps Charlemagne (as a listener), to the topics his work commends. As the De dialectica became a popular school text, there are many copies of it, and therefore, of carm. 77.1. The manuscripts that preserve the treatise and poem also often contain Alcuin’s Disputatio de rhetorica et virtutibus (previously, 13), and sometimes, carm. 80.1 (as follows, 268–269). The order of the treatises and poems in this large gathering of manuscripts varies. In Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale 7520, f. 9r the poem is copied out under the title Versus Heroici Alcuini Ad Karolum Regem, which Dümmler prints in his edition and which I therefore translate below. Duchesne prints 77.1 at the beginning of the De dialectica, where it

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follows carm. 80.1; Forster also prints it at the beginning of the De dialectica, where it follows carm. 73.542 77.2, a single elegiac couplet, is edited by Dümmler from Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 7533, f. 1r, where it nests at the top right of the folium, immediately before the incipit to a copy of Alcuin’s De orthographia (previously, 14). But across nearly two dozen manuscripts, it exists in different forms in the two redactions of the De orthographia that organize editorial work on this popular, widely copied treatise. In the second redaction, carm. 77.2 is identical to the couplet that is found in three dozen-plus copies of Priscian’s De Arte Grammatica, and this is perhaps grounds for printing this poem under a separate number or removing it entirely from Alcuin’s corpus (see as follows, 436–439). Duchesne doesn’t print the De orthographia or the poem; Forster prints 77.2 at the beginning of the De orthographia.543 Hexameters of Alcuin Sent to King Charles If you wish to understand old books, read me; take me up and gain sophistication; I don’t want a sluggish reader; I don’t want to appear proud: my heart is humble, devoted, as deep as a cavern: let a lover embrace wisdom’s treasures, a water-traveler carries them from his own haunts.

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__________________ If you wish to trot out sayings of old: read me: if you don’t, you’ll speak outside the bounds!

Carm. 78 (Dümmler 299) Poem With the Commentary on the Song of Songs Alcuin’s exegetical project on the words of Solomon includes his Commentary on Ecclesiastes (Expositio in Ecclesiasten, previously, 8, and carm. 76, 262–264), a now-lost commentary on the Book of Proverbs, and a commentary on the Song of Songs (Compendium in Canticum Canticorum (previously, 7–8), which, in some manuscripts, is copied out with carm. 78 at its head. In Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 5577 the poem is preceded by a title, Expositum Alchuini in Canticum Canticorum 542 Duchesne, col. 1355–1356; Forster 335. 543 Forster 301.

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(“Alcuin’s Commentary on the Song of Songs”), which Dümmler prints with carm. 78. It seems a heading for both poem and the commentary that follows. The poem is in hexameters. With one exception (Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 9520, f. 86v-105r, ninth century), the poem is preserved in copies of the so-called second recension—an abridgement of a longer version of the commentary, the so-called first recension. These include manuscripts from the ninth through the thirteenth centuries. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints it as it is found in the manuscripts, preceding the commentary on the Song of Songs proper.544 Solomon sang this book with sweetness like a wonder, tending stand-out songs of groom and bride, praises of Christ and Church (thus the singing), recalling husbands and wives, faithful to their marriage beds. Boy: commend these songs to your mind—as I ask— they are better than Virgil’s, beguiling us to the hilt; to you they sing truth, precepts of eternal life. Virgil? His untruths and trifles will blast in your ears!

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Carm. 79 (Dümmler 299) For a Lectionary The Comes mentioned in v. 1 of this brief, poem designates a lectionarium; that is, a book of readings drawn from scripture attending to specific days of worship on the liturgical calendar. Dümmler thinks it pertains to a lectionary associated with a church at Chartres,545 while Wilmart argues that it designates the Comes Alcuin produced at Charlemagne’s request in the 790s (Comes ab Albino Emendatus, see the foregoing, 11),546 more properly an epistolary, that is, a lectionary lacking gospel readings. Alcuin’s Comes took shape from a seventh- or early eighth-century lectionary that he revised in various ways, shortening established readings, and adding new readings to fill out the liturgical calendar while bringing the whole into line with liturgical practices across the Carolingian empire (and imposing the same where necessary). Carm. 79, written in hexameters, is not preserved with copies of Alcuin’s Comes, but rather, is witnessed in Forster’s edition of the Regensburg manuscript, where he prints it under Addenda et Supplenda, carm. 3.547 Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. 544 545 546 547

Forster, Book 1, Part 1, 392. Dümmler 299n3, following Mabillon. Wilmart, Le lectionnaire d’Alcuin, 148. Forster 612.

The Poems In Christ’s name, let this codex called Comes commence,548 helping holy priests round out festal days. The year returns in time to Phoebus, tossing flames, retracing the rites of the Roman Catholic Church, shining forth from Christ’s birth, risen to the world and attending to His going out of the world again—He had no choice but to leave.

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Carm. 80 (Dümmler 299–300) To Youths; Prologue to On Rhetoric and the Virtues Dümmler’s carm. 80 is two poems, both composed in elegiacs. The first, 80.1, exists in various states in the numerous places where it is preserved— not least, nested between Alcuin’s De dialectica (previously, 14) and the Disputatio de rhetorica et virtutibus (previously, 13); before the prologue poem of the De dialectica (carm. 77; previously, 264–265); or at the end of the Disputatio. The poem also exists independently of these works in copies where it is sometimes shortened or in which some of its couplets are arranged in different orders.549 Wallach thought carm. 80.1 was likely three smaller pieces, vv. 1–6; 7–12; 13–14.550 Lendinara, who offers a comprehensive review of the manuscript history, sees in its lines “a unitary text . . . [with] internal coherence” in respect of meter and rhyme, and with a rhetorical polish that supports the idea that Alcuin wrote carm. 80.1 as Dümmler prints it and allowing it to stand on its own as a work of verbal art of some considerable merit.551 On the other hand, Lendinara disapproves of Dümmler’s decision to yoke carm. 80.2 to 80.1, since 80.2 is properly the prologue to the Disputatio de rhetorica et virtutibus, as Dümmler himself makes clear,552 the removal of which from its original setting hides its purpose.553 Lendinara also casts doubt on the prefatory nature of carm. 80.1, which has long been thought in some way to introduce the Disputatio de rhetorica et virtutibus or the De dialectica or both, given the ways in which it is preserved in many witnesses in proximity to them.554 548 The original line is even more beholden to alliterative “c”: Inchoat hic ‘comes’ in Christo cognomine codex. 549 P. Lendinara, “A Poem for All Seasons: Alcuin’s ‘O vos, est aetas’,” in Teaching and Learning in Medieval Europe: Essays in Honour of Gernot R. Wieland, eds. G. DinkovaBruun and T. Major (Turnhout, 2017), especially 123–133. 550 L. Wallach, Alcuin and Charlemagne: Studies in Carolingian History and Literature (Ithaca, 1959), 88. 551 Lendinara, “Poem for All Seasons,” 123–133. 552 Dümmler 300 n1. 553 Lendinara, “Poem for All Seasons,” 146 with n108. 554 Lendinara, “Poem for All Seasons,” 133–134.

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Carm. 80.1 is preserved variously in roughly two dozen manuscripts, dating from the ninth through the fifteenth centuries. Duchesne prints carm. 80.1 as the poetic introduction to Alcuin’s De dialectica, followed by carm. 77.1 (previously, 265); Forster prints 80.1 at the conclusion of the Disputatio.555 The opening verses of carm. 80.1 recall Ovid, Ars Amatoria 3.62–64 (“play: for the years pass like flowing water, the wave once passed cannot be called back again, the hour that has passed is not able to return”; ludite: eunt anni more fluentis aquae/nec quae praeteriit iterum revocabitur unda/ nec quae praeteriit hora redire potest); while vv. 9–10 recall Jesus’ words as reported at Matt. 7:3 and Luke 6:41 (“Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?”; quid autem vides festucam in oculo fratris tui et trabem in oculo tuo non vides?). Unlike Ovid, however, who describes youth as an age for love, Alcuin makes youth a time for reading and learning. In introducing Alcuin’s Disputatio de rhetorica et virtutibus, on the other hand, carm. 80.2 frames the art of rhetoric as a political project (vv. 1–2; civiles mores, translated here as “to live as one”). Comprised of four elegiac couplets, it is witnessed, along with the Disputatio, in multiple copies, the more important of which include no fewer than sixteen manuscripts dating from the ninth through the sixteenth centuries. Duchesne places carm. 80.2 at the head of the Disputatio, but following carm. 73 (previously, 257–258), Forster prints carm. 80.2 alone at the start of the Disputatio.556 Any future edition of Alcuin’s poetry will need to revisit Dümmler’s joining of carm. 80.1 and 2, given that they are otherwise not affiliated in Alcuin’s large output (see the following, 436–439).

1 Boys: this is the age when you should read; learn: time is like the rolling sea, don’t let tender days tumble into emptiness: endlessly the sea rolls out, like the hours rushing down through time. You are young: get to know the virtues, flourish, 5 and when you’re old, praise, high and decent, will make you glimmer. Use these joyful years—whoever may read this book— and tell God to spare its author. Reader: if you wish to remove a splinter, first remove the wooden beam in your eye. 10 Boy: learn to argue with eloquence, 555 Duchesne, cols. 1355–1356; Forster 333. 556 Duchesne, cols. 1319–1320; Forster 313.

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to protect your own, care for them, keep them safe. Boy: learn to live attractively, and your name will be in the praises of the world.

2 If you wish to know how to live as one, read what follows in this book. Amidst the cares that the Palace holds, Charles the King had written it down with Albinus, who gave it with the King’s assent. One work, two hands, unequal, yet a cause for both the father of the world and the world’s needy tenant. Reader: don’t sneer at this modest book: honey comes to you from the bee, whose body is all modesty.

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Carm. 81 (Dümmler 300) On the Brahmans This brief poem forms the preface to an edition of two epistolary collections sent to Charlemagne by Alcuin. The first, the Collatio cum Dindimo rege Bragmanorum, gathers letters supposedly exchanged between Alexander the Great and Dindimus, King of the Brahmans, as Alexander warred his way through portions of northwestern South Asia; the other collection, the Epistulae ad Paulum, gathers letters that purportedly passed between the apostle Paul and the Roman philosopher Seneca. Both collections circulated in late antiquity and gained a wide currency in Alcuin’s lifetime and beyond. Bullough senses in the moral positions staked out by Dindimus a strain of thought Alcuin would have found appealing, and this is presumably behind the idea expressed in vv. 1–2.557 In addition to heralding the purported Christianity of Seneca the Younger, the pseudo-Senecan letters, much like their genuine counterparts, likely proved appealing models of Latin prose.558 The verses are elegiac. The poem is preserved in no fewer than six manuscripts dating from the ninth through the seventeenth centuries. Alcuin names himself in v. 6, making his authorship secure. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints carm. 81 at the conclusion of the Collatio.559

557 Bullough 378. 558 Although Veyrard-Cosme, Tacitus Nuntius, 135, argues that Seneca is not an important model for Alcuin. 559 Forster 606.

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The Poems Here: read about the Brahmans’ extraordinary ways; reader: picture their faith in your mind’s eye. Here: read the brief exchanges from Seneca and Paul, each letter signed by name. Caesar, known to all, great glory of the world: Albinus, yours alone, sent them as a token to you.

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Carm. 82 (Dümmler 300) To Charlemagme These elegiac couplets provide the conclusion to epis. 257 (as follows, 400–402), written in 802, a dedicatory letter addressed to Charlemagne that introduces Alcuin’s De fide sanctae et individuae Trinitatis (previously, 16). The poem celebrates the king’s incomparability, stressing his close connection to God, betokened here, unsurprisingly, in His trinitarian guises. The poem’s structure burnishes theme: three couplets symbolize the three persons of the Trinity, while the third line of the poem describes its members. As an important work of theological speculation, the De fide sanctae gained a large readership and is therefore preserved widely, if variously, in well over one hundred manuscripts. Dümmler edited the letter from a handful of ninth century manuscripts, while carm. 82 is preserved separately in two manuscripts, Oxford, Bodleian Library Junius 25 (Madan 5137), f. 87r, from the ninth century, and Brussels, Bibliothèque Royale 9107 (V.d.G. 1), f. XLIIv, from the twelfth. Duchesne and Forster print the poem as the conclusion of the dedicatory letter.560 The Verses of Albinus to the King Begin King, glimmering without end, cloaked in reverence grandly, worthily, leader, learned, glory of empire: May Father, Father’s son, and the fostering Spirit warm you, lift you up, respect you, keep you well, covet you. Brimming with goodness, your mind charges us to love God without end, 5 through the haunts and habitats of your sovereignty.

Carm. 83 (Dümmler 301) To Charlemagne Dümmler organizes, under carm. 83, three poems composed in elegiac couplets addressed to Charlemagne. 83.1 forms the conclusion to epis. 238 (as 560 Duchesne, 703–704; Forster, Book 1, Part 3, 703.

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follows, 402–403), in which Alcuin thanks Charlemagne for his kindnesses but explains that illness demands that he remain at St Martin just now. 83.2 is copied out as the final couplet of epis. 240 (as follows, 403–404) in the manuscripts that preserve it, with 83.3 copied out immediately before the letter. Dümmler reverses this order in his edition of the letter, placing 83.2 at the head of epis. 240 and 83.3 at its conclusion. But it seems preferable to print 83.2 as the manuscripts report it, as the final couplet of epis. 240, not least because it contains instructions for “sealing” the letter when it was sent in real time: the act of “untying” (discingat) a letter mentioned by Alcuin at 83.2.1 entails removing the string or strip of parchment that was fastened around the letter to secure it for delivery.561 Such instructions cannot be followed if they are contained in the letter they concern, while making 83.3 function as conclusion rather than introduction removes from the letter’s introduction sentiments this couplet otherwise provides. These poems and their letters are preserved in three ninth century manuscripts: London, Lambeth Palace Library 218, carm. 83.1 = f. 193r–195r; carm. 83.2–3 = f.190r–191v; Troyes, Bibliothèque Municipale 1165, carm. 83.1 = f. 38r; carm. 83.2–3 = f. 36r-v; and Vatican Library, Reg. lat. 272, carm. 83.1 = f. 34r; carm. 83.2–3 = 32v-33v. Duchesne prints 83.1 with his epis. 19; and 83.2–3 in his epis. 17; Forster prints 83.1 with his epis. 106; and 83.2–3 with his epis. 104.562

1 In time and out, may Christ’s grace abide with you, David, making you flourish, healthy, triumphant, powerful in the world, at whose end, when you reach it, grasp God’s kingdom and smile on the company of saints already there, beyond the touch of time. Let tender Christ load your arms with gifts: as many as your goodness has given me! Look: let the ground grow as much grass, the shore hold as much sand, take as many gifts as that, David, and with God’s mercy be well. David, known by all, live happily in and out of time in Christ, who knows you’ve been unfailingly, busily, sacred.

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2 Let your soft right hand untie this letter, David, which God, all powerful, lifts up, like a victor! 561 On tying and untying letters, see Bullough, Alcuin, 42n95 and, more generally on letter composition, Garrison 25–34. 562 Duchesne, carm. 83.1=cols. 1515–1516; carm. 83.2–3=cols. 1513–1514; Forster 157=carm. 83.1; 154–155=carm. 83.2–3.

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3 David, may the nourishing power of God Christ let fall on you kingdoms of gold, with the saints in Heaven.

Carm. 84 (Dümmler 301) To Arn Written in hexameters, carm. 84 forms the conclusion to epis. 243 (as follows, 404–408), written to Arn (previously, 153–155), both of which accompanied Alcuin’s Enchiridion in Psalmos poenitentiales, in Psalmum 118 et in Psalmos graduales (previously, 8); that is, his commentaries on the seven penitential psalms, psalm 118 (119), and the fifteen gradual psalms, sent to Arn between 798–802. Much of epis. 243 is given over to pondering the choice and the number of the penitential and the gradual psalms, and the rationale behind the structure(s) of psalm 118 (119). The poetic ending provided by carm. 84 thus signals a move in the letter to something more in line rhetorically with the poetic qualities of the psalms themselves. Alcuin qualifies these commentaries as an enchiridion or a manualis liber, and he conceives of them, along with the letter and poem, as a collection, though they are not always witnessed as such in the manuscript tradition, where they are sometimes copied separately or incompletely. The letter and poem are preserved in manuscripts dating from the ninth through the twelfth centuries. Duchesne doesn’t print the letter or carm. 84; Forster prints letter and poem at the head of the Enchiridion.563 Father, holy, happy, read these lines with a surfeit of pleasure and be mindful down the years of Albinus—who taught you— as you attend to the sacred altars of Christ, bowed low, anxious for God, insuperable, forgiving, to disenthrall the fallen with an unstinting mercy, that I might muster the joyful power to praise the Thunderer, when I no longer bear the burdens of life (Christ forgive me). Like a powerful nurse, let the angel coursing heaven’s arc, over continents, through forests, across hills—accompany you. And over castles and villages, across rivers cutting lands, in all places, for all time, let that angel lead you, too, joyful in the fullness of sacred health, through 563 Forster, Book 1, Part 1, 345 (= carm. 84).

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The Poems ageless time, tender father, a gift of the Lord. Be well, dearest bishop, hold forth forever over the pastures of life with their brimming flocks, let them roam, munching on blossoms sacred with virtue, and you their leader, father, pastor, patriarch, priest.

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Carm. 85 (Dümmler 302–304) To Gundrada, on the Soul The poems that comprise carm. 85 are attached to a lengthy letter, epis. 309 (as follows, 408–410), written to Gundrada, the sister of Adalhard of Corbie, whom Alcuin calls Eulalia (previously, 143–145).564 The letter, which Dümmler prints only in part, is, in effect, a brief treatise on the nature of the soul, now called the De animae ratione ad Eulaliam virginem (previously, 16), part of a suite of works devoted to the trinity that also includes the De fide sanctae et individuae Trinitatis (previously, 16), and the De Trinitate ad Fredegisum Quaestiones XXVIII (previously, 16). Since later manuscripts often record these works together, Curry thinks this coupling may represent Alcuin’s organizing hand, betokening a collection of theological works to be used especially for teaching, but more recent work on the De fide sanctae et individuae Trinitatis considers it a court-sponsored compilation rather than something from Alcuin’s hand. A response to Eulalia’s request for a treatise on the soul, epis. 309 concludes with two poems, carm. 85.1 and 2, the first in elegiacs, the second in adonics, followed by the so-called Laudes Caroli—a prose piece that begins in explanation of the importance of the number six in the composition of 85.2 but which becomes a praise piece in honor of Charlemagne. The witnesses to epis. 309 also often record 85.3—a litany addressed to God—and 85.4—a brief farewell piece comprising an elegiac couplet in honor of the Virgin Mary. In one witness, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek lat. 18372, the litany is attached to ten hexameters that explain the importance of the palm, which Dümmler decouples to make 85.5. Curry excludes 85.5 from his edition, concluding it with 85.4. Because the De animae ratione was used as a school text, its witness is secure across sixty-plus manuscripts. Duchesne prints the letter with carm. 85.1–3; Forster prints the letter followed by 85.1–5 but with 4 and 5 joined as one poem, following the witness of Munich 18372.565 Dümmler rightly decoupled these pieces.

564 L. Lockett, Anglo-Saxon Psychologies in the Vernacular and Latin Traditions (Toronto, 2011), 281–312 studies the intellectual and spiritual backgrounds of poem and letter. 565 Duchesne, cols. 779–782; Forster 151–153.

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1 Who created sea, earth, vaulting sky, who has all living things at His command: granted humans dominion under the stars, for only humankind flourishes in thought and reason, and among living things is able to know the world’s creator in the stronghold of its mind: fashioned from eternity, that eternally it might find bliss, solely wrought in the wondrous image of great God. The discerning soul is a lofty thing, strapping, thinking, feeling, seeing all, swooping above sea, earth, the high sky even while it abides in the prison-house of flesh like the eye of the body seeing to the stars, even while it lives in a fleshly tower immortally alluring, the gilded light of this life, worthy without end to possess God in itself. If good and wise, it arrays itself in the love of Christ, so that it might live happily in the citadel of Heaven, so that, after life’s labors end, evermore it might always see Him in Heaven’s demense. God, endless light, owed praise and glory, is reward if the soul has lived for God worthily and well. Let the soul be only holy, through good works, chaste, modest, let it bloom in sacred studies ever, always. Let it rule itself, its fleshly appetites, without stint, by dint of heavenly laws, like a powerful queen. May it covet no wickedness, nor wish for injustice, let it harm no one through desire, deed, or longing. Don’t let it blacken life’s given days with blight, may it be kindly, calm, just, in service to God. Let it live decently, a model in its ways, so that its mild mind might gladden its kind intended. The soul is a spirit, all, everywhere, in our bodies, vivifying them, made to love God: let it praise the kind Creator without end, for He allowed it to know Him utterly, wise to venerate Him with a nurturing worship, He alone is salvation, glory, life of the soul: let it cloak itself in Heaven’s good works, in the sight of its Lord, day and night,

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2566 Nestling Creator: let humankind praise you with heart, soul, in the love of peace: because it is a small part of the world, because it alone is a great image of you, holy Creator, in the citadel of its mind, and an unblemished heart, while it lives piously. O God and light, may your praises ever fill our hearts and mouths: so that we might always love you, Holiness, all around. Faithful virgin: let these words trip off your lips in song,

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566 A French translation of stanzas 1, 2, and 4 is H. Spitzmuller, ed. and trans. Carmina Sacra Medii Aevi: Poésie latine chrétienne du moyen âge, IIIe-XVe siècle (Paris, 2018), 279. Spitzmuller’s text differs from Dümmler occasionally.

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I have sung this poem for you by emphasizing the number six, since it is a perfect number in all its parts,567 hoping in doing so that you will become perfected in your own thought. Respecting this and other numbers, our emperor, most wise, can easily offer to your intelligence an accounting that makes sense. His excellent mind is wondrous, and he has taken the time to know the hidden mysteries of philosophy, things that scarcely no one else is eager to know, even in the fullness of leisure, and he has done this among great cares of palace and of kingdom. There is no need to seek from me of the causes of things or the hidden reasons that explain the physical world, since every day you may take advantage of his wisdom and look upon his visage owed much love. You do not have to take that long and difficult trip from Ethiopia to Jerusalem, so as to see Solomon talking about the nature of things! Look: a Solomon, our king, is next to you, the one whom the Queen of Sheba sought through so many difficulties of the world. Sing with her that famous praise piece: “Blessed are your people, blessed your servants, who stand before you always, and hear your wisdom. Blessed be the Lord, your God, whom you have pleased, and who has placed you on the throne of His people, because the Lord loved His people without end.” O daughters of Jerusalem, see our Solomon, glinting in the diadem of wisdom. Imitate his most noble habits; avoid vice, 567 A perfect number is a positive integer that is equal to the sum of its proper divisors. Six is the smallest perfect number, which is the sum of 1, 2, and 3. Alcuin emphasizes 6 here by composing six stanzas of six lines each.

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cultivate virtue. A great virtue is upon you, if you do not wish to avoid it, the necessity of living in the best way since you are in the king’s presence every day. In him you have an exemplar of complete honesty, since you might merit to come with him into the presence God, of whom Wisdom sang: “King Solomon made for himself a litter of Lebanon wood, with silver props, golden frame, purple cushions, love spread about for you, daughters of Jerusalem.”

3568 Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: you, my mercy, have mercy on me. Lord be merciful, to me Christ be merciful: that I might believe in you. Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: that I might know you. Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: that I might love you. Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: that I might hope in you. 5 Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: that my soul might live in you. Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: that my flesh might rejoice in you. Lord, be merciful, Christ be merciful: that my life might be of profit in you. Lord, be merciful, God the Father, my glory, my life. Christ, be merciful, Savior, my salvation, my prop. 10 Spirit, be merciful, Comforter, my consolation, my light. Lord, be merciful, God, three, yet one: I praise you, adore you, I confess you, my peace, hope, praise, and light, my beauty, my blessedness. 15 To you: praise, glory, thanks in all haunts, always, evermore.

4 As the white lilies glint in blossoming fields, so may the pious virgin gleam in sacred goodnesses. 568 An English translation is in R. Choy, “‘The Brother Who May Wish to Pray by Himself:’ Sense of Self in Carolingian Prayers of Private Devotion,” in Prayer and Thought in Monastic Tradition: Essays in Honour of Benedicta Ward SLG, eds. S. Bhattacharji, D. Mattos, and R. Williams (London and New York, 2014), 109, 111 with n. 43.

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5 Ladies: let me offer a few words to explain the palm we will all carry in our hands. The palm signals your great triumph, Christ, King, the palm teaches us to conquer our flesh, the palm signifies future heavenly reward, 5 this palm urges us to hope for a future life. On the cross is the foremost victory of Christ hanging by His flesh. To prevail for us is no small victory. Lady, conquer yourself—ever conquer yourself—so I pray, let Christ be reward, the end of your striving. 10

Carm. 86 (Dümmler 304)569 For a Church Dedicated to St Boniface by Liudger, Bishop of Münster This hexametrical inscription celebrates a church constructed by Liudger, Bishop of Münster and devoted to St Boniface, the legendary proselytizer of the Germans. Born ca. 742 in Frisia, Liudger met Alcuin in York, when he and two other ecclesiasts, Alberic and Sigibod, crossed from the continent to seek consecration from Aelberht of York (previously, 95–97) into various ecclesiastical ranks. After their consecrations, Sigibod, now a priest, and Alberic, now Bishop of Utrecht, remained in York, where Alcuin easily assumed the roles of teacher and, eventually, friend. Although Alberic and Sigibod returned to the continent after a year in England, Liudger stayed on for nearly three more years. Eventually, civil discord between Liudger’s native Frisians and the citizens of York ended his scholarly sojourn and Liudger returned to Utrecht, where Alberic was bishop. Thereafter, Liudger led a life full of scholarly and ecclesiastical pursuits. He was sent by Charlemagne to help convert those Frisians not yet brought into the faith, and he was later appointed Abbot of Leuze. He also founded the monastery of Werden and was, in due course, appointed the first Bishop of Münster. He died in 809. Boniface (d. 754) devoted his life to the conversion of those parts of the Frankish empire not yet under the fold of Christianity. A native of England, he was, in 754, martyred along with many others at Dokkum, in Frisia, and his remains were entombed at the monastery at Fulda. His life is witnessed in detail in several hagiographical treatments and in accounts from the hands of those who knew him. In addition to his proselytizing work, Boniface also 569 A recent translation (but lacking the last two lines) is D. Dales, trans., A Mind Intent on God (Norwich, 2004), 91–92, who reads oculum for oscula at v. 8 and so translates “eyes” for “mouth.”

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was an important figure in bringing about the close connection of the Carolingian monarchy and the papacy.570 In celebrating this church and its honorand, carm. 86 takes shape against the inspiration provided by Boniface, whom Liudger had seen in person when he was a boy. Constructed at Dokkum on the supposed site where Boniface and many others were martyred, Alcuin’s inscription gains as much thematic energy from the martyrdom as from a celebration of the incomparable spirituality betokened in Boniface’s life. St Paul, mentioned in v. 13, provides, on Alcuin’s view, the exemplary model of wide-scale conversion that Boniface practiced. The poem is included in chapter 17 of the Life of St Liudger, written by Altfrid, one of Liudger’s episcopal successors,571 and is witnessed in a handful of manuscripts. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem. Forster prints it as carm. 152.572 Leiden, Bibliotheek der Rijksuniversiteit, Voss. lat. Q 55, f. 1r-27v copies the title Versus Alchuini de Ecclesia Sancti Liudgeri that Dümmler prints at the head of the poem, as the translation reflects.

Alcuin’s Verses on St Liudger’s Church Incomparable, father with a nourishing goodness, Boniface soaked this ground with blood (his friends spilled just as much),573 and wore a sacred martyr’s glorious crown. This blessed place overflows with saintly blood: a soldier flits to heavenly gifts, a victor, 5 for the last time walks this grassy ground. Reader, whoever you might be, a supplicant urges you to fix your lips on this earth. Let great hope ride your tears to Heaven, like a prop, to the arms of these protectors. 10 Blood lingers here for us, more precious than gold, while bodies are forever still, bathed now in Heaven’s dew. Boniface, the scholar, and Paul, succor us: for them both this church is set apart in blood.

570 On Boniface’s long and active life, see I. N. Wood, “Boniface [St Boniface],” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, online https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/2843, accessed 31 July 2018, with his The Missionary Life: Saints and the Evangelisation of Europe, 400–1050 (London and New York, 2001), and John-Henry Clay, In the Shadow of Death: Saint Boniface and the Conversion of Hessia, 721–754 (Turnhout, 2010). 571 G. H. Pertz, ed., Altfrid, Vita Sancti Liudgeri, Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores 2 (Hannover, 1829), 403–419. 572 Forster 220. 573 The legend is that fifty-two others were martyred with Boniface simultaneously.

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Carm. 87 (Dümmler 305) To Richbod These four elegiac couplets were written for Richbod, Abbot of the monasteries of Lorsch and of Mettlach, and the first Archbishop of Trier (previously, 172–173). The poem is witnessed in the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne, where it comprises vv. 1–8 of the much-larger carm. 201; Forster prints this larger poem as carm. 238.574 Dümmler rightly separates Duchesne’s carm. 201 into three pieces: vv. 1–8 = carm. 87, translated here; vv. 9–16 = carm. 16 (previously, 150–151), and vv. 17–24 = carm. 116 (as follows, 369–370). Given the shift in vv. 9–16 to the epanleptic form, not to mention the different addressees, Dümmler’s decisions seem justified. A servant, small-boned, offered tokens to Richbod, enthroned on high: reader, see them in this sacred place. Reader: pour prayers to Christ to pardon sin, in love of Heaven’s life. Brother, beloved, pour prayers for you, for your own, until you come to these sacred lintels of home. Let clement Christ hear you from His castle heights, your heart fluttering as He smooths your way home.

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Carm. 88 (Dümmler 305–308) Inscriptions for the Monastery of St Amand; Epitaphs for Giselbert and St Amand Located until its final destruction during the French Revolution in SaintAmand-les-Eaux, Nord, the monastery of St Amand was founded in 630 by its namesake, St Amandus, a missionary to present-day Flanders, to the Slavs, and eventually Bishop of Maastricht (647–650), who founded several monasteries prior to the one that bore his name, where, after resigning his episcopacy and returning to proselytizing, he died in 679. St Amand’s abbey grew in importance after his death, not least because it was the place in which he had died, and a century later, it had become an important center of learning associated with influential Carolingian ecclesiasts, including Arn, Bishop of Salzburg, who was Abbot at St Amand from 782 to 785 and one of Alcuin’s intimate friends (previously, 153–155). Composed for St Amand Abbey, the fifteen inscriptions, organized as carm. 88, were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript, where they follow an epitaph composed for Giselbert, Abbot of St Amand (d. 782), and precede an epitaph for St Amand (carm. 574 Duchesne, col. 1724; Forster 230.

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88.15), which concludes the collection. Duchesne numbers them carm. 51–65.575 Forster edits these pieces in three groups: carm. 88.1, the epitaph for Giselbert, his carm. 265, is printed under Epitaphia; carm. 88.2, his carm. 173, is printed under Inscriptiones variorum locorum; while carm. 88.3–15, his carm. 28–40, are printed under the title In Ecclesia cuiusdam Monasterii, fortassis Elnonensis.576 The circumstances attending the composition and placement of these pieces are unclear. As Burghardt demonstrates, their diction, phrasing, and metrical details all point toward Alcuin’s ultima manus.577

1 This epitaph, in elegiacs, memorializes Giselbert, Abbot of St Amand and Bishop of Noyon, who died in 782 and was buried in the church of St Peter at St Amand. Here Giselbert the Bishop is buried and rests, his body overspread by earth, his spirit seeking stars: in piety strapping, also humble, modest, fair, beyond measure a pastor bowed in honor of God. This kindly man built the church of St. Amand, and made anew all the monastery’s cloisters.

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2 Forster separates this inscription from the others without explanation and places it under the rubric of inscriptions from various places. Its elegiac lines celebrate the Virgin Mary. Virgin mother of God, queen of our salvation: help your servants praying here, since this altar is made venerable by your pledges; to sacred virgins: praise, glory and salvation.

3 These elegiacs celebrate the church of St Peter at St Amand Abbey and the tomb of St Amand buried there. 575 Duchesne, cols. 1688–1690. 576 Forster 235 (= 88.1); 223 (= 88.2); 208–209 (= 88.3–15). 577 Burghardt 67–79, especially 78; C. Treffort, “La place d’Alcuin dans la rédaction épigraphique carolingienne,” Annales de Bretagne et des pays de l’Ouest 111.3 (2004): 353–369 reviews Alcuin’s epigraphical project.

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The Poems This is God’s church, home of forgiveness, salvation’s house, here Christ is worshipped, here is piety’s glory. Here folk gather, used to asking forgiveness: here we believe that God is ever present, here God heeds His followers’ prayers, wipes away tears from their faces. Here father, pastor, bishop Amand rests, powerfully excellent, nobly pious. He sustained the prayers of folk crying to the stars, he attends the Lord evermore in the tower of Heaven.

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4 These hexameters describe the church of St Michael the Archangel, restored by Arn of Salzburg, who commanded a figure named Lothar (v. 13, called a “keeper” [custos] there) to enlarge and raise the crypt, in part to remove it from the threat of flooding. This involved the construction of three large spaces, divided into four bays located behind the apse, with the vaults now above ground. The restoration took nearly two decades (785–804).578 Michael is chief of the angels and archangels, leader of the army of God and of Heaven’s forces against Hell, carrier of souls to Heaven, judge of their depravity or worth, and guardian of the church. The Scarpe579 often washed the holy confines of this church, swelling, heaping up in a flood, until Arn, the priest, suffered this defilement no more: now bishop he ordered these precincts remade, bettered, the crypt was made wider, higher, placed under a roof of twelve strong vaults— that a mystical calculus might strengthen the whole place— consecrating their roofs to the archangel Michael, who attends to Christ in the tower of Heaven, bearing prayers to the King of the company of saints. May he bear our prayers to the Thunderer (so we ask), defending us with kindly aid all around. Lothar, the keeper, supervised the work at Arn’s command:

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578 H. Platelle, Le Temporel de l’abbaye de Saint-Amand des origins à 1340 (Paris, 1962), 55n9 explains the unique architecture of the church Lothar remade at Arn’s command. 579 The monastery of St Amand sat on a tract of land between the River Scarpe and the River Elnon, from which the Latin name for the monastery Elno(n), derives.

The Poems 283 Christ preserve both always, evermore. Who reads these verses, say with a blameless heart (so I ask): “Christ, we pray you forgive Alcuin his sins.”

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5 These three hexameters offer a prayer to St Amand. Worthy to God by dint of your name, Amand, bishop, father, aid the prayers of your followers, defend them, and your church, by dint of kind prayers.

6 Composed in elegiacs, these six verses comprise an inscription for an altar in honor of St Stephen, the so-called proto-martyr; that is, the first martyr of Christianity. A deacon in the church at Jerusalem, Stephen was accused of blasphemy, excoriated the Jewish authorities who had brought him to trial, and was stoned as punishment. His death is dated to the middle of the first century C. E. This altar glints in Stephen’s goodnesses—the first martyr— who saw God on high amidst a hail of stones that rained down as he asked for his enemies’ pardon: surely strong to ask forgiveness for his followers. Amand: renowned, illustrious, beloved of Christ, to his own: a source of glory, a pastor, and sweet love.

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7 These elegiacs celebrate the gate of a church, perhaps the church of St Peter at St Amand. This is the gate of Heaven, this is the door of endless life leading a wayfarer to the stars: who enters will reach Olympus’ gate if hope and faith accompany him; forgiveness is sought out here: let a wayfarer with bowed heart often walk through this gate; let a sinner wash away wickedness here, bathing these holy thresholds with tears

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The Poems poured forth from a humble heart that clean him to come more worthily to the holy places of God. I believe pious Jesus forgives a sinner’s sins: if he comes in sadness, more happily will he go.

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8 Written in elegiacs, these verses celebrate St Lawrence, one of seven deacons of Rome under Pope Sixtus II, martyred in 258 in the persecutions of Valerian. Let deacon Lawrence protect every inch of this church of God, for this altar has been set apart for him: a noble, faithful man who conquered the flaming heat, every torture, with God’s love; giving to the poor whatever he held of the world so as to have in Heaven Christ’s rewards.

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9 These elegiac couplets may, in fact, be two poems, vv. 1–4, in honor of a church dedicated to St Martin, and vv. 5–10, dedicated to a church at the monastery of St Amand. Duchesne’s edition presumably reflects the St Bertin witness in printing the lines as a single inscription. One possible solution offered by Forster is to understand the church in vv. 5–10 to be the former parish church of St Martin in St Amand that became the abbey church of St Martin-St Amand.580 The matter will remain controverted, though Forster’s solution makes good sense. Martin: for your goodnesses you deserve God’s love: you rule this church set aside for you, bishop, one of a kind, known the world over, kind pastor, at peace in the city of Tours. This caring church was first dedicated to God-Thunderer, before this sacred monastery’s other haunts. The esteem of these precincts has grown in God’s giving, but greater is the house built for the Lord. While holy bishop Amand dwelled on these grounds, father’s honor grew along with the place. 580 Forster 209 note p.

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10 Forster prints these elegiac couplets under the title “For the Oratory of St. Andrew the Apostle” (Ad Oratorium S. Andreae Apostoli), who, along with his brother, Simon Peter, mentioned in v. 2, were fishermen on the sea of Galilee whom Jesus made “fishers of men” (Matt. 4:19, Mark 1:17). First among the apostles to have recognized Christ, Andrew brought his brother to the fold, this sacred space is made safe by his rewards, so that the enemy avoids this house, stays away.

11 Forster titles these elegiacs “For the Oratory of St. Peter the Apostle” (Ad Oratorium S. Petri Apostoli), traditionally the first pope and bishop of Rome, martyred there during the reign of Nero (54–68 C.E.). Peter, faithful pastor, apostles’ chief, the church’s glory, glory of the heavenly flock, ever holding the keys of the eternity’s realm, by his voice alone able to loosen and to bind, this space is dedicated in his sacred honor, may the shepherd protect and rule his own flock. May he think it worthy to open the heavenly gates, we pray it, to his own sheep—a reward ever in his keep.

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12 These elegiacs, composed for an altar for St Michael the Archangel, also provide an inscription for an oratory dedicated to Sts Benedict and Michael at the monastery of St Peter in Salzburg, where they also are gathered in that collection of inscriptions as carm. 109.12 (as follows, 346). On Michael, see the foregoing, poem 4. Heavenly prince, Michael, first teacher of the heavenly realm, highest in Heaven’s tower, protect this altar with your vivid gifts, it glints, dedicated in your name. Before the eyes of Highest God, secreted in Heaven offer our obligations, prayers.

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13 These two elegiac couplets celebrate St Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers (ca. 350–367), an early defender of orthodoxy and the author of a large oeuvre that includes theological, exegetical, historical, and poetic works; and St Victor (d. 290), a Roman soldier from Marseilles who was martyred. Hilary, father, bishop, adorns this altar, pious scholar known world-wide. And for great good works Victor is recalled on this altar, a brilliant solider, powerful, renowned in arms.

14 These hexameters commemorate the tomb of St Amand (previously, 281–282) renovated by Arn (previously, 153–155) during his abbacy at St Amand. Arn, the Lord’s humble priest, bowed with grace, made new the tomb of St. Amand, sparing no cost; for Amand had given all had to the poor, and priest Arn embellished these holy precincts of Christ: whoever reads these lines, remember to pray for him.

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15 Composed in hexameters, this epitaph honors St Amand, founding abbot of St Amand and bishop of Maastricht.581 St. Amand, noble father, shepherd, priest of Christ died here—ever loving the Lord, he lived plying miracles all about like good works, his life was learning, and saving his own; he had no truck with worldly wealth, he hoped to gain Christ’s eternal trove in the palace of Heaven, a teacher everywhere increasing souls’ rewards, a master, instructing by example—Christ his teacher in this. Father, standing out from the crowd, founded this fold for Christ: he spread the seeds of eternity’s realm 581 Partially translated into English by Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 194–195.

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The Poems to folk up and down the world, reaped the Word, fought the world, then delighted to seize on soulful words, to serve only God, a man only in repose, a pastor perfected in goodnesses, full of days, then was tugged up into God’s hall by a gathering of angels, he rests, his holy body here still, earth-covered: by his merits, Christ, save us here. Praise to you, glory, power evermore, always, what a father you gave us, kindest King!

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Carm. 89 (Dümmler 308–313)582 Inscriptions for the Churches and Altars of the Monastery of St Vedast; a Poem to Rado; a Hymn to St Vedast The monastery of St Vedast was founded in Arras, in present-day northeastern France, when, according to legend, Vedast restored the church in Arras in which he was eventually buried. In time, a monastic community arose around this church and, by the eighth century, was well-established. A fire destroyed the abbey in 793, and Charlemagne ordered its reconstruction, a task supervised by Abbot Rado, under whose direction several new churches were built, the largest of which honored now-St Vedast. The inscriptions gathered in carm. 89 were composed for these churches and their altars by Alcuin at the request of Rado,583 and were preserved in the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne and in two Arras manuscripts, Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale 686 (734), f. 91v-99v, from the eleventh century— a mutilated witness that contains 89.1–23 and includes titles—and Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale 693 (1032), f. 44v-48v, from the twelfth/thirteenth centuries, seemingly copied out from Arras 686 before it was mutilated, which, in addition to 89.1–23, contains 89.24–26, including two inscriptions not printed in Duchesne, Forster, or Dümmler, which are copied out between 25 and 26. It also contains carm. 90.1–13. The explicit after carm. 90.13, at f. 48v, names Alcuin as author. Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale 708 (191) is a seventeenth century copy of 686. Some inscriptions are witnessed in two other manuscripts: Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 550, f. 113rv, from the ninth century, and Douai, Bibliothèque Municipale 795, f. 87v, from the eleventh/twelfth centuries. Carm. 89.2 is an epitaph for St Vedast; 1 and 3–16 are inscriptions for the church built in his honor; and 17–26 are for 582 Dümmler’s LXXXVIII = LXXXIX. 583 See Dümmler 308–309n1 and epis. 296 (Dümmler 454–455).

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a church at the monastery in honor of St Peter. Added to these in Dümmler’s edition are two hexameters in honor of Abbot Rado and a hymn in honor of St Vedast, both unnumbered, for a total of twenty-eight pieces. Duchesne prints the inscriptions as carm. 66–89; Forster, as carm. 41–65 under the heading “Inscriptions for the Church of St Vedast” (Inscriptiones in Ecclesia S. Vedasti).584 The titles for 1–23 come from Arras 686; the others are supplied by Forster, all of which are translated as follows.

1. Written on the Wall in the Church of St Vedast This inscription, in elegiacs, was composed for the church rebuilt in honor of St Vedast by Abbot Rado after a fire in 793, offering details of Rado’s renovation and praises for him. This nestling church of God once burned, flames popped, it fell to ruin and ash, but Rado, abbot, much-loved, built a better church with God’s help, brought it back to life, decking it with varied decorations seen in the present church, placing holy gifts all about: he wished to dress grates and altars in metal, he designed the sarcophagus of Vedast, the father, he covered the walls in cloth, hung lamps to bathe the church in sacred light. duty bound to Christ, he ordered sacred vessels of silver and gold, clothed priests at the altar in brilliant robes to make them appear excellent, rare, all around, evermore. Bowed in a love of Christ that flowed sweet, he brought everything back to life, made it better—pious man that he was. Remember to pray for him—whoever may read these words— may God’s towering grace succor him.

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2. To the Body of St Vedast585 These elegiacs comprise an epitaph for St Vedast, buried in the church rebuilt and dedicated to him by abbot Rado.

584 Duchesne, cols. 1690–1694; Forster 209–211. 585 A French translation is in Veyrard-Cosme, Oeuvre hagiographique, xxxvii.

The Poems Vedast, excellent father, rests here in the flesh, this nestling church glints in his sacred grace, built on the goodnesses of such a towering man, God works a legion of miracles through him. In word, thought, deed, in his life, he followed the sacred footsteps of cloud-throned Christ, he made five talents into ten,586 he didn’t horde those given him in his purse uselessly. He will soon hear the voice of the fostering judge: “enter now into the sacred joys of your Lord.”

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3. To the Altar of St Vedast This inscription for an altar in the church dedicated to St Vedast is written in elegiacs. A bishop lofty in long-lived goodnesses, Vedast, saint, father, commands this altar. Rado, humble abbot, overlayed it in metals to praise the Lord—his love of father urged him on.

4. To the Altar of St Martin These elegiacs honor an altar dedicated to St Martin of Tours (d. 397), who famously encountered a beggar, gave half his cloak to him, only to learn later that this beggar was Christ. Known up and down the world, Martin the priest guards this divine altar through the good that he did all around. May he wash away the tears of those grieving their sins, begging kind forgiveness with a cannon-voice.

5. To the Altar of St Dionysius and His Companions These elegiacs are written for an altar in honor of St Dennis (St Denis) and his friends, Rusticus and Eleutherius, all of whom were martyred in the mid-third century. May Bishop Dionysius with his cohort adorn this altar with martyr’s blood, 586 Alcuin refers in vv. 7–10 to Matt. 25:14–30, the Parable of the Talents; the quotation in v. 10 is from Matt. 25:23.

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The Poems noble scholar, sowing the Word like seeds, watering parched fields with God’s rain.

6. To the Altar of Sts Remigius and Audoin These elegiacs are for an altar dedicated to Remigius (d. 533), noted for his piety and learning, and, famously, the figure who converted Clovis to Christianity; and to Audoin (d. 684), eventually Bishop of Rouen, and one of the more important ecclesiasts of seventh-century France. Remigius, renowned scholar from France, preserves this altar with kindly Audoin. Wayfarer, pious, scampering maybe through holy places, may there be a sure haven for you in the goodnesses of these men.

7. To the Altar of Sts Lambert and Richarius Written in elegiacs, these verses are for an altar dedicated to Richarius (St Riquier; d. 645), an important monastic whose biography Alcuin wrote (previously, 10); and to Lambert, the seventh-century bishop and martyr (d. ca. 705). This altar is held by Richarius, confessor, and Lambert, pious martyr: bowed down by goodnesses, both fathers are dear to God, carrying much gain to the Lord.

8. To the Altar of Sts Gregory and Jerome This elegiac inscription is for an altar dedicated to (Pope) St Gregory (d. 604), the so-called fourth doctor of the church, and Jerome (d. 420), famously the translator of most of the Bible into Latin, which version became known as the Vulgate. Bishop Gregory, fostering scholar Jerome, one a father, one a teacher of the church. May they equally bear our prayers to Thunderer, that God might evermore, everywhere save us!

9. To the Altar of Sts Benedict and Scholastica These elegiacs were composed for an altar honoring Benedict of Nursia (d. 547), who wrote the rule for monks that bears his name, and his (twin) sister, Scholastica (d. 543), who, like her brother, lived a life of hermetic retreat.

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This inscription is also part of a collection of tituli composed for an altar dedicated to Benedict and Scholastica in the church of St Peter in Salzburg (as follows, carm. 109.13, 346). Peerless father, Benedict, is cherished at this altar, for monks he wrote the righteous rule of life. His sister, Scholastica, the virgin known world-wide, noble unto herself, is joined to her brother here.

10. To the Altar of Sts Cosmas and Damian These elegiacs are for an altar dedicated to the twin brothers Cosmas and Damian, both doctors, who were martyred early in the fourth century in Diocletian’s persecutions. Cosmas and Damian, two brothers, on this altar are written up in verses from my hand. So good for brothers to live ever as one, look! a joyful love—as the psalmist sings.587

11. To the Altar of Holy Virgins This elegiac inscription was composed for an altar dedicated to four women who died as martyrs to the faith: Cecilia, ca. 235; Agatha, ca. 250; Agnes, ca. 300; and Lucia, ca. 305. Among the earliest women martyrs, they are commemorated in the canon of the Mass. Cecilia, Agatha, Agnes, and Lucia the virgin: this altar glimmers, sacred to them as one; lilies, roses flash on their heads, white runs red in perennial light.

12. To the Altar of the Holy Cross These elegiacs were written for an altar dedicated to the Cross and to Sts Crispin and Crispinian, twin brothers who preached the faith in Gaul and who were martyred during the persecutions of Diocletian late in the third century. This altar is hallowed in victories of the Holy Cross: on it suffered the world’s life, salvation. 587 Psalm 133:1.

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The Poems And it glimmers in the holy names of Crispin and Crispinian, martyrs who stood out from the crowd.

13. To the Altar of St Mary and of Clement These elegiacs were composed for an altar that honors the Virgin Mary and St Clement (d. 99 C.E.), an important late-first-century ecclesiast and an early pope martyred during the reign of Trajan. May the kind virgin, Mary, mother of God, all strength, gaze on this altar with her usual grace. May Clement, lofty bishop, nurturer, Peter’s heir, protect it with the gleaming good he has done.

14. To the Altar of Sts John and Matthew These elegiacs honor an altar dedicated to the evangelists John and Matthew, authors of New Testament books bearing their names. Let John, God’s intimate, protect this altar, let Matthew drape it with all his good works. They wrote the sacred history of Christ-Thunderer, this altar equally holds them both.

15. To the Altar of Sts Piatus and George These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to St Piatus, an early Christian proselytizer in Roman Gaul martyred ca. 285; and St George, a Roman soldier martyred early in the fourth century. May Piatus the martyr and victorious George protect this altar with their goodnesses. They routed worldly foes for God’s peace and earned holy heaven in the redding flow of their blood.

16. To the Altar of Sts Lawrence, John, and Paul These elegiacs were composed for an altar devoted to Lawrence (d. 258), one of the seven deacons of Rome martyred during the persecutions of Valerian; John, baptizer of Christ, who was executed on the order of Herod Antipas ca. 30 C.E.; and Paul, martyred ca. 65 C. E., whose role in establishing and spreading Christianity is well-accounted in the New Testament books ascribed to him.

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Let John, Lawrence, and Paul, as one guard this altar—God have mercy— one a deacon, the others brothers in spilled blood, as martyrs they hold the heavenly demense.

17. Written on the Wall of the Church of St Peter These elegiacs were composed in honor of the church built for, and dedicated to, St Peter at St Vedast Abbey. Traditionally considered the first bishop of Rome, Peter was martyred ca. 68 C.E. Looming, he holds the keys, keeps heaven running, powerful, pleased to loosen and to bind, a fisherman once, now kindly guard of Heaven’s door, noble prince, shepherd of the church, Christ vouchsafed the fold to him to tend when He returned to Father’s blessed haunts. Gushing joy, loved world-wide: Christ gave him the name Peter. May his piety gird this church all around (so I pray), protect it, rule it, through his very presence. Let this guardian be a prop to his followers, may he everywhere answer their dutiful prayers. Rado had rebuilt what fire had run to ruin, Let Peter recompense him (so I pray).

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18. To the Altar of St Peter These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to St Peter (previously, 17) in the church that bears his name at St Vedast abbey. The guardian of this holy place will defend this altar, prince of God’s universal church, may he favor those praying to God-Christ here, that we might be gladdened by his goodnesses.

19. To the Altar of St Paul These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to St Paul (previously, 16) in the church of St Peter at St Vedast Abbey. This inscription was also used for an altar dedicated to Paul at the abbey church of St Peter in Salzburg (as follows, carm. 109.6, 342–343).

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The Poems This altar is made holy in Paul’s name, he led world to God’s firmament, a teacher raised up by the Lord everywhere, to nations, peoples, kingdoms, cities.

20. To the Altar of St Andrew These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to Andrew—an apostle and the brother St Peter (previously, 17), martyred ca. 60 C.E. Teacher, apostle—the nurturing voice of John the Baptist said this to Christ, and so Andrew followed Him evermore: “Look: the lamb of God comes from his Father’s tower”— Andrew, save your altar from harm.

21. To the Altar of St Aldegonde This elegiac couplet was written for an altar commemorating St Aldegonde, a Frankish noblewoman who chose a life of cloistered retreat and mortification of the flesh. She died in 684. This is virgin Aldegonde’s sacred altar, may she answer the folks’ prayers here.

22. To the Altar of St John the Baptist These elegiacs were composed for an altar devoted to John the Baptist (previously, 16). Holy baptist John keeps this altar, noble, he made a way for Christ-God in the world. He alone pointed out Christ’s presence, may he favor our prayers through his own (as I hope).

23. To the Altar of St Germanus This elegiac couplet was composed for an altar honoring St Germanus— an important ecclesiast in Gaul and England in the first half of the fifth century. This august altar is offered up to Germanus, the bishop; wayfarer, look: you see it now as you rejoice!

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24. To the Altar of St Amand This elegiac couplet was written for an altar dedicated to St Amand (previously, carm. 88, 280–281). Through his goodness let Amand, Christ’s noble lover, protect this altar from harm evermore.

25. To the Altar of St Quentin and Michael the Archangel Michael is chief of the angels and archangels and guardian of the church. These elegiacs were composed for an altar honoring him and St Quentin— an early Christian proselytizer in Gaul martyred ca. 285. This altar glints in Quentin’s feats, martyr, exemplar: may he help the folk. Among angels and the heavenly host may Michael, the prince, first in Heaven’s keep, guard these haunts with the Thunderer’s vast care: let all comers demand his leniency.

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26 a. To the Altar of St Genevieve This elegiac couplet was composed for an altar dedicated to St Genevieve, who, through prayer, famously averted the sack of Paris by the Huns and who was encouraged in her ascetic and spiritual practices by St Germanus (previously, 23). The votives of v. 2 refer to the candle Genevieve was holding as she prayed that was extinguished by the breath of the devil. She died ca. 512. Virgin hallowed of God, renowned for heavenly gifts, Genevieve, be happy with your votives here. b. A Little Poem of Albinus to Abbot Rado These two hexameters are not part of the inscriptional collection commissioned for St Vedast that comprise carm. 89, but instead, form a brief poetic epistle sent by Alcuin to Rado, Abbot of St Vedast, early in the ninth century. In addition to Arras 686 (f. 27r), 693 (f. 15r-v), and Vienna 550 (f. 112r), these lines are witnessed in Reims, Bibliothèque Municipale 1405 (K 785), f. 172v, from the tenth century; and Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 9, f. 145r,

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from the eleventh century. Alcuin’s “little gifts” (munuscula, v. 1) are unspecified. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem; Forster prints it after Alcuin’s Vita Sancti Vedasti and before the Sapphic hymn to St Vedast (as follows, c).588 Father, don’t spurn our little gift: you may see something small—a soaring love sends it on! c. Hymn on St Vedast589 In addition to Arras 686 (f. 77v-78v), 693 (f. 41v-42r), and Vienna 550 (f. 112r-v), this hymn to St Vedast is preserved in the ninth-century Verona, Biblioteca Capitolare XC (85), f. 50r. It is one of two pieces ascribed to Alcuin written in Sapphics (carm. 121, as follows, 378–380 is the other). Burghardt’s careful analysis led him to doubt Alcuin’s authorship—a view confirmed more recently by Pujalte.590 Duchesne doesn’t know the poem; Forster prints it without number at the conclusion of Alcuin’s Life of St. Vedast, immediately after the verses to Rado (previously, b).591 1. Christ: savior of the world from the old foe’s wiles that once conquered Adam; Lord: we beg you hear our prayers with mercy. 2. You’ve done much through the good of those you hold in thrall, you gave Vedast his just deserts; Christ: we are in your thrall, we seek your gifts with all our hearts. 3. France wore a grisly gloom: Vedast scattered it with the glow of salvation; Christ: glisten in our hearts with a father’s kindness.592 588 Forster 174. 589 On the hymn’s final strophe, with a translation, see G. Björkvall and A. Haug, “Performing Latin Verse: Text and Music in Early Medieval Versified Offices,” in The Divine Office in the Latin Middle Ages: Methodology and Source Studies, Regional Developments, Hagiography, eds. M. E. Fassler and R. A. Baltzer (Oxford, 2000), 282–284. A French translation is in Veyrard-Cosme, Oeuvre hagiographique, xxxv–xxxvii, who also edits and translates into French Alcuin’s brief Life of St. Vedast at 78–107; an English version is at: http:// elfinspell.com/MedievalMatter/Bede/Giles-MinorHistoricalWorks/SaintVedast.html. 590 Burghardt 47–52; J. S. Pujalte, “Dos estrofas sáficas erróneamente atribuidas a Alcuino de York?” in Actas del VII Congreso Español de Estudios Clásicos (Madrid, 20–24 de abril de 1987) (Madrid, 1989), 697–704. 591 Forster 174. 592 Pater is both God and Vedast.

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4. Mercy moved that sainted man to make the folk see again; to make gloomy hearts glint he carried fire. 5. He made frail folk whole before the people’s eyes; he did much famously, bravely: with the Lord’s support. 6. A bear, death-wielding, scampered off, cowed by Vedast’s voice forbidding it to go beyond a certain point evermore. 7. He poured kindness, truth from a flashing heart, the people heard him, held in thrall: he swelled the ranks of pious folk sitting on high. 8. He came, a glowing stanchion, glinting, heavenly folk in tow, when the Lord called his shining soul to its blessed end. 9. The devil was beaten by faith and hard work, the warring-soldier entered Heaven, he holds rewards due his honor in the house of the King. 10. Let the glory of praise resound everywhere, for Father and His begotten Son; let the glory of the Holy Spirit echo back in praise without end. Amen.

Carm. 90 (Dümmler 313–317) Inscriptions for Various Holy Places The twenty-six inscriptions gathered as carm. 90 are preserved in the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne, while 90.1–13 are also copied out in the twelfth-century Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale 693 (1032), f. 44v-48v. Although they follow in the manuscripts the inscriptions for St

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Vedast Abbey, printed by Dümmler as carm. 89 (previously, 287–297), the inscriptions of carm. 90 are not identified with specific abbeys or churches but are ascribed to Alcuin’s hand down to the explicit in Arras 693 that follows 90.13. Duchesne numbers them as carm. 90–103, 105–115; Foster, as carm. 174–187, 189–199, whose titles Dümmler does not print.593 Dümmler removed Duchesne, carm. 104 (= Forster, carm. 188) because it is copied out also among the Salzburg inscriptions, where he prints it as carm. 109.9 (as follows, 344).

1 These hexameters were written for a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Duchesne and Forster print them with poem 2, as follows, as vv. 1–12 of a seventeen-line poem. Mary: holiest, this hallowed place is sacred to you, Virgin Mary: untouched mother of Thunderer-God, Virgin: you brought endless salvation to the world, all creation praises you, in your thrall I praise you in these lines. You are sweet love, glory, salvation’s noble hope, fairest virgin: help your slave: my sobs scourge you, love singes my mind; look kindly on the brothers’ prayers that cry to you: “Virgin, full of grace, may Christ’s favor save us evermore through you.” Whoever reads these verses, say: “Christ, keep their poet safe.”

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2 These hexameters were written for an altar dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Virgin: this altar in your name is hallowed; you: Heaven’s queen, field’s flower, world’s lily, a garden set aside, source of life, salvation’s vessel. Have at the prayers of your servants with mercy, return a humble supplication to God-Christ (so I ask).

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593 Duchesne, cols. 1694–1697; Forster 223–225; Dümmler separates 90.1 and 90.2, which Duchesne and Forster print as one seventeen-verse piece, thus accounting for the discrepancy in the total number of poems between Duchesne/Forster (= 25) and Dümmler (= 26).

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3 This elegiac couplet was composed for an altar dedicated to St Martin of Tours (d. 397), who famously gave half his cloak to a beggar, later revealed to him as Christ. Martin: this altar is built and hallowed for you: for your goodnesses a noble confessor in the world.

4 An inscription for an altar dedicated to John, baptizer of Christ, who was executed on the order of Herod Antipas ca. 30 C.E., this elegiac couplet is copied out at the head of carm. 109.8 (as follows, 343) in the eleventhcentury Salzburg, Archiv von St Peter A I, p. 17. Mighty Baptist: you soaked Christ in the River Jordan: here by your prayers scour our sins.

5 This elegiac couplet celebrates an altar dedicated to St Anianus (d. 86 C.E.)—an Alexandrian convert to Christianity who was ordained by St Mark the evangelist. At this altar kind Anianus is recalled: holy confessor of Christ—always praying!

6 Two elegiac couplets, these verses were written for a church and altar dedicated to St Medard (d. 545), Bishop of Noyons, an important Merovingian ecclesiast. This church, St. Medard’s, must be revered no less than this—his—altar here. Who comes faithfully to it to cry their sins will gain forgiveness in the righteousness of that saint.

7 These four hexameters were composed for an altar in honor of St Dennis (St Denis), a third century bishop of Paris, and St Quentin, an early Christian proselytizer in Gaul martyred ca. 285.

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The Poems Two glinting fathers are adored at this altar, Quentin and St. Dionysius: a confessor of Christ, and a martyr, may their intercession with the Lord do us good.

8 These two elegiac couplets are for an altar honoring St Salvius the martyr, who met his death in Valenciennes while proselytizing there in the middle of the seventh century; and St Amand (previously, carm. 88, 280–281). Salvius, noble St Amand, both clasp this altar with pious intent; like a river the virtues of both men run, that they might hold Heaven’s endless realm (we believe).

9 This inscription, written in epanleptic distichs, is for a church dedicated to St Maurice, an Egyptian born ca. 250 in Thebes, who led an all-Christian legion of the Roman army, the so-called Theban Legion, whose members, including Maurice, were eventually killed on the order of Emperor Maximian (d. ca. 310) for refusing to sacrifice to the pagan Gods. A victor returns from war glinting in the gifts of God; with a sacred legion a victor returns from war. Battles owed to God’s peace Maurice toughly won, conquering worldly battles owed to God’s peace. Look: this church is hallowed by his name, may it glimmer by his merits—look: this church. In his honor this sacred altar gleams, is hallowed: let the people be gladdened in his honor.

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10 These hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to John the Baptist (previously, 4). They are also copied out in Salzburg, Archiv von St Peter A I, p. 17, as part of the Salzburg inscriptions (as follows, carm. 109.8, 343), where they are headed by 90.4 (previously). Baptist John, this altar set apart for you glints, remember to cherish it with noble praises:

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worthy enough to bathe the Lord in water, blessed John: wash away our sins with your prayers.

11 These hexameters were written for an altar honoring St Martin of Tours (previously, 3). Martin, protect this shrine with your pious prayers, Saint, hear our askings, judge them worthy, father, calm our hearts’ tumbling flood of tears, that we might prove strong enough to clasp eternal life.

12 These hexameters were composed for a church or an altar honoring St Stephen, the first martyr of Christianity, who was stoned to death in the middle of the first century C. E. This place glimmers always for noble Stephen, first martyr: he begged undeserved forgiveness for the men stoning him; he followed the sacred example of Christ; look: a martyr helping friends through his prayers.

13 These elegiac couplets were composed to honor a church dedicated to the Apostle Peter, the first bishop of Rome, who was martyred there in ca. 68 C. E. Let Peter the apostle, the gleaming chief, ever protect these haunts sacred to him; he carries Heaven’s loving key in his worthy hands: may he open our path to the firmament.

14 These elegiacs were written for an altar honoring three archangels: Michael, chief of the archangels; Gabriel, who announced the births of John the Baptist and of Jesus to, respectively, Zechariah and Mary (Luke 1.11–38); and Raphael, associated in the New Testament with healing. May Michael, archangel, all power, rule this altar: the serpent that lied had been conquered by him:

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The Poems cast out of Heaven, he wished always to blame the good. His comrade, Gabriel, is joined to him at this altar in reverence: he glints with kindly strength in the vault of Heaven; he spoke sacredness: Mary the virgin learned that she would birth God, eternal salvation of the world; Add to them Raphael, who once cured Tobias’ eyes, led his son. We pray these three stand by our prayers, so that Christ might hear his own servants from the heights.

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15 This elegiac inscription, lacunose at v. 6, was written to honor John the Baptist (previously, 4). The powerful baptist will defend this altar: he dipped Lord Christ in sacred water. He had been chosen from birth, voice of the thundering Word, herald of our salvation, singular attendant of Christ in the world, ................................. With his finger he pointed to God’s lamb in their midst, whose blood bore all the sins of the world.

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16 Written in elegiacs, these verses celebrate St Lawrence, one of seven deacons of Rome, who was martyred in 258 in the persecutions of Valerian. Let Lawrence save this altar through martyr’s blood: ravening flames didn’t conquer him (thus my prayer). He fulfilled the dictates of God-Christ with love, giving whatever he had to the poor: he avoided possession of the doomed riches of his time, so that he might possess Christ’s endless riches on high.

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17 These elegiacs were written for an altar dedicated to St Quentin—an early Christian proselytizer in Gaul martyred ca. 287—and to the companions martyred with him.

The Poems 303 Let kind Quentin save this altar from the enemy’s clutches; he seeks Heaven’s realms with sacred blood; a crowd of pious laity are joined to him: they sought Heaven with his martyr’s blood.

18 These elegiac couplets were composed for an altar dedicated to St Maurice (previously, 9) and his fellow soldier-martyrs who died with him. Maurice, deck these haunts with vital goodnesses, martyr, with your own legion, standing apart, their souls’ rare faith, their rare constancy merited noble praises evermore in the world.

19 These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to St Dennis (St Denis; previously, 7). Let Dennis, priestly tower, with other comrade-martyrs guard this altar (so I ask); their scribe holds little books in the vault of Heaven, before the face of God their names can never die.

20 These elegiac couplets were written for an altar honoring St Germanus, an important ecclesiast in Gaul and in England in the first half of the fifth century; and for unnamed confessors of the faith. Faith’s confessor for your good works, renowned, Germanus, bishop, shepherd, pious one; a company of confessors joins him at this altar: through their prayers may God save us all around.

21 These elegiac couplets were composed for an altar dedicated to St Martin of Tours (previously, 3). Martin’s sacred honor glints on this altar, clasped by a continent, loved by the world;

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The Poems he is joined with his imposing grace by sacred gatherings of saints, through the faithful’s pious prayers.

22 These elegiacs were written for an altar honoring St Remigius, Bishop of Reims (d. 596), the so-called Apostle of the Franks, who baptized King Clovis in 496 and helped spread Christianity throughout Gaul. Those who helped him in his lifetime of work are also honored at this altar. Let incomparable Remigius, teacher, father, with a lifetime of comrades, guard this altar: a kind care sated them here, he built it, made it sacred.

23 Written in elegiacs, this inscription was composed for a church honoring St Benedict of Nursia, (d. 547), author of the monastic rule that bears his name. The pentameter of the final couplet is missing. Kind Benedict, abbot, leader of monks, your confessor, these haunts remain hallowed to you. A holy throng of friars exalts you world-wide, whose way of life was written in your words. A blessed crowd of brothers uniquely praises, loves, honors, you here, unendingly with prayers. They always come here at night, to learn to cry in prayer: holy father, through their prayers be present evermore in this place. ......................

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24 These elegiacs were written for an altar dedicated to Jerome (d. 420), famously the translator of most of the Bible into Latin, which version became known as the Vulgate. Jerome, singular teacher of the wide world, hold these sainted haunts with those in thrall to you. Whoever you are: read the pious names inscribed here, ask that they be present to the prayers of one on his knees.

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25 These elegiac couplets were composed for an altar dedicated to (Pope) St Gregory (d. 604), the so-called fourth doctor of the church. Gregory: teacher, shepherd, patriarch, priest, once the pious bishop of Rome: bring the brothers’ kind vows to the Thunderer and the fathers—you see their names inscribed here.

26 These elegiacs were composed for an unnamed church and its treasures. Who longs to find the gates of Heaven open to him, let him enter this gate by his own two feet: a gate of endless salvation for all comers, a journey of light, a path of mercy, to a nestling church of God, the treasures of the Thunderer, the many relics of the sainted fathers. Wayfarer, come in with your soul wholly bowed, cast your limbs to the ground, seize the stars in your heart. God, the saints, your hope, a refuge, are here: let a staunch faith be harnessed to your heart.

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Carm. 91 (Dümmler 317–318) Inscriptions for Holy Places Carm. 91 is four inscriptions, composed for unidentified churches, altars, or monastic communities, preserved in the St Bertin manuscript, from which they were edited by Duchesne as carm. 118–121 and by Forster as carm. 200 (= 90.4), 209 (= 90.1), 211 (= 90.2), and 212 (= 90.3).594

1 This inscription in hexameters offers a prayer for God’s superintending of an unidentified church. Who holds land, sea, heavens at His command, let Him rule this church with heavenly alms: 594 Duchesne, cols. 1698–1699; Forster 225–226.

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The Poems let worship, nobility, praises, Christ’s glory abide evermore, endlessly in piety’s love.

2 Written in hexameters, this inscription enjoins monks to take up their nightly prayers. Brothers, get up, chant praises to Christ: at night, when it’s right for you to do so here, press pious prayers on this place through the dark: a crowd of angels offers aid to those seeking it (we believe)— they are servants after dark— may they kindly bring to Christ the pious prayers of the brothers, may they find you properly vigilant evermore to praise Heaven’s king with a tender heart.

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3 This hexametrical inscription is addressed to an unidentified monk, ordered to snatch himself from sleep in order to pray. Boy, get up, thrive while your body is strong (so I ask): pray, open the way to Heaven’s haunts for yourself: don’t give yourself over to the dark, to sleep; sleep is the likeness of icy death: that will make for you a tomb grown still; the ancient enemy has a thousand harmful arts. Watchful in the night, make a towering triumph for yourself so that Christ’s tender hand keeps you safe evermore.

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4 These hexameters form an inscription for a church or an altar in praise of the archangel Michael, chief of the angels and archangels. Let us pray and make Michael, the archangel, appear, Christ’s minister, noble chief in the towery sky. May he always, everywhere, favor the prayers of the saints, by his own prayers may he keep us from harm here: he will make us watchful in the praises of God.

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Carm. 92 (Dümmler 318–319) Riddle/Inscription for a Public Bath; Epitaphs for Fulrad and Maginarius of St Denis Carm. 92 is three elegiac poems copied out consecutively in the St Bertin manuscript and edited by Duchesne as his carm. 122–124; Forster numbers them carm. 266 (99.2), 267 (99.3), and 272 (92.1).595 Dümmler’s gathering of 92.2 and 3 is sensible, since both are epitaphs, but his decision to place 92.1 at the head of this three-poem gathering is less obvious, since 92.1 is an inscription reminiscent, at times, of a riddle composed by Symphosius (ca. 400 C. E.) concerning a hot bath (balneum)596 that also includes Alcuin’s injunction that bathers avert their eyes from the genitalia of the bathers so that no puer is embarrassed. Bullough takes this injunction to offer a glimpse of Alcuin’s sexuality, wherein “momentarily the author is baring his own deeper thoughts and tensions.”597 While it seems difficult to think such deeper thoughts and tensions would be announced in a riddling inscription for a public bath, evidence of this kind is surely available in the poet’s more private poems, such as those to Arn (previously, 142–143, 153–155). Memorialized in carm. 92.2, Fulrad was Abbot of St Denis and died ca. 784. He was well-known to Alcuin in his roles as chief of the clerics at the court of Pepin the Short (d. 768), and, after Pepin’s death, as archchaplain to Pepin’s son, Charlemagne. Recalled in carm. 92.3, Maginarius succeeded Fulrad as Abbot of St Denis, also served as Charlemagne’s chaplain, and died in 792.

1 Let a naked guest come in, who wishes to play with me, warming his body in my waters. Christ once begot fish from cold water, and now perhaps he will be a warm minister for men! For he was lifted on wood he once carried about, who once roamed the countryside now at rest in churches. For while you come, pious stranger, into this hot place, to wash your body in my water, I pray: avert your eyes, don’t look around at the part of the body Adam covered with his hand. This nature teaches, and honor enjoins: that You always keep your face to yourself, boy!

595 Duchesne, col. 1699; Forster 235–236 (92.2–3), 237 (92.1). 596 See D. R. Shackleton Bailey, ed., Anthologia Latina I (Leipzig, 1982), no. 89, 230. 597 Bullough 115.

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2 Priest, incomparable in the world, august abbot, active, working, loving, right-hearted. Fulrad: your body sleeps in this tomb, our worldly father, a legend in life. He had been guardian (famously) of this blessed shrine, prop of the church, keenly doing all good. Reader: this house, God’s harbor, has been made anew, as you see, with a beauty that flows to your time. Fulrad loved the godly fathers with a swollen heart: this fostering house cradles their remains. No doubting he has joined them in the heights: he loved them always in this life.

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3 Maginarius, sleep sacredly at the feet of your teacher, away from madding time. Good father nourished you, when you were tender, to follow him, to cull his honor. You ruled the flock fleetingly, evil-come, death plucked you in full bloom. Yet Christ loves you: death can do no harm, you prosper in Heaven, alive after death. Reader: live for Christ, do holy work (thus I pray), whoever wishes to follow these lines. Commend me to Christ with dutiful prayers (my plea), that I might be a citizen in the city of God.

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Carm. 93 (Dümmler 319–320) Inscription for a Monastic School (at Tours?) Carm. 93 is preserved in the St Bertin manuscript and edited by Duchesne as carm. 125; Forster prints it as carm. 66.598 The text as witnessed in Duchesne is lacunose at v. 11; I resolve the gap by adding mens after nam nec. V. 18, on the other hand, is corrupt and cannot be made sensible, for which reason I do not translate it. These elegiac lines describe the proper sort of behavior on the part of monastic students and teachers,

598 Duchesne, col. 1699–1700; Forster 211.

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using images of nature to frame pedagogical best practices but emphasizing that teachers may be stuck in their ways and that learning is easier for the young. Forster prints carm. 93 under the rubric of “Inscriptions for a Certain Monastery, perhaps Tours” (Inscriptiones in Quodam Monasterio, forte Turonensi), sensibly bringing these verses by dint of their sensitivity to teaching and to pedagogy into the orbit of Alcuin’s own wide experiences as teacher and mentor. Let the boys learn from the rote of an older teacher, that they might echo praises become hymns. Let tender lips drink saving waters with devotion, lest the teacher grow silent (perhaps) in church. Youths’ years are fit to learn more and more: the ancient custom of the church demands that a teacher fit out lessons for youths’ golden days— the years run down like rushing water. The oak full of seasons rarely bows to the forest but the strong man’s hand cuts her down; neither will the mind used to constant plunder give its strong neck to the yoke—ever, nor will one bowed with age be an apt student, after his white beard falls onto his lap at the cut of the barber’s hand. Be pious, studious to the boys—be a teacher; boys, always love your fathers; so that Father’s sweet blessing might abide for us.

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Carm. 94 (Dümmler 320)599 Inscription for a Monastic Scriptorium (at Tours?) Duchesne edits carm. 94 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 126; Forster numbers the piece carm. 67.600 Without numbering it, Duchesne also prints an abbreviated version of the poem later in his edition under the rubric In Locum, Ubi Scriptores Sedent, but without vv. 7–10 and 13–16.601 An elegiac inscription intended to adorn the wall of a scriptorium, carm. 94 focuses on the copying of sacred scripture (v. 11), for which reason 599 Godman, Poetry, 139 offers an English translation, corrected in part by Garrison, “Alcuin, Carmen 69,” 136–137, on the meanings of per cola . . . et commata (v. 7). The poem is briefly discussed by N. P. Stork, Through a Gloss Darkly: Aldhelm’s Riddles in the British Library, MS Royal 12.C.xxiii (Toronto, 1990), 74–75. 600 Duchesne, col 1700; Forster 211. 601 Duchesne, col. 1757.

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Forster associates it with Alcuin’s own monastery at Tours, which was famous in Alcuin’s lifetime and beyond for the copying of Bibles (see the foregoing, 237). Nor is it mere accuracy in copying that Alcuin commends in this poem. As vv. 7–10 make clear, special attention is paid to the markings that facilitate the reading of scripture aloud in church. Let the scribes writing holy writ sit here, copying the sacred words of hallowed fathers; they must not admit silly sayings to these words, their hands must not wander to trifles; they must seek for themselves correct copies posthaste: let the swift pen amble down the right road, mark the proper senses of clauses and phrases, punctuate in the proper way, so that the lector rightly reads in church, doesn’t suddenly fall silent in the sight of pious brothers. It is first-order work to copy sacred books, nor does the scribe lack his own reward; better to copy books than to dig out vines that serve the belly—books serve the soul! We all read the sacred words of the fathers: a teacher will tease out old from new.

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Carm. 95 (Dümmler 320–321) Inscription for a Church (at Tours?) Written in elegiac couplets, Duchesne edits carm. 95 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 127; Forster numbers it carm. 68.602 The verses fall in a group of inscriptions seemingly written by Alcuin for St Martin’s that include carm. 93, 94, 97, and 98. Here, Alcuin would seem to praise the monastery’s church while reminding readers that human-made things reflect fallen humanity, for which reason we should seek Heaven. Whoever reads these lines: run up and down the hallowed hall, have God’s name on your lips evermore; while your words echo gentle praises in verse may your heart teem with love of God and as you clamber to the grand sollars of this church, in your heart remember to climb to Heaven. A ruddy sun spindling light brightens the halls’ higher haunts 602 Duchesne, col. 1700; Forster 211.

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The Poems like Christ in Heaven’s endless glow. As the sun, all glare, floods the world, so the saints in Father’s citadel ever flash. The sollars of God’s house are named for the sun, just as we hold a hallowed name from Christ. If this place, hand-wrought, pleases you, all the more seek a place hewn by no hands. Whatever the human hand has ever built in the world perishes, runs to ruin and dust. Whatever honor the saints possess through Heaven’s joys, they have it always, equally with Christ. Where love leads you, takes you, sweeps you up, night, day: take me with you, so I ask, in your prayers. For you, for me, let Christ be protector, ruler, light, the way, life, and salvation, as we hurry on to Him.

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Carm. 96 (Dümmler 321) Inscriptions for a Monastic Dormitory and Latrine (at Tours?) The two pieces that comprise carm. 96 were edited from the St Bertin manuscript by Duchesne as carm. 128 and 129; Forster numbers them 69 and 70.603 The poems are also witnessed in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 229v. Carm. 96.1, written in hexameters, is an inscription for a monastic dormitory, enjoining God to protect the sleeping brothers from harm. Written in elegiacs, 96.2 is an inscription for a monastic latrine that recommends moderation and spiritual resolve against the backdrop of fleshly decay. The monastic setting may be Alcuin’s own St Martin’s, but neither their affiliation nor Alcuin’s authorship are certain.

1. In the Dormitory Who lessens the wind’s force, or the waves of the sea, who protects Israel, let him never sleep, let him grant sweet respite to the brothers in this hall; and what fears that a grim force sends in sleep may the mighty Lord’s kindly right hand hold back (so I pray). For He who established the light of day for humanity’s work, has granted rest to the wearied bodies of the night: may He arouse those who are well to His own praises. 603 Duchesne, col. 1701; Forster 212.

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2. In the Latrine Reader: know the glut of your greedy gut as you smell the rancid dross with your nose. Flee the gluttony of gut and mouth: live moderately with a set routine.

Carm. 97 (Dümmler 321–322) Inscription on Moderation in Sleep (for the Monks at Tours?) Composed in hexameters, Duchesne edits carm. 97 from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 130; Forster numbers it carm. 71.604 Part of a group of poems identified by Forster as inscriptions perhaps from St Martin’s, these verses warn the monastic brethren in the figure of a lone boy to avoid excessive sleep, lest it bring a kind of want of which Solomon warns: “don’t hanker after sleep, lest neediness overtake you.” Your poet wishes to sing to you a curious thing: sleep, like a branch, cuffed the head of a boy, like a visitor stretching to the mind’s eye: we easily see it when it blinds us at night, we easily speak when it deadens our minds since we fashion dreams, wavering and strange: who never existed is seen, heard. Boy: with all your soul beware of sleep in deep night; stripping your senses, blinding you to the starry sky’s glittering strobes; let your ear hear the teacher’s voice, scamper to church when it’s dark; cuff sleep’s head with a boxer’s fist (so I beg), don’t let it blind you or strip all your senses with its sinful sloth; bathe your eyes with salvation’s salve to gain strength, to hear voices of the resounding sign that calls you to sing the Thunderer’s praise. Join the battle; remember to sleep a middle path, lest strapping poverty suddenly come to you, as Solomon warns readers in his famous song.605 604 Duchesne, col. 1701; Forster 212. 605 Prov. 20:13: noli diligere somnum, ne te egestas opprimat.

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Carm. 98 (Dümmler 322–323) Inscriptions on or Near a Monastic Church (at Tours?) The three poems gathered as carm. 98 were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript. 98.1 and 2 are copied out in it as one piece, carm. 131, with 98.3 following as carm. 132; Forster also prints 98.1 and 2 as one piece, his carm. 72, with 98.3 following as carm. 73.606 Given that 98.2 is written in epaneleptics, it makes sense that Dümmler separated the poems into three elegiac pieces. 98.1 could be an actual, if lengthy, inscription enjoining the brethren to keep to the road that leads to church and, more expansively, to Heaven. 98.2 is more immediately addressed to monks and to the aged to hurry to prayer. It could also, and perhaps more readily, serve as an actual inscription on or about a monastic church. 98.3 is of a kind, enjoining a monk to be first to church and last to leave. It, too, can be understood to provide an inscription on or about a church, or perhaps even for a monastic dormitory.

1 Don’t let the brothers’ path rise rough to you (I pray): it leads you scampering to church. Don’t let a throng of folk, or its din, cuff your ear: let nothing madding come to you. Let this road lead you justly with a steady soul, straining with praises to God’s gentle church. Let Christ be the only love for us, one way, may He be our rock, hope, glory, love. Don’t amble through church in a sleep-haunted stupor: let kind praises of God always sound on your lips, that an angel runs with you from Heaven’s round, sees you echoing God’s praises, Christ’s company making you compatriot in church as you rejoice in the saints’ joyful heart: their horde of relics is put up here, a pious offering surmounting a treasure trove. So it is in these haunts salvation’s fixed hope and faith justly abide together with you: brother, as much as you run up and down the place, to that extent you take your reward. Don’t let this road seem long to you: through it Heaven’s gate opens, extends; 606 Duchesne, col. 1701–1702; Forster 212.

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2 Boys, run quickly into Christ’s church, to the praises of Christ, boys, run quickly. Together praise the King of the sky, Always love God together. If you’re lame, old man, I ask, run in your heart, in your mind climb to Heaven, if you’re lame.

3 Brother: with your thumb wipe away sluggish sleep, try to be first to church: enter it before anyone else, but leave it later than the rest; may love of Christ lead you, return you, there. Remember: praise the Lord seven times a day,607 as psalmist David sings from the mouth of God.608

Carm. 99 (Dümmler 323–327) Inscriptions for the Monastery of St Hilary of Poitiers The pieces gathered as carm. 99 are inscriptions composed for the monastery of St Hilary of Poitiers. Duchesne edited them from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 133–159—a gathering of twenty-seven pieces.609 Forster follows Duchesne’s order, numbering the pieces as carm. 74–101, but separates Duchesne, carm. 148 into two poems: his carm. 89 and 90. Forster’s gathering, thus, has twenty-eight pieces, which he prints under the rubric of “Inscriptions for a Certain Monastery, Perhaps Nouaillé” (Inscriptiones in Quodam Monasterio, forte Nobiliacensi).610 Dümmler imposed several changes on the collection: he made Duchesne’s carm. 146, 147, and 148.1–4 (= Forster 87, 88, 89) his carm. 100.1–3 (as follows, 323–325); he moved Duchesne’s carm. 142 and 149 (= Forster 83 and 91) to the Salzburg inscriptions as carm. 109.2 and 14 (as follows, 340–341, 346–347); and he moved Duchesne’s carm. 148.5–9 (= Forster carm. 90) to a gathering of unidentified inscriptions as carm. 104.2. His 607 608 609 610

Alcuin means the seven canonical hours that order the monastic day. Alcuin refers to Psalm 119:164, which enjoins singers to praise God seven times a day. Duchesne, cols. 1702–1707. Forster 212–214.

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collection, thus, has twenty-two pieces that he affiliates tentatively with the monastery of Nouaillé—an association made initially by Forster owing to the naming of Abbot Ato of Nouaillé in 99.1.7. But, as Largeault notes, Lambert and Cecilia, the saints mentioned in 99.1, have no affiliation with the monastery of Nouaillé, while Lambert was venerated at the monastery of St Hilary of Poitiers.611 As Largeault goes on to demonstrate, St Hilary and Nouaillé shared Ato as Abbot; the presence of Lambert and Ato in 99.1 thus suggests that the inscriptions gathered as carm. 99 were composed for the abbey of St Hilary rather than Nouaillé.612 Alcuin’s authorship cannot be established beyond the witness of the St Bertin manuscript.

1 Composed for the abbey church at St Hilary of Poitiers dedicated to the martyrs Sts Lambert and Cecilia, these elegiac couplets form an inscription that also commemorates the role played by Abbot Ato in its construction. Lambert, Bishop of Maastricht-Liège, was put to death ca. 705, for defending the sanctity of marriage against the adulterous affair carried on by Pepin of Herstal and Alpaida. Among the earlier of women martyrs, Cecilia died ca. 235 and is commemorated in the canon of the Mass. Peerless martyr, faithful bishop of Christ: Lambert, renowned saint, holds these haunts; Cecilia the virgin is rightly joined, to him, powerful in purity and in death. He had been the church’s towering shepherd; she was always Christ-king’s bride. Ato, humble abbot, had constructed this place, let Christ give him gifts in Heaven’s keep.

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2 These elegiac couplets were composed for an altar at the abbey church of St Hilary in honor of St Dennis (St Denis), a third century bishop of Paris, and St Quentin, an early Christian proselytizer in Gaul martyred ca. 285. 611 A. Largeault, Inscriptions métriques composées par Alcuin à la fin du VIIIe siècle pour les monastères de Saint-Hilaire de Poitiers et de Nouaillé (Poitiers, 1885), 15, 60, 70 with Burghardt 141–143. 612 These inscriptions are discussed in Titulus: Corpus des inscriptions de la France médiévale, s.v. Hors-Série II, Poitiers, online http://titulus.huma-num.fr/exist/apps/titulus/views/liste-notices.xq.

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The Poems Let Quentin the martyr and father Dennis through their prayers guard this altar from harm evermore, both taught salvation through good works long-plied: their rose-blooming blood gave them Heaven’s haunts.

3 These elegiacs were composed for an altar at the abbey church of St Hilary, dedicated to St Philibert—a monk, and founder and Abbot of the monastery at Jumièges; and to St Agatha, martyred during the persecutions of the Emperor Decius in the middle of the third century, who is said to have resisted the advances of the Roman consul Quintinianus and of an unnamed brothel-keeper, after which she was tortured, mutilated, and sent to her death. Philibert, father, standout, will hold this altar, he put up many holy places for God. Agatha has been joined to him, martyr, renowned: this virgin had come into a heavenly bed in blood.

4 Written in elegiac couplets, this inscription is for an altar at the abbey church at St Hilary dedicated to Michael, chief of the angels and archangels. From Heaven’s keep let Michael, lofty archangel, keep this place from harm with kindly prayers evermore. Who may read these lines, remember: plead with him that for short work he might proffer long reward.

5 This elegiac inscription was written for an altar at the abbey church of St Hilary dedicated to Sulpicius (d. 646), who lived a life of spiritual resolve, eventually becoming bishop of Bourges; and Columba, a Spanish virgin who, after settling in Sens, was martyred ca, 275. Let Sulpicius, bishop, pastor, faithful patriarch, bring kindly help to us. Through death let Columba, virgin, renowned, protect these hallowed haunts with prayers to God.

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6 These elegiac couplets were composed for an altar at the abbey church of St Hilary dedicated to St Amand (previously, 280–281); and to St Agatha (previously, 3). Look: Amand, bishop, your honor is cherished at this altar: father, help us; and Agatha, virgin sacred to God, is revered, may she bear succor to us here.

7 These elegiac couplets could comprise an inscription for a church (St Hilary?) or supply a prayer in praise of churches for more general use. God of hosts: your churches are so beloved to me, Lord of powers, my King and God. Kind Father: my heart seeks you, my body desires you in every haunt; you: living God, my towering joy. All who abide in your house are most blessed, sounding eternal praises to you. Father, most tender, give me a home here (so I beg), that in it I might sing your praises without end.

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8 These hexameters were written for chapel at St Hilary dedicated to St Lawrence—a deacon in Rome martyred in 258 during the persecutions of Emperor Valerian. Tradition holds that he was burned alive on a large gridiron, though it seems more likely that he was decapitated, the normal means of putting Christians to death in the third century. Let Lawrence deck this place with goodnesses, God’s deacon, renowned, bursting in love of the Lord; famished flames didn’t rout him, neither iron nor chains, through sword and fire he rose to the heights. See: he aids the servants of God evermore: we believe he helps those who covet him here.

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9 These hexameters comprise epitaphs for an oratory at the abbey church of St Hilary dedicated to Elidius, perhaps Eligius, Bishop of Noyons (d. 660); and Leonius, a student of Hilary. The identity of Elidius is obscure, since he is called a “bishop of Poitiers” (praesul Pectensis . . . plebis, v. 2) and the name is not associated with that bishopric. Eligius was born in Limoges, near to but not close enough to be considered Poitiers. As v. 4 makes clear, the oratory in question was renovated by a monk named Arnulf, otherwise unknown. Here the sainted fathers’ two bodies repose, Elidius the bishop, honor of Poitiers’ folk, father Leonius, shrouded in kindly goodnesses. Brother Arnulf had renovated this church: Christ grant him salvation’s rewards evermore.

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10 These hexameters are an inscription composed perhaps for the monastic guesthouse at St Hilary Abbey or for the almshouse associated with the church of St-Pierre-l’Houstault in Poitiers.613 May this place be open to all comers from far off: for Christ will always be taken up here as guest. May a gladdened pastor succor the weary wanderer: let him rejoice to wash a traveler’s feet. Christ, lover of piety, was a model when he washed his disciples’ feet. Doing this let the brother covet just deserts in Heaven: for he followed the teachings of Christ. Brothers: love God, love each other evermore: he loves God who is his brother’s true lover.

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11 This inscription, written in hexameters, is for an oratory at the abbey of St Hilary dedicated to St Martin of Tours, (d. 397), who was kind to a beggar, later revealed to be Christ; and to Gelasius, a bishop of Poitiers in the fifth century. As v. 11 suggests, the priest Gunduinus, associated with St Hilary, renovated this oratory. 613 Largeault, Inscriptions, 33 and Burghardt 139.

The Poems The clergy’s tower, glinting priest in the world, Martin, man of singular action, doing virtue’s good works, let him guard this place sacred to him as a patron, abet our prayers in piety’s love, that God-of-every-power might cherish the vows of those in his thrall, enriching them with heavenly gifts; may the best King be kind, lenient to us. And kind bishop Gelasius sleeps here, gleaming now in the world, worthy teacher, stellar for his good works, alive through salvation’s words. The priest Gunduinus renovated this place, beguiled by the fathers’ love; may gentle Christ grant him rewards evermore in Heaven’s happy seat.

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12 This hexametrical inscription was composed for the church, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, constructed at the monastery of Nouaillé by Abbot Ato in the late eighth century. Ato writes of his role in this work at Nouaillé Abbey, and he authorized no such work at the abbey of St Hilary, where he was also Abbot.614 Reader: these places you see—parts of this church’s noble nave—long ago formed a house of prayer:615 father Ato, shepherd, suppliant, raised it up from dust, owing to a boundless love— Virgin Mary, bearer of Thunderer-God, you, untouched, you, our life’s most excellent hope, queen of Heaven— that your worship and worth might be remembered here, that with customary care, softest Virgin, you might gaze on those praying here, in your thrall, men and women of God. Be present to our pleas, with kindness, evermore, rule our days with prayers, always everywhere that the pious grace of Christ Jesus save us.

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614 L. Levillain, “Les origines du monastère de Nouaillé,” Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes 71 (1910): 254–255. 615 Dümmler 325 [XII] 2 calls this verse a locus corruptus.

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13 These elegiacs comprise epitaphs composed for the tombs of John II, Bishop of Poitiers, who died in 785, and Aper, Abbot of St Hilary, whom Ato succeeded, both of whom were buried at the abbey of St Hilary. The inscription also describes the ways in which Ato presently keeps mourners from walking on the tombs and avers finally that he also put up an altar in honor of both revered figures.616 This city’s glinting bishop rests here, John by name, pious, good; and Aper sleeps here, revered bishop of this church, a shepherd eager to do only good; the people used to trample their graves underfoot, no wall set them off—as was fathers’ due. Ato, successor of Aper’s honor, didn’t suffer treading on fathers’ blessed remains: glad to gird their graves with a low wall to keep folks from walking on the tombs, he added hallowed signs of our salvation on which the Savior-Victor returned from the foe; he also built an altar honorable to Christ, on it the sacred host was placed for fathers, that God of every power might grant them rest with the saints evermore in the citadel of Heaven.

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14 These hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to Sts Gervasius and Protasius, twins martyred in the second century. Gervasius, martyr, and Protasius, kindly one are venerated alike at this altar: they died together, at once, went to Heaven, akin in martyrdom, akin in their fiery faith.

15 This hexametrical inscription was composed for the door of the abbey church of St Hilary of Poitiers, which was made by a priest named Abba at 616 B. Effros, Caring for Body and Soul: Burial and the Afterlife in the Merovingian World (University Park, PA, 2002), 130–131 discusses these and other protections for monastic graves, which were often sites of large gatherings for Mass, and attractive places for travelers to visit.

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the order of Abbot Ato (vv. 9–10). There may be an echo of Psalm 117 in the inscription’s opening verses.617 This is the door of Lord’s house, God’s royal gate: to you it opens a sacred temple’s paths, sanctuaries, where you will find lofty fathers at rest. Let them pray for you, let them be the bright hope of salvation: if you ask Christ to forgive your sins, as suppliant, kindhearted, you will have it in hand; wear down this holy church’s entryway: Christ’s kindly grace brings all things to those in His thrall; Abba, pious priest, made the doors of this church as Ato ordered—revered abbot of the monks. Coming here, wayfarer, pray for him, that God of every power might keep him in every haunt.

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16 These elegiacs were written for an oratory near to the abbey church of St Hilary and dedicated to St Andrew, whom Jesus famously said he would make a fisher of men. Andrew was martyred in the mid-first century C.E. by being bound to a saltire. Let Andrew, first disciple, true, in thrall to Christ, rule these precincts hallowed to him. Let the Dweller-on-Olympus bring us aid, so that our tears might reach Christ, so that Christ might see fit from His lofty tower to hear those in thrall to Him evermore.

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17 These elegiac couplets comprise an epitaph for the poet Venantius Fortunatus (d. ca. 600), also Bishop of Poitiers, who was buried at the abbey church of St Hilary. Fortunatus, the bishop, now rests in this place, glory of the church, he wrote much: poems on saints in ancient modes, celebrating them with praises like hymns; 617 So thinks C. B. Kendall, The Allegory of the Church: Romanesque Portals and Their Verse Inscriptions (Toronto, 1998), 110.

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18 This elegiac inscription was composed for an altar in the abbey church of St Hilary dedicated to St Stephen, the so-called first martyr, put to death by stoning in ca. 35 C.E. Worthy Stephen, protomartyr, is loved in this place, assailing Heaven, first to seek the stars: in a shower of stones there was a ladder for him from earth to Heaven, that he might see Christ in Heaven’s tower.

19 These elegiacs comprise an inscription for an altar at the abbey church of St Hilary honoring St John the evangelist, the “disciple whom Jesus loved,” the only apostle not martyred for his faith, the author of the gospel that bears his name and perhaps also of the Book of Revelations. These lines are recorded also among the Salzburg inscriptions, where they follow carm. 109.8 (as follows, 343) but they are not printed there by Dümmler. John, Christ’s confidante, holds this altar: at the last supper he reclines on His sacred chest; he drank heavenly secrets from the sacred font, let him protect this church without stint through our prayers.

20 This elegiac inscription was written for an altar honoring virgin martyrs, probably for the abbey church of St Hilary. This is the altar dedicated to the holy virgins: their bodies were temples of God: they will hold Heaven’s kingdom bleeding blood rose-red, weak women waged a valiant war.

21 These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to all the martyrs at the abbey church of St Hilary.

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Who trampled the world with martyrs’ wins, this altar glints now, dedicated to them; through sword, fire, torture, beating, they seek Heaven’s kingdom with hearts unfazed.

22 These elegiacs were composed for the tomb of Gunduinus at the abbey church of St Hilary. Gunduinus is also mentioned at 99.11.11 (previously), where he is memorialized as one who restored an oratory dedicated to St Martin. Gunduinus, the priest, rebuilt this ravaged church, led by a towering love of God, in thrall to justice, lover of a better life, gifted like a prophet, careful in speech, may soft Christ bring just deserts evermore: his body now sleeps in this tomb.

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Carm. 100 (Dümmler 327–328) Inscriptions for the Monastery of Nouaillé From the St Bertin manuscript, Duchesne edited what he prints as four inscriptions, carm. 145–148, that Forster identified with the monastery of Nouaillé because Abbot Ato is mentioned by name in the initial piece.618 In Forster’s edition, these poems are numbered carm. 86–90, five rather than four pieces, because Forster separated Duchesne’s carm. 148 into two inscriptions of four elegiac and five hexametrical verses.619 This small group of Nouaillé inscriptions, Dümmler reorganized: Duchesne carm. 145 (Forster 86) is his carm. 99.12 (previously, 319); Duchesne 148.5–9 (Forster 90) is his carm.104.2 (as follows, 330–331); while Duchesne 146, 147, and 148.1–4 (Forster 87, 88, 89) are his carm. 100.1–3, the three inscriptions presumed to be attached to Nouaillé abbey translated as follows. Apart from the St Bertin witness, carm. 100.1 is partially copied out in the eighth-century Gotha, Universitäts- und Forschungsbibliothek ErfurtGotha, Mbr. I 75, f. 23r (vv. 1–3), and in the ninth-century Verona, Biblioteca Capitolare, XC (85), f. 50r (vv. 1–6). The complete piece is recorded in the ninth-century Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 9347, f. 135r; the 618 Duchesne, cols. 1704–1705. 619 Forster 213–214.

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tenth-century Rome, Biblioteca Angelica, 1515 (V. 3. 22) f. 31r, whose title ascribes it to Alcuin; and in the eleventh-century Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale lat. 5577, f. 19, whose title, with ascription to Alcuin, is printed by Dümmler and translated here. Neither Duchesne nor Forster print v. 11 in their editions of carm. 100.1 Poems 2 and 3 are also witnessed in the Regensburg manuscript edited by Forster.

1. Alcuin’s Verses for the Table620 This hexametrical inscription, composed for the monastic refectory, has sometimes been understood to constitute a hymn. Its lines ask God, as Christ, to bless a monastic table, while enjoining monks and guests to thank Him for His bounty and to assist the hungering poor. The scriptural quotation in v. 9 comes from John 14:27 (Pacem relinquo vobis, pacem meam do vobis) and takes readers back to the Last Supper. Christ God: bless the guests at our table, Softest One: bless gifts given to those who serve you; may there be benediction through you; like a nurse, bountifully, you had given everything to us—all we have— full of goodness owed to you, the bounty’s source. Guests: praise Christ (I ask you to do it), with peace and salvation, only, always, on your lips. Always—Christ loves peace; isn’t he the one who said: “I give you my peace, my peace remains?” Let our hand overflow to those cast down, give bread, give some part of your bounty, to the poor. Accept Christ: you shall have given something to those in need: He won’t be slow in returning great favor to you!

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2. To the Warm Room Where the Abbot Sleeps This hexametrical inscription was composed most likely for a monastic dormitory. The title is recorded by Forster and reflects the Regensburg witness. You gave the night for rest, the light for work: a source of goodness for your servants, night or day.

620 An English translation is Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 185.

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Let my heart be constant for you, if sleep should hobble my eyes; let rest and work praise you as one, when the sun is high, when it slinks away.

3 The final couplet of carm. 100.3—an elegiac riddle—also provides the opening distich for carm. 64.1. Forster titles the piece Ad Hypocaustum, “To a Heated Bath,” but, in fact, only the final, riddling couplet attends to a hypocaustum, while the initial distich is a more general invitation to a traveler to the hospitality of the xenodochium, or guest house. The poem’s initial line, “Wanderer, chilled to the bone, coming from the wintry heights” (Frigidus hiberno veniens de monte viator) is perhaps indebted to Virgil, Ecl. 10.20 “Menalcas came wet from the winter’s acorn” (uvidus hiberna venit de glande Menalcas). Wanderer, chilled to the bone, coming from the wintry heights: don’t think less of what is offered here (so I ask). If you want my warmth, rainy traveler, throw on some wood, make mine yours.

Carm. 101 (Dümmler 328–329) Inscriptions for the Monastery of Fleury Situated on the Loire near to Orléans, the monastery of Fleury was founded in 640 by St Leobald, who served as its first abbot. Celebrated in the two inscriptions that comprise carm. 101, Magulf was Fleury’s abbot from 780– 796. Written in hexameters, both poems were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 162 and 163; Forster numbers them carm. 102 and 103;621 the poems are extant in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, lat. 808, f. 229v-230r.

1 Carm. 101.1 is an inscription for an oratory addressed to the unnamed figure of v. 9, “Holy one, pastor of these sheep” (sancte . . . pastor ovilis); that is, Fulrad (d. 798), Magulf’s successor as Abbot. Its lines offer posthumous praises for Magulf. The Benedict of vv. 3 and 16 is St Benedict of Nursia, to whom Fleury Abbey was dedicated, and the author of the monastic rule followed there. 621 Duchesne, cols. 1707–1708; Forster 215.

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The Poems Humble Magulf, the abbot, had built this chapel as a sweet place to linger for the holy fathers, who were given by Christ to serve Benedict forever; as a proper place for them to gather, where a gleaming light might pour into every corner (thus he saw it) and this house of prayer become closest to Christ, where he alone was able in private to lie before the altar wetted with sweet tears. Holy one, pastor of these sheep (so I ask), remember Magulf as you pour out prayers, commend his soul to Christ without stint, for he had built such a place for you to linger. Happy, live forever in God, keep the brothers on the straight and narrow path, so that Christ, enthroned in the clouds, might give piety’s rewards to you, with holy father Benedict at His side evermore.

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2 Carm. 101.2 asks any who might read its lines to remember Magulf, not least by also bringing to bear the powerful presences of St Benedict of Nursia in vv. 2 and 6, and St Peter in v. 5. Its lines center on the plot of land Magulf purchased for Fleury, on which was built a church dedicated to St Peter. The word I have translated as “plot,” mansam, is controverted. Duchesne prints mensam, “table,” the reading of the St Bertin manuscript. Forster follows Duchesne in printing mensam but notes that the manuscript he consulted, Vienna 808, has mansam. He wonders if perhaps the correct word is mansum. Dümmler prints mansam, following the same manuscript consulted by Forster, but notes Duchesne’s reading and Forster’s conjecture.622 On contextual grounds, it seems hard to defend mensam, “table,” as the correct reading; mansam, the spelling recorded in Vienna 808, seems best and also accords with Forster’s conjecture, mansum, a different form of the same word, both of which designate a plot of land.623 While Magulf’s largesse is the focus of the poem, the pluperfects, empserat, “had bought,” in v.1 and iusserat, “had ordered,” in v. 4, suggest that this is a posthumous inscription. 622 Dümmler 329. 623 DMLBS, s.v. mansa and Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, 643–645, s.v. mansus, who rightly notes that the word exists in medieval Latin in both first (feminine) and fourth (masculine) declensions.

The Poems Abbot Magulf, the venerable, had bought this plot, handed it over to father Benedict, in return he earned eternity with his father. Magulf had ordered this church set aside for Peter, great, foremost, who unlocks Heaven and in the name of good father Benedict, to govern this church’s life evermore through prayers, and ask both for unending rest for souls. Reader, friend, who recites these words set down here, remember to ask after father Magulf (I pray). May Christ in his mildness save you forever and protect these confines, govern them gently: let there be unending praise, honor, and worship for Christ!

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Carm. 102 (Dümmler 329–330) Inscriptions for the Monastery of St Nabor St Nabor is traditionally held to have been beheaded, along with St Felix, during Diocletian’s persecutions of the Christians early in the fourth century. The monastery named for him was founded at some point in the sixth century, but the first flourishing in its long history occurred in the eighth century under the watchful eyes of two bishops of Metz, Sigebald (d. 741) and Chrodegang (d. 766), who was responsible for bringing relics associated with St Nabor to the abbey from Rome. Angelramnus (d. 791), who succeeded Chrodegang as bishop and who was a monk at the abbey, introduced the rule of St Benedict to St Nabor and built a new abbey church during his episcopate. Carm. 102, comprising an inscription for St Nabor and an epistolary poem to Abbot Vasco, were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 164–165; Forster numbers them carm. 104–105.624 Both include a corrupt distich as the conclusion of 102.2, which Dümmler rightly removed.

1 These hexameters comprise an inscription for the tomb of St Nabor at the abbey, begun by Angelramnus, who died, as vv. 6–7 suggest, before its completion. Vasco, styled a deacon (levita) in v. 7 but eventually Abbot of St Nabor, took up the task of finishing it. High priest, pastor, patriarch, Angelramnus, praying, depending on teacher-piety, 624 Duchesne, col. 1708; Forster 215.

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The Poems out of love for Nabor, the excellent martyr, began to adorn this holy tomb with zeal, (the gifts of good King Charles helped). Then hungry death stole father before he was done, so the humble deacon, Vasco, completed his work. Whoever comes upon these lines: commend Angelramnus and Vasco to Christ, let each man come to his just deserts, in kindly prayers that remember father and son: Angelramnus, who made the start; Vasco who made the ending, one work, two men. Christ: save both. Nabor, sainted martyr of God, invincible in your victories, pastor, best father, help those who follow in your path.

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2 Not an inscription, this playful piece is, instead, a poetic epistle addressed to Vasco, who, as the previous poem relates, completed the tomb of St Nabor after the death of Angelramnus. Vasco is told here that the inscription that carm. 102.1 records has been copied and sent to him in recompense for two “butristas” of wine, “butrista” being a nonce-word for a “wine vessel.”625 Alcuin goes on to jest that these “butristas” are equivalent to about fourteen cups, since the inscription contains fourteen verses. Vasco, to you I just sent fourteen verses, for you had sent two butristas of wine containing, I think, fourteen cups (perhaps), and with those lines you have fourteen thank-yous now. Remember Angelramnus and Nabor as you pray (and me, as I am wont to ask), whose names you see written in those fourteen lines. Vasco: through words like these always and ever prevail.

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Carm. 103 (Dümmler 330) Inscriptions for Sacred Places (Gorze?) The poems gathered as carm. 103 are among a group of five inscriptions recorded in the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne as carm.

625 Bullough 365n107; Dümmler 329, following Forster 215, note o; DMLBS, s.v. butrista, offers “wine vessel,” with this line the only witness to its meaning.

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172–176; Forster numbers them carm. 201–205.626 From these, Dümmler removed Duchesne’s carm. 174 and 175 because they are copied out among the Salzburg inscriptions composed for that abbey (as follows, 342, 343, carm. 109.4 and 7). Carm. 103.1 and 3 were seemingly composed for the monastery of Gorze, as the headnotes below will suggest, but Burghardt is surely right to say that the destination of none of them is determinable from their words.627

1 These hexameters, composed for an altar at an unknown church, are linked to a mosaic found in the apse of the abbey church of Gorze and celebrate the majesty of Christ enthroned—a common theme of the art found in apses in the Carolingian period. The reference in vv. 4–5 to the “five wise virgins” takes readers back to Matthew 25:1–13, where the Evangelist recounts the Parable of the Ten Virgins. Chosen to participate in a wedding and awaiting the coming of the bridegroom at night, the five virgins who were wise remembered to bring oil in their lamps, and thus, were able to greet the bridegroom when he arrived at midnight and to accompany him to the celebration. The five foolish virgins, on the other hand, who were forced to go out to get oil for their lamps, returned much beyond the time that would allow them to be included in the celebration. God, the judge, sits on high, looming Creator; seraphim glimmer, burning in their love of the Lord; among the cherubim God’s mysteries flitter and five wise virgins gleam, holding lamps with a light that will never die.

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2 This brief hexametrical inscription was composed for an altar dedicated to St Peter, for an unknown church, possibly the abbey church of Gorze. Key-giver, bound to the sky, keeper of Olympus’ gates, Apostle Peter, leader, pastor of the flock of the deathless King: this altar is dedicated to him, may he keep it forever in his grip on account of endless prayer. 626 Duchesne, cols. 1709–1710; Forster 225. 627 Burghardt 169.

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3 This hexametrical inscription memorializes the dedication of the abbey church at Gorze by Chrodegang, Bishop of Metz, in 765. This house was dedicated to Christ the Lord, and to the saints, five days before the Ides of July. Kind and high father, glory of Metz, Bishop Chrodegang consecrated it with a powerful honor.

Carm. 104 (Dümmler 330–331) Inscriptions for Unidentified Sacred Places Carm. 104 is six inscriptions copied out successively in the St Bertin manuscript. Duchesne edited them in order, as carm. 193–198, but Forster prints 198 separately, as his carm. 106; the others pieces are his carm. 216–220.628 Carm. 104.1 and 2 are witnessed in Antwerp, Museum Plantin-Moretus M 212 (olim 126), from the fourteenth century. It remains unclear for what places these inscriptions were composed, though conjectures have been ventured, as the headnotes that follow suggest.

1 This hexametrical inscription intended for a monastic refectory enjoins the abbot, in the name of Christ, to bless the meal for the monastic brethren. Let the priest and patriarch, godly, highest, sit, generous, calm-hearted, softly fluent; with his right hand let Christ’s right hand bless whatever is given the brothers to eat.

2 These hexameters appear in Duchesne as carm. 194, but also as vv. 5–9 of his carm. 148.629 Forster also edits them twice, as carm. 217, but also as carm. 90, where the verses are gathered with inscriptions he associates with Nouaillé Abbey.630 The poem provides an inscription for a monastic

628 Duchesne, cols. 1722–1723; Forster 226–227; 215–216 (= carm. 106/Duchesne 198). 629 Duchesne, col. 1706. 630 Forster 214.

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refectory, using the miracle of the five loaves to pray for a continuance of the kitchen’s bounty. This is a holy house, a place of peace, salvation: may Christ’s blessing evermore remain upon it; may He enlarge the brothers’ feasts beyond bound:631 long ago, brimming with Heaven’s largesse, He sated five thousand with five loaves of bread.

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3 This hexametrical inscription was composed for a monastic refectory and plays on the idea of the spiritual nourishment that Christ provides in order to offer a prayer before meal. Brothers, may love be a brother among you, in every haunt, may there be peace, sweet amity, the stainless faith of Christ: Christ be heard on your lips, Christ abide in your heart: Christ be drink, food, salvation, life.

4 This hexametrical inscription offers a prayer for a monastic refectory. V. 1 is identical to carm. 105.5.1. May the brothers of the Lord enter here with praises, may the Lord keep them evermore, may He nourish the nest with the bread of salvation and give us the food of heavenly life.

5632 This hexametrical inscription was composed for a monastic refectory. Who made a meal from dew, draughts from stone, who turned flowing water into Falernian, who walks on water with dry feet: let that Kind One enlarge His gifts to those in His thrall.

631 Dümmler 652 corrects the misprint, in pua, to in qua. 632 Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 185, is an English translation.

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6 In Duchesne’s edition, this elegiac inscription, his carm. 198, is joined to carm. 64.1—a riddle (previously, 236). The verses describe an unidentified monastery, whose virtues, spiritual and natural, are celebrated for their exemplarity. Fame-bearing praises fly above the stars, to excellent cities, whose new heights rise up; their varied riches cannot be counted: of a kind the old poets celebrate in verse. But this is (as you see) a rustic, little place, with threshed roof, more nobly arrayed in the hinterland, where it blooms with sacred writ, a place to study God’s wisdom and laws, or to divine hidden meanings from writers of old. Rich cities turn and traffic in a thousand lies, to trip up a friend in ugly deception. But in the cloister holy truth is sought all around, through patient conversation. In rich cities, vile drunkenness steals people’s minds: a master stumbles home, but just, his servant props him up. But in the cloister evening spies a long fast of reading, nourishes sober hearts with holy feasts. May our prayers come to you, Softest One, Christ; Christ, may your grace reach us here.

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Carm. 105 (Dümmler 332–333) Inscriptions for an Unidentified Monastery (Chelles?) Duchesne edits carm. 105 as a single inscription of forty-one hexameters, his carm. 203; Forster separates the verses into four inscriptions, his carm. 107–110, but inserts a blank line in carm. 110 after v. 12 because he rightly understood the subsequent verses to take up a different topic.633 Dümmler makes those verses a separate inscription, his carm. 105.5. The poems are preserved in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 228v-229r, down through 105.4.2, where they follow carm. 67 (previously, 243–244)—a poem written to Ava—a nun at the monastery of Chelles. Because of their proximity to carm. 67 in Vienna 808, Burghardt suggests that these inscriptions were perhaps also composed for Chelles.634 633 Duchesne, col. 1725; Forster 216 with note u. 634 Burghardt 208.

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1. Where Books are Housed This elegiac inscription was written for a monastic library. That Chelles housed an important scriptorium might make verses on its library more sensible. Garrison emends the final word of v. 4, donis, to domni, which I translate here.635 The title is recorded in Vienna 808. This small place holds the gifts of heavenly wisdom: reader, rejoicing, learn them with tender heart; the Lord’s wisdom is better than every treasure: who follows wisdom will hew to the lighted way.

2 These hexameters were composed as an inscription for the bell used in the monastic refectory. Forever, always, let this little bell only make songs, but let the good bell of the cooks clang for us.

3 This hexametrical inscription was composed for a monastic refectory. It plays upon the idea that bodily nourishment—a gift of a beneficent God—is coupled with the spiritual nourishment salvation promises. Let a reverent reading from a noble seat prick up the brothers’ ears, goading their souls to ever ponder the heights; as a hungry body is nourished by feasts, let a godly mind be nourished by heavenly words. Let tender praises be sung to God in all corners of this hall: 5 He gives trays burdened with food for those in His thrall, He will rightly feed souls with heavenly bread.

4. For the Table These hexameters provide an inscription for a monastic refectory. The title is recorded in Vienna 808. May tender Christ, in this house, bless our meals, in kindness may He give more to those serving Him. To the folk He sent manna in a heavenly shower: 635 Garrison, “The Library of Alcuin’s York,” 633.

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The Poems He made water flow from dry rocks to slake thirst; He fed five thousand with but five loaves of bread; He changed water into wine that pleased the lips: may this Gentle One bless us, and our meals, may He keep those who serve Him in a calming peace, make them whole again through His very praise. Brothers: ever love the peaceful way of life, for the King of Heaven ever loves this peace; look: lovers of peace are the Thunderer’s sons.

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5 Burghardt thought this hexametrical inscription was two pieces, vv. 1–9, addressed to a general reader, and vv. 10–16, an injunction addressed to monastic brethren.636 This view is strengthened by the fact that v. 10 is also the first verse of carm. 98.2 (previously, 314). Whether one inscription or two, these verses seem to have been composed for an abbey church or a path leading to it. V. 1 is identical to carm. 104.4.1 (previously, 331). May the brothers of the Lord enter here with praises, let Christ’s merit and glory ever resound on their lips. This is a sacred way, trodden by brothers’ feet, only a joyful friend may cross this path. Let a faithless one, with wicked gait, walk on: no thief, no liar, no plotter here; let brotherly love attend those making their way, let a hallowed unity, piety, peace, faith, and divine praise evermore be on people’s lips. Run quickly, boys, to this place of Christ, with hankering hearts, hear Heaven’s voices. Don’t be fooled by laughter, with its slippery sweetness, nor by fleshly love, games, wantonness, or taunts. While the body is hot-blooded, green, young, take up hallowed wisdom, as you come of age, for time ever passes, like the water’s ebb.

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Carm. 106 (Dümmler 333) Inscriptions for an Unidentified Monastery The three poems of carm. 106 are copied out in the St Bertin manuscript at the head of a group of eight inscriptions, edited by Duchesne as carm. 204–211 (carm. 106 = 204–206), and by Forster as carm. 111–118 636 Burghardt 207–208.

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(carm. 106 = 111–113).637 Unlike the other pieces of the gathering, whose locations seem more secure (as follows, carm. 107–108, 335–339), these inscriptions betray no obvious affiliation.

1 This hexametrical inscription was composed for an oratory dedicated to John, who famously baptized Christ after predicting that He would appear as the Savior. He was executed by Herod Antipas for denouncing that king’s marriage to Herodias, the first wife of the king’s brother. The Lord’s precursor, powerful baptist John, dresses this holy hall with insuperable deeds. Revered herald of humanity’s rescue: may he help us by dint of his incomparable strength.

2 The inscription, composed in hexameters, was written for an altar dedicated to St Salvius, the bishop and martyr, who met his death in Valenciennes while proselytizing there in the middle of the seventh century.638 For what he did as bishop, for his worthy death, Salvius is remembered at this altar, in the pious prayers of those who read these words.

3 This hexametrical inscription was composed for a sanctuary dedicated to St Bavo of Ghent, the son of Pippin of Landen, who gave away his considerable wealth and became a monk and disciple of St Amand, traveling throughout Gaul to spread Christianity. He died in 653. Let Bavo, revered priest, make clean this place: when he lived he deserved to follow father Amand.

Carm. 107 (Dümmler 333–334) Cologne Inscriptions Carm. 107.1–2 fall in the St Bertin manuscript in a group of eight inscriptions, edited by Duchesne as carm. 204–211 (carm. 107.1–2 = 207–208), and by 637 Duchesne, cols. 1726–1727; Forster 216–217. 638 On which, see M. Coens, “La Passion de s. Sauve, martyr à Valenciennes,” Analecta Bollandiana 87.1–2 (1969): 135.

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Forster as carm. 111–118 (carm. 107.1–2 =114–115).639 To these two inscriptions Dümmler added a third, his carm. 107.3, which Duchesne prints as carm. 266 and Forster, as carm. 207.640 107.1 and 2 are separately witnessed in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, f. 229r, while 107.3 is copied in the ninth-century Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig Rep I 74, f.63r.

1 This hexametrical inscription was composed for a church dedicated to St Stephen, built by Ambrose (v. 6), whom Dümmler identifies as Ambrose of Milan but whom Burghardt thinks might be the abbot of the monastery of Île-Barbe in Lyon.641 St Stephen traditionally is held to be the first martyr. The images of “stones flying” in v. 3 refers to the stoning by which Stephen died. First to die for the faith, Stephen is loved in this church, he stood out for what he did; his name was on everyone’s lips. As stones flew he spied Christ in His castle, standing on heavenly cliffs, at the right hand of God, offering the power of his own martyrdom. In kind honor Ambrose built a church for Stephen, to gain his forgiveness through kindly prayers. Reader: pray for Ambrose (don’t let it slip your mind), so that Christ might preserve His own servant, forever.

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2 This hexametrical inscription was composed for an altar that Charlemagne had covered in precious metals (vv. 1–2), located in the church of St Peter in Cologne (vv. 3–6), completed in the early ninth century. Celebrated in v. 7 as the figure who carried out the king’s order, Hildebald was named Bishop of Cologne in 784, Arch-chaplain to Charlemagne in 791, and first Archbishop of Cologne in 794. He died in 818. The Agrippina of v. 8 is the wife of the emperor Claudius—a native of Cologne. King Charles, bowed by an insuperable love of Christ, had ordered this altar clothed in silver and gold 639 Duchesne, cols. 1726–1727; Forster 216–217. 640 Duchesne, col. 1741; Forster 225. 641 Dümmler 639; Burghardt 212–213.

The Poems for the glory of the church, for his own soul’s health. Let Peter, in the front ranks of the Apostles, command this altar, keep this church whole; sustain the soulful desires of your servants as they pray. Hildebald, standing close to God, completed this royallymandated task, praying, as bishop, in Agrippina’s town. Fathers: for the king bear tender gifts to Christ, that He might preserve him by Heaven’s grace without end. This house is strengthened, like a nest, by Heaven’s gifts: let God, with every strength, rule here with Peter, the great chief. Let there be redemption that abides, hope of forgiveness, the door of life: whoever you are, with a kind heart, weep here, in this house.

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3 These hexameters were written for an altar decorated at Hildebald’s order (previously, 2), who is described in vv. 1–3 as moved by a love of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and St Medard, Bishop of Noyons, (d. 545), who achieved wide fame as a holy figure in sixth-century Gaul. Hildebald’s presence in v. 4 securely links this inscription to Cologne; perhaps its lines attend to the same altar as that celebrated in 107.2 or to another altar in the Church of St Peter in Cologne. Softest Christ, urged on by your irresistable love, and by your love, most sacred, Virgin Mary, and by your love, Medard, priest, known across the world for the ways you’ve lived your life: Hildebald, humble father, prayerful, priest, had ordered this altar festooned with precious leaf. Readers: pray for him now (this is what I ask).

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Carm. 108 (Dümmler 334) Inscriptions for Sacred Places The three hexametrical pieces that comprise carm. 108 fall in the St Bertin manuscript at the end of a group of eight inscriptions edited by Duchesne as carm. 204–211 (carm. 108 = 209–211) and by Forster as carm. 111–118 (carm. 108 = 116–118).642 642 Duchesne, cols. 1726–1727; Forster 216–217.

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1643 Identifying himself as author in v. 5 using the pseudonym “Albinus,” Alcuin celebrates in this hexametrical inscription a reliquary he commissioned. The idea of such a place being “pristine” (mundus) goes to a larger tendency in Carolingian sacral practices, in part due to reforms carried out by Alcuin himself, to insist on liturgical, monastic, and priestly “cleanness.” This involved limiting the laity’s handling of the wine and Eucharist, including not allowing the Eucharist to be touched by any but anointed hands and setting aside certain sacral spaces from unlimited access by the faithful.644 Reader, this small place before your eyes was founded, and stands, to hold sacred remains, that this pristine place might gain holy assent, and Christ’s lowly servant might come to it and pray. Albinus, the poet, ordered it built: pray for him after you read these lines—don’t forget!

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2 These hexameters are an inscription for an unknown sacred object or place, in recollection of time spent in Ghent by St Amand (previously, 280–281), who lived and worked there among the unconverted, eventually bringing many people to the faith. V. 3 seems to suggest that Amand inflicted corporal punishment on some unbelievers, though that is not part of the lore of his proselytizing life. From the hinterland an evil throng arrived in fear, Amand pressed them to believe, but he remained unloved, though possessed of many skills. What were these lost ones thinking of? Let lashes break their backs; let Amand be the only haven for them.

3 These hexameters are an inscription written by Alcuin for sacred buildings that he restored, presumably at the abbey of St Martin of Tours. Styling 643 An English translation is in Visser, Parallel Lives, 98. 644 See A. Angenendt, “Sacrifice, Gifts, and Prayers in Latin Christianity,” in The Cambridge History of Christianity: Early Medieval Christianities, c. 600-c. 1100, eds. T. F. X. Noble and J. M. H. Smith (Cambridge, 2008), 457–459.

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himself “Albinus,” Alcuin describes his origins in England, the largesse of Charlemagne once he arrived on the continent, and the role he assumed at St Martin in renovating the oratories of the abbey church affiliated with the monastery’s burial vaults. Since Alcuin was not associated with any other abbey on the continent, it makes sense that St Martin’s is the monastery in question.645 Albinus, the poet, coming from foreign haunts, was set on his way to these lands by Britain, known across the world. Charles, the world’s glorious king, took him to be his own, with the tenderness of sacred wisdom—and on account of love. Albinus commanded that these roofs be razed, rebuilt these rooms from top to bottom (reader, as you see), made them second-to-none for sacred remains, so that these rooms of holy rest might possess the right kinds of honor, so that they might be decent in the world, where the relics of the blessed might be loved: in Heaven God wished them to be His own forever.

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Carm. 109 (Dümmler 335–340) Salzburg Inscriptions The twenty-four inscriptions organized as carm. 109 are recorded in two manuscripts, though neither records all of them: carm. 109.1–15 are copied in the eleventh-century Salzburg, Archiv von St. Peter A I, pp. 16–17; while carm. 109.1, 5, 15–23, are copied out of order in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, lat. 808, f. 231r-233r. Duchesne edited these inscriptions from the St Bertin manuscript, which records most of them but offers no information concerning destinations or locations and copies them across the manuscript rather than as a group. Forster roughly organizes them according to the monasteries for which he believes they were written. I record the numbers Duchesne and Forster assign to these pieces in the headnotes to individual inscriptions below.

1. In the Church of St Peter, which St Rupert Dedicated Written in hexameters, this inscription was composed for the abbey church of St Peter in Salzburg, built, as v. 4 suggests, by St Rupert. In 645 Burghardt 213.

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the St Bertin manuscript, it comprises vv. 9–22 of a larger piece, edited by Duchesne as carm. 224; Forster separated vv. 1–8 from vv. 9–22 on thematic grounds, making vv. 1–8 his carm. 119, and vv. 9–22 (= carm. 109.1) his carm. 120.646 Dümmler observes this separation, making vv. 1–8 his carm. 111 (as follows, 360–362). Rupert was the first bishop of Salzburg and Abbot of St Peter’s monastery there. He died in 710, having devoted his life to the growth and strengthening of Christianity throughout much of what is now Austria and beyond. Peter is traditionally the first pope and bishop of Rome martyred there during the reign of Nero (54–68 C.E.). Keybearer in the clouds, who opens the Olympian gates, Peter, made of legend, leader of an Apostles’ army, down through time protect this Christ-given church: father Rupert in his excellence had it built long ago, that its walls might bring praise and glory to the High God, without end, to speak praises to Christ on the seventh day, to let the brothers gather with hearts bowed. As they speak the signs, be all of you as one, with mind bowed, with head bowed, for a throng of angels watches you here. God helps who seeks help with the piety He expects; so: cry tart tears before God’s altar, with praises for the Thunderer that harmonize, that He might keep you always in His care, like a father.

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2. In the Church of the Same Peter This brief hexametrical inscription is written for the abbey church of St Peter in Salzburg. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 142, where it is copied among inscriptions associated with the monastery of St Hilary of Poitiers;647 Forster places it in a group of inscriptions that perhaps were written for the monastery at Nouaillé and numbers it carm. 83.648 On Peter see the foregoing, 1. Apostles’ leader, kind Peter, lend us a hand, for these sacred haunts were dedicated, and stand, in your honor. 646 Duchesne, cols. 1732–1733; Forster 217 with note a. 647 Dümmler edits most of those pieces as carm. 99, previously, 314–323, but does not include 109.2 among them. 648 Duchesne, col. 1703; Forster 213.

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Pastor: preserve the flock entrusted to you, protect and rule over it with offerings from above. For us: open the eternal Olympian gates.

3. In the Church of the Same Peter and of the Twelve Apostles Carm. 109.3, composed in elegiacs, is not printed by Duchesne and Forster. V. 18 is lacunose (Hic precibus . . . adiuvet ipse sacris) and, though Dümmler records Wattenbach’s monachos as a solution, other possibilities exist, for which reason I translate the line as found in the manuscript.649 The inscription celebrates the abbey church of St Peter in Salzburg by bringing to bear in its lines the other Apostles who naturally are thought of as intercessional figures akin to Peter (previously, 1), all of whom are mentioned by name in the inscription. Keybearer in the clouds, leader for the leader, Christ, by dint of your prayers, Peter, rule this church. Paul, tender in the world, minister of the word and of life, has taught us by his admonitions; may he help us when we pray to him. Clambering from a small skiff, Andrew calls us to an endless life by dint of blessed prayers. James left his father in a skiff in the sea scurrying to Christ: may he make us follow! John, adored of Jesus, Heaven’s priest, through your goodness help us endlessly. Who dealt with Thomas’ doubt through the wounds of His flesh: let That One wash our wounds with a tender reprieve. Who ordered James to eat bread again, let Him feed us with the bread of redemption without end. Philip, you asked Jesus to point out the Father, ask if we might see Him in your tender way. Bartholomew taught dark Indic tribes, let him help us through sacred prayers. Matthew once wrote of the wonders of Christ, let him be useful all around for the servants of his God. And you, Simon, brother of tender James, beloved, come close to us in these haunts with the hallowed power of your mercy. 649 Dümmler 335 s.v. [III] 18.

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The Poems And Thaddeus, in your arms, smile on us as we make our vows, let Christ take us over with a kindness He always plies.

4. To the Altar of St Mary in the Chancel of the Same Church Carm. 109.4, composed in hexameters, was written for an altar dedicated to the Virgin Mary found in the abbey church of St Peter. Duchesne prints it as carm. 174; Forster, as carm. 203.650 Virgin, Mary, God’s mother, purest virgin, Light and star of the sea, queen of our salvation, without end array this altar with a goodness that lives, you stand a sacred thing for an honor of your own deserts.

5. To the Altar of St Andrew on the Right Side of the Church These four hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to St Andrew, situated to the right of the nave in the abbey church of St Peter in Salzburg. Duchesne edits them from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 226; Forster numbers them carm. 122.651 The use of the phrase “Olympian Heights” (Olimpum, v. 4) perhaps strengthens the case to be made for Alcuin’s authorship, since he sometimes turns to ancient diction to emphasize the insuperability of God. Andrew and his brother, Peter, were spied by Jesus in the Sea of Galilee plying their trade as fishermen, and Jesus called them both to be his disciples, saying that he would make them “fishers of men.” Andrew is traditionally said to have been martyred by being bound to a saltire. Andrew, Christ’s servant, keep this altar from all harm by dint of your own excellences: you, who cast away the snares of the world, who follow Christ in the wholeness of love: He ascended from the sacred cross happily to Olympian heights.

6. To an Altar for St Paul These elegiacs were composed for an altar dedicated to St Paul. Duchesne edited them as carm. 83 from the St Bertin manuscript, where they are copied among the twenty-five poems now associated with St Vedast and edited by 650 Duchesne, col. 1710; Forster 225. 651 Duchesne, col. 1733; Forster 217.

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Dümmler as carm. 89 (previously, 287–297, where this piece is also printed as carm. 89.19); Forster places these pieces under the title “Inscriptions in the Church of St. Vedast” and makes carm. 109.6 his carm. 59.652 Paul, Apostle to the Gentiles, famously converted to Christianity and devoted himself to the spread of Christian belief. He died a martyr to the faith. His writings form much of the New Testament. This altar is made holy in Paul’s name, he led world to God’s firmament, a teacher raised up by the Lord everywhere, to nations, peoples, kingdoms, cities.

7. To an Altar for St Paul This hexametrical inscription is for an altar dedicated to St Paul (see the foregoing, 6). Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 175; Forster prints it as carm. 204.653 Paul, teacher, your name is on everyone’s lips, called to God, who is Christ, from Heaven’s demesne, we see this altar, made sacred by the way you lived, on it great good fortune will come: the irresistible hope of redemption.

8. In the Oratory of St Rupert Carm. 109.8 was composed in hexameters for an altar devoted to John the Baptist, and, according to the title in Salzburg A I, located in an oratory dedicated to St Rupert. It is also among the inscriptions written for St Vedast Abbey and edited by Dümmler as carm. 90 (previously, 297–305), where this piece is carm. 90.10. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 98; Forster, as carm. 182.654 John the Baptist, the “confidante of Christ,” predicted Christ’s arrival and baptized him. He was eventually executed by Herod Antipas. On Rupert see the foregoing, 1. Baptist John, this altar set apart for you glints, remember to cherish it with noble praises: worthy enough to bathe the Lord in water, blessed John: wash away our sins with your prayers.

652 Duchesne, col. 1693; Forster 211. 653 Duchesne, col. 1710; Forster 225. 654 Duchesne, col. 1695; Forster 224.

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9. On the Altar of Stephen This elegiac inscription was written for an altar dedicated to St Stephen. Duchesne edits it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 104; Forster prints it as carm. 188.655 St Stephen, the first martyr of Christianity, was a deacon in the church at Jerusalem accused of blasphemy, brought to trial and stoned to death in the middle of the first century C. E. The image of the ravening creature in v. 5 is likely meant to evoke the description of Paul in Acts 9:1, where, just before his own conversion, he is depicted with some intensity as threatening slaughter to Christians on account of their faith following the stoning of St Stephen. On Paul, see also the foregoing, 6. First to die for the faith, noble Stephen is cherished here: he saw Heaven in a squall of stones, and when he prayed, (it’s more than amazing to say), Saul was suddenly become Paul, a pious figure to the world: a creature, by morning, ravening, but by night dragging in the spoils! May he abet our prayers through his own.

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10. To the Holy Cross656 Composed to honor the Holy Cross, this inscription is comprised of two elegiac couplets (vv. 1–4) joined to three hexameters (vv. 5–7), printed by Dümmler as a single inscription despite their different meters. In arguing that the piece is in fact two inscriptions, Burghardt wonders if the copyist misunderstood the images of the cross found in vv. 2 and 7, since the former attends to the signa crucis; the latter, to the crucis lignum.657 The metrical differences alone are reason enough for future editors to separate the lines (as follows, 436–439). Duchesne and Forster don’t print these verses. You will enter like a friend when you come to our house, see: signs of the cross arrayed before your eyes, arming you against the enemy’s wiles, if you clutch them with faith, in your heart, in your mind. Ugly death flowed through Adam from Paradise’s tree: he touched a branch and blocked Paradise’s way; through the branch of the Cross Olympus was opened by Christ. 655 Duchesne, col. 1696; Forster 224. 656 C. M. Chazelle, The Cross, the Image, and the Passion in Carolingian Thought and Art, Diss. (Yale, 1985), 52 offers an English translation. 657 Burghardt 254.

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11. Also to the Holy Cross658 Composed in hexameters to celebrate the Holy Cross, carm. 109.11 was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 248; Forster numbers it carm. 147.659 Wallach senses Bede behind the diction of v. 14, which might augur well for Alcuin’s authorship, of which Burghardt is confident.660 Helena (v. 15; d. ca. 330) was the wife of Emperor Constantius Chlorus (d. 306) and the mother of Constantine. As Alcuin notes, she is reported to have traveled, in her later years, to the Holy Land, where she found the cross upon which Christ was crucified. Reader, spy the pious signs of our salvation, in the midst of this church, the wondrous gift of Christ: for the world to live, the world’s Life was hung, for His servants the Lord takes His death, willing it sacredly! That His servants might live: He bought their freedom with His blood. Etch this in your mind: see the Cross drenched in light, then pray in God’s face with joy, on your knees, on the ground, but climb the heights in your heart, cry: let tears burn your face for all the evil you’ve done. With a goodness that abides, let the hope of redemption never waver for you. He saved the wide world with his pristine blood, clement, merciful, He forgives the evils wrought by His followers: may there be for us here sacred salvation’s great hope, for this altar glistens with a crowd of Apostles, and with the goodnesses that still live of kind Helena, who (so they say) discovered a noble branch of the cross on which Christ, the honor of the world, praise, life, was hung. He suffered such things for us while enthroned in the clouds: what must we do now, His servants, owing to His love, except surrender ourselves fully to Him now? Let the Lord be for us love and full will, praise, honor, and virtue, food, drink, all things, Christ!

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658 Chazelle, The Cross, 54, offers an English translation. 659 Duchesne, col. 1736 [mislabeled 1756]; Forster 219. 660 L. Wallach, “The Urbana Anglo-Saxon Sylloge of Latin Inscriptions,” in Poetry and Poetics from Ancient Greece to the Renaissance: Studies in Honor of James Hutton, ed. G. M. Kirkwood (Ithaca and London, 1975), 144–145, with Burghardt 247–248.

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12. In the Church of St Michael and St Benedict Written in elegiacs, carm. 109.12 was composed, according to the title, for a church dedicated to St Michael the Archangel and to St Benedict, although St Benedict is not mentioned in the inscription. Edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 62, it is copied among a gathering of poems associated with the monastery of St Amand, now numbered carm. 88 by Dümmler (previously, 280–287), where this piece is also printed as carm. 88.12; Forster numbers this inscription carm. 37.661 Michael is chief of the angels and archangels. Benedict of Nursia (d. 547) famously wrote a rule for monks that became determinative for Western monasticism going forward. Michael, in the heights, chief, first minister, no higher servant of the heavenly king in the citadel of Heaven, protect this altar with your vivid gifts, it glimmers, made sacred in your name, before the eyes of God, all high, in the hidden haunts of Heaven, bear our prayers—you are called on to do it.

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13. Benedict This brief elegiac inscription celebrates an altar dedicated to Sts Benedict and Scholastica. Duchesne edits the inscription from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 73; Forster prints it as carm. 49.662 Dümmler prints it here as carm. 109.13 and also among the inscriptions for St Vedast as carm. 89.9 (previously, 290–291). As v. 3 suggests, Scholastica is by tradition Benedict’s sister, sometimes his twin, who led a life in devotion to the faith. She died in 543. On Benedict, see the foregoing, 12. Father Benedict, who stands out, is beloved at this altar, long ago he wrote a godly rule for monks. His sister, Scholastica, the noble virgin is joined here to her worthy brother.

14. Cosmas and Damian These elegiac verses form an inscription written for an altar in honor of Sts Cosmas and Damian. Duchesne edited them from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 149; Forster prints them as carm. 91.663 In both editions, these 661 Duchesne, col. 1690; Forster 209. 662 Duchesne, col. 1692; Forster 210. 663 Duchesne, col. 1705; Forster 214.

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lines fall among a group of inscriptions composed for the monastery of St Hilary of Poitiers, printed by Dümmler as carm. 99 (previously, 314–323), from which Dümmler removed this piece because of its presence here in the Salzburg inscriptions. From Cilicia, Cosmas and Damian were twin brothers who refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods during Diocletian’s persecutions of the Christians early in the fourth century. As a consequence, they were tortured in various ways: thrown into the sea, they were rescued by angels; and cast to the flames, their bodies proved perdurable against fire. Even the stones that their persecutors threw at them were useless, since they miraculously ricocheted onto their assailants. Their martyrdom was eventually achieved through beheading. Cosmas and Damian, two brothers, are joined on this altar: in honor they were always equal. From her body their mother brought them forth, martyrdom brought them both to the heights.

15. On the Cemetery of St Amand The hexameters that comprise carm. 109.15 were written for a chapel dedicated to St Peter at St Amand Abbey that Arn restored, and for a cemetery there dedicated to Michael the Archangel and to St Amand. The connection to Arn explains the inclusion of these hexameters among the Salzburg inscriptions, since he was bishop of Salzburg in addition to monk and abbot at St Amand.664 The cemetery designated here, as Alcuin describes it, is a polyandrium; that is, a common burial place for Amand and his monastic brethren, present and future.665 These hexameters were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 228; Forster numbers them carm. 124.666 On St Peter, see the foregoing, 1; on St Amand and the abbey named for him, see the foregoing, carm. 88, 280–287; on Arn, see the foregoing, 153–155; on Michael the Archangel, see the foregoing, 12. This storied church was once worthless, in ruins: Modest Arn, the Bishop, bowed by His honor hadn’t yet taken up this project for Christ; then from ruins he began 664 W. Mohr, Studien zur Klosterreform des Grafen Arnulf I. von Flandern: Tradition und Wirklichkeit in der Geschichte der Amandus-Klöster (Leuven, 1992), 31–32; and Platelle, Le Temporel de l’abbaye de Saint-Amand, 53–55, discuss these details. 665 DMLBS, s.v. polyandrium; on the Christian tradition of common burial practices see C. Treffort, L’église carolingienne et la mort: Christianisme, rites funéraires et pratiques commémoratives (Lyon, 1996), 145–148. 666 Duchesne, col. 1733; Forster 217–218.

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The Poems to make this church anew, to build a better place from bottom to top, making it sacred to those who could do the most good: 5 first, in honor of Michael, the leader always standing apart, then for Peter, the prince of the Church, then for Father Amand and the monks of this best-known chief: he always wished to be entombed among his holy kind. Brothers: slumber in God’s precious peace, 10 until the tender angel calls from on high; Brothers: rise up then promptly from the ashes of the earth, the judge calls you, approaching from towering Heaven. Lift up your souls with the goodness they possess, and stand now before the great judgment of God, Christ, 15 let Him grasp the recompense your life has earned. Fear that day, those hours, so I pray, who read these verses, while you have time, so that this moment that approaches finds you ready. In the meantime, remember me in your prayers (I ask on bended knee); 20 say: “Christ, be ever tender to one who serves you.” I am called Alcuin, and now all of you, be well, down through time.

16. To St Mary These hexameters were written for an altar dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Duchesne edited them from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 225; Forster numbers them carm. 121.667 Godly Mary, virgin, help us with your prayers: for we are servants of a deathless King, and you are queen of Heaven. In your name this altar has been set aside: for you banish sadness, and give us goodness.

17. To St Paul Carm. 109.17 is four hexameters written for a sanctuary dedicated to St Paul. Duchesne edits it as carm. 227; Forster, as carm. 123.668 On Paul see the foregoing, 6. 667 Duchesne, col. 1733; Forster 217. 668 Duchesne, col. 1733; Forster 217.

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Known the world over, a teacher holds these holy haunts: Paul, scholar among the Apostles, chosen to carry wisdom about, crying out the heavenly life; he penetrated the citadel of the clouds by pouring out his rosy blood.

18. To St Mary Composed in hexameters, carm. 109.18 celebrates the Virgin Mary. In the St Bertin manuscript, it is joined to Dümmler’s carm. 109.19 (as follows), where it forms vv. 1–4 of Duchesne’s carm. 229; Forster prints it separately from 109.19 as carm. 125.669 Other churches look to this place as mother, for Mary, virgin, mother of Christ, is cherished here with her son; through tender prayers let her save this flock from harm; we demand it always, everywhere.

19. To St John the Baptist These hexameters form an inscription written for an altar dedicated to John the Baptist, Anastasius, and Maximus the Confessor. Duchesne edited them as vv. 5–8 of his carm. 229, the first four verses of which comprise carm. 109.18 (previously), while Forster prints them as his carm. 126.670 Maximus and Anastasius are linked as teacher and disciple. Maximus was a monk and theologian who was eventually condemned by the Church as a heretic for his views on the divine and human natures of Christ. His punishments included torture, the severing of his tongue, and the loss of his right hand. Anastasius suffered the same fate as his teacher; both died in 662. On John the Baptist see the foregoing, 8. Let the mighty Baptist, John, keep this altar, and the martyr Anastasius, excellent and kind. Maximus the confessor will hold it, too: through their prayers may Christ’s tender hand protect us all.

20. To St Paul These hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to Sts Paul, Benedict, and Columba. Duchesne edited them from the St Bertin manuscript as 669 Duchesne, cols. 1733–1734; Forster 218. 670 Duchesne, cols. 1733–1734; Forster 218.

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vv. 1–4 of his eight-verse carm. 230, with the remaining vv. 5–8 comprising carm. 109.21; Forster prints vv. 1–4 separately as his carm. 127.671 Columba traveled from Ireland to Scotland in the sixth century to spread the faith and founded the monastery at Iona. He died in 597. On Paul see the foregoing, 6; on Benedict, see the foregoing, 12. The world-scholar, Paul, and Benedict, and father Columba, are venerated at this altar with honor equal to their fame. Let their goodness help us when we pray to them here, so that Christ might give us redemption’s glories.

21. To St Florian This hexametrical inscription was composed for a sacred space (aula), perhaps a nave, dedicated to Sts Florian, Cyricus, and Julitta. Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as his carm. 230—an eight-verse piece whose first four verses comprise carm. 109.20 (previously), with vv.5–8 forming this inscription; Forster makes these four lines his carm. 128.672 St Florian was born in the middle of the third century and rose in the ranks of the Roman army, presumably as a pagan. He ran afoul of Diocletian when it was learned during that Emperor’s persecutions that Florian was not enforcing laws against the Christians in the areas under his command. He refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods when ordered to do so and was drowned. Cyricus and Julitta, son and mother, were martyred together in Tarsus in 304, also during Diocletian’s persecutions. As the inscription suggests, Cyricus was a child at the time of his death, which occurred when he was tossed down a flight of stairs after he and his mother were identified as Christians. Julitta was, in due course, beheaded, not least as a result of expressing joy that her son had achieved martyrdom. Florian, known far and wide for his brilliant successes, and Cyricus, the boy, with his mother Julitta, are celebrated as one in these precincts of Christ: may there be for you here, as you seek forgiveness, the certainty of salvation’s hope.

22. Also to St John the Baptist Carm. 109.22, written in hexameters, was composed for an altar dedicated to John the Baptist and to St Martin of Tours. Duchesne edited 671 Duchesne, col. 1734; Forster 218. 672 Duchesne, col. 1734; Forster 218.

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it from the St Bertin manuscript as vv. 1–4 of his carm. 231—a piece whose remaining verses, 5–22, comprise carm. 109.24 (as follows); Forster prints this brief inscription as carm. 129.673 St Martin was a fourth-century bishop of Tours whose life became well-known through the writings of Sulpicius Severus—a contemporary—and Venantius Fortunatus, who wrote in the sixth century. Martin died in 397. On John the Baptist see the foregoing, 8. Charting the way for the Lord, noble Baptist, John, and Martin, tender bishop, are joined by their sacred names on this altar: travelor, stop here, sob at its foot.

23 These four hexameters were written for an oratory dedicated to Christ in His role as Savior. Duchesne edited them from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 251; Forster, as carm.150.674 Christ, the world’s savior, is loved in this place, His dominion abides over sea, land, and sky. May all the haunts of this abbey feel His rule, may He protect and enrich and preserve it, without cease.

24 The only witness to these hexameters is the St Bertin manuscript, from which Duchesne edits them as vv. 5–22 of his carm. 231, the first four verses of which are carm. 109.22 (previously); Forster numbers this piece carm. 130.675 Dümmler places it among the Salzburg inscriptions because it celebrates the building of Salzburg Cathedral by Bishop Virgilius in the mid-770s, likely on foundations put in place earlier by St Rupert. Virgilius was born in Ireland, ca. 700, but settled in Gaul after starting out on a trek to the Holy Land. He was an important adviser to Pepin the Short, father of Charlemagne, and was involved in Pepin’s eventual assumption of the kingship in 751. He became Abbot of St Peter’s monastery in Salzburg and in 766 was made Bishop of Salzburg. He died in office there in 784. In addition to praising Virgilius, this

673 Duchesne, col. 1734; Forster 218. 674 Duchesne, col. 1737; Forster 219. 675 Duchesne, col. 1734; Forster 218.

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piece also asks for St Peter (previously, 1) to look kindly on the church and those associated with it. Reader, coming to this place: what you see, all around, Virgilius made, famous haunts inspired by his love of the Lord; goodness made him unlike the rest, a Bishop acting a kindly part. Ireland, like a mother, brought him into the world, raised him, taught him, nourished and loved him. Then a journey prompted by love of Christ made him give up the world and his cherished home, by land and water he made his way here, hankering to do more with all the goodness he possessed, to plant the faith, make it grow for everyone, he was a kind man, sensible, in piety never second. Christ gave His flock to a leader of the church bar none, key-bearer of His heavenly hall, whose name fills the heights: Peter, gently rule this place, with the holy ones whose bodies here sleep; with prayers like friends may they keep Christ’s faithful from harm’s sway and insist on only good things in our lives, and the joys of the kingdom that can never end.

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Carm. 110 (Dümmler 340–343) Inscriptions for Unknown Holy Places The St Bertin manuscript gathers nineteen inscriptions for various unidentified sacred locations, and Duchesne edited them as carm. 232–250; Forster edits them in the same order as carm. 131–149.676 In gathering the eighteen inscriptions that comprise carm. 110, Dümmler follows Duchesne and Forster except in the instance of Duchesne, carm. 248 (= Forster, carm. 147), which he makes carm. 109.11 (see the foregoing, 345).

1 This hexametrical inscription was composed for an altar dedicated to Sts Andrew, Lawrence, and Hippolytus. Andrew and his brother, Peter, were spied by Jesus in the Sea of Galilee plying their trade as fishermen, and Jesus called

676 Duchesne, cols. 1734–1737 [mislabeled 1757]; Forster 218–219.

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them both to be his disciples, saying that he would make them “fishers of men.” Both were eventually martyred, as was Lawrence, a deacon in Rome martyred during the persecutions of Emperor Valerian in 258. Hippolytus was one of the Roman soldiers charged with guarding St Lawrence but who converted to Christianity after witnessing Lawrence’s suffering. The description here of the saint bearing his neck to the sword suggests that he was decapitated, though a more popular version of his martyrdom has him bound, limb by limb, to wild horses, who pulled him apart. The first verse of this inscription, Hanc pius Andreas meritis tutabitur aram, draws on wording from a seventh-century altar dedication owed to Aldhelm, Hic simul Andreas templum tutabitur ara.677 This perhaps strengthens the case to be made for Alcuin’s authorship. The goodness of holy Andrew will guard this altar, and Lawrence, the levite, first against fire, and Hippolytus, who bent his neck to the sword. I pray for them always to be by our side.

2 Composed in hexameters, carm. 110.2 was written for an altar dedicated to Sts Paul, Sylvester, and Leo. Paul is recalled here as a chief founder of the church, whose “vivid best” goes to the ways in which he proselytized the faith. Pope Sylvester (d. ca. 335) is the “glory of the Roman race” by dint of his Roman origins. Pope Leo I (d. 461) is celebrated for the ways in which he put his rhetorical skills to work in orations and letters in order to articulate the moral and political power of the church. On stylistic grounds that go especially to shared diction across a half dozen poems, Burghardt is confident of Alcuin’s authorship.678 Let Paul grace this altar with his vivid best, and Sylvester, glory of the Roman race, and Pope Leo, most famous, master of pen and tongue, let them favor us from the citadel of Heaven’s domain.

3 These hexameters were written for an altar dedicated to Sts James the Greater, Dennis (St Denis), and Gregory. James is styled here as “Zebedee’s 677 On which see M. Lapidge and J. L. Rosier, eds. and trans., Aldhelm: The Poetic Works (Cambridge, 1985), 35–36. 678 Burghardt 240.

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son” in order to distinguish him from James the Lesser, both apostles of Christ. He is traditionally considered the first apostle to have been martyred for the faith. Also a martyr to the faith is St Dennis—a third century bishop of Paris. His “noble companions” are Rusticus and Eleutherius, who were martyred with him, probably ca. 250, during the persecutions of the emperor Decius. Gregory is Pope Gregory I (d. 604), a native Roman, as he is called here, whose life’s work is a testament to his learning, for which reason he is called a “doctor.” Burghardt is not convinced of Alcuin’s authorship.679 Let Zebedee’s son, James, rejoice at this altar with Dennis and his noble companions; with Roman Gregory, a doctor of the church; my prayer: may all of these fathers defend our life.

4 These eight hexameters were composed for an altar sacred to three women— Mary, Agatha, and Petronilla—and three men—Sulpicius, Leger, and Gislarius. Burghardt argues that there is no connection between the two halves of the poem, with vv. 1–4 forming an altar dedication to the women and vv. 5–8 celebrating the men.680 Given that all the inscriptions of carm. 110 are quatrains,681 this is a defensible reading. On the other hand, in order for vv. 1–4 to stand separately, Burghardt argues that vv. 3–4 must be reversed, so that the request for prayers (“attend to the prayers of those in need . . .”) concludes the piece. In the same vein, in order for vv. 5–8 to stand alone, Burghardt argues that the Latin word urnam, translated above as “urn,” must mean “altar,” since an inscription to an “urn” seems unlikely. Yet an inscription for an urn on or near an altar is not out of the question, in which case one might understand the first four lines of this piece to attend to an altar, with the second four lines celebrating an urn associated with it. On this reading, no rearrangement of lines is necessary, and the unattested rendering of urna as “altar” can be resisted.682 Apart from Mary, the mother of Christ, the lines invoke St Agatha, martyred during the persecutions of the Emperior Decius in the middle of the third century, and Petronilla, traditionally identified as the daughter of St Peter. Sulpicius, Bishop of Bourges, was famous for his oratorical and literary skills and died ca. 590 = 644. Leger, or Leodegar, a seventh-century bishop of Autun, was mutilated and eventually beheaded by his political enemies. 679 680 681 682

Burghardt 241. Burghardt 242. Excepting the concluding piece, 110.18, on which see below, 360. DMLBS, s.v. urna, lists no such meaning.

The Poems 355 Gislarius, a priest associated with Salzburg, flourished around the middle of the eighth century and furthered the proselytizing work of St Rupert, the first bishop of Salzburg. Here is the queen, God’s mother, tender Mary, the virgin, and here, Agatha, holy, unstained, venerated with you: attend to the prayers of those in need, calling to your noble name. And Petronilla, Peter’s daughter, father of legend, and Sulpicius, Bourges’ bishop, standing out from the rest, and you, Leger, martyr and holy man, and Gislarius, priest, second to none: all of you, without end, defend this urn with the prayers that you bring.

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5 This hexametrical inscription was composed for an altar dedicated to John the Baptist, the “confidante of Christ,” who predicted Christ’s arrival and baptized him; Jerome (d. 420), who, apart from a full life devoted to teaching and writing, is best known for the Vulgate; and Maurice, an Egyptian born ca. 250 in Thebes, who led an all-Christian legion of the Roman army, the so-called Theban Legion, whose members, including Maurice, were eventually killed on the order of Emperor Maximian (d. ca. 310). John, the confidante of Christ, holds this altar, and the priest Jerome, the world’s greatest scholar, and Maurice, a marvelous martyr: may they bring our prayers to the Thunderer in the clouds (so I ask).

6 This inscription, composed in hexameters, was written for an altar dedicated to the Anianus, Athanasius, and the apostle Thomas. One of the twelve apostles, Thomas doubted that his fellow apostles had seen the risen Christ and averred that he would not believe in Christ’s resurrection until he was able to touch the wounds of his body; hence, the phrase “doubting Thomas.” Christ quickly returned to Thomas to allow him to touch His wounds, and Thomas’ doubts dissolved. Aignan, or Anianus, Bishop of Orléans, assisted the Roman army under Flavius Aetius in defending his episcopal city from Attila’s advances in 451. Athanasius of Alexandria (d. 373), Bishop of that city, was a stubborn fighter for orthodoxy and a prolific thinker and writer. He is styled a “solider” here in the sense of his persistence against a variety of political and theological enemies of the Church, including four emperors

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who sent him into exile five times; thus, the image of him nestling the Church in his arms and keeping the faithful from “hurt.” Because he staunched the wounds of Christ, Thomas is cherished in this place, with Aignan, kind bishop of Orléans, and Athanasius, soldier for the Church nestled in his arms: he kept the followers of Christ from hurt.

7 These hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to James the Lesser, Germanus, and Vedast. James, “the Lord’s brother,” is also known as James the Lesser, to distinguish him from James the Greater, son of Zebedee (previously, 3), both of whom were apostles. Germanus, Bishop of Paris (d. 576), was an important political and spiritual leader in Merovingian Gaul, as was Vedast (d. ca. 540), Bishop of Arras, whose life Alcuin celebrates in a brief biography (previously, 10), a hymn (previously, 296–297), and in several inscriptions (previously, 287–289). The Lord’s brother, James, is venerated here, and Germanus, much-loved bishop of Christ, and kind Vedast, the bishop, is joined as a third: may they shield us always from the hurt of the world.

8 This hexametrical inscription was composed for an altar dedicated to St Rupert, the first Bishop of Salzburg, who died in 710; Lambert, Bishop of Maastricht-Liège, who died a martyr, ca. 705, for defending the sanctity of marriage against the adulterous affair carried on by Pepin of Herstal and Alpaida; and Ansfried, whose identity is unclear, but who might be the abbot of the Italian monastery of Nonantola, fl. ca. 820. Burghardt is confident of Alcuin’s authorship but does not identity Ansfried.683 Three highnesses, fathers, sagging beneath a great burden of goodness, hold this altar all at once: Rupert, with a name that glimmers, and Lambert, the bishop who glints, with Ansfried joined to them, third, but still noble. 683 Burghardt 244.

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9 These hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to Sts Philip, Marcellus, and Medard. Distinct from the Apostle of the same name, Philip the “disciple” traditionally is said to have been chosen to care for poor Christians in Jerusalem and, among other achievements recounted in the Acts of the Apostles (6, 8, 21), preached in Samaria and baptized in Gaza a eunuch from Ethiopia, from whom arose the Ethiopian church. St Medard, d. 545, was Bishop of Noyons under the Merovingian kings; St Marcellus was pope in the first decade of the fourth century but suffered exile at the hands of Emperor Maxentius and died soon afterward. May this altar recall Philip, the disciple of Christ, and Medard, and holy Marcellus, bishops who glint for their sacred strengths: may their double help bring us salvation’s gifts.

10 These hexameters were written for an altar sacred to St Bartholomew, one of the twelve Apostles, who, as this inscription suggests, is thought to have preached the faith in India, where it is claimed he was also beheaded after being flayed alive; and Sts Gervasius and Protasius, twin sons of the martyrs Vitalis and Valeria, who were also martyred for the faith, most likely in the second century. Both parents and sons are associated with the church in Milan. Bartholomew turned to faith’s light the darkening haunts of India, he lingers here, the Apostle holding this altar, with the martyr-brothers and their mother and father, Gervasius and Protasius, the noble ones.

11 These four hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to the apostle Matthew, the author of the New Testament gospel that bears his name; to Pope Cornelius, who was martyred in 253 by beheading; and Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, who died as a martyr in his episcopal city in 258. Let Matthew guard this altar, evangelist and writer; and Bishop Cornelius, a martyr in the precincts of Rome, and Cyprian, the glory of Africa, martyred there: brothers, lie down before them and cry tears of hope.

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12 These hexameters were written for an altar dedicated to the apostle Simon, sometimes called Simon the Zealot, the brother of the apostle James the Lesser (previously, 7); to Hilary (d. 367), an important fourth-century bishop of Poitiers and also a theologian and exegete of some originality; and to Remigius (d. 533), Bishop of Reims in the early sixth-century, who famously baptized Clovis—an important early Christian ruler in Merovingian Gaul. Remigius is a “teacher” (doctor) of the Franks in the sense that he brought many people to the faith. James’ brother, Simon, gilds this altar, an Apostle, with Bishop Hilary, noble in his righteousness, and Remigius, adored teacher of the Franks: the force of our goodness makes them praise our prayers!

13 This hexametrical inscription was written for an altar dedicated to Thaddeus, Samson, and Felix of Nola. Duchesne found v. 1 lacunose = Thaddeus egregius doctorque minister but offered no emendation, and Forster prints this lacunose line without comment. Dümmler accepts Wattenbach’s emendation of doctorque to doctor Simonque, which provides sense and a complete hexameter.684 With the introduction of Simon, carm. 110.13 attains a certain balance. The initial line thus has two figures, the Apostles Thaddeus, better known as Jude, sometimes styled Judas Thaddaeus, and Simon, sometimes called Simon the Zealot, recollected above in carm. 110.12. The final two figures, then, are important early saints: Felix of Nola was tortured for his profession of faith in the persecutions of Decius or Valerian, ca. 250, though it is believed now that he survived his tortures; while Samson of Dol, who died in 565, is one of the key figures in the development of Christianity in Brittany during the Merovingian period. Thaddeus, teacher without peer; Simon, always serving Christ, with the priest, Felix, whose name says it all, and Samson, authentic, insuperable emblem of faith, their goodness in balance protects this altar and church!

14 This hexametrical inscription was composed for an altar dedicated to Apollinaris, Gregory of Spoleto, and Pancratius. God, called the “Thunderer,” 684 Dümmler 342 [XIII] 1.

The Poems 359 (tonantis, v. 1), after the fashion of Jupiter, is contrasted vividly with the lives of the martyrs recounted here, who summon the violence implicit in this title, but only to put it in the service of peace. Apollinaris, the first bishop of Ravenna, was martyred most likely near the end of the second century, while Gregory of Spoleto and Pancratius were both martyred in the first decade of the fourth century, the latter, as the inscription suggests, while he was still a boy. V. 4 (Romanaeque puer . . . Pancratius urbis) is lacunose. I translate it without emendation. Who did battle with the world in the Thunderer’s peace are joined at this altar, martyrs of great repute: Apollinaris, the teacher, noble Gregory, the martyr, and the Roman boy, Pancratius.

15 These hexameters were composed for an altar dedicated to the patron saints of Ireland, Patrick and Kieran, both of whom lived in the fifth-century; to Columba, who traveled from Ireland to Scotland in the sixth century to spread the faith and founded the monastery at Iona; to Conall, or Comgall, who founded the monastery at Bangor in the sixth century; and to Adomnán (d. ca. 704), a cousin of Columba and an abbot of Iona who wrote a life of his illustrious kinsman. Patrick and Kieran, famous Irishmen; and Columba, Conall, and Adomnán, fathers known throughout the world, teachers of the exemplary life, let their piety come to our aid by the prayers that we say in this place.

16 This hexametrical inscription was written for an altar dedicated to Brigid, one of the patron saints of Ireland who died early in the sixth century, and to Ita, an Irish nun who lived a life of prayer, fleshly mortification, and spiritual devotion, and who died ca. 575. This altar is offered to sacred virgins, whose lives were known to all the Irish towns: Brigid, holy woman, and Ita, true to Christ, their blessed assent ministers salvation.

17 These hexameters comprise an inscription for an altar dedicated to Martin, Bishop of Tours from 371 to 397 and the subject of biographies by Sulpicius

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Severus, who met Martin and wrote of his life not long after the bishop’s death; and Venantius Fortunatus, whose version is metrical, both of which were widely popular. Brice was Martin’s successor as Bishop of Tours and died in 444. Christopher was a martyr to the faith whose date of death is uncertain, though likely falls somewhere in the decades between 250 and 310. Martin, a bishop the whole world reveres, and Brice, Christ’s servant, tender priest, and Christopher, holy martyr, are loved in this church: by our praying let them keep harm from entering this place.

18 These verses form an inscription for a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary and Sts Michael, the Archangel, and Stephen. Michael is chief of the angels and archangels, while Stephen is traditionally the first martyr of Christianity. Wayfarer, wearied, arriving here, stop and adore the bent body of the king of the sky. Pray, and gain the succor of the saints for yourself, that they might whisk you to the heavenly city, held in the lap of piety. Virgin, mother of God, gentle one, kindly, holy, and Michael, at attention before God in the castle of the sky, and Stephen, the deacon, among the first ever to die for the faith: let them lead you to the threshold of a greater temple, seek that place; pray yourself there, always, everywhere, pray for gain, pray yourself in triumph back to the gates. You, wayfarer, rejoicing, praise Christ (don’t ever let it slip your mind), so that Christ might keep you safe in every haunt.

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Carm. 111 (Dümmler 343) The Mysteries of Reading Wisdom and of Drunkenness These hexameters were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript, where they comprise the initial eight verses of a twenty-two verse piece, his carm. 224.685 On thematic grounds, Forster made these initial verses into a separate poem, his carm. 119, with the remaining vv. 9–22 forming 685 Duchesne, cols. 1732–1733.

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his carm. 120.686 Dümmler follows Forster in this: the initial verses are his carm. 111, translated here, while the remaining verses are his carm. 109.1 (previously, 339–340). Though he makes Duchesne’s carm. 224 into two poems, Forster keeps our carm. 111 among a larger group of inscriptions printed by Duchesne that are associated with Salzburg Abbey. This larger group, Dümmler edits as carm. 109 (previously, 339–352) but without carm. 111, which, unlike the other inscriptions in carm. 109, has no manuscript witness connecting it to Salzburg. Following Forster, Dümmler rightly posited a missing line at v. 5, where the sense of the poem demands that something be said about the path of proper study.687 By chance, the missing line was discovered by Colette Jeudy in a copy of carm. 111 preserved in the ninth-century Angers, Bibliothèque Municipale, 522 (502), ff. 36v-37r. The missing line reads: ad sedem sophie ducit haec scire volentem, suggesting that it was omitted through a simple case of haplography.688 I have emended Dümmler’s text accordingly and translate this line as follows. In several instances, the Angers copy printed by Jeudy is to be preferred to the St Bertin witness. In v. 1, for example, Duchesne prints stratum, which Dümmler emended to stratam, a reading confirmed in the Angers copy. The Angers manuscript reports an alternate v. 2: et paucos versus studiose perlege, lector, as against Dümmler’s reading: versiculos paucos studiosa perlege mente. I prefer the Angers version, since, in gesturing toward a “reader,” rather than a “wanderer on the road,” its phrasing suggests, beyond a simple inscription for a sacral space, a literary project in which inscriptions such as these, gathered into larger collections, were also meant to be read apart from their physical space.689 Too, the initial word of v. 3 in the Angers copy, ianua, seems preferable to Dümmler’s invia, and I have emended his text in this instance also. Throughout, Dümmler’s emendation of potare for portare is confirmed by the Angers copy (vv. 4, 7, 8), as is his correction of mecum to merum in v. 7. The inscription falls in the Angers manuscript under the title Orgiae lectionis sophie hebrietatis, which seems to affirm the ability of reading and of wisdom to intoxicate those who pursue them. I translate that title above. Burghardt notices the repetition of the phrase hic . . . subsiste viator at 111.1 and at carm. 110.18.1 and 123.1 but considers this an emblem of inscriptional rhetoric rather than proof of Alcuin’s authorship of carm. 686 Forster 217. 687 Dümmler 343, s.v. 5; Forster 217 n2. 688 C. Jeudy, “Le Carmen 111 d’Alcuin et l’anthologie de Martial du manuscrit 522 (502) de la bibliothèque municipale d’Angers,” in Scire Litteras: Forschungen zum mittelalterlichen Geistesleben, eds. S. Krämer and M. Bernhard (Munich, 1988), 221–226. 689 On the potential literary goals of inscriptional collections apart from their functions as words inscribed for sacral places, see Lapidge and Rosier, Aldhelm, 42.

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111.690 Perhaps adding weight to the uncertainty of his authorship is the fact that Alcuin rarely, if ever, repeats a word at the end of successive lines, as occurs at vv. 4 and 5 in the Latin (volentem). You: wanderer on the road, making your way, stop here, reader: soak in these trifles with a laser-like focus. The door before you offers a two-fold choice: one leads you to a welcoming keeper, and to the wine by which he sets his store, another leads to the seat of wisdom, and the ability to know your will. Wayfarer: look, choose the way now that pleases you best, to drink wine—or to read the sacred books. If you wish to drink, you will have to pay in cash, if you wish to learn, the learning will be free!

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Carm. 112 (Dümmler 343–344)691 Inscription for a Sacred Place The only witness to this elegiac inscription is the ninth-century St. Gall, Stiftsbibliothek Cod. Sang. 272, pp. 244–245, where it follows, carm. 85.1–4 (previously, 274–276), the four poems that conclude Alcuin’s De animae ratione ad Eulaliam virginem (previously, 16, 274), and replaces carm. 85.5 (previously, 278), the piece that properly provides that treatise’s conclusion. Duchesne doesn’t print it. In Forster’s edition of the De animae ratione, he notes that the piece seems out of place and prints it in a note to the poems that properly conclude that treatise.692 Not directly ascribed to Alcuin in the manuscript, the poem’s authorship is surmised by dint of its proximity to the De animae ratione and to its presumed place as a substitute for carm. 85.5. Forster’s sense that the piece more likely seems an inscription is surely right, especially given the reference to a “handsome place” (pulcra in aula) in v. 1. The first three words of the first verse of the poem, “While you sit here, contented . . .” (Dum sedeas laetus) are found also at carm. 8.27, the final line of a poem written to Samuel, Bishop of Sens. This perhaps strengthens the case for Alcuin’s authorship, though not the poem’s affiliation with the De animae ratione. While you sit here, contented, taking in this handsome place, in your mind’s eye imagine others, milling about, downtrodden, in the cold, 690 Burghardt 233. 691 Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 178–179, translates into English the first two couplets of carm. 112. 692 Forster 153 note c.

The Poems so that tender Christ, who handed down this home, might give to you an eternal home in the citadel of Heaven. Let the wayfarer, bone-frozen, on his knees, flee the cold, come to me to break the cold. The cross shimmers, made sublime by the blood of God, highest: let it protect us with its nourishing hold—and our place of repast and rest. Let the door here always stand unlocked for dear friends, who seek the Father in a settled soul. The abbot rests here, takes in prayers—let him rise up, whole again, strong Christ: let your right hand keep him whole. For you, may Christ be love, all things that keep you alive, Christ, light and the way, life, safety and glory, Father who must be revered.

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Carm. 113 (Dümmler 344) Epitaph for Paul, a Monk of St Martin of Tours This epitaph, composed in elegiacs, was written for Paul—an unknown monk associated with St Martin of Tours, as vv. 9, 13, 17 and 19 suggest.693 Duchesne edited it from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 267; Forster prints it as carm. 268.694 On metrical and stylistic grounds, Burghardt believes that it comes authentically from Alcuin’s hand.695 In vv. 27–28, Alcuin puts in Paul’s mouth wording that describes the Last Judgment, when the dead will awake and their souls and bodies will be reunited. If you wish to know the brothers in repose, the places each spies from the citadel of God: hurry, read the names cast in Muses’ tears and scatter prayers to Christ on their behalf, let God, all-strong and only good, save their souls from injury, and grant a blessed day in a bastion of peace. When you come to my verses (as I request), say, on bended knee: God, spare Paul just now. Best father, Martin, glory of the world, 693 Thus Dümmler 344n2. 694 Duchesne, col. 1741; Forster 236. 695 Burghardt 264–265.

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The Poems answer my prayers that are good (so I ask), I was yours, devotedly in love, when I lived, in God Christ I placed my sacred hope. I was Paul, I followed Martin, who was a nurse to me: how quickly my time in the world ran down. My mother bore me in blessed Burgundy, where I soaked the ground with teary floods. Soon Martin, my love (whom everyone knows) snatched me for the cloistered life, but only after I was grown. Martin’s followers and teachers, who are owed our love, made me drink the sacred writings then, alive to all things for seventy years, I loved my brothers endlessly. Weak, sick, I paid my spiritual debts, for my soul had gone out of its frame. My brothers buried me in this place, my home, my respite, for all time, until God, all strong, orders our souls to return to their graves. Then I will be Paul again. Brothers: with your prayers commend my soul to Christ, everywhere, evermore: prevail.

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Carm. 114 (Dümmler 344–345) Inscriptions for Holy Places These six inscriptions fall in the St Bertin manuscript consecutively and are edited by Duchesne as carm. 18–23; Forster edits them in the same order as carm. 167–172.696 Dümmler introduces no changes to their order. Carm. 114.1 is witnessed separately in Brussels, Bibliothèque Royale 10615–729, f. 223, from the twelfth century; while 114.3, 5 and 6 are also preserved in a bifolium from a tenth-century Sylloge housed in Urbana at the University of Illinois Library.

1 This elegiac inscription was composed in honor of the Holy Cross. Vv. 3–4 are taken without change from Fortunatus, carm. 2.1.1 and 6, (Crux benedicta nitet, dominus, qua carne pependit/Atque suo clausit funere mortis iter); while the word “standard,” in v. 1 (vexillum), reminds readers of Fortunatus, carm. 2.6.1, and the phrase vexilla regis (“the standards of 696 Duschesne, col. 1683; Forster 223.

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the King”). In questioning Alcuin’s authorship of these verses, Burghardt, notes that, in those poems unproblematically ascribed to his hand, Alcuin often alludes to earlier moments in Latin poetry but never copies out complete lines.697 You, filled with faith, revere the standard of the cross, reaching up to the heights; let it defend you: the fearful hold of grief dissolves. A blessed cross refracts the light: on it the Lord was hung in the flesh, when He died He cut off a path for death. Here, in dying, the author of life destroyed death: our wounds are healed by His.

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2 For a church dedicated to him, this elegiac inscription invokes the protection of St Michael the Archangel, chief of the angels and archangels and guardian of the Church. Perched before the throne of a deathless King, beyond time, happy Michael, in the citadel of the sky, minister, lingering with your flitted friends, through the ages of an abiding light, you sing of the blessed kingdom of peace: protect this sacred place, dedicated to you on earth, without stint, praying that you lift us to the stars. That decaying snake: keep his fiery weapons at bay, kind one, to the weak spread the sweep of your endless sway, and when the agonies of life’s present storms are spent, with your right hand lift us up to the palm of life.

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3 Composed in hexameters, carm. 114.3 was not written by Alcuin, but instead, with the exception of v. 2, comes from Arator, De actibus apostolorum 1.1070, 1072–1076, with v. 2 taken from an inscription for Pope Simplicius (d. 483) from the church of St Peter in Chains in Rome.698 697 Burghardt 56. 698 Burghardt 58 prints the five-line inscription, the fourth line of which provides the verse excerpted here.

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Duchesne edited the piece from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 20; Forster prints it as his carm. 169.699 The piece is extant in a bifolium from a tenth-century Sylloge, housed in Urbana at the University of Illinois Library and edited by Wallach as his carm. 1 but with the second verse restoring the line from Arator (v. 1071) that was replaced in the St Bertin copy with the verse from the Simplicius inscription.700 These hexameters would seem to celebrate the chains that both ensnared Peter and that obstruct all Christians on account of the fall. The power of Peter to loosen and bind spiritually is foreshadowed by the chains of his own martyrdom, while Peter’s successor, Simplicius, and their shared episcopal city, need fear no loss of liberty at the hands of any enemy, spiritual or physical. A future editor of Alcuin’s poetry will need to remove this inscription from Alcuin’s corpus. By these fetters, Rome, these fetters, faith is firmed up for you, now God gives Simplicius to loosen and bind. You will always be free: chains cannot prevail that were touched by the One who makes all things free, this unconquered hand, solemn walls, in triumph will be shaken by no enemy. God opens the gate to Heaven by closing the way to war.

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4 These elegiac couplets celebrate the spiritual power of St Paul’s eloquence and remind readers to seek Heaven. Once a persecutor of Christians, Paul was born in Tarsus, eventually converted to Christianity, and preached the faith to the gentiles in Greece and Asia Minor. He was likely martyred by beheading in the persecutions begun by Nero in the mid-60s C.E. Founder of every strength, to every nation you spread the singular eloquence of Paul; make us joyous through his prayers: to us your command to seek Heaven.

699 Duchesne, col. 1683; Forster 223. 700 Wallach, “The Urbana Anglo-Saxon Sylloge,” 138, with v. 2 [= Arator, De actibus apostolorum 1.1071) reading: Perpetua salus, harum circumdata nexu. Some corrections to Wallach’s edition are made by D. Schaller, “Bemerkungen zur Inschriften-Sylloge von Urbana,” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 12 (1977): 9–21 and by P. Sims-Williams, “Milred of Worcester’s Collection of Latin Epigrams and its Continental Counterparts,” AngloSaxon England 10 (1982): 24–27.

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5 Composed for an oratory dedicated to St Paul (previously, 4), this elegiac inscription is extant in a bifolium from a tenth-century Sylloge, housed in Urbana at the University of Illinois Library and edited by Wallach as his carm. 10.701 Here, as v. 3 makes clear, Paul is enjoined to protect the sacraria of a church dedicated to him—a word that can designate, among other things, the piscina of the altar, a sanctuary for holy objects, and the sacristy.702 Safe under the cross, beyond fierce fights that fixate the world, a victor, tugging happy choruses to the heights: Paul, protect the adored sacred spaces of your church, lest a prowling thief devastate your flock.

6 These elegiac couplets were composed for a church dedicated to Sts Stephen and Lawrence. They are extant in a bifolium from a tenth-century Sylloge, housed in Urbana at the University of Illinois Library and edited by Wallach as his carm. 12.703 One of seven deacons appointed by the Apostles in the earliest days of the church, the Acts of the Apostles reports that Stephen was accused of blasphemy, tried, and martyred by stoning, ca. 35 C.E. Lawrence was one of seven deacons of the city of Rome martyred in 258 during the persecutions of Valerian after refusing a corrupt request by the city’s prefect that Lawrence turn over to him the treasures of the church. The “road that crushes and burns” in v. 2 is an iter angustum, a “narrow road,” in the sense that few travel it, while the “palm” of v. 4 is a symbol of eternal life, of victory over enemies, and of spirit over flesh, as in 114.2 previously. Look: Stephen suffers stones, Lawrence fire, on a road that crushes and burns they seek Heaven. The hall of the deacons rightly runs red: precious death calls them to the palm of life.

Carm. 115 (Dümmler 346) On Images From Genesis Duchesne edited carm. 115 from the St Bertin manuscript as part of a much larger piece, his carm. 199, a poem of fifty-four verses of which carm. 701 Wallach, “The Urbana Anglo-Saxon Sylloge,” 142. 702 DMLBS, s.v. sacrarium. 703 Wallach, “The Urbana Anglo-Saxon Sylloge,” 142.

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115 comprises vv. 7–22; Forster rightly separated these verses from Duchesne’s larger piece, making them his carm. 208.704 The opening six verses of Duchesne’s carm. 199 Forster made into one piece, his carm. 222,705 and Dümmler prints those verses identically as carm. 64.2a and b (previously, 236). The remaining lines in Duchesne’s carm. 199, vv. 23–54, are Alcuin’s well-known pastoral poem, “Nunc cuculus,” rightly printed as a separate hexametrical poem by Forster, his carm. 260,706 and by Dümmler as carm. 59 (previously, 222–223). Alcuin’s authorship of carm. 115 cannot be determined with certainty. Burghardt considers it questionable, citing the number of words in the poem that are not elsewhere found in Alcuin’s authentic pieces and the dearth of themes that evoke other moments in Alcuin’s collection or in earlier Latin authors.707 It should be noted, though, that if Duchesne’s larger piece is taken as a whole, Alcuin does, in fact, name himself in v. 31 (= v. 9 of carm. 59). Viarre notices in the phrase livor edax (114.9) an allusion to Ovid, Amores 1.15.1.708 Each line or, sometimes, series of lines, in carm. 115 seem to describe a scene owed to the book of Genesis—a function affirmed in the repetition of “here” (hic) in vv. 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 15, and 16, which could gesture toward a poem written in response to an illumination for a Bible.709 The reference in v. 9 to Abel as a “just” figure (iustum) goes to the fact that he is one of the righteous persons who lived before the Incarnation but who was released by Christ upon Christ’s descent into Hell. The image of Sarah at v. 16 draws on Gen. 18:10, where the elderly woman responds to the news that she will give birth to a son. Her husband, Abraham, is also one of the “just” figures released from Hell. Here, with every strength, God shaped Adam from dust. Here, before time, Paradise’s first man, Adam, was made. Adam, father, conjure up names for every living thing. While Adam slept God fashioned Eve from his rib. Here, Adam and Eve wandered away. Angels: defend these blessed gates from flames. Adam: wander on, give up the happy realms of God. 704 705 706 707 708

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Duchesne, cols. 1723–1724; Forster 225–226. Forster 227. Forster 234. Burghardt 199. S. Viarre, “Les Carmina d’Alcuin et la réception de la tradition chrétienne dans les formes antiques,” in Lateinische Kultur im VIII. Jahrhundert, Traube-Gedenkschrift, eds. A. Lehner and W. Berschin (St. Ottilien, 1989), 234–235. 709 S. Berger, Histoire de la Vulgate pendant les premiers siècles du Moyen Âge (Paris, 1893), 195–196 notices that the first nine verses of the poem correspond feature-for-feature to one of the two illustrations from a ninth-century Bible.

The Poems Adam: you fell; let the earth grow brambles for you. Envy swallowed Cain and killed Abel here, though he is now among the Just. Here Noah, beloved of the Lord, fashioned for himself an ark. Look: it swims over a flooded world, teeming with every living thing. Look: the tender dove of peace bears an olive branch to you. The white dove returns, the black raven does not. Wander out, bring every living thing with you. Here is father Abraham, ordered to give up his home. Here, Sarah laughs, lurking behind the door of her tent.

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Carm. 116 (Dümmler 346)710 An Inscription for the Holy Cross An inscription for the Holy Cross in an unidentified church, carm. 116 was edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as part of a twenty-four verse elegiac poem, his carm. 201; Forster prints the poem identically as his carm. 238.711 Dümmler rightly separates Duchesne’s carm. 201 into three smaller poems: vv. 9–16 = carm. 16 (previously, 150–151); vv. 1–8 = carm. 87 (previously, 280); and vv. 17–24 = carm. 116, translated here.712 Alcuin identifies himself by name (Flacci) in carm. 16.3, which is perhaps determinative for carm. 116. The brazen serpent of v. 7 is the Nehushtan of 2 Kings 18:4; that is, the bronze serpent that God told Moses to erect in order to protect the Israelites from further snake bites as they wandered in the wilderness. Moses is the “holy lamb” of v. 5 who led his people out of captivity across the Red Sea. He and the brazen serpent thus prefigure Jesus and the serpent in the Garden of Eden. This is presumably why the sinner of v. 8 is enjoined to examine the serpent with a “righteous mind,” which rectitude will allow any sinner to understand that the literal death that the brazen serpent removed from the Israelities is, in Christian terms, a death imposed by the serpent in Eden that Christ, the “better” holy lamb, washes away through his own death—the image with which this brief inscription begins. Dying for the world, here the world’s life hangs, the wash of this blood cleansed every sin. Your head lowers as you hoist the world to the stars, your death was life, a miracle for all time. 710 Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 176–177 translates vv. 1–4, and Chazelle, The Cross, 54, translates the full poem, into English. 711 Duchesne, col. 1724; Forster 230. 712 I discuss further the grounds for separating these foregoing lines, carm. 16, 150–151.

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The Poems A holy lamb led the people out of harm, through the sea, now a better one salves his wounded world. Look: the brazen serpent heals humanity’s wounds; you, fallen one, ponder it now with a righteous mind.

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Carm. 117 (Dümmler 346–347) Inscriptions for Holy Places Carm. 117a and b, two brief inscriptions, in elegiacs and hexameters, respectively, were edited by Duchesne from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 24 and 26; Forster numbers them carm. 7 and 9.713 Though not part of it, they fall at the beginning of a gathering of poems in the St Bertin witness, carm. 25, 27–45, and 47, written by Rusticus Helpidius.714 Carm. 117a is extant also in a bifolium from a tenth-century Sylloge, housed in Urbana at the University of Illinois Library and edited by Wallach as his carm. 11.715 117b is copied in the so-called Sylloge Cantabrigiensis, a collection of forty-one Roman inscriptions interpolated in a twelfth-century English edition of the Liber Pontificalis, compiled by William of Malmesbury and edited by Angelo Silvagni.716 In their inscriptional function, both pieces are associated with images: 117a describes Christ as savior, while 117b attends to the baptism of Jesus. Dümmler notices in 117.a.3 diction that points to Rev. 5:5, while, in 117b.2, he senses wording owed to John 1:36.717 The scriptural diction Dümmler notices is expected, given the presumed sacred settings in which these words once functioned. a The creator hovering in the heights was born of our self-same flesh: that we might climb the stars through a man who was also God. Look: the lion from Judah’s tribe happily loosens the world, a victor over the sway of death. With His treasured blood washing the world, 5 Christ, the highest sacrifice of God, calls from the kingdom on high. An eagle’s wings have borne Him up: Christ now seeks the heights, with His Father forever King in the citadel of the sky. 713 714 715 716

Duchesne, cols. 1683–1684; Forster 207. Dümmler 346, s.v. [CXVII]. Wallach, “The Urbana Anglo-Saxon Sylloge,” 142. A. Silvagni, “La Silloge Epigrafica di Cambridge,” Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana 20 (1943): 49–112; see also R. M. Thomson, “William of Malmesbury’s Edition of the ‘Liber Pontificalis’,” Archivum Historiae Pontificae 16 (1978): 93–112, especially 102–105. 717 Dümmler 346 n2 on 117a.3; 347 n1 on 117b.2.

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b Show Christ to the people, Baptist John. Look: the lamb is come to wipe away the sins of the world.

Carm. 118 (Dümmler 347) Verses of Master Albinus on the Praise of the Metrical Arts, Happily, Amen. Composed in hexameters with a title that identifies Alcuin as its author, carm. 118 is recorded in the ninth-century Vatican Library Reg. Lat. 1587, f. 3v-4r. Duchesne doesn’t know the poem; Forster prints it in the preface to his edition of the poetry without number but under the title Versus Albini Magistri de Laude Metricae Artis.718 McEnerney believes that the poem’s topic indicates that it dates from the end of Alcuin’s life.719 The poem offers examples of metrical principles owed primarily to Bede’s De arte metrica and makes no pretense to verbal art. Instead, its function is pedagogical and mnemonic, as the heavily spondaic vv. 23–26 especially make clear. After an initial verse that offers praises to God in his fervid glory, Alcuin notes in v. 2 that lone syllables are short, then goes on in v. 3 to poeticize the rule attending to the quantity of vowels that immediately precede words beginning with consonants plus the letters n or x. The examples Alcuin uses, drawn from Bede,720 are, respectively, gnarus and Xerses. As he goes on to demonstrate in the line, in the phrase nauta gnarus, the final a of nauta is short, as is the final e of littore in the phrase littore Xerxes. By distinction, v. 4 focuses on the interior placement of consonants plus n and x. The examples are pax, axis, regna, whose initial vowels all scan long because of the placement of x and gn; and calumnia, which has long u because it precedes mn. Vv. 5–6 are a catalogue of nominative singulars whose final vowel is short, as v. 7 makes clear. Of the fourteen examples arrayed in these verses, nine come from Bede.721 By distinction, v. 8 offers words in the nominative singular whose final vowels are long, all of which are also found in Bede, 718 Forster 202. 719 J. I. McEnerney, “Alcuin, carmen 118,” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 19 (1984): 103. 720 C. B. Kendall, ed. and trans., Bede, Libri II De Arte Metrica et De Schematibus et Tropis: The Art of Poetry and Rhetoric (Saarbrücken, 1991), 59–61. 721 Bede, De Arte Metrica, 74–81; on the deviations from Bede see M. J. F. Echavarri, “De Nuevo sobre Alcuino, carmen 118,” Cuadernos de Filología Clásica 20 (1986–87): 180– 181; Echavarri is surely justified in following McEnerney, “Alcuin, carmen 118,” p. 101, who notes that Wattenbach’s correction of the manuscript reading occupat (v. 6) to occiput, accepted by Dümmler, must in fact be metri gratia, hocciput in order for mel to scan long.

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while vv. 9–10 list nominative singulars gathered according to their ending in ar, er, ur, is, and al. The monosyllabic words are long, while the final syllable of the polysyllabics is short.722 V. 11 goes on to give examples of words ending in es that have a final long vowel, while v. 12 lists some rare instances in which the final vowel of such words is short. Vv. 13–16 demonstrate the ways in which a long vowel in the nominative singular carries over into the genitive and, finally, vv. 17–19 introduce a series of verses in which the vowel in the root of certain verbs is short in the present but long in the perfect.723 The remainder of the poem, vv. 20–26, arrays these forms in both tenses. In the spondees that dominate the final four verses of the poem, one can almost hear Alcuin in his classroom, teaching his charges the intricacies of sounding Latin. In his Ars grammatica, Alcuin promises a work on the metrical arts, but it has yet to be found. Perhaps this poetic treatment of meters is an introduction to it or even the work itself, to which can be added carm. 119 (as follows, 373–375)—a poetic treatment of socalled common syllables. God’s light is the grace of the world, the glowing grandeur of Heaven. A rule: syllables by themselves are short. Gn or x at a word’s start don’t lengthen a prior word’s final vowel—nauta gnarus, littore Xerxes. But x or gn inside a word always lengthen a prior vowel in that word: pax, axis, regna, calumnia. Musa, monile, decus, consul, vir, doctor, origo, Cornu, vigil, tectum, carmen, mel, hocciput album: the final vowels of these singular nominatives are short; but long in these singular nominatives: sol, allec, Tanaquil, frugi, facultas. Now take sal, animal, cesar, far, murmur, fur, pater ver, lis, and fortis: the monosyllables here scan long; polysyllables have a final vowel that’s short,

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722 Dümmler punctuates v. 10 in this way: Lis, fortis, simplex, longa est disillaba; sed non, making simplex part of the catalogue of words comprising vv. 9–10, and cutting off sed non from the line. McEnerney, “Alcuin, carmen 118,” 101–102, offers a possible solution, but I follow here Echavarri, “Alcuino, carmen 118,” 181–182, who understands simplex to mean “monosyllables,” and thus punctuates the line in this way: Lis, fortis, simplex longa est, disillaba sed non. Since animal is a trisyllable, it is best to understand disillaba as “polysyllables.” 723 Alcuin relies on Bede in these verses, on which see Echavarri, “Alcuino, carmen 118,” 182–183.

The Poems but polysyllables ending in es—dies, edes, paries, pes, merces—have a final vowel that’s long, though miles and seges—unusually—have a final vowel that’s short. Os, oris—“mouth”—has long o, but with os, ossis—“bone”— the o is short. Short o in compos makes compotis short; long o in nepos makes nepotis long. Long u in virtus makes virtutis long; and, though u in paludis scans as long, while u in palus scans as short, this is the exception proving the rule, as pectus and vulgus demonstrate. Some verbs have a short root vowel in the present that scans long when the tenses change; these are gathered and displayed in what follows. Compare present lego and video, facio, faveo, and voveo, iuvo and fodeo, caveo and foveo, emo, sino, cavo, lavo, and odio; to perfect egi and vidi, feci, fecero, favi, sedi, iuvi, fodi, fodero and cavi, emi, sevi, sivi, sivero and cevi, odi and fovi, lavero and lavi. My poem ends here: I thank God for its words.

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Carm. 119 (Dümmler 347–348) On Common Syllables Written in hexameters, each of the nine verses of carm. 119 offers an exemplum of so-called common syllables, whose quantity, depending on metrical needs, can count as long or short. The metrical lessons taught in the poem cannot be translated, but readers can gain a sense of the ways in which Alcuin can place poetry in the service of pedagogy without a necessary diminution in the quality of his art. While Aelius Donatus’ Ars grammatica724 is clearly influential in the poem’s composition, the more immediate source would seem to be the chapter on common syllables in Bede’s De arte metrica, where some of the same examples mined in carm.

724 On which, see G. Marotta, “Syllable and Prosody in Latin Grammarians,” in The Notion of Syllable Across History: Theories and Analysis, ed. D. Russo (Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, 2015), 75–76, who prints the relevant passages from Donatus, Ars grammatica 4.369, 3–13K.

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119 can be found.725 Ascribed to Alcuin in two manuscripts, carm. 119 is preserved anonymously in over a dozen other witnesses. Whoever its author, the poem has had a long after-life, finding its way, absent v. 9, into the Ars grammatica composed by Hrabanus Maurus (previously, 202–205) and in part into Gottschalk’s (d. ca. 867) grammatical work, Opuscula de rebus grammaticis. Duchesne and Forster don’t know the poem. V. 1 demonstrates that, when two consonants follow a short vowel, of which the second is a liquid (“l” or “r”), that vowel is common: Mens tenebrosa tumet mortis obscura tenebris. In tenebrosa, the “e” followed by “br” is short by nature, while the “e” followed by “br” in tenebris is long by position. V. 2 proves that, when a short vowel ending in a consonant is followed in the subsequent word with an initial “h,” that vowel is common: Vir humilis maesta caelum conscendit ab humo. In the first example, the monosyllable vir, followed by humilis, is long by position, while ab, followed by humo, is short by nature. V. 3 proves that, when a word ending in a short vowel is followed by a word beginning with two consonants, the first of which is the letter “s,” the vowel is common: Regna beata poli sic iamque scandere spes est. Here, the final syllable of iamque, followed by scandere, which begins with “s,” is long by position, while the final syllable of scandere, followed by spes, also with an initial “s,” is short by nature. V. 4 validates the rule that a syllable is common if, after any metrical foot, one short syllable of a word remains and ends in a consonant, and is followed by a word beginning with a vowel: Cuius amor maneat, cuius in corde per aevum. In the first example, Cuius amor, the final syllable of cuius is short by nature, while, in the second example, cuius in, the final syllable is long by position.726 V. 5 proves that when a word ends in a diphthong and is followed by a word beginning with a vowel, the diphthong is common: Sanctae, o iuvenis, tibi sit sapientiae ardor. Here, the “ae” of Sanctae, followed by a vowel, “o,” is long by nature, while the “ae” of sapientiae, followed by “a,” in ardor, is short. V. 6 demonstrates that, when a long vowel is followed by another vowel, the long vowel becomes common. Alcuin provides examples of this rule using the word sophia, the “i” of which he treats as naturally long: Sophia nota tuae sit et mens nota sophiae. The “i” in the initial “sophia” is thus 725 Bede, De arte metrica, 46–59. 726 Though not depicted metrically in carm. 119, it is also true that a vowel is common if, after any metrical foot, one short syllable of a word remains and ends in a vowel, and is followed by a word beginning with a consonant. Though Bede, in his De arte metrica, mentions this possibility, he does not provide an example, for which reason presumably Alcuin forbears one also.

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short by position, whereas it is long by nature in the second example. V. 7 shows that, when a word ending in “c” is followed immediately by a vowel, that vowel is common: Est decus hoc animae, virtus hoc et inclitus ordo. In the first example, hoc is long, while, in the second, it is short. V. 8 suggests that, when the Greek double-consonant “z” follows a short vowel in the same word, that vowel is common: Condite gaza polo, saccos vacuate gazarum. In the first instance of the word gaza, the initial “a” is long, whereas the initial “a” of gazarum at the end of the verse is short. Finally, v. 9 seems to offer an example of an adiaphoros syllable; that is, a final syllable, in any meter, that is “indifferent,” with aula at the beginning and the end of v. 9 proving the point: Aula tenet Christi, Christum si pectoris aula. The mind, shadowed, hidden in the gloom of death, swells up, a humble man clambers to Heaven, leaving the sad world behind, has hope to climb to Heaven’s blessed realms: may the love of hope abide always in his heart. Boy, burn for holy wisdom, know Sophia, open your mind to her: the beauty of the soul and virtue, the way things are famously arrayed. Store your treasures in Heaven, toss away sacks of worldly goods. Christ’s palace holds you if the heart’s palace holds Christ.

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Carm. 120 (Dümmler 348–349)727 A Sequence on St Michael, which Alcuin Composed for the Emperor Charles Dümmler edited carm. 120 from the eleventh-century Trier, Stadtbibliothek 120/1285, f. 185r-v, where it is neumed, copied under the title translated here, that ascribes authorship to Alcuin, and accompanied by a marginal hexameter, printed by Dümmler following the piece, translated in the pages that follow. Of the many manuscripts that record versions of this sequence, none attribute authorship to Alcuin apart from the Trier copy and most ascribe no author whatever. Von den Steinen is most vocal in arguing against Alcuin’s authorship,728 but, as Dronke notes, von den Steinen’s history of the sequence and Notker’s place in it—to whom carm. 120 is 727 Translated into English by Waddell, Mediaeval Latin Lyrics, 91–93. 728 W. von den Steinen, Notker der Dichter und seine geistige Welt (Bern, 1948), 338–342.

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sometimes ascribed—rests on the idea that no sequences were composed earlier than ca. 830.729 On the other hand, in gesturing toward the possibility of Alcuin’s authorship, Dronke points to what is one of the earlier manuscripts to record carm. 120: the ninth-century Oxford, Bodleian Library, Laud misc. 276. This manuscript, from Lorsch, provides a link to Tours, the place of Alcuin’s retirement; for Samuel, Abbot of Lorsch from 837–856 studied with Alcuin at Tours.730 Duchesne and Forster do not print this piece. The sequence is a composition based on the principle of progressive repetition of syllabically and musically parallel versicles.731 The form is often thought to have arisen owing to liturgical exigency, in which the complicated melodies of the chanting of the “Alleluia,” were set to words in order to make them easier to remember. Notker is the earliest figure to fully exploit the form for the liturgical calendar in his Liber Hymnorum, and not the least of his innovations is the wider range of themes he introduces into his compositions. The origins of the sequence remain controverted, but if Alcuin is the author of carm. 120, he would rank among the earlier of the genre’s practitioners.732 Carm. 120 predictably draws on scriptural figures and imagery for its thematic energies. Each of its seven strophes follows a pattern in which lines of equal syllables are paired. In strophe 1, the first and third lines both have eight syllables, while the second and fourth lines have three. Strophe 2 has a similar four-line structure, with lines 1 and 3 comprised of nine syllables, and lines 2 and 4, of ten. Strophes 3 and 4 both are six lines in length but with varied syllabification: strophe 3 follows the pattern 8-8-11-8-8-11; while the pattern of strophe 4 is 6-7-10-6-7-10. Strophe 5 is four lines in length, with lines 1 and 3 comprised of fifteen syllables and lines 2 and 4, of sixteen. Strophe 6 has six lines, and follows the pattern 6-5-6-5-10-10, which strophe 7 also follows, with the addition of a seventh line comprised of four syllables. 1. Archangel of the king on high, Michael, we beg you: prick up your ears to our voices.

729 P. Dronke, “The Beginnings of the Sequence,” Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur 87 (1965): 50. 730 Dronke, “The Beginnings of the Sequence,” 51. 731 The description is owed to P. Dronke, The Medieval Lyric (London, 1968), 38–39n1. 732 On the Sequence see L. Kruckenberg, “Sequence,” The Cambridge History of Medieval Music, online https://doi.org/10.1017/9780511979866. Accessed 11 October 2021.

The Poems 2. We proclaim you ruler of the people of Heaven; when you pray the angels tug God in our direction. 3. Don’t let enemies injure us, however much they covet harm, don’t let them, with their plans and schemes, ever lord it over mortals worn to the quick. You hold the power of paradise, where time has fallen away, where the holy angels always lionize you. 4. In God’s temple you were seen clasping in your hands a golden censer, smoke clambering up and away, with fragrances unbounded, rising to the very presence of God.

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5. Your strong hand scattered the savage snake, you snatched many souls from its jaws. Then a great silence fell upon the heights, and many thousands said: “Salvation to the King and Lord.” 6. Hear us, Michael, angel on high, come down, just a bit, from the heights where you sit, bear the mightiness of God to us, a leniency that brings relief. 7. Gabriel, kick our enemies to the ground; Raphael, bring cures to the sick, root out disease, make us hurt less, make us part of the joys of the saints. Emperor, someone wise plaited these harmonies for you.733

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733 I read the verb pectrat, “plaited,” as a false form for plectat. It seems difficult to think that Alcuin would call himself “someone wise” in writing to Charlemagne; he does so

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Carm. 121 (Dümmler 349)734 Hymn at Vespers Written in Sapphics, Duchesne edited this hymn from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 1; Forster also prints it as carm. 1.735 Recent comparisons of the metrical and stylistic affinities of the poem with Alcuin’s authentic verses have led Burghardt and Pujalte to doubt Alcuin’s authorship.736 Pujalte is especially focused on metrical issues and compares carm. 121 to the other Sapphic poem in Alcuin’s collection, carm. 89.26c (previously, 296–297). He is certain the poems are written by different authors and concludes that carm. 89.26c is more likely to be from Alcuin’s hand than carm. 121. The hymn was composed for Vespers, the monastic service of evening prayer falling around the time of sunset. 1.

Light, wellspring, creator, of the day, Tender One, hear our prayers: when the darknesses of sin have hastened off, let your nestling light seek us out.

2. Your sacred power fashioned humankind: your law found us guilty, your mercy made us free, becoming to humankind tender and just, powerful to the hilt. 3. The strength of faith wakes us up, hope’s beauty sets us onto things to come, a love, endless and immeasurable, makes us one. 4. Tender guide of this life, let work and rest have their allotted times, and, following each other in their turn, let us come alive again. 5.

Now the day’s work is done, your nod and smile mean we are safe; we offer to you thanks upon thanks in every season.

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nowhere else in those works securely ascribed to his hand. 734 The poem is translated into French by Spitzmuller, Poésie latine, 255–259, and partially into English by Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 183. 735 Duchesne, cols. 1673–1675; Forster 203. 736 Burghardt 47–52; Pujalte, “Dos estrofas sáficas,” 697–704.

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6. The setting sun makes for falling shadows: but let a brilliant sun pour down on us, that tawny light that chafes the angels standing in a holy line. 7.

From on high pour down that ruddy light, scatter shadows that linger in a sluggish heart: may we be only fire, like a torch, vessels of soulful light.

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Day upon day has hidden sins: Christ, soft and tender, wipe them away, so that our heart blushes with a limpid light as night comes on.

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Let extravagances, every dread, stay away, illusions, alluring forms, be at bay, let the sleepless soul be strong enough to see the heavenly host.

10. Let the soul keeping watch always need you, God, let it ponder you, freed from every care, let it please you in all that it might do, Highest King.

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11. Let divine speech and the trophied cross protect my brow, the heart’s domain, drive away the demons’ cunning guile, steal their plunder. 12. Let our bodies, that we will give to a blameless bed, rise up, goaded by the work of the day; and let the spirit that holds them close wish them to be an unsullied temple. 13. Let a pious man abide in that temple forever, let fault and affliction pass him by, let a wholeness of life summon him, let this be a treasured place. 14. May the path we wend be sensible and firm, direct and just, undemanding, well-made, so that we might follow life’s wending course on a righteous road. 15. Six days we give rightly to work, and on the seventh day the soul aims for rest:

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The Poems let the joys of life live for us again on the eighth day.737

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16. Let there be glory and the holy richness of praises for the Father, Son, and for you, Holy Spirit, who alone wields the nourishing scepter on behalf of the three.

Carm. 122 (Dümmler 350)738 Alcuin’s Prayer at Night This brief elegiac prayer is ascribed to Alcuin in a private prayer book from the ninth century that once belonged to Charles the Bald (823–877), now housed in the Schatzkammer der Residenz in Munich, where it is copied under the title Oratio Alchuini in Nocte (f. 44r).739 Duchesne prints it under the heading of poems gathered from various places, without number; Forster prints it twice: at the end of the Officia per Ferias, a gathering of psalms, canticles, and prayers organized by days of the week, falsely ascribed to Alcuin (previously, 25); and under Carmina Dubia, without number.740 Presumably written for a king, its words make sense, since a king at sleep was a danger to his kingdom, liable to expose his realm to enemies. Thus, this prayer enjoins Christ to be in the royal heart, wakeful even as the tired king slumbers, protecting king and realm from harm.741 He managed to snatch some sleep in a boat—peace beating in his heart. Then he rose: bent wind and sea to his will. Worn from work, my body grows quiet just now, may my heart hanker after you still: Lamb of God, who carried off the sins of the world, Soft One: keep my sleep safe from the enemy.

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Carm. 123 (Dümmler 350–351)742 Epitaph for Alcuin The anonymous Life of Alcuin notes that carm. 123 was originally engraved on a (now lost) bronze tablet placed on Alcuin’s tomb in the church of 737 Alcuin means the day of God’s judgment; see Spitzmuller, Poésie latine, 357n18. 738 Waddell, More Latin Lyrics, 181 offers an English translation. 739 Dümmler 350 ad loc, with P. E. Dutton, The Politics of Dreaming in the Carolingian Empire (Lincoln, NE, 1994), 18–19. 740 Duchesne 1757; Forster 126 (Officia per Ferias); 457 (Carmina Dubia). 741 Dutton, Politics of Dreaming, 19–22, whose analysis I follow here, contextualizes this prayer and others like it. 742 Waddell, Mediaeval Latin Lyrics, 94–95, offers an English translation; J. H. Clements, “Writing and Commemoration in Anglo-Saxon England,” in Death in Medieval Europe:

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St Martin of Tours,743 to which abbey Alcuin had retired in 796. There are over a dozen manuscript witnesses, some of which include a note on the date of Alcuin’s death, recorded in the ancient Roman style, and a brief prayer for his eternal rest.744 Duchesne edited the epitaph from the St Bertin manuscript as carm. 269; Forster also numbers it carm. 269.745 Both print ten couplets, while Dümmler prints twelve, with appreciable differences among the three. Alcuin’s words, in due course, became a model for other epitaphs composed in the Carolingian period. As Bullough notes, because Alcuin wrote these verses himself, the poem is less a curriculum vitae of a kind featured in epitaphs for several of Alcuin’s disciples and admirers, and instead, relies more heavily on epigraphic and elegiac commonplaces,746 but not to the exclusion of originality.747 Wallach’s commentary enumerates in some detail the epigraphic and literary traditions upon which Alcuin draws.748 You: making your way down the road, for a moment, rest here (so I ask), take to heart the words found in this place that tell the story of everyman: how your beauty, like mine, falls away. Traveler: I was once like you, alive, in the world, yet soon you will be what I am now. I used to hanker after worldly whims, enticed by a hollow love: now I am made dust and gossamer ash, now worms gorge on me. Remember to attend your soul that abides as the body fades away. Why covet fields? See: this small tomb is field enough, holding me now in endless sleep. Why dress the body in dark-dyed clothes, since a worm’s feast will gnaw it to dust? Like the flowers dying in a whipping wind,

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Death Scripted and Death Choreographed, ed. J. Rollo-Koster (Abingdon and New York, 2017), 34–35, offers a prose version in English. Vita Alcuini 28. “Here rests lord and abbot Alcuin of blessed memory, who died in peace on the 14th day before the Kalends of June [May 19, 804]. When you read these words, all of you, pray for him and say: Lord grant to him eternal rest. Amen” (Hic requiescat beatae memoriae domnus Alchuinus abba, qui obiit in pace XIV Kal. Iunias. Quando legeritis, o vos omnes, orate pro eo et dicite: “Requiem aeternam donet ei Dominus.” Amen). Duchesne, col. 1742; Forster 236. Bullough 33–34; Clements, “Writing and Commemoration,” 35. On the melding of tradition and originality, see C. A. M. Clarke, Writing Power in AngloSaxon England: Texts, Hierarchies, Economies (Martlesham and Rochester, 2012), 49–50. Wallach, Alcuin and Charlemagne, 255–265, with an English translation, 264–265.

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The Poems your flesh, your glory, wither away. Reader: say something on my behalf, say: “Christ forgive your follower.” I pray: let no hand disturb the rites piously plied at this tomb, until the angel-trumpets blast on high: “You, lying here entombed, brush away the dust of death, the Great Judge is come with an uncountable crowd.” Alcuin was my name. I was a lover of wisdom again and again. Read these words; pour prayers for me in your heart.

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Carm. 124 (Dümmler 351)749 Prayer to God This hexametrical prayer, unknown to Duchesne, was edited by Forster from the Regensburg manuscript under Addenda et Supplenda, carm. 14, where it provides the initial sixteen verses for Bede’s De die iudicii. Forster is uncertain of Alcuin’s authorship.750 Dümmler follows Forster in including it in his edition and agrees with him that nothing certain can be said about the poem’s authorship.751 It is preserved anonymously in the ninth-century Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 89, f. 1r. The prayer seems to feature diction found elsewhere in the verses of Alcuin, and its emphasis on the submission of the sinful in the face of God’s insuperable mercy continues a theme found throughout Alcuin’s large output. Its authorship will remain disputed barring the discovery of fresh evidence. God, all-strong, sole hope of salvation, kindly to the hilt: prick up your ears to a servant’s prayers, dispel the darknesses, evil-bred, of my soul, let a nestling light pierce the paths of praise, make me cry, calm my heart. Christ, forgive me, forgive me for the evils I’ve plied (so I pray); Softest One, give a servant hope of life without end; Lord and King, Life and Power: you make me know I am saved. I run to your haven, I demand your divinity on bended knee:

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749 M. S. Driscoll, Alcuin et la pénitence à l’époque carolingienne (Münster, 1999), 179–180 offers a French translation. 750 Forster 616 with note f. 751 Dümmler 351n2.

The Poems may your kindness defend me from an enemy, evil bred, may you breathe your love into my hardened heart. Make me glad to go down righteous roads: where false joys that lap against the world cannot ever take me away, where a swirling evil won’t drag me to the dirt. In every haunt, may your right hand befriend your own servant, that I might be happy to tell your praises, in every haunt.

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1. Letters of Alcuin Pertaining to His Poetry Carm. 3 Epis. 120 (Dümmler 174–175; Allott 159, p. 154)1 To the excellent lord, venerable and praiseworthy, archbishop Beornred, the humble Levite2 Alcuin sends greetings. Excellency, your letter has been delivered, and recognizing in it your zeal in the Lord, and the way in which you ponder His law regularly, I must say that I was joyfully moved. Still, I feel that I am unequal to your request, since I have no gift of special eloquence to do what you have ordered. Except that love urged me, which is used to denying nothing, I would dare not attempt a thing that goes beyond my poor powers. Nevertheless, divine grace has granted your prayers, with holiest father Willibrord’s help, whose life, habits, and miracles you asked me to record with an affectionate attention. I have obeyed your command, holy father, and have composed two little books, one written in prose, which can be read publicly to the brothers in church if that seems agreeable to your wisdom; the other written in verse, which ought to be pondered only by your students in a private space. Now, because of the work demanded of me during the day, each book was written by lamplight at night, for which reason they require your defense, since they are less polished by the author whose hand gave rise to them. Mine was not to spurn the authority of the one ordering me to write! Yours is to defend the inexperience of the one who obeyed you. I have added a homily to the first book, which I hope is worthy to be preached by your venerable mouth to your flock. Likewise, I have added to the second book an elegy concerning that venerable man, Wilgils, father of 1 Beornred is elsewhere mentioned twice in Alcuin’s letters: in epis. 49 (Dümmler 93, l. 18), written to Richbod, and in epis. 88 (Dümmler 133, l. 2), written to an unnamed young student. 2 Alcuin regularly calls himself a “Levite” (levita) in his letters—a synonym for diaconus, “deacon,” the highest ecclesiastical rank he attained.

Appendices 385 the holiest bishop Willibrord, whose body rests in a certain little seaside cell3 over which I was chosen to preside through the lawful succession granted by God—though He knows I am unworthy of the honor. But all that I have written, whether prose or poetry, awaits the judgment of your holiness, who can say whether it is worthy to live on, or whether it ought to be erased with the rough edge of a pumice stone. Let my books make their way into the light of day only after your strong scrutiny.

Carm. 5 Epis. 26 (Dümmler 67–68; Allott 154, p. 152) To Flavius Damoetas, a most excellent man, Albinus sends hearty greetings of endless peace. I am more than pleased to know you’re well, and more than glad to have your gift as a token of love: as many teeth as I have counted in it, I send to you that many thanks. This gift, a wondrous animal, has two heads and sixty teeth, not large like elephant’s teeth, but ivory-like in their beauty. I wasn’t frightened by the dread of this beast—in fact its appearance delighted me—nor did I fear that it would bite me with its gnashing teeth. Instead, I smiled that the hair of my head was combed with such agreeable attention! I knew there wasn’t ferocity in the beast’s teeth, and I cherish its sender’s love—which I have always faithfully found to be true in him. But as much as I rejoice in the sweetness of your love, to that extent I suffer the length of your absence: I should never want those whom the sweetest chains of love unite to be separated for such a space of time. What can I do except follow my friend with tears, whom my soul longs to have present, until he comes to me again? Dearest son, don’t lose yourself amid the obligations of the world: while your body is nourished with meals, let your soul be refreshed through the giving of alms; and while your legs, fatigued by journeying, are revived in rest, let your mind be strengthened in God through prayers. As you take up the diverse cases that come before you, let justice always resound on your lips, and let compassion born of a love for the oppressed arise from the depths of your heart; let the hope for justice not fail those coming to you nor the support of piety be wanting for those fleeing to you, because piety toward those who have nothing is repaid in the blessedness of eternal rewards. My son, do these things and, in their doing, flourish in the beauty of every virtue. Wherever you wander, may divine protection accompany you, may it lead you to prosperity everywhere you go and, when you return, may it lead you back quickly to me with your well-being intact, so that the love of a father might rejoice in his son, and God might be praised everywhere, Who will make Himself present to His own servants when they pray to Him. Be strong and flourish, be well, sweetest Damoetas. 3 The monastery of St Andrew, on which see the foregoing, carm. 8, 129.

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Carm. 10 Epis. 17 (Dümmler 45–49;4Allott 48, pp. 61–63) To Aethelheard, pious father, prelate of a holy seat, and archbishop, the humble Levite Albinus sends greeting. Hearing the sweetest words that reported both your greeting and the well-being so necessary to so many, I confess that I was very much overjoyed. For the betterment of His holy church, and with the full ardor of my heart, I’m calling on the most merciful love of our Lord and God Jesus Christ to guard your long-lived health, so that word of the endless life that He offers might grow and spread through the teaching you so vigorously provide, whereby the ranks of Christians might swell in the praise and glory of our Savior. With all your strength I urge you to keep at this work, holy brother. The nearer that day of reward comes, the more eager may you be to gather up the happiness of your recompense. Think about the sorts of predecessors you had: learned men lighting up all of Britain. While you pray over their most hallowed remains, you will certainly be helped through their intercessions, if the doomed delights of the age don’t take you from the path they once trod, if the empty panics of the politicians don’t make you blanch. Don’t ever forget that your throat must be the trumpet of God, your tongue the herald of salvation for all. Be a pastor, not a mercenary; a ruler, not a rebel; a light, not a shadow; a city walled by firm faith, not a house destroyed by torrents; a glorious soldier of Christ, not some cheap apostate; a preacher, not a flatterer. It is better to fear God than men, better to please God than to be deluded by men. For what is a flatterer but a charming enemy?5 He destroys himself and his followers both. They are the ones who stitch pillows under every bed6 and make the lambs of Christ diseased and unhealed. You accepted the shepherd’s rod to rule, and the staff of brotherly consolation to comfort, that the deserving might have comfort in you, and the disobedient might know correction through you. The power of the judge is to kill; your power is to bring life. Why do you fear a man with a sword, when you have been given by Christ the key to Heaven? Remember how much He suffered for you, and do not be afraid to speak on His behalf. For love of you He was fixed with nails and hung from the cross, but will you, settled in your seat of dignity, remain silent out of fear of a man? This is not as it should be, brother, not at all: just as He loves you, love Him in return. Who works more, gains more rewards. If you should suffer persecution for the word of God, what could be more fortunate? As the Lord Himself says: 4 Epis. 17 is also edited by Colin Chase, Two Alcuin Letter-Books (Toronto, 1975), 71–76. 5 The phrasing of this question, Quid est adolator nisi blandus inimicus, is owed to Jerome, epis. 22, adulator quippe blandus inimicus est, on which see Veyrard-Cosme, Tacitus Nuntius, 146–161. 6 Ezech. 13:18.

Appendices 387 “blessed are those who suffer persecution for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven;”7 and “the apostles left the presence of the council rejoicing that they had been deemed worthy to suffer dishonor in the name of Jesus;”8 and “the sufferings of this present time are nothing compared to the glory to come that will be made known to us.”9 If you lay hold of a wrong-doer who corrects himself through your rebukes, for you there is reward among God, and he will be saved by God; if he resists you when you offer rebukes, for him there is damnation, but for you supreme happiness. You must be a comforter to the wretched and a father to the poor, sympathetic to all until you know how best to respond to each. Your response should always be grounded in the salt of wisdom, honest, not rash, and modest, not wordy. Let your ways of living be renowned for their kindness, praiseworthy for their humility, and lovable for their piety. By word and deed educate those living with you, and those coming to you. May your hand be great in charity, eager in giving, and modest in receiving. Provide for yourself a treasure in Heaven. The wealth of a man’s soul is his redemption, since it is more blessed to give than to receive. We have found a precious pearl; let us give away all that we possess to obtain it. Let readings from the holy books often be found in your hands, so that from them you might have the power to sate yourself and nourish others. Your vigils and prayers must be constant: all the more so since you must intercede for all Christian people. Your place is to stand between man and God, to convey His orders to the people, to intercede with Him for their sins. Make yourself worthy to be heard by Him through the gift of His grace. This is worthiness, in the chastity of life, in the faith of preaching, as Truth itself affirms: “gird your loins and light the lamps in your hands.”10 May holiness be shown in chaste loins, and clarity in the light of your preaching. But remember what we learn from the prophet Malachi, viz., that a bishop is the Lord’s messenger, and that the holy law must be sought from his mouth.11 He is a watchman, too, placed in the highest seat, whence the term “bishop” derives, which means “lookout,” since the bishop is the one who must look ahead for the whole army of Christ with wise counsel about what must be avoided and what must be done. These, that is the bishops, are the lights of the holy church of God and the leaders of Christ’s flock. In the front ranks, they cannot bear half-heartedly the standard of the holy cross, and must stand fearlessly against every assault of hostile forces. These are the ones

7 8 9 10 11

Matt. 5:10. Acts 5:41. Rom. 8:18. Luke 12:35. Malachi 2:7.

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who received the talents while our King, the God Christ, in his triumph of glory returned to His Father’s seat, and when He comes again on that great day of judgment, they will return an accounting of the highest judgment, what they had gained through the work of their own dutiful preaching. Dearest brother, make yourself a worthy agent of God’s word. With all possible zeal, urge your fellow priests to work diligently in the word of life until, with the gain of their manifold hard work, they appear in glory before the sight of the eternal judge. Be in unison in every pursuit of piety and constant in every just decision. May the fear of human rank not separate you from one another, nor any charms of flattery divide you—stand strong together as if you were the strongest soldiers of God’s army. Thus, your unity will appear frightful to all who would argue against the truth. As Solomon says: “if a brother is helped by a brother, the city is secure.”12 Truly it is said that you are the light of the whole of Britain, salt of the earth, a city placed on a hill, a candle high on its stand. Likewise, the foremost apostle declares: “you are the chosen people, a royal priesthood.” Through the urgency of your preaching we will be what he goes on to describe in the same letter, “the holy race, a people of His possession, as long as His virtue is announced through you, who calls all of us from darkness into His wonderful light, who once were not a people of God, but now are.”13 Our ancestors, although they were pagans, held this land first with a warlike virtue given to them by God. What a shame it is, then, that we Christians should lose what the pagans acquired. I say this because of the scourge which recently plagued parts of our country, a place inhabited by our forefathers for almost 350 years. Indeed, the book of Gildas,14 that wisest of Britons, says that the Britons lost their country because of the greed and plundering of their leaders, the unfairness of their judges, the idleness and indolence of their priests, and the extravagance and appalling morals of their people. Let us beware lest these same vices increase in our time; so that God’s blessing keeps our homeland in the prosperity which it has given us in its mercy. But in order for the most bountiful piety of almighty God to bring this about, you must open the gates of Heaven with constant preaching to His people—you, who have been given along with the apostles the key of the heavenly kingdom, and from Christ the power of binding and loosing. Do not fall silent, lest the sins of the people be imputed to you! For God will require from you the souls that you accepted for purposes of ruling. May your reward be increased through their salvation. Comfort the dispirited, strengthen the humble, set lost souls on the path of truth, enlighten the ignorant, encourage the learned, and confirm all through 12 Prov. 18:19. 13 Both passages are from 1 Peter 2:9. 14 Alcuin means Gildas’ De excidio et conquestu Britanniae (ca. 550 C.E.).

Appendices 389 the good examples of your life. With your shepherd’s staff chastise the proud and those who resist the truth, while, with your staff of consolation, support the others. If you hold strong together, who will be able to stand in your way? Likewise, who will have peace with God, who doesn’t yield to the salvation of your preaching? The words of God regarding preachers are truly said: “he who hears you, hears me, and he who rejects you, rejects me.”15 In the same vein He spoke to those in need of comfort and to give faith to those making sermons: “whatever you bind on earth will be bound in Heaven and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in Heaven.”16 Worldly and sacred power are separate: the former places the sword of death in its hand, the latter puts the key of life in its mouth. It is said of the first kind of power: “do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul,”17 and of the second kind: “where two or three gather in my name, there I will be with them.”18 “If God is with us, who can be against us?”19 If Christ is among us, who will be able to harm us? A bishop must therefore have faith in what he preaches; while the rest must have faith in acknowledging their humility and obeying your orders. Let the worldly defend you, and you be their champion, so that you may be one flock under one shepherd, Christ our God, and this land be protected by eternal benediction for you and your descendants; and so that through this we will deserve to reach that place which has no end and exists in perpetual peace. So that we might merit to come to this place, with Moses, God’s devoted servant, proclaim these words in your heart and often: “Look down, O Lord, from your sanctuary, your heavenly dwelling, and bless your people Israel and the land which you gave to us.”20 Cry out in tears with God’s prophet Joel: “Spare your people, O Lord, and do not make your inheritance an object of scorn.”21 Instruct with the apostle Jacob’s words: “Pray in turns, that we might be in good health; for a continuous prayer of justice is greatly powerful.”22 Similarly, the apostle Peter says: “Be like-minded in your prayer, sympathetic, humble, and compassionate.”23 But the chosen vessel Paul perceived prayers made for all, for kings or anyone placed in high positions, so that the grace of almighty God might grant prosperous times to Christian people, times of peace, in the praise and glory of His Holy name. 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Luke 10:16. Matt. 16:19. Matt.10:28. Matt. 18:20. Romans 8:31. Deut. 26:15. Joel 2:17. James 5:16. 1 Peter 3:8.

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Carm. 39 Epis. 298 (Dümmler 456–457) To Regenbert, bishop and venerable lord, cherished by me in the love of Christ, Alcuin the Levite sends greetings. I am mindful of our mutual friendship, which braces me in writing to you about something that must be raised for the sake of us both. I have heard that some of your subordinates have introduced a new custom regarding the tithing of the churches and priests of St Martin’s—indeed, they have spoken on your authority. And yet, in respect of your sanctity, I don’t believe this, for I know you to be one who has always defended to the utmost the canons and the gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ, which says: “without cost you have received, give without cost.”24 Still, I am told that your subordinates have ordered our priests to pay as follows: bread: 1 and ½ measures; wine: one measure; wheat for horses: four measures; cheese: six measures; eggs: 100 measures; and fish, herbs and vegetables: a satisfactory amount from each priest. And if these exactments are not paid, by your authority your subordinates forbid our priests from singing Mass in the churches of St Martin, nor do they even permit priests from elsewhere to say Mass in them. I cannot fathom by what authority you have endeavored to place the churches of Christ outside the community of the faithful. It is one thing if priests have sinned, but how does that redound to the churches? It might be good if your subordinates recalled the force with which the chief of the apostles, blessed Peter, struck down those who thought they could buy God’s grace with money. He rooted out this heresy the first time he came upon it, saying: “May your money perish with you.”25 Kindest father, by dint of the charity with which God has joined us, and in token of the faith that we both have declared, I beg you to do nothing out of the ordinary respecting the churches that belong to St Martin, for he is a powerful saint, more than eager to defend what belongs to him and, if necessary, to plead his case to God. Until we can speak in person—if it’s agreeable and possible—don’t allow such a situation to exist in the churches of St Martin and the other churches in your bishopric. I do not dispute that you have the authority to take from them whatever you deem just. But if your subordinates won’t obey you at all in this matter, I can work with you to bring them around. They should come before you for a hearing and explain themselves according to spiritual duty. Following the gospel passage I quoted above, give them without cost those things that belong to God, as the Lord Jesus insists, so that spiritual gifts are given by all in the same way. The interventions of St Martin and St Aredius offer a greater 24 Matt. 10:8. 25 Acts 8:20.

Appendices 391 profit to you than the advice of those who encouraged you to exact these payments. But even if you had wished to make others pay in this way, I still would not have thought that you were willing to impose a burden, such as the one that falls on me with this news, on account of our mutual friendship, or rather in honor of St Martin, whom God has honored with so great an authority that he will be able through his own intervention to help the priests affected by your exactments. Holiest lord, may divine clemency deem it appropriate to protect and to lift up your blessedness, safe, happy, rightly praised.

Carm. 50 Epis. 311 (Dümmler 479–481) Translated with the assistance of Theodore Follini-Press Alcuin the Levite sends a greeting of blessedness eternally to Aethelheard, most reverent father and archbishop. Hearing the beauty of wisdom in your heart and the constancy of truth from your lips allowed me to judge your blessed flock as pious and prudent, not least for having such a learned man for their own and so righteous an intermediary to God. For the duty of a priest is to stand between God and men, and through the censer of holy words to set apart living and dead. The priest is like a rooster prepared to announce the hoped-for dawn that is never blackened by shadows.26 And he is like the ram, whose regal power cannot be resisted. He is the observer settled in a tower of virtue, who spies the camps of Christ, lest any enemy armed secretly with a threatening sword, is strong enough to wound one caught off guard. And the priest is the most splendid light in the house of God, smashing every shadow of ignorance, so that truth alone might shine forth in the hearts of believers. Sweetest father, most lovingly consider the priesthood the highest office and rank of apostolic honor, as the wisdom given you most lovingly by God affirms. Esteem your ministry with the apostle; preach the word of God with every ounce of piety you possess. There is much to harvest and few to do the work.27 Therefore, you must work insistently, so that you might at the same time rejoice with those doing the sowing. The work of a priest that most impends is to preach the word of God, and to extirpate from the Lord’s field the thorns of sinners; to plant the purest crop of evangelical truth; to renew lands lying fallow; and not to plant among thorns, lest the thickets of wickedness strangle the sprouts of good seeds bursting forth.28 Where there are

26 Prov. 30:31. 27 Matt. 9:37. 28 Jer. 4:3.

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many fields, the ox’s strength is clear:29 it becomes a sign of a priest working well among the people of Christ, who shall come in exultation to carry their own harvests to the storehouse of the eternal King, who makes the priest a steward for His own family, so that He might give in time a modicum of wheat to them.30 Blessed are you who sow beside the water, for water is the people, and the one who sows is the preacher of God.31 Who serves the wind never plants.32 Who fears earthly power is silent at the proclamation of truth; he will possess a place for ruling, but deny the act of ruling; he will not hold his own against the frenzied wolves, but will flee with the fear a mercenary feels; he fears losing his transitory honor more than striving to acquire heavenly glory. Blessed father, your highest holiness must chastise faithfully ones such as this, if they should be found in a seat of ecclesiastical honor, so that you alone of all people might claim the reward through your effort. For you alone are seen to outdo everyone in the honor of your pallium and the worthiness of your most famous seat. May your right hand be armed with the scepter of equality, and your honest left hand with the shield of piety. From the one may truth shine on the mighty, from the other may piety aid the wretched, so that the devotion of your authority benefits everyone. With the apostle, “become all things to all people,”33 so that, from the salvation of all, the rewards of eternal blessedness might increase for you. I ask that you hold my memory in your holy prayers. The bitter day, which no one can escape, will soon be upon us, and doesn’t slow its approach. No one, however, who is prepared to open his heart need have any fear. But to the extent that I know I am a sinner, to that extent I confess that I fear that day, lest, by chance, smothered by the weight of sin, I dare not raise my head in the sight of my judge. Help me, most pious father, help me, kneeling before you! Among the remains of our holy fathers and preachers, lessen something of this gravest weight from my neck by means of the tears of your piety.34 Because your goodness intercedes on my behalf insistently, and I dare to lift my head more freely from the burden of my impiety, think how great is your reward in the salvation of brotherly well-being. By the greater grace of the redeemer, God granting it, to the extent you are crowned by your own deeds, to that extent by the greater glory of God you will stand crowned before the tribunal of our redeemer. I have sent for your delight a silver cup, a piece of silk, a goat-skin, and a linen shirt. I pray that 29 30 31 32 33 34

Prov. 14:4. Luke 12:42. Isaiah 32:20. Eccl. 11:4. 1 Cor. 9:22. Veyrard-Cosme, Tacitus Nuntius, 169, senses the epistolary diction of Paulinus of Nola behind some of the phrasing of this line.

Appendices 393 you take up these little possessions in token of my love, for I offer them more as a faithful gift of love than to remind you of how rarely we see each other.

Carm. 56.2; Carm. 75.2 Epis. 174 (Dümmler 288–289) Flaccus Albinus sends greetings to peace-making Lord, King David. I give thanks most mercifully for your goodness, sweetest David, that you deign to remember my humble self, and to make known to me what your faithful servant has told me. Nor do I send continued thanks for your piety alone in this matter, but in all good things that your piety has brought about with me since the day my humble self was made known to you. You started well, but finished better. Wherefore, through continuous prayers I beg for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that He who granted to you what things are best in earthly happiness might deign to grant to you forever a far greater kingdom of eternal happiness. I would presently propose many things to your dignity, if there were either an opportunity for you to listen, or for me to speak with eloquence. For the pen of love is often accustomed to arousing the hidden places of my heart, to treat of the well-being of your excellence, of the stability of the kingdom given to you by God, and of the progress of the holy church of Christ, which has been disturbed by the manifold evil of wicked men, and is stained by the accursed ventures of the worst sorts of men, not just the common folk but even men of the greatest and highest ranks. This is to be greatly feared. Heretofore there have been three persons in the world of the highest rank: that is, the apostolic highness, who is accustomed to ruling the seat of blessed Peter, chief of the apostles, in the office of vicar. What was done to him, the one who had been rector of the aforementioned seat, your venerable goodness has taken care to inform me. Another is the imperial rank and the secular power of the second Rome: how impiously the governor of that empire has been deposed, not by foreigners, but by his own familiars and fellow citizens, as is everywhere reported now. The third is the royal dignity, in which the dispensation of our Lord Jesus Christ placed you as ruler of all Christian people, more excellent in power, more famous in wisdom, higher in the dignity of the kingdom, than the other dignities mentioned above. Look: in you alone rests the whole safety of the churches of Christ now in dire straits. You are the avenger of crimes, you are the ruler of those who stray, you are the consoler to those who grieve, you lift up the good. For was it not in the Roman see, where the religion of piety most greatly glimmered once, that there emerged examples of extreme impiousness? These wicked men, blinded in their own hearts, blinded their own head. Neither fear of God, nor wisdom, nor love are seen there. What good can be

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gleaned there, where nothing of these three dignities is found? If the fear of God were in them, they would not have dared to do what they did; if wisdom were in them, they would never have wished to do what they did; if love were in them, they would never have done what they did.35 Our days are filled with dangers once predicted by Truth itself, for the love of many grows cold.36 Care of the head should not in any way be shunted to the side. It is easier to hurt the feet than the head. Let peace with wicked people be attempted if it can come about. Put threats to the side, at least a little, lest the stubborn flee; let them instead retain some hope until they can be called back to peace by sound counsel. What we have, we must hold, lest, for the gain of a little, what is greater is lost. Let your own flock be protected, lest a hungry wolf ravage it. Let it work so hard on behalf of others that it suffers no loss to any of its own. Once I spoke to your holiest piety concerning the exactment of tithes, since it is perhaps better, at least for a certain space of time, that public necessity allows for their collection to be relaxed until faith grows in the hearts of people from deep within, that is, if the people involved are deemed worthy of God’s election. Those who withdrew from their homelands were the best Christians, as is well known in many cases, while those who remained in their countries continued in the dregs of evil. On account of the sins of the people, Babylon was regarded the home of demons, as is read in the prophets.37 None of what I have said will be able to evade your wisdom, in as much as I know that you are learned in sacred scripture and in secular history. From these writings full knowledge has been given to you by God, so that through you in the persons of all Christians the holy church of God might be ruled, exalted, and kept safe. Who can say what reward might be gotten from God for your best devotion? For what God has prepared for those who love Him neither has the eye seen, nor the ear heard, nor has it clambered into the heart of a man.38

Carm. 74 Epis. 171 (Dümmler 281–283) Translated with the assistance of Xuanru Liu Flaccus Albinus sends greetings in Christ to King David, blessed and resplendent in all the beauty of wisdom. Although I just sent two missives to your clemency—of which one fulfilled the duty of salutation, while the other held the right of a certain reply—nevertheless it is appropriate to respond whatever the case, having accepted the occasion presented by the 35 36 37 38

2 Tim. 3:1. Matt. 24:12. Apoc. 18:2. 1 Cor. 2:9.

Appendices 395 blessedness of your letter, since what I reverently accepted was full of the light of knowledge and the search for truth. I blessed God with zealous and great thanks, who fills the heart of your piety abundantly with the strength of faith and the experience of reason, so that in it the preeminent will of priestly learning, and the power of royal piety, are proven to grow in luster, all the more so because the Catholic faith, which ought to be everywhere one and in nothing different, through your holiest care is seen to be preached and to be strong against the errors of the heretics thus rendered insensible. To the extent that you are preferred in the power of the kingdom, to that extent you surpass all others in the beauty of your wisdom and the ardor of your holy religion. Happy the people who rejoice in having such a prince, on whose good fortune the well-being of everyone depends, in whose good cheer the soul of everyone will rejoice, as scripture has noted: “In the cheerfulness of the king is life, whose throne scatters iniquity, whose face saves reverent things for justice.39 For your holiest concern never ceases to fulfill what the apostolic fathers put forth in their writings in confirmation of the Catholic faith to scattered parts of the world. I call this a wondrous and unique gift of the piety of God in you, viz., that from within you work to cleanse and to protect the churches of Christ from the teachings of the faithless with as much devotion as you endeavor from without to propagate and to defend them from the threats of the pagans. Divine power has armed your venerable excellence with these two swords for the right and the left hands, through which you are a praiseworthy victor and a glorious conqueror. So it is that you wished to provoke the devotion of my little self to a kind of interior warfare, to the sweat of whose combat I willingly succumbed, so that it might be recognized in the little book that I recently had sent to your piety, although I have not yet understood the argument put forth in it to be confirmed by the seal of your authority. And this is the case, I think, owing to the tardiness of the messenger or to lack of time. Certainly, don’t let the usual habit of your goodness in responding to so many letters decline to respond to this letter now, since your goodness has been evidenced in letters of much less substance. In the little books calculating the lunar course or the preparation of leap years, which you sent to my devotion in order to be examined, we have discovered a most diligently examined logic, a most acute set of discoveries, and a noblest set of principles put forward. What my former devotion concerning the calculation of leap years began with a few brief reckonings, your wisest inquiry has completed most fully. But this must still be considered: why in certain months the computed course of the sun did not reach the same days in the second, third, or fourth years. In the same way, it seems that the computation

39 Prov. 16:15; 20:8.

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of the moon’s course can be determined more easily and quickly, although it is understood that these are the best and most comprehensive calculations that run with care and precision to a single measurement or point. I have sent to your excellency the warp of some calculations concerning the course of the sun and the moon through the constellations, and if it should please you to add to it the woof of your most acute perceptions, perhaps it will be possible to have woven for the boys at court a certain kind of garment that protects against the cold of ignorance—just as in an earlier “weaving” you said that I had done especially well even in the arrangement of the material. Mine is to dig out particles of gold from the lap of the earth or from dusty soil; yours is to bear reverently the royal diadem studded with the gems of wisdom on your head, so that your praiseworthy power might flourish for all with the birth of virtues, and might merit to come with the manifold praise of your worth to the glory of Heaven’s kingdom, with Christ the King and Giver.

Carm. 75.1 Epis. 172 (Dümmler 284–285; Allott 75, pp. 92–93) Translated with the assistance of Livia Hoffman Flaccus, wounded by love’s pen, says hello to the most dutiful and excellent Lord, King David. I give thanks to your venerable piety, for you made to be recited in the hearing of your wisdom my little book, sent to you at your express command, whose errors you ordered to be noted before you returned it for correction, because the judgment of another is often more effective in a work such as this than the judgment of the work’s own author, although it would have been corrected more effectively by you. Still, you did something less than the full duty of charity had called for, because you were unwilling to note observations not expertly made, or similarly, not discovered in accordance with prevailing doctrine, while, as a series of your wisest letters have made clear to me, I have a certain suspicion that not everything that was read in this little book ought to have been approved. After all, you ordered its advocates to send this same work to your excellence, while the words of my humble self can have no more qualified defender or corrector than you yourself: the authority of the one ordering ought to defend the activity of the one obeying. In truth, with respect to spelling and punctuation, the treatise is not so carefully wrought as the order and the rules of grammar demand, because the speed of the mind is used to bringing about ideas, while the thought of the reader runs ahead of the work of the eyes. Nor can I, worn out with a headache, examine what suddenly flies from the mouth of the one dictating the work by accident: let him not impute negligence to another who does not wish another’s negligence imputed to himself. The debate of Felix with the Muslim I didn’t see, nor has it been found among the works here, and, indeed, I haven’t heard mention of the Muslim’s

Appendices 397 name before. Nonetheless, as I was searching more diligently to see if anyone here might have heard of this work, I was told that it was possible to get a copy from bishop Laidrad of Lyons. Therefore, I quickly directed my messenger to this bishop, to see if perhaps a copy might be found with him, so that it might as quickly as possible be sent to your presence. When I was a young man, I traveled to Rome, and stayed for some days in the royal city of Pavia, where a certain Jewish man, named Lullus, debated a teacher named Peter, and I heard that this debate had been written down there. This was the same Peter who has gained fame teaching grammar at your court. Perhaps your Homer40 has heard something from Peter regarding it. I have sent to your excellence a certain selection of words, embellished by poetic examples owed to my venerable father,41 and, for the sake of pleasure, some enjoyable mathematical problems, copied out on a page that you sent to me blank, so that what offered itself up naked to my eyes might be returned to you clothed—judging it a worthy thing that, having come to me ennobled with your seal, it might be honored by my writing. And if the aforementioned selection of words has less examples in verse, Einhard, your and indeed our familiar helper, will be able to add to the verses from my father and also is competent to check the solutions to the mathematical problems.42 Although distinctions or sub-distinctions of punctuation bring most beautiful adornment to sentences, still, on account of lack of training, their use has nearly disappeared from scribal habit. But, just as the glory of all wisdom and the adornment of beneficial learning has begun to be revived through the industry of your nobility, it seems that the use of these things should be restored very much to the hands of writers. I fight against a lack of learning at St Martin’s, and I make a little progress each day. May your authority educate the boys at court, so that they may most elegantly speak with clearest eloquence whatever your sense might dictate, and so that a letter running under your royal name might all around display the nobility of your royal wisdom.

Carm. 75.3 Epis. 177 (Dümmler 292–293; Allott 104, p. 112) Faithful Flaccus, who prays for you, sends greetings of eternal blessedness in Christ to King David, the Lord most loved by the Lord of Lords. The sweetest letter of your excellence reached me as I was returning from 40 Alcuin refers here to two fellow courtiers, Peter of Pisa (d. 799), known especially for his work as a grammarian; and Homer, the nickname for Angilbert, on whom see the foregoing, 150–151. 41 It is unclear who is meant by the term “father.” 42 On Einhard see the foregoing, 171–172.

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Cuentawich,43 where I had some business to attend to, including visiting your most pious sister.44 It was agreeable in that it reported your well-being, and it was praiseworthy in bringing down on you God’s mercy, who never abandons those hoping in Him. I heard through your most agreeable letter about the recent events concerning the Pope, who rejoiced to come into your most blessed presence, as the letter of your kindness informed me. Concerning all of this I offer you many thanks for your goodness, for, with accustomed piety, you have deigned to remember me. I thank you continually not only for your outstanding piety in keeping me in your mind presently, but also for all your goodness, which you have always shown to me either in word or deed: you are faithful in making promises, and true in fulfilling them. And so it is that true faith and charity, and a continual intervention, unendingly embrace your blessedness in the deep chamber of my heart. Sweetest glory of the Christian people, defender of the churches of Christ, comforter in our present life, it is necessary for everyone to exalt your wellbeing with prayers, to assist your interventions, so that the Christian empire is made safe through your well-being, the Catholic faith is defended, and the rule of justice is made known to all. Look at what has happened to the apostolic seat in the chief city of the world, in its most excellent dignity, all of which is made safe only by your judgment, so that, by the wise counsel that God has given you, what needs correcting may be corrected, what needs to be saved can be saved, and what divine goodness has done in its mercy may be exalted in the praise of His name, who saved His servant, and freed him from the persecution of execrable unfaithfulness. The prudence of your soul is wisest—since it understands everything, what befits a person—whether in doing good or in being vindictive, and accomplishing what pleases God. Let the good will that is in you be shown, praised and loved by all. May your piety know this most certainly, viz., that no one’s gifts of gold and silver please the soul of your Flaccus as much as the letter of your blessedness restores him with every joy. And so I beseech you with the prayer of a suppliant, that you order it more often to be done, that you acknowledge always to love me. Concerning the long and laborious trip to Rome, weak and broken down by daily pains, in no way do I think it possible for my ailing body to complete it. If I possessed the power to complete it, I would have desired to do so. And so, I beseech the kindest benevolence of your paternity to send me off to pray faithfully and insistently with God and his servants at St Martin’s in order to help you with your journey. And may divine grace grant to you in good time freedom from the wicked Saxon people, so that you might 43 Modern Wicquinghem, on the River Canche, in northwest France. 44 I.e., Gisela, on whom see the foregoing, 184–185.

Appendices 399 travel elsewhere, rule kingdoms, make justice, rebuild churches, correct the people, discern justly for individuals or dignitaries, defend the oppressed, establish law, comfort strangers, extend the way of right and heavenly life to everyone, everywhere, so that there might be comfort to everyone in the coming of your piety, and a rich blessing might grow for the most illustrious sons of your nobility through your abundant beneficence—just as through the sanctity of David, your namesake, the best loved king to God, as we read, the power of the royal throne was preserved for all his grandchildren. For in the practice of this sort of religion, the exaltation of your sons, the happiness of the kingdom, the well-being of the people, the richness of crops, the enjoyment of all good things, and the blessedness of the heavenly kingdom for you, Christ God bringing it about, grow and increase, sweetest David, for all time.

Carm. 76.2 Epis. 251 (Dümmler 406–407; Allott 124, p. 131) Albinus sends greetings of perpetual well-being in the Lord God to the much-loved sons in Christ, Onias the priest, Candidus the elder, and Nathanael the deacon. Since you flew away from your father’s nest upon the open breezes of worldly affairs, my anxious thoughts have attended you at almost every hour, wishing you to please God by the virtues of perfect love through His grace, and to live decently before men, and show by your noble manners what you learned under the wing of your teacher. I would not like the noble wisdom that you have in your hearts to be obscured by the vanities of the world, among which the goodness of your life should shine like a bright light in the dark. Remember that you are stewards, not owners, of property, concerning which this truth has been said: “If you are not faithful with respect to things that are not yours, who will give to you what is yours?”45 The resources of this world are not ours, that is to say, they are outside our nature. We brought nothing into this world, without a doubt because we can take nothing out of it. Our possession is the kingdom of God, our life is Christ, our wealth the fruits of spiritual good works, which I urge you to gather, dearest sons, with all your might, and not put hope in uncertain riches that desert the one who possesses them, or are deserted by Him, which, through the words of the prophet, the Holy Spirit prohibited us from desiring, saying: “If wealth increases, don’t set your heart on it.”46 To possess much wealth is to lack everything else, about which the Lord in the gospel said: “Make friends 45 Luke 16:12. 46 Psalm 62:11.

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for yourselves from the wealth of iniquity.”47 Therefore, the riches of this age are called unjust, because “wealth” is from the Syriac language, and in Latin they are called “riches,” because riches are gathered through iniquity or are taken away unfairly from the poor. The wise Solomon wrote almost a whole book on the vanity of worldly pleasures, whose title is “Ecclesiastes,” saying in the first book: “Vanity of vanities, everything is vanity.”48 If all is vanity, what is the use of keeping ephemeral riches? I have composed a little commentary on this book for you, dear sons, drawn from the works of the holy fathers and especially St Jerome. Its fatherly purpose is to counsel your noble natures not to have too much care for passing things or to long for riches that go as quickly as fleeting shadows, but to give in alms to the poor any surplus of your income over the necessities of life, for, as Solomon says: “A man’s own riches are the redemption of his soul.”49 With an attentive mind ponder the holy precepts of the Lord, by which he admonishes us to desire heavenly riches more than worldly goods, saying: “lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither decay nor moths lay waste, where thieves don’t intrude or steal, for where your treasure is, there also is your heart.”50 For my sake, may you always have the little commentary I just mentioned ready to hand, so that you might learn to avoid worldly things and to love heavenly riches, to master wealth, not to serve it, to turn away from worldly praise, and to hear the pleasing refrain from Christ, our judge, who comforts the wretched, among those for whom He will say: “Come, you who are blessed of my Father, gain the kingdom that has been prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”51

Carm. 82 Epis. 257 (Dümmler 414–416; Allott 70, pp. 85–86) Alcuin, a humble deacon, sends a greeting for present well-being and unending joy in the Lord God to the glorious lord, most august, and most Christian emperor Charles. Since the imperial dignity is God-sanctioned, its purpose must be to lead and serve the people. Power and wisdom therefore by God are given to those He chooses, viz., power to defeat the arrogant and defend the down-trodden against evil-doers, and wisdom to rule and teach those under Him with kind care. Through these two gifts, Holy Emperor, divine grace has exalted your Majesty to an honor incomparably beyond your predecessors

47 48 49 50 51

Luke 16:9. Eccl. 1:2. Prov. 13:8. Matt. 6:20. Matt. 25:34.

Appendices 401 of the same name and power, sending the threat of your power out to every nation that all should come under your power voluntarily, when before the efforts of war were not able to subdue them to your will. What must be done in respect of your most devoted care for God in a time of peace, when the belt of soldierly work is undone, and all the people hurry to run to you in peace for the proclamation of your command, standing before the throne of your glory to see what your authority wishes for them, except to determine what is right for every dignity, to proclaim your judgments, and to give holy counsel that each return to his home happy in the precepts of endless salvation? Lest the zeal of my devotion in God grow sluggish in leisure, lest it fail in helping you in the declaration of the Catholic faith, I have sent to your holiest authority in the form of a little manual a discourse on the faith of the holy and indivisible Trinity, so that praise and faith might be approved by the judgment of the wisest of wise men. Neither have I estimated wisdom to be worthier than any other gift of your imperial majesty, nor have I thought any other to be equally worthy of accepting so excellent a gift, since there is no doubting the necessity of the leader of the Christian people to know all and to preach those things pleasing to God. Nor is it more agreeable for anyone to have learned either better or more things than the emperor, whose learning is of profit to all those under his rule. Unconquerable emperor, wisest ruler, I didn’t think that your knowledge of the Catholic faith was in any way lacking nor less explored; rather I sent my book in order to do my duty in token of the title of “teacher” by which I am undeservedly called by some, that I might convince those who judged less than useful your noblest intention to learn dialectics. For this is what St Augustine in the books on the holy Trinity considered most necessary, when he showed that the deepest questions concerning the Trinity are not able to be explained except through the exactitude of categories. A pious and devoted inquirer will easily discover this also in the little work of the same father just mentioned, if he doesn’t lack some philosophical learning in his education. Considering all of this with a devout mind at this time of the largest gathering in a single location of the priests and preachers of God,52 by imperial command, I have brought to your most excellent authority, as I think, a competent work on the Catholic faith, if the Lord, who gave the will for learning, lights the heart with the spirit of grace in the recognition of truth. I could not find anything my devotion might bring more freely, nor could I think that I received the royal benevolence more willingly. What I do next awaits the judgment of your approval, to decide if my work has enough merit to be heard by the ears of the priests. If you give the sign of your assent

52 Likely the synod called by Charlemagne in October 802.

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for its reading, no one will be able to turn my words away with impunity, for the power of your approval is of more consequence than my zeal as a writer. The means for all the faithful to glorify your piety is manifold, as long as the concern of your clemency has a priestly vigor, as is fitting, in the preaching of God’s word, and a perfected knowledge in the Catholic faith, and a most sacred devotion for the well-being of all. Wherefore, let it be hoped for, through the prayers of all the faithful, that your rule is extended into all your glory, so that the Catholic faith, which alone gives life to, and alone sanctifies, all humankind, is implanted truthfully in one confession in the hearts of all, and so that, by the bestowing mercy of the supreme King, the same unity of holy peace and perfect charity governs and watches over all, everywhere. Nor is any other gift more agreeable to almighty God than the concord of divine love in the Catholic faith, that all might be one in Christ, who died for us all, and through whom all believers in Him are made sons of eternal blessedness.

Carm. 83 83.1 = Epis. 238 (Dümmler 383–384; Allott 68, p. 85)53 Alcuin sends greetings of endless blessedness to the most pious Lord, King David. May the highest Trinity of God restore to your goodness, David, most beloved of all, with eternal blessedness, whatever kindness or mercy you have done for me, your servant. In the same way that, at the time when you first learned of my coming to you, you made promises to me in your mercy, so you have made good on those promises faithfully. And to the summit of truth most fully, which always resides in your soul, you have added one hundred times the treasure, so that by means of the light of all it grows clearer to all and to everyone’s ears it resounds throughout the wide world. For what could have been added to the happiness of my journey, or the testimony of your goodness with respect to me, who am less worthy of all these lavish gifts? Or what kind of deeds worthy of your mercy can I repay, unless I beseech the mercy of the most merciful God almighty with constant pious prayer, inasmuch as, with eternal reward in heavenly bliss, He will return all things manifold to my littleness, benefited by your most generous goodness? A suppliant supplicant, humbly in humility, devotedly devoted, I beseech you to allow me to say my daily prayers at St Martin’s. For I am unwell, I cannot travel, I am not strong enough to do any work. All the worth and strength of my body has ebbed, departed, and will surely flee further every 53 Also translated into English in H. R. Loyn and J. Percival, trans., The Reign of Charlemagne: Documents on Carolingian Government and Administration (New York, 1976), 127–128.

Appendices 403 day; nor, I fear, will health return while I’m alive. I hoped and wished to see your Majesty’s face once more when I was less ill, but as my weak body gets worse, I realize this is simply impossible. So I beg the mercy of your unconquerable goodness that your holy mind and kind willingness not be troubled by my illness, but in compassion allow this worn out body to rest, to offer prayers for you, and to anticipate the face of the eternal judge in confession and tears, so that, one way or another, with God Jesus forgiving me, I might be able to evade the accusations of the ancient enemy who must be feared, and that I might merit to have the help of certain of the saints, standing with me, interceding for fragile me, lest I be delivered into the hands of my enemies. O how that day is to be feared by all men, and how necessary it is for each man to prepare himself for his meeting with God, with that light encouraging us, which illuminates all men, as is said in scripture: “Walk, while you have the light, so that the shadows may not overcome you.”54 And how we ought to walk in this light scripture tells us elsewhere: “Thus your light must shine before all the rest, so that they might see your good works, and glorify your heavenly Father.”55

Carm. 83 83.2 and 83.3 = Epis. 240 (Dümmler 385–386; Allott 69, p. 85) Albinus, most humble servant of the holy church of God, sends endless greetings of eternal glory to a praiseworthy lord who must be embraced justly and with every duty at love’s command, our most beloved King David. Because the flame of endless love burns continually in my heart, it seems proper now that the time is right to kindle attention through the duty of a letter, lest my love, always nourished through new kindling, be degraded through silence. Look, Flaccus has followed the good advice of his lord David. He has put aside soldier’s garb and, worn down physically, he has elected without pause to serve only God in peace. Why is he forced to fight again and to sweat under the burden of arms that his ill and weak body refuses even to raise from the ground, unless, perhaps, at some future time, His mercy, which comforts outcasts and unshackles the fettered, will deign to provide him with strength? Perhaps someone skilled in logic will say: “He is vigorous of advice, whose strength of body is denied by age-old infirmity.” But this most truthful answer can be suggested to him: “If there is anything worthy in Flaccus’ beating heart, David possesses it all in the most sacred storehouse of his heart, so much 54 John 12:35. 55 Matt. 5:16.

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so that where David is, there also is Flaccus. May the richest wisdom of both answer for each.” And I would simply say what is necessary to be simply said, viz., that the mind of my Lord not be vexed by my tardiness for being unable to come just now. There will be a good time later, God willing it. Nor do I think my devotion is able to be of use to your Majesty more effectively anywhere else than in regular prayer at St Martin’s. For divine clemency, which has lifted you through a single magistracy into the highest honor of secular power, granted to St Martin long years of well-being, and allowed him to ascend from the dignity of this exaltation to the heights of the eternal kingdom. May mercy and justice, with God’s pity, lead you to your blessedness. That man is rightly and happily able to be called fortunate, who will merit to come from this present happiness to eternal happiness, and the most beautiful promise of this verse will be fulfilled in him: “The holy will walk from virtue into virtue, until the God of Gods is seen on Zion.56

Carm. 84 Epis. 243 (Dümmler 388–392) To the holiest father and highest bishop Arn the humble Levite Alcuin sends greetings. Venerable father, while I recognized your holiest will, shining with the fervor of the Catholic faith, and abounding in the gifts of holy charity from God, so it was that you wished to consult me, a little servant of sacred scripture, after the fashion of a father, concerning the many customs of ecclesiastical dignity, lest by chance something that was sanctioned by the fathers on any matter should remain unknown to your prudence. And so it was at once that a prior conversation inquired about the psalms of penitence, what they were, and how they were to be understood and used. It was soon discovered that, according to the judgment of the venerable fathers, there were seven, to which can be added how the 118th psalm is also so celebrated in praise, and why it is accustomed to be sung at the canonical hours by so old a tradition, and also how it is that some psalms are called “gradual,” of which I think no one who reads the book of psalms doubts that there are fifteen, concerning which you have demanded for your wisest holiness brief expositions, like a kind of handbook, that is, a manual of sorts. To the request of your Highness I freely assented, and snatched the writings of the holy fathers who have scrutinized each verse of the book of psalms, whereby I might note what they said concerning each, and so that I might gather the sweetest flowers in order to satisfy the desire of your will. 56 Psalm 84:8.

Appendices 405 But first I thought it appropriate to uncover the reasoning behind all of the numbers, that is, why there are seven consecrated psalms of penitence? And why the 118th psalm is divided into twenty-two parts, of which each part has eight verses? And what the reasoning is with respect to the fifteen psalms that are called “gradual”? Indeed, it is quite well-known everywhere in holy scripture that the number seven holds much perfection in its significance, especially since the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, by prophetic definition, are in Christ, as was predicted to Isaiah, the chief of the prophets, where, conscious of the secrets of the Lord, he says as much: “a shoot will sprout from the stump of Jesse, and a flower will arise from his root, and the spirit of the Lord will rest upon him, a spirit of wisdom and understanding, a spirit of counsel and fortitude, a spirit of knowledge and of piety, and the spirit of the fear of the Lord will fill him.”57 The Lord wanted to inform us of the seven petitions, and John in the Apocalypse saw seven candlesticks, and seven stars, and he testifies that he wrote to seven churches,58 and many other references to seven are found throughout the holy books, which prove the perfection of this number. So it is that Solomon says: “Wisdom has built a house for herself, and she has set up seven columns.”59 All of this demands a much longer explanation, if, in fact, there is anyone of our own time qualified to explain all the mysteries of this number: which was consecrated to allow for the Creator Himself to rest at the beginning of time, and now is fixed so that the order of the ages runs through this same number, and which, if it is divided into two, that is, into three and four, holds the wondrous mystery of the universe. For the Holy Trinity, the Creator of all things, is designated in three, while the universe of created things is shown to be in four, whether the four plagues of the world, or the four elements, or even the distribution of time, which is known to run in four parts. Wherefore, on account of the perfect remission of sins, which we accept in baptism or even in the tears of confession and penance, the penitential psalms are seven in number. And even the newest psalms in the psalter in praise of the eternal Lord God are dedicated by the same rule of perfection with the number seven. The 118th psalm, which concerns the cleansing of the soul, attending to God through sacred prayers, is thought to have no rival, composed according to the alphabet of the Hebrew language, which, following the number of letters of that language, consists of twenty-two stanzas, each of which has eight verses, and going in the order of the letters of the alphabet. There are eight stanzas perhaps because of the evangelists’ eight beatitudes, which 57 Isaiah 11:1–3. 58 Apoc. 1:4. 59 Prov. 9:1.

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establish the perfection of the precepts of the law, or possibly owing to the fact that circumcision occurs on the eighth day, which in the new man signifies the routing of carnal pleasure. The verses of the psalm in aggregate total eighty-eight twice over, just as, through the ten commandments, the ascent to the perfection of the eight beatitudes is evident. And this would be a fine place for me to discuss the wondrous congruence of numbers with the mystery of our salvation, if my discourse were not tending elsewhere. In a similar vein, turning to the fifteen gradual psalms, one can see the most beautiful order of ascent to that upper room, in which the Holy Spirit had come to 120 men with tongues aflame and a strong wind.60 Thus, if you begin to compute the numbers from one to fifteen, and add them together and arrive at their sum, you will get 120, that is to say, from three times five comes three times forty, a number, as we see, in which Moses merited to receive the law in the desert while fasting for forty days and nights, the same number of days and nights that Elijah fasted when he was exalted by a spirit of prophecy, and also the same number of days and nights that our Lord Jesus Christ fasted before he gloriously conquered the malign tempter. It is patent that the excellence of numbers in divine scriptures is great, and that it is necessary for those who read scripture to have a knowledge of numbers: through them runs the order of the ages, and the reckoning of our life is established. In holy scripture we read that the Lord Creator made all things with number, weight, and measure. Thus, it seems right that your holy authority exhorts talented youth to train themselves in studies such as these: let them learn with the eager talent that belongs to their time of life, so that when they are older they might possess what they can teach their students. Wherefore, let many be diligently educated in the law of the Lord by your holy preaching. For it is the duty of the priest to foresee from a high perch what befits a person with respect to pastures by which he nourishes the flock entrusted to him. Let it not be the case that any of the flock, wandering from the negligence of the shepherd, should be exposed to the jaws of wolves. Indeed, every teacher will render an accounting of the money he receives to his Lord, and no shepherd, in the reckoning of the souls taken up by him, should imagine in his mind that the danger that threatens many thousands of souls is small. Let the good doctor work well in the house of the Lord, so that he might merit to be gloriously crowned in the kingdom of God. The time for such work quickly passes, but the time for blessed reward will never end. If we seek to live happily, let us tend toward that place in our souls where true happiness lives, which no one can reach except supported by love, which

60 Acts 2:2.

Appendices 407 lifts us from this worldly realm to the heavenly heights. Let us ponder nothing in this our life of wandering except how we might please our savior and judge, knowing that we will not always be here, but that we will always have life in that certain, other place. How wretched he is, who leaves the labors of this mortal life only to come into greater labors of immortality, but how happy he is, who, from the labors of this world, will cross over into a rest that will never end. In the same way, Jesus promised us not transient but eternal rewards; heavenly, not worldly glory; not length of life, where we are born in sin, live in toil, and die in pain; but eternal life in endless blessedness. Nor did He promise riches that perish, but only those that abide: yet the riches of this age seem to be common to both the good and the evil, which the good use well for the increase of their salvation, and the bad use for evil purposes and cause their own destruction. Truly that is what the Lord God promised to those burning with love, with respect to which there is nothing that can be happier, viz., an eternal vision of His own blessedness, to which we must hurry with a clean heart, just as Truth itself says: “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they will see God.”61 They are indeed pure of heart, whom no stain of evil disturbs, and who, with a chaste mind, are accustomed to praise God with heavenly hymns. These ones live an angelic life in the world, who are made happy in the praises of God and who take pleasure in singing psalms with a pure heart. No mortal can fully explain the power of the psalms. In the psalms are stirred the confessions of sinners, in them are excited the penance of tears, in them the compunction of the heart is renewed, for the book of psalms is filled with the heavenly mysteries, abounds in spiritual teachings, and is filled with divine praises. Whoever has learned to study and to sing the psalms with an intent mind will find in them every dispensation of our salvation predicted, and the wondrous happiness of heavenly joys. So it is, holiest father, that you must encourage the blessed brothers diligently to learn the meanings of the psalms, so that they might know and understand in their hearts what they sound on the lips and tongue, imbued with the example of the apostle, who, so we read, said of himself: “I will sing the psalms with the spirit and the mind, and I will pray with the spirit and the mind.”62 Let the mind of the discerning singer meditate on the words of the psalms, for the thoughts of individuals are revealed to the Lord, who does not reject the contrite and humbled heart of those crying to Him in prayer. Thus, a wise man has said: “Humble prayers climb to Heaven.” We are saved by the humility and mercy of Christ, who said: “Learn from me,

61 Matt. 8:9. 62 1 Cor. 14:15.

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for I am meek and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”63 God will have mercy on the one who shows mercy, as the Lord Himself says: “Be merciful, just as your Father in Heaven is merciful.”64 The image of God, to which we are restored in the mind, stands chiefly in the works of mercy, for which the eternal kingdom is promised to the saints and the righteous, while lambs are separated from kids, to hear the longing voice of the supreme king and judge sitting in the seat of paternal majesty: “May the blessed ones of my Father come, gain the kingdom that has been prepared for you since the beginning of time.65

Carm. 85 Epis. 309 (Dümmler 473–478; Curry, Alcuin De Ratione Animae, pp. 73–96)66 To Eulalia the virgin, dearest sister in the love of Christ, Albinus sends greetings in the Lord. It has pleased your holy concern and zeal, praiseworthy in the sight of God, to urge my devotion to write something concerning the nature of the soul, on account of certain inquiries that, as you say, have been bandied about among you for the last year. I would freely do it, if I knew I were ablaze with such ability that I possessed the confidence in the best way to hold forth on such difficult matters. Yet in part it seems unbecoming to say that I do not know myself. For, except body and soul, what am I? The body is well-known to all who know that they are human; but hardly anyone fully knows the nature of the soul. For there is nothing more necessary for humankind to comprehend in this mortal life than God and the soul. To the extent that each man knows God, to that extent he loves Him; who knows Him less loves Him less. It is natural for all humans to love God. And if it is natural for humans to love the good, it is also natural to love God, since God is the highest good, and absent Him no one can possess any good. He is the unfailing good, full of beauty, the abundance of all happiness. But the love of this good is not able to exist except in the soul, and this is the excellent good of the soul, viz., to love that good in which, and from which, and through which alone, whatever good in any living thing is good. The soul’s origin must be left to the understanding of God alone. How many empty ideas have philosophers fixed upon, how many ideas have Christian scholars posited, yet they have left us almost nothing that is certain.

63 64 65 66

Matt. 11:29. Luke 6:36. Matt. 25:34. Dümmler prints excerpts of epis. 309, translated here; Curry edits and translates the complete letter.

Appendices 409 Thus blessed Augustine wrote to saintly Jerome concerning the origin of the soul, wishing to know what that great scholar might affirm concerning this subject. If Augustine’s book is found among your collection, read it and study what that most acute scholar of the nature of things said concerning the soul’s origin. Augustine posited, I think, four certain ideas in that work, and blessed Jerome replied to him in a most brief but most astute letter, which I read in England. This work is not found here, nor the letter written to Augustine in response. As one can read in his Retractiones, Augustine also wrote other works on the nature of the soul, that is, De quantitate animae, in one book; De immortalitate animae, in one book; De duabus animabus, in one book, and De immortalitate animae et eius origine, in four books, which I have not been able to find yet. If by chance they should be found in the imperial library, seek them out, read them, and in the spirit of love send them to me to read. In one respect all Catholic writers agree that the soul is established by God, that it is not part of the nature of God because if it assumed its nature from God, it would not sin; that it is not a palpable or visible body; that it is not able to die with the result that it does not exist; nor is it able to be freed from the guilt of the first lie, except through the grace and mystery of that mediator of God and humankind, our Lord Jesus Christ, who assumed in the person of His divinity, without any sin, the full nature of our humanity. Since the whole man sinned, the whole man had to be freed according to the dispensation of the endless piety in God, and the whole humanity had to be assumed, that is body and soul, whose soul (that is, the soul of our redeemer) is of such holiness and rectitude that the souls of all believing in him are able to be made holy and to be justified through His soul, and His body is so pure and free from sin that the bodies of all who put their trust in Him, by the workings of divine grace in them, are able to be made clean and freed, since the blood that flowed from His very flesh, wounded by a soldier’s spear, is the price of humankind’s salvation, through whose bleeding the flame guarding paradise was put out, and a path was opened up for the faithful to the tree of life, which is planted alongside the course of living waters.67 Wisest Solomon remembered this tree when he spoke at length on the praise of wisdom, saying: “Happy the man who discovers wisdom, and who flows with prudence.”68 A little later on he says: “Wisdom’s ways are pretty ways, and all her paths are peace. The Tree of Life is for those who grasp her, and who holds her is blessed.”69 The beauty and glory of the human soul is its zeal for wisdom; not that wisdom concerned with the fallen world, but rather that kind of wisdom by 67 Psalm 1:3. 68 Prov. 3:13. 69 Prov. 3:17–18.

410

Appendices

which God is cultivated and loved. Apply yourself to this kind of wisdom, most noble virgin, with every intention of your mind, for in this is the most blessed life with every tranquility; in this is perfected happily the image of the highest Trinity. This is the desired treasure, which rests in the mouth of the discerning, and overflows in the heart of the wise. This wisdom will not be discovered in the lies Virgil tells, but rather will be discovered abundantly in the truth of the Gospels. Concerning true wisdom, it is said that “All wisdom is from the Lord God.”70 Thus whatever is understood and loved correctly through wisdom is a gift of God. Moreover, all who are wise according to God are blessed. It is said in Job that: “The wisdom of man is piety, and to move away from evil is knowledge,”71 wishing to designate by the single word “piety” the culture of the whole divine religion. What is more blessed for the soul than to love the highest good, which is God? What is happier than to make the soul worthy of eternal blessedness, while knowing to the utmost that it is immortal? Do not think it sufficient that you know what you ought to do, except that you fulfill what you know through doing. How many judge themselves wise, and glory in knowing the way of truth, but in fact are not wise, because they do not possess the fortitude of soul to perfect what they know through doing. Therefore, true wisdom is to know what you ought to do, and to bring about what you know. For the soul does not hold in perfection the four virtues about which I spoke above, if it does not hold all of them, because all of them tend toward the one dictum of Christian love, which in the truth of the Catholic faith alone will make the soul a worthy place for the Holy Trinity, in whose image the soul was founded, as we suggested above, concerning the logic and nature of which, as you entreated me, I have strung together these few comments to the extent that the strictures of a letter allow. It will be seen a wondrous thing by your students that you would wish to think that you are better known to me than to you yourself! Yet how is it that you live through reason and flourish except in the substance of the soul? For I have only very rarely seen you with my eyes, through which I was not able to discern the nature of your soul. Although I love according to the common precept of the Lord, not least it is for the best report of your studies that I have often heard from others concerning you, which I would always wish you to perfect so as to please God and become worthy to understand the logic and the nature of the soul, and so that what you see now in shadow you might behold in perfect knowledge in a future blessedness.

70 Sirach 1:1. 71 Job 28:28.

Appendices 411

2. Poems in Dümmler/Strecker by Type72 [= 339] Single Poems = 84 1–28 31–32 34–50 52–54 57–62 67–69 72–73 78–79 81–82 84 86–87 93–95 97 111–113 115–116 118–124 Collections = 40, totalling 252 single poems 29 = 2 poems 30 = 2 poems 33 = 2 poems 51 = 6 poems 55 =10 poems 56 = 3 poems 63 = 5 poems 64 = 2 poems 65 = 7 poems 66 = 2 poems 70 = 6 poems 71 = 2 poems 74 = 2 poems 75 = 3poems 76 = 3 poems 77 = 2 poems 72 Strecker = the three rhythmic poems edited by Strecker in Carmina Rhythmica Alcuini, 903–910. As these are not included in Dümmler, I do not translate them in this volume.

412

Appendices

80 = 2 poems 83 = 3 poems 85 = 5 poems 88 = 15 poems 89 = 28 poems 90 = 26 poems 91 = 4 poems 92 = 3 poems 96 = 2 poems 98 = 3 poems 99 = 22 poems 100 = 3 poems 101 = 2 poems 102 = 2 poems 103 = 3 poems 104 = 6 poems 105 = 5 poems 106 = 3 poems 107 = 3 poems 108 = 3 poems 109 = 24 poems 110 = 18 poems 114 = 6 poems 117 = 2 poems Rhythmic Poems = 3

3. Individual Poems by Meters and Numbers of Lines, With Summary of Meters [Total Number of Lines in the Collection = 6,692] Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

H E HYBRID = H+E H H H H H E H

1658 14 479 81 8 37 35 27 240 24 (Continued )

Appendices 413 (Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29.1 29.2 30.1 30.2 31 32 33.1 33.2 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51.1 51.2 51.3

E E E H E E H E H H E E E H H H H H E HYBRID = H+E E H E E H H E E E E H H H E E E E E E H E H E H E E

28 14 10 18 14 8 18 20 5 44 38 8 38 16 11 51 13 30 4 4 2 8 14 34 4 6 12 20 4 22 8 11 13 6 22 44 52 86 26 23 44 31 36 3 6 4 (Continued )

414

Appendices

(Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

51.4 51.5 51.6 52 53 54 55.1 55.2 55.3 55.4 55.5 55.6 55.7 55.8 55.9 55.10 56.1 56.2 56.3 57 58 59 60 61 62 63.1 63.2 63.3 63.4 63.5 64.1 64.2 65.1 65.2 65.3 65.4 65.5 65.6 [IV.a] 65.7 [Ia] 66.1 66.2 67 68 69 70.1 70.2

E E E E H Adonics E H E H E E E E E E H H E E H H E E H H H H H H E HYBRID = H+E E E E E E H E H H H H E E H

4 6 10 24 14 60 12 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 5 7 3 4 52 55 32 22 28 205 3 4 3 7 7 6 6 14 6 14 6 8 22 8 22 20 14 25 204 10 10 (Continued )

Appendices 415 (Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

70.3 70.4 70.5 70.6 71.1 71.2 72 73 74.1 74.2 75.1 75.2 75.3 76.1 76.2 76.3 77.1 77.2 78 79 80.1 80.2 81 82 83.1 83.2 83.3 84 85.1 85.2 85.3 85.4 85.5 86 87 88.1 88.2 88.3 88.4 88.5 88.6 88.7 88.8 88.9 88.10 88.11

H H E E H E H H E E E E E E E E E E H H E E E E E E E H E Adonics Litany E H H E E E E H H E E E E E E

2 2 2 2 20 10 12 10 24 4 4 8 14 32 12 4 6 2 8 6 14 8 6 6 10 2 2 12 50 36 17 2 10 14 8 6 4 10 16 3 6 12 6 10 4 8 (Continued )

416

Appendices

(Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

88.12 88.13 88.14 88.15 89.1 89.2 89.3 89.4 89.5 89.6 89.7 89.8 89.9 89.10 89.11 89.12 89.13 89.14 89.15 89.16 89.17 89.18 89.19 89.20 89.21 89.22 89.23 89.24 89.25 89.26 89.27 89.28 90.1 90.2 90.3 90.4 90.5 90.6 90.7 90.8 90.9 90.10 90.11 90.12 90.13 90.14

E E H H E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E H Sapphics H H E E E E H E E H H H E E

6 4 5 20 18 10 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 14 4 4 4 2 4 2 2 6 2 2 40 12 5 2 2 2 4 4 4 8 4 4 4 4 12 (Continued )

Appendices 417 (Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

90.15 90.16 90.17 90.18 90.19 90.20 90.21 90.22 90.23 90.24 90.25 90.26 91.1 91.2 91.3 91.4 92.1 92.2 92.3 93 94 95 96.1 96.2 97 98.1 98.2 98.3 99.1 99.2 99.3 99.4 99.5 99.6 99.7 99.8 99.9 99.10 99.11 99.12 99.13 99.14 99.15 99.16 99.17 99.18

E E E E E E E E E E E E H H H H E E E E E E H E H E E E E E E E E E E H H H H H E H H E E E

8 6 4 4 4 4 4 4 10 4 4 10 4 8 8 5 12 12 12 18 16 22 8 4 21 24 6 6 8 4 4 4 4 4 8 6 5 10 13 12 16 4 12 6 6 4 (Continued )

418

Appendices

(Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

99.19 99.20 99.21 99.22 100.1 100.2 100.3 101.1 101.2 102.1 102.2 103.1 103.2 103.3 104.1 104.2 104.3 104.4 104.5 104.6 105.1 105.2 105.3 105.4 105.5 106.1 106.2 106.3 107.1 107.2 107.3 108.1 108.2 108.3 109.1 109.2 109.3 109.4 109.5 109.6 109.7 109.8 109.9 109.10 109.11 109.12

E E E E H H E H H H H H H H H H H H H E E H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H E H H E H H E HYBRID = H+E H E

4 4 4 6 13 4 4 16 13 14 7 5 4 4 4 5 4 4 4 18 4 2 7 12 16 4 2 2 9 14 6 6 4 10 14 5 24 4 4 4 4 4 6 7 22 6 (Continued)

Appendices 419 (Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

109.13 109.14 109.15 109.16 109.17 109.18 109.19 109.20 109.21 109.22 109.23 109.24 110.1 110.2 110.3 110.4 110.5 110.6 110.7 110.8 110.9 110.10 110.11 110.12 110.13 110.14 110.15 110.16 110.17 110.18 111 112 113 114.1 114.2 114.3 114.4 114.5 114.6 115 116 117.1 117.2 118 119 120

E E H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H E E E E H E E E H E E H H H Sequence

4 4 22 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 18 4 4 4 8 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 12 9 14 30 6 10 7 4 4 4 16 8 8 2 26 9 38 (Continued)

420

Appendices

(Continued) Poem

Meter

Number of Lines

121 122 123 124 Rhythmic 1 Rhythmic 2 Rhythmic 3

Sapphics E E H

64 6 24 16 96 96 18

Summary of Meters Hexameters = 147 Elegiacs = 179 Adonics = 2 Sapphics = 2 Sequence = 1 Rhythmic = 3 Hybrid = hexameter + elegiac = 4 (carm. 3; 29.2; 64.2; 109.10) Litany = 1

4. Census of Manuscripts by Depository, With Digital Links The following is a list of approximately 200 manuscripts, organized by repository, in which most of Alcuin’s poems are witnessed. Its purpose is to encourage further thinking about the transmission of Alcuin’s poetry, not least by suggesting the often-parlous state in which his poems are preserved while facilitating their viewing in digitized collections. Only carm. 58, 73, 77, 80, 82, and 85, securely witnessed across hundreds of manuscripts, are excluded here. The abbreviations that follow, bracketed next to individual manuscripts, indicate links to digital repositories where the manuscripts in question nest online. Needless to say, this list is not a comprehensive accounting of the witnesses to Alcuin’s poetry. Abbreviations of Digital Links August Biblissima BL

Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbütteler Digitale Bibliothek https://diglib.hab.de/ Biblissima https://portail.biblissima.fr/ British Library Digitised Manuscripts www.bl.uk/manuscripts/

Appendices 421 BLIM

British Library Catalogue of Illuminated Manuscripts www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/ BNF Bibliothèque Nationale de France https://gallica.bnf.fr/ BVM Bibliothèque virtuelle des manuscrits médiévaux https://bvmm.irht.cnrs.fr/ Cambridge Cambridge Digital Library https://cudl.lib.cam.ac.uk/ DVL Vatican Library, Digivatlib https://digi.vatlib.it E-Codices E-Codices: Virtual Manuscript Library of Switzerland www.e-codices.unifr.ch/en Europeana Europeana www.europeana.eu/en James The James Catalogue of Western Manuscripts in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge www.trin.cam.ac.uk/library/mss-cat-2/ Köln Erzbischöfliche Diözesan-und Dombibliothek Köln mit Bibliothek St. Albertus Magnus Digitale Sammlungen https://digital.dombibliothek-koeln.de/ Leiden Leiden University Libraries Digital Collections https://digitalcollections.universiteitleiden.nl/ Leipzig Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig Digitale Sammlungen www.ub.uni-leipzig.de/forschungsbibliothek/digitale-sammlungen/ MDZ Munich Digitization Center, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek www.digitale-sammlungen.de/en/ ÖAW Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Institut für Mittelalterforschung www.oeaw.ac.at/imafo/forschung/schrift-buchwesen ÖNB Österreichische Nationalbibliothek Digital https://onb.digital/ Parker Parker Library on the Web: Manuscripts in the Parker Library at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge https://parker.stanford.edu/parker/ Troyes Médiathèque Jacques Chirac, Troyes https://portail.mediatheque.grand-troyes.fr/ Alençon, Bibliothèque Municipale 14, eleventh/twelfth centuries [BVM] Carm. 3 = ff. 12r-23r (12r-20v = book one [prose]; 21r-23r = book two [poem])

422

Appendices

Angers, Bibliothèque Municipale, 522 (502), ninth century Carm. 111 = ff. 36v-37r Arras, Bibliothèque Municipale 686 (734), eleventh century Carm. 89 = f. 27r, f. 77v-78v, 91v-99v 693 (1032), twelfth/thirteenth centuries Carm. 89 = f. 15r-v, 41v-42r, 44v-48v Carm. 90.1–13 = f. 44v-48v 1079 (235), ninth century [BVM] Carm. 78 = f. 1r-14v Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek 1 (A I 5), ninth century Carm. 68 = f. 5v Hist. 161 (E III 1), tenth century Carm. 71.1 = f. 4v-5v Barcelona, Arxiu Capitular de Catedral 64, tenth century Carm. 78 = f. 315r-ff Barcelona, Arxiu de la Corona d’Aragó Ripoll 46, tenth century Carm. 119 = f. 2v Ripoll 74, tenth century Carm. 119 = f. 15v Basel, Öffentliche Bibliothek der Universität Basel F III 15e, ninth century [E-Codices] Carm. 62 = f. 50v-55v Bern, Burgerbibliothek 212, ninth century [E-Codices] Carm. 6 = f. 123r Carm. 7 = f. 125v 236, tenth century Carm. 65 = f. 182 338, ninth century Carm. 65 = f. 181r-v 394, ninth century Carm. 8 = f. 226v-227r

Appendices 423 Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Diez. B Sant. 94, seventeenth century Carm. 81 = f. 29 Phillips 1732 (Rose 181), twelfth/thirteenth centuries Carm. 62 = 121v-126v Theol. lat. fol. 730 (Phillips 568), fifteenth century Carm. 86 = f. 172 Brussels, Bibliothèque Royale 479 (V.d.G. 15111–15128), tenth century Carm. 78 = f. 143r 2839–43 (V.d.G. 1101), ninth century Carm. 81 = f. 41v 4433–38, tenth century Carm. 68 = f. 73r-76v (vv. 1–18 with carm. 69) Carm. 69 = f. 73r-76v 10470–73, tenth century Carm. 68, f. 56v 10615–729, twelfth century Carm. 114 = f. 223 Cambrai, Bibliothèque Municipale 345 (327), thirteenth century Carm. 68, f. 6r-v) (vv.1–18) Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 9, eleventh century Carm. 89 = f. 145r (Verses on Rado only) 326, eleventh century [Parker] Carm. 65.4 = p. 137 Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College 144, ninth century Carm. 62 = p. 84 Cambridge, Trinity College 1130, seventeenth century transcription of parts of two lost mss. Carm. 1 1434 (O 9 22), twelfth century [James] Carm. 123 = f. 56r

424

Appendices

1468 (O 10 16), seventeenth century [James] Carm. 10 = pp. 79–80 Carm. 50 = pp.144–147 Carm. 56 = p. 85 Carm. 74 = pp. 85–87 Carm. 75.1 = pp. 87–88 Carm. 75.2 = pp. 83–85 Cambridge, University Library Gg V 35, eleventh century [Cambridge] Carm. 62 = f. 412v-416r, with vv. 204–205 reversed Carm. 123 = f. 388v-389r Cologne, Erzbischöfliche Diözesan-und Dombibliothek 106, ninth century [Köln] Carm. 84 = f. 5r Douai, Bibliothèque Municipale 795, eleventh/twelfth centuries Carm. 89 = f. 87v, El Escorial, Real Biblioteca del Monasterio de San Lorenzo b IV 17, ninth century Carm. 78 = f. 40v-61v Erfurt, Universitätsbibliothek, Bibliotheca Amploniana, Fol. 10, ninth century Carm. 42 = f. 100v Ghent, Bibliotheken de Rijksuniversiteit 306, ninth century Carm. 57 = p. 219 Gotha, Universitäts- und Forschungsbibliothek Erfurt-Gotha, Mbr. I 75, eighth century Carm. 100 = f. 23r (vv. 1–3) Heiligenkreuz, Bibliothek des Zisterzienserstifts 234, twelfth century Carm. 78 = f. 92r-109v Ivrea, Biblioteca Capitolare 16 (XXX), tenth century Carm. 84 = f. 1–32v, 38–83v Karlsruhe, Badische Landesbibliothek, Aug. perg. 135, tenth century Carm. 84 = f. 134v-159v Kremsmünster, Stiftsbibliothek CC 128, twelfth century Carm. 78 = f. 188r Leiden, Bibliotheek der Rijksuniversiteit BPL 190, tenth century [Leiden] Carm. 62 = f. 30v-34v (= vv. 1–159)

Appendices 425 Voss. lat. F 70, tenth century Carm. 8 = f. 71v Voss. lat. Q 55, tenth century Carm. 86 = f. 1r-27v Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, Rep I 74, ninth century [Leipzig] Carm. 37 = f. 62v-63r Carm. 38 = f. 63r Carm. 39 = f. 63r Carm. 40 = f. 63v Carm. 41 = f. 63v Carm. 107.3 = f. 63r London, British Library Additional 10546, ninth century [BL] Carm. 65 = f. 448v Cotton Julius D II, thirteenth century Carm. 62 = f. 165r-v Cotton Tiberius A XV, eleventh century [BL] Carm. 10 = f. 71v-72r Carm. 50 = 124v-125r Cotton Vespasianus A XIV, eleventh century [BL] Carm. 10 = f. 148r Carm. 50 = f. 154v-155v Harley 208, ninth century [BL] Carm. 46 = 79r Carm. 47 = f.79v Carm. 48 = 78v-79r, through v. 20 Harley 213, tenth century Carm. 76 = f. 2–99v Harley 1023, thirteenth century [BLIM] Carm. 68, f. 88v Harley 3685, fifteenth century Carm. 9 = f. 47v-50v Carm. 69 = f. 11v-14v Royal 8 E XV, ninth century Carm. 10 = f. 7r Carm. 50 = f. 16v

426

Appendices

Carm. 74 = f. 16v-18v Carm. 75.1 = f. 18v-19r Carm. 75.2 = f. 14v-16v Royal 15 A V, eleventh century Carm. 62 = f. 81v-85v London, Lambeth Palace Library 218, tenth century Carm. 56 = f. 170v Carm. 74 = f. 177v-181v Carm. 75.1 = f. 182r-184v Carm. 75.2 = f. 167r-170v Carm. 75.3 = f. 167r-170v Carm. 83.1 = f. 193r-195r Carm. 83.2 and 3 = f. 190r-191v 409, thirteenth century Carm. 71.2 = f. 122r-124v Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional 19 (A 16), twelfth century Carm. 123 = f. 166 Montpellier, Bibliothèque Interuniversitaire, Section de Médecine 306, ninth century Carm. 68 = f. 14r-v 404, ninth century Carm. 84 = f. 9r-69v Monza, Biblioteca Capitolare g-1/1, ninth century Carm. 65 = f. 390v Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek clm. 408, eleventh century Carm. 62 = f. 83r-86v clm. 2543, twelfth century [MDZ] Carm. 84 = f. 1r-50v clm. 13581, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 56 = 56.1 = f. 122r; 56.2 = f. 125v, copying vv. 1–3 Carm. 75.2 = f. 125v clm. 14000, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 70, f. 5v-6v, 65v, 96v, 97v, 126v

Appendices 427 clm. 14311, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 55 = 225v-226r Carm. 71.2 = 4v-8v clm. 14420, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 119 = f. 20v clm. 14447, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 84 = f. 1r-52v, 63r-104v, 105r-139v clm. 14478, twelfth century [MDZ] Carm. 76 = f. 40r-78v [lacking 76.2.9–12] clm. 14614, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 56 = 56.1 = f. 15r; 56.2 = f. 256r, copying vv. 1–3; 56.3 = f. 259r Carm. 75.2 = f. 256r Carm. 76 = f. 16r-30v clm. 14737, tenth century [MDZ] Carm. 119 = f. 197r clm. 14743, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 48 = f. 166v-169v Carm. 49 = f. 169v-171v clm. 18375, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 14 = f. 3v Carm. 63.5 = f. 91v clm. 18580, twelfth century [MDZ] Carm. 78 = f. 86r-ff. clm. 18628, eleventh century [MDZ] Carm. 123 = f. 93v clm. 19410, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 55 = pp. 51–54 Munich, Schatzkammer der Residenz, ninth century [MDZ] Carm. 122 = f. 44r Oxford, Bodleian Library Bodley 455 (Madan 2560), twelfth century Carm. 76 = f. 113r-167v Digby 53, twelfth century Carm. 68, f. 20

428

Appendices

Oxford, Corpus Christi College 82, twelfth century Carm. 81 = p. 165, Paris, Bibliothèque Mazarine 691 (709), twelfth century Carm. 78 = f. 115r-126v 1713 (1343), thirteenth century Carm. 78 = f. 99v-100r Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale lat. 113, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 78 = f. 19r lat. 274, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 71.1 = f. 54v [= vv. 6–10], 116v [= vv. 16–20] lat. 485, twelfth century [BNF] Carm. 76 = f. 64r-82v (incomplete) lat. 528, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 4 = f. 132r-v lat. 2328, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 123 = f. 96v lat. 2788, eleventh century Carm. 119 = f. 28v lat. 2826, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 123 = f. 141v lat. 2832, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 123 = f. 121r-v lat. 3244, twelfth/thirteenth centuries Carm. 10 = f. 118r-119v lat. 4629, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 123 = f. 55v-56r lat. 4841, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 123 = f. 33r-v lat. 5577, eleventh century [BNF] Carm. 56 = f. 129v Carm. 70 = f. 18v-19v Carm. 74 = f. 119v-121v, [letter = 119v-121r; poem = 121r-v]

Appendices 429 Carm. 75.1 = f. 121v-123r, [letter = 119v-121r; poem = 121r-v] Carm. 75.2 = f. 128r-129v Carm. 75.3 = f. 128r-129v Carm. 78 = f. 137r-155v Carm. 100 = f. 19r Carm. 123 = f. 93v lat. 7551, ninth century Carm. 119 = f. 143r lat. 7886, ninth century Carm. 81 = f. 14 lat. 8092, eleventh century [BNF] Carm. 62 = f. 38v-42r lat. 8303, tenth century [BNF] Carm. 62 = f. 23r-24v, vv. 1–95; 145–54 lat. 8319, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 63.5 = f. 41r (vv. 1–5) Carm. 123 = f. 41v lat. 8674, tenth century [BNF] Carm. 8 = f. 110v lat. 8996, twelfth century [BNF] Carm. 65 = f. 147r lat. 9347, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 2 = f. 39r Carm. 100 = f. 135r lat. 9520, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 78 = f. 86v-105r lat. 10307, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 2 = f. 43r lat. 11312, twelfth century [BNF] Carm. 78 = f. 132r (damaged) Lat. 11504, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 68 = f. 3v (vv. 1–18) lat. 11960, eleventh century [BNF] Carm. 65 = f. 187r

430

Appendices

lat. 13029, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 8 = f. 12r lat. 13377, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 119 = f. 149r lat. 14089, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 42 = f. 93r-v lat. 15176, eleventh century [BNF] Carm. 65 = f. 4r-v Carm. 68 = f. 1r Carm. 69 = f. 1r-2r lat. 17400, twelfth century Carm. 76 = f. 58r-78v lat. 18520, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 119 = f. 104r n. a. l. 1096, ninth century [BNF] Carm. 46 = f. 62r-v Carm. 47 = f. 62v Carm. 48 = f. 61r-v, through v. 16 n.a.l. 1613, ninth century Carm. 123 = f. 18v Regensburg (Lost; consulted by Forster), ninth century Carm. 18 Carm. 79 Reims, Bibliothèque Municipale 117 (B 80), twelfth century Carm. 78 = f.1r-26v 118 (E 243), ninth century Carm. 84 = f. 103r-124v 395 (E 278), eleventh century Carm. 78 = f. 6v (attributed to Bede) 426, f. 1–117 = ninth century; f. 118–216 = twelfth century [BNF] Carm. 1 = f. 210r-214v, 215r 434 (E 343), ninth century Carm. 82 = f. 3

Appendices 431 438 (E 346), tenth century Carm. 84 = f. 39v-68v, 73v-115v 1405 (K 785), tenth century Carm. 89 = f. 172v, tenth century (Verses on Rado only) Rome, Biblioteca Angelica 1515 (V. 3. 22), tenth century Carm. 100 = f. 31r Rome, Biblioteca Vallicelliana, B 6, ninth century Carm. 65 = f. 342r-343v Rouen, Bibliothèque Municipale 26 (A 292), ninth century Carm. 78 = f. 34r-47v St Bertin (Lost; edited by Duchesne) Carm. 5 Carm. 11–13 Carm. 15–16 Carm. 23 Carm. 26–36 Carm. 43 Carm. 45 Carm. 51–53 Carm. 59–61 Carm. 63–64 Carm. 66 Carm. 87–111 Carm. 113–118 Carm. 121 St Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek 197, ninth century [E-Codices] Carm. 62 = pp. 281–289 198, tenth century [E-Codices] Carm. 62 = pp. 141–149, (with some damage) 242, tenth century [E-Codices] Carm. 65 = p. 167 267, ninth century Carm. 84 = pp. 33–106, 120–236

432

Appendices

271, ninth century [E-Codices] Carm. 10 = pp. 17–18 Carm. 56 = p. 46 Carm. 74 = pp. 46–52, [letter = pp. 46–51; poem = 51–52] Carm. 75.1 = pp. 52–54, [letter = pp. 46–52; poem = 52] Carm. 75.2 = pp. 41–46 Carm. 75.3 = pp. 41–46 272, ninth century [Europeana] Carm. 112 = pp. 244–245 Carm. 123 = pp. 52–54 546, fifteenth century [E-Codices] Carm. 65 = f. 10v 565, eleventh century [E-Codices] Carm. 3 = pp. 334–354 (copied with prose Vita Willibrordi = pp. 284–333) 899, ninth century [E-Codices] Carm. 57 = pp. 117–118 Salisbury, Cathedral Library 133, ninth century Carm. 76 = f. 1r-47v Salzburg, Archiv von St Peter A I, eleventh century [ÖAW] Carm. 109.1–15 = pp. 16–17 Savignano sul Rubicone, Biblioteca dell’accademia Rubiconia dei Filopatridi 9, fifteenth century Carm. 119 = f. 82 Stuttgart, Württembergische Landesbibliothek HB XIV 1, ninth century Carm. 3 = f. iv-41v Trier, Seminar Bibliothek 75 (R4 11), twelfth century Carm. 3 = f. 2r-29v (copied with Vita Willibrordi) Trier, Stadtbibliothek 23, ninth century Carm. 71.1 = f. 9v-10v Carm. 71.2 = f. 1r-4v 120/1285, eleventh century Carm. 120 = f. 185r-v Troyes, Bibliothèque Municipale 1165, ninth century [Troyes] Carm. 10 = f. 50v-51r

Appendices 433 Carm. 56 = f. 28r-28v Carm. 74 = f. 32r-v Carm. 75.1 = f. 33v Carm. 75.2 = f. 27v-28r Carm. 75.3 = f. 27v-28r Carm. 83.1 = f. 38r Carm. 83.2 and 3 = f. 36r-v 1223, twelfth century Carm. 78 = f. 69r Urbana-Champaign, University of Illinois Library, tenth century Carm. 114.3 and 5 = Bifolium from a Sylloge Valenciennes, Bibliothèque Municipale 12 (5), thirteenth/fourteenth centuries Carm. 68, f. 11 49 (42), twelfth century [BVM] Carm. 76 = f. 1r-51v 404, ninth century [Biblissima] Carm. 80.1 = f. 56r 405 (387), ninth century [BNF] Carm. 57 = f. 2r-3r, lacking vv. 9–10, vv. 39–52 Vatican Library Archivio di San Pietro D 192, eleventh century [DVL] Carm. 78 = f. 167r (attributed to Isidore) Barb. lat. 477, eleventh century [DVL] Carm. 119 = f. 6v-7r Palat. Lat. 1448, ninth century [DVL] Carm. 72 = f. 71r Palat. Lat. 2432, ninth century Carm. 62 = f. 62r-4 (vv. 1–194) Reg. lat. 69, ninth century [DVL] Carm. 56 = f. 87r Carm. 74 = f. 80v-81r Carm. 75.1 = f. 82v Carm. 75.2 and 3 = f. 86r-87v Carm. 78 = f. 70r-v Reg. lat. 126, twelfth century Carm. 82 = f. 259 (vv. 1–2)

434

Appendices

Reg. lat. 272, ninth century [DVL] Carm. 10 = f. 47r Carm. 56 = f. 25r Carm. 74 = f. 29r-v Carm. 75.1 = 30v Carm. 75.2 and 3 = f. 24r-25v Carm. 83.1 = f. 34r Carm. 83.2 and 3 = f. 32v-33v Reg. lat. 349, fifteenth century [DVL] Carm. 78 = f. 65r Reg. lat. 421, ninth century [DVL] Carm. 63.5 = f. 27v-28r Reg. lat. 1578, eleventh century [DVL] Carm. 123 = f. 26r-v Reg. lat. 1587, ninth century [DVL] Carm. 118 = 3v-4r Carm. 119 = f. 4r Vat. lat. 650, tenth century [DVL] Carm. 78 = f. 115r Vat. lat. 1869, twelfth century Carm. 62 = f. 101v-102v (vv. 1–171) Vat. lat. 6808, eleventh century [DVL] Carm. 78 = f. 140r-150v (incomplete) Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana lat. I 1 (2108), tenth century Carm. 68, f. 1r-v Verona, Biblioteca Capitolare XC (85), ninth century Carm. 89 = f. 50r (Hymn to St Vedast only) Carm. 100 = f. 50r (vv. 1–6) Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek 89, ninth century [ÖNB] Carm. 124 = f. 1r 458, ninth century Carm. 84 = f. 81v-168v

Appendices 435 550, ninth century [ÖNB] Carm. 89 = f. 112r-113r-v 795, ninth century [ÖNB] Carm. 44 = f. 199r-v, to v. 35 inclusive 808, ninth century [ÖNB] Carm. 9 = f. 233r Carm. 17 = f. 225v Carm. 19 = f. 226r Carm. 20 = f. 226r-227r Carm. 21 = f. 227r-228r Carm. 22 = f. 228r Carm. 24 = f. 230v Carm. 25 = f. 230v-231r Carm. 54 = f. 234r-v Carm. 55 = f. 232r Carm. 67 = f. 228r-v Carm. 96 = f. 229v Carm. 101 = f. 229v-230r Carm. 105 = f. 228v-229r Carm. 107 = f. 229r (107.1 and 2) Carm. 109.1, 5, 15–23 = f. 231r-233r 1128, tenth century Carm. 78 = f. 2v 1190, ninth century Carm. 68 = f. 16r-v (vv. 1–18, preceded by carm. 69) Carm. 69 = f. 16r-v Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek Aug. 2˚ 16 (2186), ninth/tenth centuries [August] Carm. 71.1 = f. 4v [= vv. 1–15], 47v [= vv. 6–10], 78v [= vv. 11–15], 130v [= 16–20] Aug. 4 (4˚ 4.3 (2934), thirteenth century Carm. 86 = f. 22r-46v Gud. lat. 4˚ 148 (4452), tenth century [August] Carm. 78 = f. 82r-98v Helmst. 64.6 (76), seventeenth century Carm. 86 = f. 63r-75v

436

Appendices

Weiss. 26 (4110), ninth century [August] Carm. 71.1 = f. 268v Carm. 71.2 = 11r-13v Weiss. 32 (4116), ninth century [August] Carm. 65 = f. 108v Würzburg, Universitätsbibliothek M.p.th.f. 34, eleventh/twelfth centuries Carm. 3 = f. 104r-130v M.p.th.f. 42, ninth century (poem added in fifteenth) Carm. 65 = f. 101v Zurich, Zentralbibliothek C 1 (226), ninth century Carm. 68, f. IVv C 68 (384), ninth century Carm. 123 = f. 79v Rhein. 104 (474), ninth century Carm. 123 = f. 191v-192r Zwettl, Bibliothek des Zisterzienserstifts 269, thirteenth century Carm. 78 = f. 99-ff

5. Prolegomenon to a New Edition Carm. 12: a fourteen-line elegiac composite created by Dümmler from Duchesne’s carm. 182 (= Forster carm. 256) and 183 (= Forster carm. 236),73 Dümmler acknowledges his composite—cum prioribus versibus coniunxi, quamvis Q [= Duchesne] separatos ediderit—but offers no explanation for it.74 The witness of the St Bertin manuscript printed by Duchesne seems preferable. Carm. 33: a two-part piece respectively of four and six hexametrical verses created by Dümmler from Duchesne’s carm. 260 (= Forster 206),75 Dümmler announces but does not explain his decision to separate these lines into two parts—versum 1–4 a sequentibus separandum esse duxi76—and the witness of the St Bertin manuscript represented by Duchesne seems preferable.

73 74 75 76

Duchesne, col. 1719; Forster 233–234 [= carm. 256]; 230 [= carm. 236]. Dümmler 237 n. on [XII] 7–14. Duchesne, cols. 1739–1740; Forster 225. Dümmler 250 n. on [XXXIII].

Appendices 437 Carm. 37: a twenty-two-line elegiac piece printed by Dümmler from Duchesne as witnessed in the St Bertin manuscript (= Duchesne, carm. 270; Forster, carm. 231),77 vv. 1–8 are written in epanaleptic distichs, and vv. 9–22, in normal elegiacs. Since the turn in elegiac forms corresponds to shifts in the poem’s addressees, the idea that these lines were composed as a single piece seems doubtful, and they should likely be printed as separate pieces. Carm. 55.10: immediately subsequent in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 19410, p. 54, to the nine brief poems that comprise carm. 55, these five elegiac verses are the initial lines of the sepulchral epitaph for Pope John II (d. 535). Following the witness of Munich 19410, Dummler edited these lines as carm. 55.10, not knowing they formed part of a twelveline papal inscription. He rightly posited a lacuna after v. 5, since this incomplete epitaph is followed in the manuscript without break by six rhythmic verses that comprise a separate inscription. 55.10 should be removed from Alcuin’s corpus. Carm. 56.1: seven hexameters that provide the conclusion to a letter written by Candidus (Dümmler 557–561), Dümmler later thought better of his decision to include carm. 56.1 among Alcuin’s carmina, blaming his error on the fact that in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 14614 Alcuin’s commentary on Ecclesiastes immediately precedes Candidus’ letter.78 The lines should be removed from Alcuin’s corpus. Carm. 64.2: a six-line piece comprised of two hexameters and two elegiac couplets, Dümmler prints this riddle following the witness of the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne as carm. 199, vv. 1–6 (= Forster, carm. 222).79 Burghardt argued for separating 64.2 into a two-verse hexametrical poem comprised of vv. 1–2, and a four-verse elegiac poem comprised of vv. 3–6, averring that scribal error led to the coupling of two poems, perhaps owing to the fact that both pieces offer riddles on the same object.80 On metrical grounds alone, he is surely correct, and the poem should be printed as two discrete pieces. Carm. 70: gathers six tituli found in the ninth-century Codex Aureus, now Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 14000, until recently thought to have been composed by Alcuin for a Gospel book partially preserved in the tenth-century Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 5577. Noticing similarities between the tituli in the Codex Aureus and in Paris 5577, Forster added nine verses from the Codex Aureus to the verses of Paris 5577 and corrected the 77 Duchesne, cols. 1742–1743; Forster 229. 78 Dümmler 561n1: Eosdem versus quondam in Alcuinianos recepi . . . eo in errorem ductus, quod in [Ms.] E epistolam Candidi scripta Alcuini secuntur et prima quidem Explanatio Albini super Ecclesiasten. 79 Duchesne, col. 1723; Forster 227. 80 Burghardt 198.

438

Appendices

Paris verses using the Codex Aureus as his model.81 Following Forster somewhat recklessly, Dümmler put to the side Forster’s categorization of these lines as Carmina Dubia, and removed the brackets from the lines introduced to Paris 5577 from the Codex Aureus. The two manuscripts are now understood to represent two distinct Gospel books, and the tituli in Paris 5577, copied out amid the works of Alcuin in Paris 5577, were preserved there not because they are owed to Alcuin’s hand but rather owing to the availability of space where the two volumes of the manuscript were joined. Affinities of word-choice and imagery among the tituli and the poetry of John Scottus Eriugena also argue persuasively against Alcuin’s authorship.82 These lines should be removed from Alcuin’s corpus. Carm. 71.1: Dümmler prints twenty hexameters comprising four fiveverse prefaces, one for each of the four Gospels, relying on the witnesses of Trier, Stadtbibliothek 23 and Wolfenbüttel, Weiss. 26. Not surprisingly given their intended function, at least four manuscripts copy these verses out separately. Too, the attribution of these lines to Alcuin is at best owed to his association with the copying of Bibles, coupled with the lack of an obvious older source, such as Jerome. While the issue of authenticity likely cannot be definitely resolved, the printing of these prefaces as a single poem seems difficult to defend, whether or not they remain in Alcuin’s oeuvre. Carm. 77: Dümmler prints these two elegiac poems together, owing to their association with treatises attending the liberal arts, 77.1 forming a poetic prologue to Alcuin’s De dialectica, and 77.2, falling in one manuscript immediately before the incipit to a copy of Alcuin’s De orthographia. But across nearly two dozen manuscripts, 77.2 exists in different forms in the two redactions of the De orthographia and seems more properly printed under separate number, if at all, among Alcuin’s poetry. Carm. 80: comprised of two elegiac pieces, 80.1 is copied out variously before or after several of Alcuin’s pedagogical treatises, or sometimes in stand-alone versions of varying lengths, while 80.2 is properly the prologue to the Disputatio de rhetorica et virtutibus. Dümmler acknowledges the prefatory nature of 80.2 but still prints it with 80.1, presumably thinking that 80.1 is in some sense also prefatory. But there are grounds for resisting such a view, and since the joining of these pieces masks the prefatory purpose of 80.2, there is good reason now to decouple them. Carm. 92: Dümmler prints three elegiac poems witnessed separately in the St Bertin manuscript edited by Duchesne as his carm 122–124 (= Forster carm. 266, 267, 272).83 Given that they are epitaphs memorializing abbots 81 Forster 456–457, nn. a, b, c. 82 Jeauneau and Dutton, “The Verses of the ‘Codex Aureus’,” 593–638. 83 Duchesne, col. 1699; Forster 235–236 (92.2–3), 237 (92.1).

Appendices 439 of St Denis, Dümmler’s gathering of 92.2 and 3 is sensible, but since it is a riddle with no obvious connection to St Denis, the placement of 92.1 at the head of this three-poem gathering seems an odd decision that goes unexplained. Not least on generic grounds, it seems best to print 92.1 separately. Carm. 109.10: seven lines comprised of two elegiac couplets (vv. 1–4) joined to three hexameters (vv. 5–7), Dümmler prints this inscription as it is copied out in the eleventh-century Salzburg, Archiv von St. Peter A I, pp. 16–17, but Burghardt rightly wonders if, in joining these verses, the copyist misunderstood the images of the cross found in vv. 2 and 7, since the former attends to the signa crucis, the latter to the crucis lignum.84 The metrical differences alone are reason enough to separate the lines. Carm. 114.3: Dümmler prints these seven hexameters from Duchesne’s edition of the St Bertin manuscript (= his carm. 20; Forster carm. 169),85 but they, in fact, record Arator, De actibus apostolorum 1.1070, 1072–1076, with v. 2 taken from an inscription for Pope Simplicius (d. 483) in the church of St Peter in Chains in Rome. These lines should be removed from the corpus. Possible Addenda: four poems edited as carm. 35–38 in the poetry of Paul the Deacon and Peter of Pisa (Dümmler 69–71) have long been ascribed to Charlemagne’s hand, but this attribution rightly has been recently questioned,86 and the pieces demand re-examination in the light of Alcuin’s possible authorship; and carm. 9 of Dümmler’s Tituli Saeculi Octavi (Dümmler 113–114)—an epitaph for Pope Hadrian—is on excellent grounds ascribed by Bullough to Alcuin, whose authorship should be reassessed.87

84 85 86 87

Burghardt 254. Duchesne, col. 1683; Forster 223. Godman, Poets and Emperors, 55 with n. 94. Bullough 459–461.

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Index

In addition to negotiating content, this index also functions as a guide to the poems, and as a glossary of key names, places and works. Except for the four evangelists, saints are listed under St, rather than their given name. Aachen 4, 14; and carm. 4 119n161; and carm. 44 189; and carm. 65 237–240 Abel: and carm. 69 247n500; and carm. 115 368–369 Adalbert (abbot of Ferrières, d. 821): and carm. 31 172; and carm. 56.3 213, 215 Adalhard (abbot of Corbie, d. 827) 16; and carm. 12 145n244; and carm. 20 156; and carm. 55 211; and carm. 85 273 Admonitio Generalis 15, 442 Adoptionism 6; and carm. 17 152; and carm. 24 163 Adversus Elipandum Toletanum 6, 442 Adversus Felicem Urgellitanum Episcopum 6, 442; and carm. 74 258; and carm. 75 260 Aelberht (archbishop of York, d. 780) 3–4; and carm. 1 41, 41n8, 44, 88–93; and carm. 2 95–97, 96n103; and carm. 86 278 Aeneid see Virgil Aethelheard (archbishop of Canterbury; d. 805) 30–31; and carm. 10 139–142; and carm. 50 200, 200–201n397; and epis. 17 386; and epis. 311 391 Aethelred (king of Mercia, d. 709): and carm. 1 56, 71n68 Africa: and carm. 1 92; and carm. 9 134, 134n205, 134n206; and carm. 110.11 357

Aidan (founder of Lindisfarne, d. 651): and carm. 1 54, 54n28, 68; and carm. 9 131 Aix-la-Chapelle see Aachen Alberic (bishop of Utrecht, d. 784): and carm. 4 117, 118, 118n149, 120, 120n164; and carm. 86 278 Albinus see Alcuin Alcuin: and Adoptionism 6; and Aelberht 3; as Albinus 2, 8n33, 9–10, 29, 101, 116, 119, 119n159, 126–127, 131, 153–156, 164, 170, 173–178, 181, 184, 189, 195–196, 201–206, 210, 222–223, 227, 241–244, 256, 269–270, 272, 295, 338–339, 371, 385–386, 393–394, 399, 403, 408; anonymous biography 7–8, 13; and astronomy 6–7; and the Bible 12–13; doubtful writings 17–22; and ecclesiastical reforms 12–13; and Egbert 3; and epis. 171 394; and epis. 172 396; and epis. 174 393; and epis. 177 397, 398; and epis. 240 403–404; and exegetical writings 7–10; as Flaccus 2, 29, 146, 151, 162, 165, 165n298, 167, 180, 182, 184, 187, 224, 257, 259; and hagiographical writings 10; his biography 2–5; his epitaph (carm. 123) 380–382; his Latin names 2; his Latinity 26–28; his Old English name 2; letters 10; and liturgical works 11–13; and lost works 15;

Index as metricist 31–33; as noble 2–3; and the palace school at York 3; as pastoral poet 29–30; and pedagogical works 13–15; and poetry 29–33; and political works 15–16; and pseudepigrapha 22–26; as Puplius 2, 119n159, 126; and revision of the Vulgate 12; and St Willibrord 2–3; and theological works 16–17; as vates 29–30; and Wilgils 2; see also individual titles to Alcuin’s works Aldfrith (king of Northumbria, d. 704): and carm. 1 73, 73n73 Aldhelm (d. 709) 18, 30; and carm. 1 43, 92; and carm. 5 122; and carm. 10 140; and carm. 61 225; and carm. 63 233–234, 233n460; and carm. 110.1 353 Alexis: and carm. 32 174; and carm. 40 184 alliteration 27, 27n153, 179, 181 Ambrose (d. 397) 24; and carm. 1 92; and carm. 61 225; and carm. 107.1 336 anaphora 28 Andrew (Apostle) see St Andrew Angelramnus (bishop of Metz, d. 791): and carm. 102 327; and carm. 102.1, 2 327–328 Angilbert (d. 814) 10, 18, 30; and carm. 16 150–151, 150n254; and carm. 23 161; and carm. 26 164–165, 167n310; and carm. 37 179–180; and carm. 58 218; and carm. 60 223–224; and carm. 66.1 242; and epis. 177 397n40 annominatio 28 Ansfried (of Nonantola (?) fl. ca. 820): and carm. 110.8 356 antithesis 28 Apocalypse 9, 24; and epis. 243 405 Arator (fl. 550): and carm. 1 43, 92; and De actibus apostolorum 365–366, 439 Aristotle: and carm. 1 92; and Ten Categories 258 Arn (bishop of Salzburg, d. 821) 8, 11, 35; and carm. 5 122n182; and carm. 11 142; and carm. 17 152; and carm. 18 153; and carm. 44 189–190; and carm. 48 197, 197n391, 198; and carm. 56 215–216; and carm.

469

76 262, 264; and carm. 84 272; and carm. 88 280; carm. 88.4 282, 282n578; carm. 88.14 286; and carm. 92 307; and carm 109.15 347; and epis. 243 404 Ars grammatica 14, 14n65, 15, 442; and carm. 118 372 astronomy 6, 6n20; and carm. 2 96; and carm. 10 141n227; and carm. 72 256, 257n533 asyndeton 28 Athanasius (of Alexandria, d. 373): and carm. 1 92; and carm. 110.6 355–356 Ato (abbot of Nouaillé and of St. Hilary): and carm. 99 315 Audoin (bishop of Rouen, d. 684): and carm. 89.6 290 Augustine (archbishop of Canterbury, d. 604) 140 Augustine (bishop of Hippo, d. 430) 8, 16, 21, 21n112, 24; and carm. 1 59n35, 92; and carm. 42 186n364; and carm. 73 258; and epis. 257 401; and epis. 309 409 Ava (of Chelles, fl. 800): and carm. 67 243–244; and carm. 105 332 Avitus (of Vienne, d. 518): and carm. 1 92 Bacchus: and carm. 3 108; and carm. 8 131; and carm. 32 175; and carm. 57 217; and carm. 58 220; and carm. 59 222–223 Balthere (anchorite, d. 756): and carm. 1 44, 86, 86n95, 87–88 Bassinus (bishop of Speyer, d. 782): and carm. 4 118, 120, 120n172 Bede (d. 735) 2n1, 7n23, 8–9, 14, 18, 31, 40–41n6; and carm. 1 43–46, 46n14, 47n16, 18, 51n23, 54n29, 57n31, 58n33, 59n35, 37, 61n40, 62n41, 63n44, 67n58, 68, 68n61–62, 70, 70n64, 71, 71n67, 69, 74n76, 77n78, 78n80, 79n81, 80n86, 83, 85, 85n93, 86, 92; and carm. 2 95; and carm. 3 98; and carm. 4 118n155; and carm. 9 137, 137n215; and carm. 10 140; and carm. 58 218; and carm. 71 254; and carm. 72 256–257; and carm. 109.11 345; carm. 118 371, 372n723; and De Arte Metrica

470

Index

371, 373, 374n725–726; and De die iudicii 382 Benedict of Nursia (d. 547): and carm. 51 202; and carm. 51.2, 6 203–204; and carm. 88.12 285; and carm. 89.9 290–1; and carm. 90.23 304; carm. 101.1, 2 325–326; and carm. 102 327; and carm. 109.12, 13, 20 346, 349–350 Beornred (archbishop of Sens, d. 797): and carm. 3 98; and carm. 4 117, 119n158, 160, 120, 120n165; and carm. 8 129, 129n194, 130–131; carm. 16 151; and carm. 112 362; epis. 120 384, 120n1 Bertha (daughter of Charlemagne, d. 826): and carm. 12 144, 144n241; and carm. 16 150; and carm. 39 181, 181n350, 351; and carm. 40 183 Bible 12, 14, 22, 31, 438; and carm. 65, 65.1, 1a 236–237, 241, 65.1n470 237, 65.1n472 237, 65.2 238, 65.3 238, 65.4, 4a, 5 239–240; and carm. 66 241, 66.1 242; and carm. 67 243; and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 245–246, 245n493, 247–248; and carm. 71 254; and carm. 89.8 290; and carm. 90.24 304; and carm. 94 310; and carm. 115 368, 368n709 Boethius (d. 524):14; and carm. 1 92; and carm. 7 127 Boniface (martyr, d. 754): and carm. 3 98; and carm. 4 120n171; and carm. 5 122; and carm. 6 123; and carm. 63 233; and carm. 86 278–279, 279n573 Bosa (bishop of York, d. 705): and carm. 1 44, 73, 73n74, 74, 79–80, 80n83 Brahmans: and carm. 81 269–270 Britain: and carm. 1 42, 44–45, 52, 58–61, 69, 77, 79; and carm. 3 98, 101, 113; carm. 4 119; and carm. 9 137; and carm. 10 141; and carm. 108 339; and epis. 17 386, 388 Britons: and carm. 1 44–48; and epis. 17 388 Cadwalla (British king, d. 634): and carm. 1 52n27, 53 Caesarius (of Arles, d. 542) 23

Cain: and carm. 69 247n500; and carm. 115 369 Calculatio Albini 7, 7n23, 443 Camenae: and carm. 1 58, 58n33, 70, 70n65, 74, 74n77, 79, 79n85, 147; and carm. 14 148 Candidus see Wizo Canterbury: and carm. 10 139–140, 141n227; and carm. 50 200, 200–201n397 carmina figurata: and carm. 51 202 Cassiodorus (d. 585) 14, 24; and carm. 1 92 Ceolfrith (abbot of Jarrow, d. 716): and carm. 1 85 Ceolfrith Pandects: and carm. 69 245, 246n494 Charlemagne (d. 814) 3–8, 16, 18, 25–26, 30–31, 35, 439; and carm. 1 41; and carm. 3 101n119, 110n130; and carm. 4 117–118, 119n161, 120n165, 170, 174; and carm. 5 122; and carm. 6 123; and carm. 7 126–127; and carm. 12 143–144, 145n244; and carm. 13 146–147; and carm. 15 149–150; and carm. 16 150; and carm. 17 152; and carm. 18 153–154; and carm. 20 156; and carm. 23 160; and carm. 26 164–165, 167n305; and carm. 27 168; and carm. 30 171; and carm. 30 173; and carm. 37 179–180; and carm. 38 180–181; and carm. 39 181; and carm. 40 183; and carm. 41 184; and carm. 42 185–186; and carm. 43 187; and carm. 44 190, 190n371; and carm. 45 191–192, 193n377–378, 380, 194n384; and carm. 56.2, 3 214–215; and carm. 57 215; and carm. 65 236–240; and carm. 67 243; and carm. 71 255; and carm. 72 256–257; and carm. 73 257–258, 257n533; and carm. 74 258–259; and carm. 75 260–261; and carm. 77 264; and carm. 79 266; and carm. 81 269; and carm. 82 270; and carm. 83 270–271; and carm. 85 273; and carm. 86 278; and carm. 89 287; and carm. 92 307; and carm. 107.2 336; and carm. 108.3 339; and carm.

Index 109.24 351; and carm. 120 377n733; and epis. 257 401 Charles the Bald (king and emperor, d. 877) 22; and carm. 70 252; and carm. 122 380 Chelles (monastery): and carm. 41 185n359; and carm. 67 243; and carm. 105 332, 332.1 333 Chrodegang (bishop of Metz, d. 766): and carm. 102 327; and carm. 103.3 330 Chrysostom, John (archbishop of Constantinople, d. 407): and carm. 1 92 Classical Latin 26–29, 32–33; and carm. 6 123; and carm. 8 130n195; carm. 9 132 Clovis (king of the Franks, d. 511): and carm. 89.6 290; and carm. 90.22 304; and carm. 110.12 358 Codex Amiatinus: and carm. 69 245 Codex Aureus 437; and carm. 70 252 Cologne 424 and carm. 4 117, 118n155, 119, 119n156; and carm. 26n305; and carm. 107 335, 107.2, 3 336–337 Columba (of Iona, d. 597): and carm. 99.5 316; and carm. 109.20 349–350; and carm. 110.15 359 Columbanus (of Bobbio, d. 615): and carm. 62 227–228, 228n457 Columbanus (of Trond, fl. 750): and carm. 62 228 Comes ab Albino Emendatus 11, 443; and carm. 79 266 Commentatio brevis in quasdam sancti Pauli apostoli sententias 9, 443 Compendium in Canticum Canticorum 7, 8n26, 443; and carm. 76 262; and carm. 78 265 computistical studies 6, 6n20, 7n23; and carm. 72 257; and carm. 73 257n533; and epis. 171 395 Conall (of Bangor, fl. 550): and carm. 110.15 359 Confessio peccatorum pura 11, 444 Constantine (emperor, d. 337): and carm. 6 123; and carm. 7 127; and carm. 109.11 345 Corydon: and carm. 26 167n312; and carm. 32 174–175; and carm. 40 184

471

Credulus (fl. 800): and carm. 54 206–208, 208–209n410 cuckoo 31; and carm. 57 215, 215n421, 216–217; and carm. 58 218–221, 221n436, 222; and carm. 59 222, 222n440; and carm. 60 223–224 Cuthbert (bishop of Lindisfarne, d. 687): and carm. 1 43–44, 66, 67, 67n57, 67n58, 67n60, 68, 68n62, 68n63, 69–70, 70n64; and carm. 5 122; and carm. 9 131, 137, 137n214 Damoetas see Richulf Daphnis: and carm. 40 184; and carm. 57 215–216; and carm. 58 219, 221 David see Charlemagne De animae ratione ad Eulaliam virginem 16, 444; and carm. 85 273; and carm. 112 362 De bissexto 7, 7n24, 444 De categoriis decem (Paraphrasis Themistiana): and carm. 73 257 Decius (emperor, d. 251): and carm. 99.3 316; and carm. 110.3, 4, 13 354, 358 De conversorum acceptione opusculum 17, 444 De cursu lunae 7, 7n21, 445 De dialectica 14, 14n63, 438, 445; and carm. 73 258; and carm. 77 264–265; and carm. 80 267–268 De fide sanctae et individuae Trinitatis 20, 445 Delia see Bertha De laude Dei et de confessione orationibusque sanctorum 12, 445 De orthographia 14, 438, 445; and carm. 77 265 De saltu lunae 7, 7n24, 446 De Trinitate ad Fredegisum Quaestiones XXVIII 16, 446; and carm. 85 273 De vera philosophia 14, 14n65, 446 De virtutibus et vitiis 16, 446 Dicta quibus ebdomade diebus quorum sanctorum memoria celebrator 17, 447 Disputatio de rhetorica et de virtutibus sapientissimi regis Caroli et Albini magistri 13, 447

472

Index

Disputatio Pippini cum Albino 14, 447; and carm. 63 234 Disputatio puerorum per interrogationes et responsiones 17, 447 Disticha Catonis: and carm. 62 228 Dodo: and carm. 57 216; and carm. 58 218; and carm. 59 222 Donatus (grammarian, fl. 380) 14; and carm. 1 92; and carm. 119 373 Drances: and carm. 26 166, 166n303; and carm. 39 182 Eadberht (bishop of Lindisfarne, d. 698): and carm. 9 137, 137n213 Eadberht (king of Northumbria, d. 768): and carm. 1 84, 84n91, 85 Eadberht Praen (king of Kent, d. 798): and carm. 10 140 Eanbald I (archbishop of York, d. 796) 3–4, 41; and carm. 1 91, 93 Eanbald II (archbishop of York, d. 808): and carm. 43 187, 189; and carm. 50 200–201n397 Easter 7, 18; and carm. 1 51, 54, 89; and carm. 2 96; and carm. 6 124; and carm. 63.4 235; and carm. 72 257; and carm. 76.1 263 Ecclesiastes 7, 437; and carm. 56.1 214; and carm. 69 250; and carm. 76 262; and carm. 78 265; and epis. 251 400 Ecgfrith (king of Northumbria, d. 685): and carm. 1 44, 64, 64n47, 67n59, 67n60, 70, 70n66, 71, 72, 73, 73n72 Echternach (monastery) 10, 13; and carm. 3 98, 106, 106n129, 111; and carm. 4 117, 119n158, 119n160; and carm. 8 129–130; and carm. 16 151 Eclogues see Virgil Edwin (king of Northumbria, d. 633): carm. 1 44, 47, 47n16–18, 48, 48n20, 49, 49n21, 50–52, 52n26–27, 54, 90 Egbert (archbishop of York, d. 766) 3; and carm. 1 44, 51n24, 84, 84n89–90, 85, 88–89; and carm. 2 95, 96n103 Egbert (of Lindisfarne, d. 721): and carm. 1 77, 77n78, 78 Egypt: and carm. 9 138n220; carm. 69 247–248; carm. 71, 71.1 255–256; carm. 90.9 301

Einhard (d. 840) 18, 26, 30, 35; and carm. 26 166n301–302; and carm. 30 171, 171n326, 172; and carm. 51 202–203, 51.4 204; and carm. 72 256; and epis. 172 397, 397n42; and Life of Charlemagne 26 elegiacs 31–32, 412–420 Elipandus (of Toledo, d. 808) 6 Enchiridion in Psalmos poenitentiales, in Psalmum 118 et in Psalmos graduales 8, 447; and carm. 84 272 Entellus: and carm. 42 186–187 Ephesians 8, 8n33, 9 epic 30; and carm. 1 42–43, 45n13, 59n35, 70n64; and carm. 4 116; carm. 9 132; and carm. 40 183; and carm. 45 192 epistolary 11; and carm. 79 266 Epistula de litteris colendis 15 Eriugena see John Scottus Eriugena Esther: and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 250 Eugenius (of Toledo, d. 657) 18; and carm. 61 225 Eulalia see Gundrada Excerptiones super Priscianum maiorem 14, 448 Explanatio Apocalypsis per interrogationem et responsionem 9, 448 Expositio Apocalypsis 10, 448 Expositio in Ecclesiasten 8, 449; and carm. 76 262; and carm. 78 265 Expositio in Iohannis Evangelium 8, 449 Expositio in Sancti Pauli Epistulam ad Hebraeos 9, 449 Expositio in Sancti Pauli Epistulam ad Philomonem 9, 449 Expositio in Sancti Pauli Epistulam ad Titum 9, 449 Ezra: and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 245, 250, 252 Felix (of Urgel, d. 818) 6; and carm. 75 260 Flaccus see Alcuin Fleury (monastery): and carm. 101, 101.1, 2 325–326 Fredegisus (d. 834) 8, 16; and carm. 76 262

Index Friducinus (fl. 800): and carm. 46 195 Frisia: and carm. 1 65, 78; and carm. 3 97–99, 103–104; and carm. 4 118, 118n152; and carm. 59 223, 223n441; carm. 86 278 Fulda (monastery) 5, 12–13, 16; and carm. 30 171; and carm. 51 202, 202n398, 203, 51.4 204; and carm. 86 278 Fulgentius (grammarian, fl. 500) 23; and carm. 1 92 Fulrad (abbot of St. Denis, d. 784): and carm. 4 118, 120, 120–121n174; and carm. 5 122; and carm. 92 307, 92.2 308; and carm. 101.1 325 Genesis 9, 24, 25, 25n19; and carm. 26 167n309; and carm. 69 247n499–504, 248, 248n506–508; carm. 115 367–368, 450 Georgics see Virgil Gerfrid (bishop of Laon, d. 799): and carm. 66 241, 66.1, 2 242–243 Gildas: and epis. 17 388, 388n14 Gisela (sister of Charlemagne, d. ca. 810) 8, 12; and carm. 12 144; and carm. 38 181n351; and carm. 41 184–185, 185n359; and carm. 65 236; and carm. 67 243; and epis. 177 398n44 Giselbert (abbot of St Amand, d. 782): and carm. 88 280–281 Gislarius (of Salzburg, fl. 750): and carm. 110.4 354–355 Gorze (monastery): and carm. 103 328–330 Goths: and carm. 9 134; and carm. 24 163 Gregory I (pope, d. 604) 8, 12; and carm. 1 44, 47, 47n15, 49n22, 51, 92; and carm. 89.8 291; and carm. 90.25 305; and carm. 110.3 353–354 Gregory of Tours (d. 594) 10 Gundrada (fl. 800) 16; and carm. 12 145, 145n244; and carm. 26 165; and carm. 85 273 Hatfield, Battle of: and carm. 1 52n27 Hebrews (Bible) 8–9; and carm. 9 135n209

473

Hebrews (people): and carm. 1 92 hexameter 29, 32–33, 412–420 Hildebald (archbishop of Cologne, d 818): and carm. 25 166, 167n305; and carm. 107.2, 3 336–337 Holy Cross: and carm. 1 59n34, 80; and carm. 6 123–124; and carm. 51 202; and carm. 89.12 291; and carm. 109.10, 11 344–345; and carm. 114.1 364; and epis. 17 387 Holy Spirit 24; and carm. 65.2 238, 65.4a 240; carm. 89.26c 297; and carm. 121 380; and epis. 251 399; and epis. 243 405–406 Homer see Anglibert Homiliarium 13 homoeoteleuton 28 Horace (d. 8 B. C. E.): and carm. 1 58n33; and carm. 26 165n298; and carm. 27 168, 168n317; and carm. 57 215n421; and carm. 58 218–219; and carm. 60 223 Hrabanus Maurus (d. 856) 8n33, 18; and carm. 11 142; and carm. 51 202; and carm. 62 227–228; and carm. 119 374 Hygebald (bishop of Lindisfarne, d. 803): and carm. 9 132, 138, 138n217, 139 hyperbaton 28 Interpretationes nominum Hebraicorum progenitorum Domini Nostri Iesu Christi 17, 450 Isaac: and carm. 69 247, 247n504 Isidore of Seville (d. 636) 14 Jacob: and carm. 44 191, 191n373; and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 247, 247n504–505, 251; and epis. 17 389 Jeremiah: and carm. 69 250; and carm. 70 253 Jerome (d. 420) 8, 9, 18, 438; and carm. 1 92; and carm. 42 186n364; and carm. 71 254; and carm. 89.8 290; and carm. 90.24 304; and carm. 110.5 355; and epis. 17 386n5; and epis. 251 400; and epis. 309 409 Jerusalem: and carm. 9 132, 133n202; and carm. 10 141n229; and carm.

474

Index

27 168n315; and carm. 85 276–277; and carm. 88.6 283; and carm. 109.9 344; and carm. 110.9 357 John (Apostle) 20; and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 250–251; and carm. 70 253–254; and carm. 71 254–256; and carm. 89.14 292; and carm. 99.19 322; and carm. 109.3 341 John (the Baptist): and carm. 69 250; and carm. 89.16, 20, 22, 292–294; and carm. 90.4, 10, 14, 15 299–302; and carm. 106.1 335; and carm. 109.8, 19, 22 343, 349–351; and carm. 110.5 355 John (of Beverley, bishop of York, d. 721): and carm. 1 44, 79, 79n84, 80–83 John (Gospel) 8, 17; and carm. 10 141n228; and carm. 65.1 237; and carm. 100 324; and carm. 117 370–371; and epis. 240 403n54; and epis. 243 405 John II (pope, d. 535) 437; and carm. 55 213 John Scottus Eriugena (d. 877) 438; and carm. 70 252 Joseph (husband of Mary): and carm. 44 191, 191n373; and carm. 69 247–248, 248n506–508; and carm. 71 255 Joseph (the Scott, fl. 800): and carm. 6 123; and carm. 7 126 Joshua: and carm. 10 141n229; and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 249–250 Judith: and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 251 Julian (of Toledo, d. 690) 25 Jupiter: and carm. 110.14 359 Juvencus (fl. 330): and carm. 1 43, 92; and carm. 69 246 Lactantius (d. ca. 325): and carm. 1 92 leap year 7; and epis. 171 395 Leo III (pope, d. 816) 5n12, 30; and carm. 10 140; and carm. 15 149; and carm. 17 152, 154; and carm. 25 164; and carm. 28 169; and carm. 44 190; and carm. 45 192, 193n380, 194n382, 384; and carm. 75 260 Leviticus: and carm. 69 248 Libellus sacrarum precum 13, 450

liberal arts 13, 14, 24, 438; and carm. 1 89; and carm. 77 264 Liber Alcuini Contra Haeresim Felicis 6, 450 Liber quaestionum in Evangeliis 10, 450 Liber Sacramentorum 12, 450 Libri Carolini 16, 450 Life of Charlemagne see Einhard Lindisfarne: and carm. 1 54n28, 67n60, 77n78; and carm. 9 131–132, 135–136n210, 137, 137n212–214, 138n217; carm. 10 140; carm. 44 189 litany 31, 415, 420; and carm. 85 273 Liudger (bishop of Münster, d. 809): and carm. 66 241n486; and carm. 86 278–279 Lucan (d. ca. 65): and carm. 1 92; and carm. 9 132 Lucia see Gisela Luke (Apostle): and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 250–251, 251n523, 253; and carm. 71 255–256 Luke (Gospel): and carm. 3 100n117; and carm. 10 139n222, 141n226; and carm. 21 158; and carm. 26 166n304; and carm. 65.4 239n476; and carm. 69 246n495; and carm. 80 268; and carm. 90.14 301; and epis. 17 387n10, 389n15; epis. 251 399n45; epis. 257 400n47; epis. 309 408n64; epis. 311 392n30 Lull (bishop of Mainz, d. 786): and carm. 4 118, 120, 120n171; and carm. 5 122 lyric 30 Macarius see Richbod Maginarius (abbot of St. Denis, d. 792): and carm. 92 307–308 Magulf (abbot of Fleury, d. 796): and carm. 101 325–327 Mark (Apostle): and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 250; and carm. 70 253; and carm. 71 255–256; and carm. 90.5 299 Mark (Gospel): and carm. 10 141n226; and carm. 12 143n237; and carm. 88.10 285 Martel, Charles (d. 741): and carm. 3 99, 104n124, 110n131

Index Mary (Virgin) 21, 26; and carm. 1 66, 94; and carm. 3 115; and carm. 20 156; and carm. 55.10 213; and carm. 65, 65.3, 5 237, 239, 240; and carm. 66.1, 2 242–243; and carm. 69 249; and carm. 71 255, 255n531; and carm. 85 273; and carm. 88.2 281; and carm. 89.13 292; and carm. 90.1, 2, 14 298, 301–302; and carm. 99.12 319; and carm. 107.3 337; and carm. 109.4, 16, 18 342, 348–349; and carm. 110.4, 18 354–355, 360 Mass 12, 13, 20; and carm. 1 72, 84, 91; and carm. 26 167n308; and carm. 63.4 235; and carm. 89.11 291; and carm. 99.1 315, 320n616; and epis. 298 390 Matthew (Apostle): and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 250; and carm. 70 253; and carm. 71 255; and carm. 89.14 292; and carm. 103.1 329; and carm. 109.3 341; and carm. 110.11 357 Matthew (Gospel) 10, 22; and carm. 3 115n134; and carm. 9 135n210; and carm. 10 141n226, 230; and carm. 39 182; and carm. 69 250n519; and carm. 80 268; and carm. 88.10 285; and carm. 89 289n586; and epis. 17 387n7, 389n16–18; and epis. 171 394n36; and epis. 240 403n55; and epis. 243 407n61; and epis. 257 400n50–51; and epis. 298 390n24; and epis. 309 408n63, 65; and epis. 311 391n27 Menalcas: and carm. 26 167, 167n313; and carm. 57 215–216, 216n422, 217; and carm. 100.3 325 metaphor 28 Missa in honore sancti Willibrordi 13, 450 Monna (fl. ca. 800): and carm. 47 196 Mopsus: and carm. 57 216 Moses: and carm. 9 137; and carm. 36 178–179; and carm. 66 242; and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 247n498, 248, 248n512, 249; and carm. 70 253; and carm. 116 369; and epis. 17 389; and epis. 243 406 Murbach (monastery) 3 Muses: and carm. 1 58n33, 86, 89; and carm. 4 119, 119n159, 121; and

475

carm. 7 127; and carm. 14 147–148; and carm. 18 154; and carm. 36 178–179; and carm. 37 180; and carm. 40 184; and carm. 45 192; and carm. 58 219; and carm. 61 226; and carm. 113 363 Nehemiah: and and carm. 26 168n315; and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 250 New Testament 8, 12, 18; and carm. 65 236; and carm. 69 247n497; and carm. 89.14, 16 292; and carm. 90.14 301; and carm. 109.6 343; and carm. 110.11 357 nightingale 31; and carm. 59 222; and carm. 61 224–225, 225n447 Noah: and carm. 69 247, 247n501; and carm. 115 369 Northumbria: and carm. 1 40, 41, 45n13, 47n16–17, 53, 62n43, 63, 63n44, 70n66, 71n69, 84n91, 85; and carm. 2 95; and carm. 9 131; and carm. 15 149 Nouaillé (monastery): and carm. 64 236; and carm. 99 314–315; and carm. 98.12 319; and carm. 100 323; and carm. 104.2 330; and carm. 109.2 340 Offa (king of Mercia, d. 796) 4; and carm. 10 140 Old Testament 8, 12; and carm. 30 172; and carm. 69 250 Optation Porphyry (fl. ca. 330): and carm. 6 123, 123n185; and carm. 7 127, 127n191 opus geminatum: and carm. 3 98, 105n126; and carm. 5 121; and carm. 8 129; and carm. 9 132; and carm. 10 140; and carm. 50 200 Orléans 5; and carm. 44 190; and carm. 101 325; and carm. 110.6 355–356 Oswald (king of Northumbria, d. 641): and carm. 1 42, 44, 52–54, 54n29, 55–58, 58n32–33, 59n35, 60–61, 61n38, 40, 62; and carm. 9 131 Oswy (king of Northumbria, d. 670): and carm. 1 44, 54, 61, 61n40, 62, 62n43, 63–64, 64n45–47

476

Index

Ovid (d. 18): and carm. 4 119n159; and carm. 6 123; and carm. 9 132, 147n250; and carm. 32 175; and carm. 58 218; and carm. 61 225, 225n449; and carm. 80 268; and carm. 115 368 Palemon: and carm. 58 219, 221 pallium 3; and carm. 1 51, 51n24, 85; and carm. 3 102n122; and epis. 311 392 pastoral 29–30; and carm. 1 43, 59n35, 84, 93n99, 95; and carm. 2 95n101; and carm. 14 148; and carm. 23 161; and carm. 40 184; and carm. 57 215–216; and carm. 58 219; and carm. 59 222; and carm. 115 368 Paul (Apostle) 8, 9, 20; and carm. 1 91; and carm. 9 139; and carm. 21 159; and carm. 44 190; and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 251; and carm. 81 269; and carm. 81 270; and carm. 86 279; and carm. 89.16, 19 292–294; and carm. 109.3, 6, 7, 9, 17, 20 341, 342–344, 349–350; and carm. 110.2 353; and carm. 114.4, 5 366–367; and epis. 17 389 Paul (monk of St Martin’s): and carm. 113 363–364 Paul (the Deacon, d. 799) 4, 13, 18, 439; and carm. 4 120, 120n173 Paulinus (bishop of York, d. 644): and carm. 1 44, 49, 49n22, 50, 51, 51n24 Paulinus (of Aquileia, d. 804) 4, 5, 30; and carm. 1 92; and carm. 4 117, 120, 120n162; and carm. 17 152, 152n257; and carm. 18 153–154; and carm. 19 155; and carm. 20 156, 156n269, 157; and carm. 30 171–172; and carm. 35 177; and carm. 55.4 211 Paulinus (of Nola, d. 431): and epis. 311 391n34 Pavia 3; and epis. 172 397 Penda (king of Mercia, d. 655): and carm. 1 52n27, 54n29, 62, 62n41–42, 63, 63n44 Pepin (of Herstal, d. 714): and carm. 3 98, 101, 101n119, 102–103, 103n123, 104n124; and carm. 99.1 315; and carm. 110.8 356

Pepin (son of Charlemagne, d. 810) 14; and carm. 12 144; and carm. 14 146–147, 147n249; and carm. 16 150; and carm. 92 307 Pepin (the Short, d. 768): and carm. 3 110, 110n130; and carm. 92 307; and carm. 109.24 351 Peter (Apostle) 20; and carm. 1 52n25, 54, 66, 66n56, 87; and carm. 3 102; and carm. 9 134; and carm. 25 164; and carm. 26 167n305; and carm. 28 169; and carm. 31 172; and carm. 44 190; and carm. 45 193; and carm. 68 245; and carm. 69 251; and carm. 71 255–256; and carm. 88.10, 11 285; and carm. 89 288; and carm. 89.13, 17–20 292–294; and carm. 90.13 301; and carm. 101.2 326–327; and carm. 103.2 329; and carm. 107.2 336–337; and carm. 109.1–3, 5, 15, 24 339–342, 347–348, 351–352; and carm. 110.1, 4 352, 354–355; and carm. 114.3 365–366; and epis. 17 389, 389n23; and epis. 298 390; and epis. 174 393; and epis. 172 397 Peter (of Pisa, d. 799) 439; and carm. 4 117–118, 118n166; and epis. 172 397n40 Peter (scriptural writings): and carm. 9 138n216, 139n221; epis. 17 388n13 Petronilla (daughter of St Peter): and carm. 110.4 354–355 Philemon 8 Philomela: and carm. 14 147; and carm. 61 225 Picts: and carm. 1 44, 46, 46n14, 48, 68n63, 73, 73n72 Plato 22; and Timaeus 22 pleonasm 28 Pliny (the Younger, d. 113): and carm. 1 92; and carm. 57 215n421; and carm. 61 225 Priscian (grammarian, fl. ca. 500) 14–15; and carm. 1 92; and carm. 4 119, 119n160; and carm. 77 265 Propositiones ad acuendos iuvenes cum solutionibus 15, 452 Prosper (of Aquitaine, d. 455): and carm. 1 92 Proverbs 7; and carm. 69 250n520; and carm. 76 262; and carm. 78 265

Index Prudentius (d. ca. 405): and carm. 1 92 Psalms 8, 19; and carm. 48 197; and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 249–250; and carm. 84 272; and carm. 122 380; and epis. 243 404–407 Puplius see Alcuin Quaestiones in Genesim ad litteram per interrogationes et responsiones 9, 452 Quaestiunculae de Genesi collectae 9, 452 Rado (abbot of St Vedast, d. 807) 10, 17; and carm. 4 118, 120, 120n170; and carm. 89.1–3, 17, 26b-c 287–289, 293, 295–296 Raphael: and carm. 69 250n522; and carm. 90.14 301–302; and carm. 120 377 Ratio de luna XV 7, 452 Regenbert (bishop of Limoges, fl. ca. 800): and carm. 26 166n303; and carm. 39 182, 182n353; and epis. 298 390 Remigius (of Auxerre, d. 908) 19, 25n139 repetition 27–28, 35 Resurrection: and carm. 1 58; and carm. 49 199; and carm. 110.6 355 Rhine: and carm. 1 78; and carm. 4 117–118, 118n148, 155, 119, 119n157–158, 121 rhythmic poetry 29, 31, 34, 411n72, 412, 420, 437; and carm. 17 152; and carm. 55.10 213 Richarius see St Riquier Richbod (archbishop of Trier, d. 804): and carm. 8 130; and carm. 31 172–173, 173n331; and carm. 87 280; and epis. 120 384n1 Richulf (archbishop of Mainz, 813): and carm. 5 121–122, 122n182 Ricwulf (bishop of Cologne, d. 794): and carm. 4 117, 119–120, 120n168 riddles 14, 30, 437; and carm. 5 121–122; carm. 63 233–234; and carm. 64 235 Rome 3; and carm. 1 44, 45, 49, 51, 65, 90, 92; and carm. 2 96, 97; and carm. 3 98, 99, 102; and carm. 4 116–117; and carm. 9 132–134; and carm. 10 140; and carm. 15 149;

477

and carm. 18 153–154; and carm. 21 158; and carm. 25 164; and carm. 27 168; and carm. 28 169; and carm. 43 187; and carm. 44 190; and carm. 45 192–193, 193n378, 380, 194; and carm. 55.10 213; and carm. 75 260; and carm. 88.8, 11 284–285; and carm. 89.16, 17 292–293; and carm. 90.13, 16, 25 301–302, 305; and carm. 99.8 317; and carm. 102 327; and carm. 109 340; and carm. 110.1, 11 353, 357; and carm. 114.3, 6 366–367; and epis. 172 397; and epis. 174 393; and epis. 177 398 Rotrud (daughter of Charlemagne, d. 810) 8, 12; and carm. 65 236 Rusticus (martyr, fl. ca. 250): and carm. 89.5 289; and carm. 110.3 354 Ruth: and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 249 Rutilius Namatianus (fl. ca. 400) 30 St Agatha (martyr, fl. ca. 250): and carm. 89.11 291; and carm. 99.3, 6 316, 317; and carm. 110.4 354–355 St Aignan (bishop of Orléans, fl. 450): and carm. 110.6 355–356 St Aldegonde (d. 684): and carm. 89.21 294 St Amand (bishop of Maastricht, d. 679): and carm. 88 280, 88.1, 3, 5, 6, 9, 14, 15 281–284, 286; and carm. 89.24 295; and carm. 90 300; and carm. 99 317; and carm. 106.3 335; and carm. 108 338; and carm. 109.15 347–348 St Amand (monastery): and carm. 18 153; and carm. 88 280, 88.3 281, 88.4 282n579, 88.7, 9, 14 283–284, 286; and carm. 89.24 295; and carm. 109.12, 15 346–347 St Ambrose see Ambrose St Andrew (Apostle) 20; and carm. 88.10 285; and carm. 89.20 294; and carm. 99.16 321; and carm. 109.3, 5 341–342; and carm. 110.1 352–353 St Andrew (monastery): and carm. 8 129; and epis. 26 385 St Anianus (of Alexandria, d. 86): and carm. 99.5 299 St Apollinaris (bishop of Ravenna, d. ca. 180): and carm. 110.14 358–359

478

Index

St Benedict see Benedict of Nursia St Brigid (of Ireland, d. 525): and carm. 110.16 359 St Cecilia (martyr, d. ca. 235): and carm. 89.11 291; and carm. 99.1 315 St Clement (pope and martyr, d. 98): and carm. 89.13 292 St Cornelius (pope): and carm. 110.11 358 St Cosmas and St Damian (martyrs, d. ca. 305): and carm. 89.10 291; and carm. 109.4 346–347 St Cyprian (bishop of Carthage, d. 258): and carm. 110.11 357 St Damian see St Cosmas St Denis (martyr) see St Dennis St Denis (monastery): and carm. 4 118, 120n174 St Dennis (bishop of Paris and martyr, d. ca. 250): and carm. 89.5 289; and carm. 90.7, 19 299–300, 303; and carm. 99.2 315–316; and carm. 110.3 353–354 St Dionysius see St Dennis St Felix (of Nola, d. 260): and carm. 110.13 358 St Florian (martyr, d. ca. 300): and carm. 109.21 350 St Genevieve (d. ca. 500): and carm. 89.26 295 St George (martyr, d. ca. 305): and carm. 89.15 292 St Germanus (bishop of Auxerre, d. 448): and carm. 89.23, 26 294, 295; and carm. 90.20 303 St Germanus (bishop of Paris, d. 576): and carm. 110.7 356 St Gervasius (martyr, fl. ca 150): and carm. 99.14 320; and carm. 110.10 357 St Gregory (of Spoleto, 304): and carm. 110.14 358–359 St Hilary (bishop of Poitiers, d. 367): and carm. 1 92; and carm. 88.13 286; and carm. 110.12 358 St Hilary (monastery): and carm. 52 205; and carm. 99 314–323; and carm. 109.2, 14 340, 346–347 St James the Greater (Apostle): and carm. 110.3, 7 353, 356

St James the Lesser (Apostle): and carm. 110.3, 7, 12 354, 356, 358 St John see John (Apostle) St John (the Baptist) see John (the Baptist) St Josse (monastery) 22; and carm. 56.3 215 St Kieran (of Ireland, fl. 450): and carm. 110.15 359 St Lambert (bishop of MaastrichtLiège, d. ca. 705): and carm. 89.7 290; and carm. 99.1 315; and carm. 110.8 356 St Lawrence (martyr, d. 258): and carm. 88.8 284; and carm. 89.16 292–293; and carm. 90.16 302; and carm. 99.8 317; and carm. 110.1 353; and carm. 114.6 367 St Leger (of Autun, d. 679): and carm. 110.4 354 St Luke see Luke (Apostle) St Marcellus (pope, d. 309): and carm. 110.9 357 St Mark see Mark (Apostle) St Martin (bishop of Tours, d. 397) 10; and carm. 45 192; and carm. 47 196; and carm. 88.9 284; and carm. 89.4 289; and carm. 90.3 299, 90.11 301, 90.21 303–304; and carm. 99.11 318–319; 99.22 323; and carm. 109.22 350–351; and carm. 110.17 359–360; and carm. 113 363; and epis. 240 404; and epis. 298 390–391; and Vita Sancti Martini 10 St Martin of Tours (monastery) 5, 9, 12, 16, 192n376; 193n378; and carm. 39 182; and carm. 44 189; and carm. 51 202; and carm. 56 215; and carm. 65 237, 237n470; and carm 65 237n470; 65.1a 241, 65.4a 240–241; and carm. 68 244; carm. 71.1 254; and carm. 75 260; and carm. 83 271; and carm. 93 308; and carm. 94 309; and carm. 95 310; and carm. 96 311; and carm. 97 312; and carm. 98 313; and carm. 108.3 338–339; and carm. 113 363; and carm. 120 376; and carm. 123 381; and epis. 172 397; and epis. 177 398; and epis. 238 402; and epis. 240 404; and epis. 298 390

Index St Matthew see Matthew (Apostle) St Maurice (martyr, d. ca. 250): and carm. 90.9, 18 300, 303; and carm. 110.5 355 St Medard (bishop of Noyons, d. 545): and carm. 90.6 299; and carm. 107.3 337; and carm. 110.9 357 St Michael (archangel) 31; and carm. 1 66; and carm. 88.4, 12 282, 285; and carm. 89.25 295; and carm. 90.14 301; and carm. 91.4 306; and carm. 99.4 316; and carm. 109.12, 15 346, 347–348; and carm. 110.18 360; and carm. 114.2 365; and carm. 120 375–377 St. Nabor (martyr, d. ca. 305): and carm. 102.1, 2 327–328 St Nabor (monastery): and carm. 102 327 St Pancratius (martyr, fl. ca. 30): and carm. 110.14 358–359 St Patrick (of Ireland, fl. ca. 450): and carm. 110.15 359 St Paul see Paul (Apostle) St Peter see Peter (Apostle) St Philibert (abbot of Jumièges, d. 684): and carm. 99.3 316 St Philip (fl. ca. 50): and carm. 109.3 341; and carm. 110.9 357 St Piatus (martyr, d. 285): and carm. 89.15 292 St Protasius (martyr, d. ca. 150): and carm. 99.14 320; and carm. 110.10 357 St Quentin (martyr, d. ca. 285): and carm. 89.24 295; and carm. 90.7, 17 299–300, 302–303; and carm. 99.2 315–316 St Remigius (bishop of Reims, d. 533): and carm. 89.6 290; and carm. 90.22 304; and carm. 110.12 358 St Riquier (monastery) 150, 242 St Riquier (monk, d. 645) 10; and carm. 89.7 290; and Vita Sancti Richarii 10, 10n43, 30, 242 St Rupert (bishop of Salzburg, d. 710): and carm. 109.1, 8, 24 339–340, 343, 351; and carm. 110.4, 8 355, 356 St Salvius (martyr, d. ca. 630): and carm. 90.8 300; and carm. 106.2 335

479

St Samson (of Dol, d. 565): and carm. 110.13 358 St Scholastica (d. 543): and carm. 89.9 290–291; and carm. 109.13 346 St Simon the Zealot (Apostle): and carm. 110.12, 13 358 St Stephen (protomartyr, d. ca. 35): and carm. 88.6 283; and carm. 90.12 301; and carm. 99.19 322; and carm. 107.1 336; and carm. 109.9 344 St Sulpicius (bishop of Bourges, d. ca. 645): and carm. 99.5 316; and carm. 110.4 354–355 St Thaddeus (Apostle): and carm. 109.3 341–342; and carm. 110.13 358 St Vedast (bishop of Arras, d. ca. 540) 10, 12, 18; and carm. 4 120n170; and carm. 89.1, 2, 3, 26c 296–297, 296n592; and carm. 109.6, 8, 13 342–343, 346; and carm. 110.7 356; and Vita Sancti Vedasti 10n43, 17, 296n589 St Vedast (monastery) 12, 17; and carm. 4 118, 120n170; and carm. 89.1, 2, 17, 24, 26c 288–289, 293, 295, 297 St Victor (martyr, d. 290): and carm. 88.13 286 St Willibrord (d. 739) 2–3; and carm. 1 78, 78n79; and carm. 3 97–115, 97n112, 101n120, 102n122, 115n135; and carm. 4 119, 119n158; and carm. 8 129; and epis. 120 384–385; and Vita Sancti Willibrordi 10, 13, 30, 98, 98n113, 98n114, 105n126s a Salzburg (monastery): and carm. 55.1 210; and carm. 56.3 215; and carm. 88.12 285; and carm. 89.10, 19 291, 293–294; and carm. 90 298; and carm. 109 339–352; and carm. 110.4 355 Samuel see Beornred Sapphics 31, 416, 420; and carm. 89c 296; and carm. 121 378 Saxons: and carm. 1 44, 46–48, 54n28, 64, 78; and carm. 56.2 214; and carm. 75 260 Sedulius (fl. ca. 425) 18; and carm. 1 43, 92 Seneca (the Younger, d. 65): and carm. 81 269, 269n558, 270

480

Index

sequence 28, 30, 31, 419, 420; and carm. 120 375–376 Sergius I (pope, d. 701): and carm. 3 97, 99, 102, 102n121, 122 Servius (grammarian, fl. ca. 400) 23; and carm. 1 92 Sidonius Apollinaris (d. 485): and carm. 4 116; and carm. 26 165 Sigebald (bishop of Metz, d. 741): and carm. 102 327 Sigulf (abbot of Ferrières, fl. ca. 810) 2, 9; and carm. 56.3 215 Sinai: and carm. 69 248 Sixtus II (pope, d. 258): and carm. 88.8 284 Solomon 7; and carm. 9 133, 133n202, 134n203–204; and carm. 10 141; and carm. 68 244; and carm. 69 249–250, 250n520; and carm. 76 262; and carm. 78 265–266; and carm. 85.2 276–277; and carm. 97 312; and epis. 17 388; and epis. 251 400; and epis. 243 405; and epis. 309 409 Statius (d. 96): and carm. 1 92 Sulpicius Severus (d. ca. 425) 10; and carm. 109.22 351; and carm. 110.17 359–360 symmetry (rhetorical) 28 Symphosius (fl. ca 400) 14, 30; and carm. 63 234; and carm. 92 307 Tatwine (d. 734) 23; and carm. 5 12; and carm. 63 233 Theodulf (of Orléans, d. 821) 5, 18; and carm. 6 123; and carm. 26 164–165; and carm. 44 190 Theophilactus (fl. ca. 800) 4; and carm. 21 157–159 Thomas (Apostle): and carm. 109.3 341; and carm. 110.6 355–356 Tibullus (d. 19 B. C. E.): and carm. 12 144; and carm. 39 181, 181n352 Timaeus see Plato Titus 8, 9 Tobit: and carm. 69 250, 250n522 Tours (city): and carm. 47 196, 196n389; and carm. 88.9 284; see also St. Martin of Tours Utrecht (city): and carm. 3 97, 99, 104; and carm. 4 117, 118; and carm. 86 278

Vasco (abbot of St Nabor, fl. ca. 800): and carm. 102.1, 2 327–328 vates see Alcuin Venantius Fortunatus (d. ca. 600) 32, 32n160; and carm. 1 43; and carm. 2 96; and carm. 6 123; and carm. 99.17 321–322; and carm. 109.22 351; and carm. 110.17 360 Vespers: and carm. 121 378 Virgil (d. 19 B. C. E.): and Aeneid (and carm. 23 161; and carm. 36 178; and carm. 42 186n364; and carm. 61 225); and Eclogues (and carm. 23 161; and carm. 57 215; and carm. 59 222); and Georgics (and carm. 23 161) Vita Alcuini see Alcuin Vita Sancti Martini see St Martin of Tours (bishop) Vita Sancti Richarii see St Riquier Vita Sancti Vedasti see St Vedast Vita Sancti Willibrordi see St Willibrord Vulgate 12–13, 12n55; and carm. 65 236; and carm. 89.8 290; and carm. 90.24 304; and carm. 110.5 355 Wilfrid I (bishop of York, d. 709): and carm. 1 44, 64–65, 64–65n49, 66, 66n55–56; and carm. 3 97 Wilfrid II (bishop of York, d. 745): and carm. 1 44; and carm. 1 83, 83n87–88, 84 Wilgils (d. ca. 710) 2, 97; and carm. 3 100, 113–115; and carm. 8 129; and epis. 120 384 Wizo (fl. ca. 800): 8; and carm. 44 189, 189n368, 190 York (city) 2–5, 12, 41; and carm. 1 30, 40–47, 49n22, 51, 51n24, 52, 52n26, 79, 79n84, 83, 83n88, 88–90, 94–95; and carm. 2 95–97, 96n103; and carm 3 97, 119n160; and carm. 23 161n284; and carm. 43 187; and carm. 50 200–201n397; and carm. 59 222–223, 223n441; and carm. 86 278 Zechariah: and carm. 9 135n208; and carm. 90.14 301 zodiac 7; and carm. 10 141nn227, 141n229; and carm. 73 258–259