Abstract
This article reads the celebrated Old English lament The Wanderer within the context of the early monastic tradition of hesychasm, the harnessing of meandering thoughts prior to approaching the stillness of prayer, and the doctrine of theosis, the belief that humankind can share in the divine nature of God through grace. In identifying new analogues and possible sources in scriptural and patristic writings, it suggests how the poem might have been understood within an Anglo-Saxon monastic milieu.
This is a preview of subscription content, log in via an institution to check access.
Similar content being viewed by others
Notes
Cameron et al. (2007) (hereafter DOE): “wanderer (through the land)”.
“He thinks to himself in his mind that he embraces and kisses his dear lord, and places his hands and head on his knees, just as he for a time, previously, in former days, enjoyed the gift-throne. Then the joyless man awakens again, sees before him dark waves, sea-birds bathing, spreading their feathers, falling hoarfrost and snow, mingled with hail. Then the heart’s wounds are the heavier, sorrowing after the beloved one. Sorrow is renewed, when the memory of kin passes through the mind; he joyfully greets them, eagerly studies the companions of men. Afterwards they swim away. The spirits of floating ones do not bring many familiar sayings there. Care is renewed for the one who must send very often, over the binding of the waves the weary spirit.” All quotations from The Wanderer are taken from the edition of Leslie (1985). Other Exeter Book poems are quoted from Krapp and Dobbie (1936). All translations are my own unless otherwise stated.
In the same essay, Clemoes identifies a passage in Alcuin as a possible source for The Seafarer ll. 58-64a. I would suggest the relationship between these two passages is closer than that which he proposes between the Ambrosian passage and The Wanderer. Harbus (1996), drawing on medieval dream theory, reads The Wanderer ll. 41–57 as a “deceptive dream”.
For an overview, see Klinck (1992, pp. 231–238).
Orchard (2002) argues persuasively that the poem laments the passing of the old, heroic culture, while utilising the tropes of the new Old English homiletic tradition.
For the scriptural foundations of theosis see, for example, Ps 8:1, 5; John 10:33-6; 2 Peter 1:1-5; Luke 20:35-6 and Romans 8:15-24.
For a definition, see Ware (1983).
Burton-Christie (2012, pp. 49–51), discusses Athanasius’s Life of St Anthony in terms of anachoresis (seeking the place of God), prosoche (discernment and the struggle with the self) and proseuche (dwelling in the place of God). Evagrius’s scheme was later modified by Gregory the Great, who condensed melancholy and depression into the single vice of sloth and made vainglory a facet of pride, adding the sin of envy, giving rise to the conception of the seven deadly sins. For the Greek text of Evagrius’s On Thoughts I cite the edition of Géhin and Guillamont (1998).
Géhin and Guillamont (1998: 180–181) translate πλανος here as Fr. ‘vagabond’, noting: “Évagré se réfère à une appellation qui était probablement en usage dans le milieu monastique, comme il le fait en Pratique 12 à propos du démon de l’acédie appelé aussi démon de midi. πλανος est à prendre ici non pas au sens de trompeur, seducteur qu’il a ordinairement quand il s’agit des démons dans l’Ecriture […], dans la Vie d’Antoine (94, 2), parfois chez Évagré lui-même (Prière 94), mais au sens premier errant, vagabond.” Géhin and Guillamont also note parallels with Cassian (Conferences 7.32): “qui parle de certains démons quos etiam Planos uulgus appellat [Migne 1841–55, col. 713], avec même réfèrence à une usage commun que chez Évagre; mais Cassien appelle ainsi des démons qui se tiennent sur les chemins, se moquent des passants et cherchent à les tromperl il note cependant que certains d’entre eux s’en prennent, la nuit, à ceux qui dorment et se livrent sur eux à des incubations”, and Origen In Ezech. 6.11 (180–181, n. 9). See also the discussion of Sinkewicz (2003: 142–143): “The name of the demon ‘Vagabond’ was probably a commonplace in Evagrius’ milieu, although the known parallels do not exactly fit the description in the treatise.”
Lapidge (2006), lists citations of Cassian by Theodore and Hadrian, Aldhelm, Bede, Asser, Lantfred and Ælfric on pp. 176, 179, 205, 238, 240–241, 257, and provides a list of known Anglo-Saxon manuscripts of his works on pp. 295–296 (including three for Conferences and two for Monastic Institutes).
“But it is clearly proved that there exist in unclean spirits as many desires as there are in men. For some of them, which are commonly called Plani [Gibson translates Lat. Fauni as Plani], are shown to be so seductive and sportive that, when they have taken continual possession of certain places or roads, they delight themselves not indeed with tormenting the passers by whom they can deceive, but, contenting themselves merely with laughing at them and mocking them, try to tire them out rather than to injure them: while some spend the night merely by harmlessly taking possession of men, though others are such slaves to fury and ferocity that they are not simply content with hurting the bodies of those, of whom they have taken possession, by tearing them in a dreadful manner, but actually are eager to rush upon those who are passing by at a distance, and to attack them with most savage slaughter: like those described in the gospel, for fear of whom no man dared to pass by that way.” (Gibson 1894: 425–426).
“Now there are eight capital sins which attack us fiercely […]. The third is avaritia, that is evil avarice, and it is the root of all evil. […] The fifth is tristitia, which is sadness of this world, when a person is too sad on account of the loss of his possessions, which he loved too much, and complains against God and adds to his sins. There are two sadnesses: one is this evil one; the other one is salutary, in that one is sad on account of one’s sins. The sixth vice is called accidia, which is indolence or sloth in English, when a person does not desire to do any good in his life. […] The seventh vice is called iactantia, which is vainglory in the English language, when a person is eager for praise and behaves with hypocrisy and, if he be willing to give something in alms, he does it for vainglorious display. […].’” (Clayton, pp. 145–147). Cf. Cassian, Conferences 5.10-11: Migne 1841–55, coll. 0621A–0627A.
“Ideoque utilis nobis una re tantum tristitia judicanda est, cum hanc vel poenitudine delictorum, vel desiderio perfectionis accensi, vel futurae beatitudinis contemplatione concipimus” (Migne 1841–55, coll. 0348A). Cf. Cassian, Conferences 5.1: “tertium […] id est, avaritia, sive amor pecuniae; […] quintum tristitia; sextum acedia, id est, anxietas, sive taedium cordis; septimum cenodoxia, id est, jactantia, seu vana gloria” (Migne 1841–55, col. 0611A), (“[…] the third is avarice, understood as greed or even lust for money; […] the fifth melancholy; the sixth depression, which is anxiety or listlessness of heart; the seventh vainglory, meaning silly or frivolous conceit”) (Luibheid 1985, p. 69).
DOE s. v. anhaga: “solitary being, lonely being” (12 occurrences, mainly poetic); among the many possible meanings of ar, DOE has honour, reverence, respect, dignity, honourable rank, mercy, grace, favour, help, pity, compassion, kindness, benevolence, temporal prosperity, good fortune, benefit, property, possessions, goods, resources and benefices. As examples of the specifically Christian usage of ar in the sense of “grace, favour granted by God, salvation” preferred by most translators of The Wanderer l. 1, DOE cites Andreas l. 977 and Seafarer l. 107, as well as examples in a Rogationtide Homily, the Will of Ealdorman Alfred, and the Old English Boethius and Pastoral Care. The verb gebideð has been almost universally understood as the 3rd person singular present indicative form of the verb gebidan (‘to wait for’ or ‘to experience’). Hence DOE cites The Wanderer l. 1 to illustrate the sense of ‘gebidan’ as ‘to experience, live to see/endure (hardship); enjoy (pleasure)’, noting ‘“to wait for” [sense 2.a] has also been suggested’. The same verb appears in its infintive form at l. 70 of The Wanderer, in the sense of ‘“to wait till (oþ followed by time when, or (oþ)þæt/ hwonne followed by a clause) [2.d.]’: “beorn sceal gebidan, þonne he beot spriceð, oþþæt collenferð cunne gearwe hwider hreþra gehygd hweorfan wille”. Leslie (pp. 69–70) translates gebideð in The Wanderer l. 1 as “experiences”; Orchard (2002, p. 10) argues that the poem charts a progression from the “seemingly detached passivity of someone waiting for (or experiencing) favor […] to the engaged effort of someone actively seeking it”; Klinck (1992, pp. 106–107): “although in this context the word is most closely rendered “experiences,” it conveys also the sense of enduring through hardships until grace is granted.” However, gebideð is occasionally used in prose for the 3rd person singular present indicative form of the verb ‘gebiddan’, which DOE defines: “1. To ask, entreat […]. 2. With reference to formal petitions, demands of various kinds […]. 3. To ask in prayer, pray”. Cf. for example, Old English Martyrology 7, B.42: ‘swa hwelc mon swa […] mid tearum him to Gode gebideð on ðinum noman, he bið fram his synnum gefreod (C mid tearum to gode gebyddeð)’. Gordon (1962, p. 73), perhaps influenced by the closeness of gebideð and gebiddeð, translates The Wanderer l. 1 as “Often the solitary man prays for favour”.
Bosworth and Toller (1898–1921), s. v. metod: “A word found only in poetry (the phrase se metoda drihten occurs twice in Ælfric’s Homilies, but in alliterative passages). The earlier meaning of the word in heathen times may have been fate, destiny, death (cf. metan) […]. But the word, which occurs frequently, is generally an epithet of the Deity as the O. Sax. Metod”; milts: “mildness, kindness, favour, mercy (most commonly with reference to the Deity)”.
“Now the child has come, born to the relief of the sufferings of the Hebrews, He brings bliss to you, loosens the bonds wickedly forced upon you. He recognizes the terrible need, how the wretched must wait for mercy (or grace).” (Emphasis added).
“We are in need of your grace/mercy! The accursed wolf, beast and shadow of darkness, Lord, has scattered your flock far and wide, that you, Ruler, had before bought with blood, that the baleful enemy fiercely injures and takes away into captivity for himself, against the yearning of our needs. Therefore, Redeemer, we earnestly pray to you in the thoughts of our hearts that you quickly bring about help to us weary exiles.” (Emphasis added).
“Cursed souls from hell have cruelly constrained us exiles, bound us with baleful bonds. The remedy is yours alone, Eternal Lord. […] Have mercy now upon your servants and think upon our miseries, how we stumble along, faint of heart, and wander in misery.” (Emphasis added).
For an alternative reading, see Griffith (1996).
On the importance of this motif in Old English poetry, see Mize (2013).
Seltzer (1983, p. 234), notes that this passage echoes the rhetorical questions found in the meditative writings of Augustine, Ignatius and later writers, such as John Donne.
“Therefore I cannot think, throughout this world, why my mind does not grow gloomy, when I deeply ponder all about the life of men, how quickly they departed from the floor, proud young thegns.”
“The warrior must be patient, when he utters a vow, until brave in heart he should readily know in what direction the thoughts of his heart will wander.”
Similarly bleak natural imagery is often employed in Old English verse, both in the other short elegiac poems of the Exeter Book such as The Seafarer (esp. ll. 23a, 31–33a) The Wife’s Lament (49b–51a), The Husband’s Message, Wulf and Eadwacer and The Ruin, and gnomic pieces such as God’s Advice to Humankind, and in longer works such as Beowulf. See further Burlin (1974).
See also Liuzza (2003) for connections with the Tower of Babel.
“1. Behold: the Lord shall lay waste the earth and shall strip it and shall afflict the face thereof and scatter abroad the inhabitants thereof […]. 3. With desolation shall the earth be laid waste, and it shall be utterly spoiled, for the Lord hath spoken this word. 4. The earth mourned and faded away and is weakened. […] 7. The vintage hath mourned; the vine hath languished away; all the merry-hearted have sighed. 8. The mirth of timbrels hath ceased; the noise of them that rejoice is ended; the melody of the harp is silent. 9. They shall not drink wine with a song; the drink shall be bitter to them that drink it. 10. The city of vanity is broken down; every house is shut up; no man cometh in. 11. There shall be crying for wine in the streets. All mirth is forsaken; the joy of the earth is gone away. 12. Desolation is left in the city, and calamity shall oppress the gates.” The Book of Isaiah was, of course, very well known to the Anglo-Saxons. The Fontes Anglo-Saxonici database lists 265 citations in Anglo-Saxon authors (http://fontes.english.ox.ac.uk/; accessed 9th August 2015). For a recent discussion of Isaiah’s influence on Andreas, see Appleton (2015).
Colgrave and Mynors (1969, pp. 343–345): “For in addition to all his merits of temperance, humility, zeal in teaching, prayers and voluntary poverty and other virtues too, he was greatly filled with the fear of the Lord and mindful of his last end in all he did. […] if he happened to be reading or doing something else and suddenly a high wind arose, he would at once invoke the mercy of the Lord and beg Him to have pity upon the human race. If the wind increased in violence he would shut his book, fall on his face, and devote himself still more earnestly to prayer. But if there were a violent storm of wind and rain or if lightning and thunder brought terror to earth and sky, he would enter the church and, with still deeper concentration, earnestly devote himself to prayers and psalms until the sky cleared. When his people asked him why he did it he replied, ‘Have you not read, “The Lord also thundered in the heavens and the Highest gave his voice. Yea, He sent out His arrows and scattered them and He shot out lightnings and discomfited them” [Ps. 17:14–15]? For the Lord moves the air, raises the winds, hurls the lightnings, and thunders forth from heaven so as to rouse the inhabitants of the world to fear Him, to call them to remember the future judgement in order that He may scatter their pride and confound their boldness by bringing to their minds that dread time when He will come in the clouds in great power and majesty, to judge the living and the dead, while the heavens and the earth are aflame. And so’, said he, ‘we ought to respond to His heavenly warning with due fear and love; so that as often as He disturbs the sky and raises His hand as if about to strike, yet spares us still, we should implore His mercy, examining the innermost dregs of our sins, and behave with such caution that we may never deserve to be struck down.’” (Emphasis added). Vernacular versions of this story were circulated in the Old English Bede and the Life of St Chad.
See Ward (1991) on Bede’s often personal, contemplative interpretation of psalm verses, despite his deep knowledge of the commentary tradition (though she does not discuss this particular episode in the Historia Ecclesiastica). See also Darby (2012), pp. 101–103, on Bede’s eschatological interpretation of weather in the Historia Ecclesiastica and other texts. In the first dialogue of the Prose Solomon and Saturn, preserved in the twelfth century Southwick Codex, Saturn asks, “Sage me hwer god sete þa he geworhte heofonas and eorðan” (“Tell me where God sat when He made the heavens and earth”), to which Solomon replies, “Ic þe sege, he sætt ofer winda feðerum” (“I tell you, He sat on the wings of the winds”). For connections between this passage and Ps. 17.11 (“volavit super pennas ventorum”) and various other sources, as well as the frontispiece illustration in MS Junius 11, see Cross and Hill (1982), pp. 60–61; for the Old English text, see p. 25.
On compunction in The Wanderer, see Palmer (2004).
“So spoke the wise one in his mind, sat himself apart in contemplation. Blessed be he who keeps his faith, he must not ever his grief too quickly, the warrior, reveal from his breast, unless he already knows the remedy, the warrior to bring it about with courage. Blessed be the one who seeks grace for himself, comfort from the father in the heavens, where for all of us the stronghold stands.”
See Orchard (2002, pp. 7–8).
Cf. Ware (1983, p. 190): “the hesychast is one who ‘returns into himself’, who seeks the ‘kingdom within’ (cf. Luke 17.21) and ‘guards the heart with all watchfulness’ (Prov. 4.23), closing not merely the outward door of his cell against visitors, but also the inward door of his heart against evil thoughts and distractions. Thus St John Climacus [d. 649] defines the hesychast as ‘one who strives to confine his incorporeal self within his bodily house, paradoxical though this may sound’ (Ladder 27)”.
“Some dwell in desolate places, seeking and settling of their own free will homes in the darkness. They wait for the heavenly home.” (Emphasis added).
“Thus here on the earth God’s eternal son sprang in leaps over the high hillsides, courageous over the mountains. So we men must spring in leaps in the thoughts of our heart from strength to strength and strive after glorious things […]. It greatly behoves us that we should seek salvation with our hearts […]. Therefore we must despise vain desires, and delight in the better part. We have as our comfort the Almighty Father in the skies.” (Emphasis added). Cf. The Wanderer l. 115: frofre to Fæder on heofenum, þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð.
References
Anderson, G. K. (1957). The literature of the Anglo-Saxons. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Anlezark, D. (2015). From elegy to lyric: Changing emotion in Early English poetry. In M. Champion & A. Lynch (Eds.), Understanding emotions in early Europe (pp. 73–98). Turnhout: Brepols.
Appleton, H. (2015). The Book of Isaiah as an influence on Andreas. Notes and Queries, 62(1), 1–6.
Bertram, J. (Trans.). (1999). John Cassian: The Monastic Institutes: “On The Training of a Monk” and “The Eight Deadly Sins”. London: St Austin Press.
Bischoff, B., & Lapidge, M. (Eds.). (1994). Biblical commentaries from the Canterbury school of Theodore and Hadrian. Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 10. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Bjork, R. E. (1989). Sundor æt Rune: The voluntary exile of The Wanderer. Neophilologus, 73, 119–123; reprinted in R. M. Liuzza (Ed.). (2002). Old English literature: Critical essays (pp. 315–327). New Haven: Yale University Press.
Bosworth, J., & Toller, T. N. (Eds.). (1898–1921). An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary Online. “Milts” and “Metod”. Comp. S. Christ and O. Tichý. Faculty of Arts, Charles University in Prague, 21 Mar. 2010. http://bosworth.ff.cuni.cz/022890; http://bosworth.ff.cuni.cz/022758. Accessed 9 Feb 2015.
Burlin, R. B. (1974). Inner weather and interlace: A note on the semantic value of structure in Beowulf. In R. B. Burlin & E. B. Irving Jr (Eds.), Old English studies in honour of John C. Pope (pp. 81–89). Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Burton-Christie, D. (2012). Early monasticism. In A. Hollywood & P. Beckman (Eds.), The Cambridge companion to Christian mysticism (pp. 37–58). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Calder, D. G. (1971). Setting and mode in The Seafarer and The Wanderer. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 72, 264–275.
Cameron, A., Amos, A. C., & diPaolo Healey A., et al. (Eds). (2007). Dictionary of Old English: A to G online. Toronto: Dictionary of Old English Project. http://www.doe.utoronto.ca. Accessed 9 Feb 2015. (DOE).
Casiday, A. M. (Ed. and Trans.). (2006). Evagrius Ponticus. The Early Church Fathers. London: Routledge.
Clayton, M. (Ed. and Trans.). (2013). Two Ælfric texts: “The Twelve Abuses” and “The Vices and Virtues”. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer.
Clemoes, P. (1969). Mens absentia cogitans in The Seafarer and The Wanderer. In D. A. Pearsall & R. A. Waldron (Eds.), Medieval literature and civilization: Studies in memory of G. N. Garmonsway (pp. 62–77). London: Athlone Press.
Colgrave, B., & Mynors, R. A. B. (Eds. and Trans.). (1969). Bede’s ecclesiastical history of the English people. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Cross, J. E. (1961). On the genre of The Wanderer. Neophilologus, 45, 63–75.
Cross, J. E., & Hill, T. D. (Eds.). (1982). The Prose Solomon and Saturn and Adrian and Ritheus. McMaster Old English Studies and Texts 1. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Darby, P. (2012). Bede and the end of time. Farnham: Ashgate.
De Lacy, P. (1998). Thematic and structural affinities: The Wanderer and Ecclesiastes. Neophilologus, 81, 125–137.
Dean, C. (1965). Weal wundrum heah, wyrmlicum fah and the narrative background of The Wanderer. Modern Philology, 63, 141–143.
Diekstra, F. N. M. (1971). The Wanderer 65b–72: The passions of the mind and the cardinal virtues. Neophilologus, 55, 73–88.
Frankis, P. J. (1973). The thematic significance of enta geweorc and related imagery in The Wanderer. ASE, 2, 253–269.
Géhin, P., & Guillamont, C. (Eds.). (1998). Évagre le Pontique: Sur Les pensées. Paris: Les Éditions de Cerf.
Gibson, E. C. S. (Trans). (1894). The conferences of John Cassian. In P. Schaff (Ed.), A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, Second Series (Vol. 11). Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co.
Gordon, R. K. (Trans.). (1962). Anglo-Saxon poetry. London: Dent and Sons.
Greenfield, S. B. (1951). The Wanderer: A reconsideration of theme and structure. Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 50, 451–465; repr. in G. H. Brown (Ed.). (1989). Hero and exile: The art of Old English poetry (pp. 133–147). London: Hambledon Press.
Greenfield, S. B. (1966). The Old English elegies. In E. G. Stanley (Ed.). Continuations and beginnings: Studies in Old English literature (pp. 142–175). London: Nelson; repr. in G. H. Brown (Ed.). (1989) Hero and exile: The art of Old English poetry (pp. 93–125).
Griffith, M. (1996). Does wyrd bið ful aræd mean ‘fate is wholly inexorable’? In M. J. Toswell & E. M. Tyler (Eds.), Studies in English language and literature: “Doubt wisely”: Papers in honour of E. G. Stanley (pp. 133–156). London: Routledge.
Harbus, A. (1996). Deceptive dreams in The Wanderer. Studies in Philology, 93, 164–179.
Hill, T. D. (2004). The unchanging hero: A stoic maxim in The Wanderer and its contexts. Studies in Philology, 101, 233–249.
Horgan, A. D. (1987). The Wanderer—A Boethian poem? Review of English Studies, 38, 40–46.
Howe, N. (2008). Englalond and the postcolonial void. In N. Howe (Ed.), Writing the map of Anglo-Saxon England: Essays in cultural geography (pp. 75–100). New Haven: Yale University Press.
Klinck, A. (Ed.). (1992). The Old English elegies: A critical edition and genre study. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press.
Krapp, G. P., & Dobbie, E. V. K. (Eds.). (1936). The Exeter Book. Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records III. New York: Columbia University Press.
Lake, S. (2003). Knowledge of the writings of John Cassian in early Anglo-Saxon England. Anglo-Saxon England, 32, 27–41.
Lapidge, M. (2005). The Anglo-Saxon library. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Leslie, R. F. (Ed.) (1966; revised 1985). The Wanderer. Exeter: Exeter University Press.
Liuzza, R. M. (2003). The tower of Babel: The Wanderer and the ruins of history. Studies in the Literary Imagination, 36, 1–35.
Lockett, L. (2011). Anglo-Saxon psychologies in the vernacular and Latin traditions. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Louth, A. (2005). Deification. In P. Sheldrake (Ed.), The new Westminster dictionary of Christian spirituality (p. 229). Westminster: John Knox Press.
Luibheid, C. (Ed. and Trans.). (1985). John Cassian: Conferences. The Classics of Western Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.
Migne, J. P. (Ed.). (1841–55). Joannis Cassiani: De Coenobiorum institutis libri duodecim and Vigintiquatuor collationes. Patrologiae cursus completus. Series (Latina) Prima (Vol. 49). Paris. Garnier Frères. Coll. 56–477, 477–1328.
Mize, B. (2013). Traditional subjectivities: the Old English poetics of mentality. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Muir, B. J. (Ed.). (1994). The Exeter Anthology of Old English Poetry (Vol. 2). Exeter: Exeter University Press.
North, R. (1995). Boethius and the mercenary in The Wanderer. In T. Hofstra, J. R. Houwen, & A. A. MacDonald (Eds.), Pagans and Christians: The interplay between Christian Latin and traditional Germanic cultures in early medieval Europe (pp. 71–98). Groningen: Egbert Forsten.
Orchard, A. (2002). Re-reading The Wanderer: The value of cross-references. In T. N. Hall, T. D. Hill, & C. D. Wright (Eds.), Via Crucis: The way of the cross: Essays on sources and ideas in memory of J. E. Cross (pp. 1–22). Morgantown: West Virginia University Press.
Palmer, J. M. (2004). Compunctio and the heart in the Old English poem The Wanderer. Neophilologus, 88, 447–460.
Reichardt, P. F. (1974). Guthlac A and the landscape of spiritual perfection. Neophilologus, 58, 331–338.
Robertson, A. J. (1939). (Ed. and Trans.). Anglo-Saxon charters. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Rumble, T. C. (1958). From eardstapa to snottor on mode: The structural principle of The Wanderer. Modern Language Quarterly, 19, 225–230.
Savage, A. (1987). The place of Old English poetry in the English meditative tradition. In M. Glascoe (Ed.), The medieval mystical tradition in England IV: Papers read at Dartington Hall, July 1987 (pp. 91–110). Cambridge: D. S. Brewer.
Seltzer, J. (1983). The Wanderer and the meditative tradition. Studies in Philology, 80, 227–237.
Shippey, T. A. (1994). The Wanderer and The Seafarer as wisdom poetry. In H. Aertsen & R. H. Bremmer Jr (Eds.), Companion to Old English Poetry (pp. 145–158). Amsterdam: V. U. University Press.
Sinkewicz, R. E. (Ed. and Trans.). (2003). Evagrius of Pontus: The Greek ascetic corpus. Oxford Early Christian Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press
Stanley, E. G. (1956). Old English poetic diction and the interpretation of The Wanderer, The Seafarer, and The Penitent’s Prayer. Anglia, 73, 413–466; repr. in E. G. Stanley (1987). A collection of papers with emphasis on Old English literature (pp. 234–280). Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies
Toswell, M. J. (2014). The Anglo-Saxon Psalter. Medieval Church Studies 10. Turnhout: Brepols.
Walsh, P. G. (Ed. and Trans.). (1990). Cassiodorus: Explanations of the Psalms (Vol. II), Ancient Christian Writers 52. New York, NY: Paulist Press.
Ward, B. (1991). Bede and the Psalter. Jarrow: St Paul’s Church; repr. (2002). Oxford: SLG Press.
Ware, K. (1983). Hesychasm. In Gordon S. Wakefield (Ed.), The Westminster dictionary of Christian Spirituality (pp. 189–190). Westminster: Westminster Press.
Wieland, G. (1986). Aldhelm’s De Octo Vitiis Principalibus and Prudentius’ Psychomachia. Medium Aevum, 55, 85–92.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the organisers of the Theosis/Deification conference at KU Leuven in January 2015 and the Medicine of Words conference at St Anne’s College, Oxford, September 2015, at which earlier versions of this article were read, and Andy Orchard and Jim Earl for their very helpful comments.
Author information
Authors and Affiliations
Corresponding author
Rights and permissions
About this article
Cite this article
Leneghan, F. Preparing the Mind for Prayer: The Wanderer, Hesychasm and Theosis . Neophilologus 100, 121–142 (2016). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11061-015-9455-3
Published:
Issue Date:
DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/s11061-015-9455-3