Beowulf-WilburWriting

The land was overmuch like scenery,
The flowers attentive, the grass too garrulous green;
In the lake like a dropped kerchief could be seen
The lark's reflection after the lark was gone;
The Roman road lay paved too shiningly
For a road so many men had traveled on.

Also the people were strange, were strangely warm.
The king recalled the father of his guest,
The queen brought mead in a studded cup, the rest
Were kind, but in all was a vagueness and a strain,
Because they lived in a land of daily harm
And they said the same things again and again.

It was a childish country; and a child,
Grown monstrous, so besieged them in the night
That all their daytimes were a dream of fright
That it would come and own them to the bone.
The hero, to his battle reconciled,
Promised to meet that monster all alone.

So then the people wandered to their sleep
And left him standing in the echoed hall.
They heard the rafters rattle fit to fall,
The child departing with a broken groan,
And found their champion in a rest so deep
His head lay harder sealed than any stone.

The land was overmuch like scenery,
The lake gave up the lark, but now its song
Fell to no ear, the flowers too were wrong.
The day was fresh and pale and swiftly old,
The night put out no smiles upon the sea;
And the people were strange, the people strangely cold.

They gave him horse and harness, helmet and mail,
A jeweled shield, an ancient battle-sword,
Such gifts as are the hero's hard reward
And bid him do again what he has done.
These things he stowed beneath his parting sail,
And wept that he could share them with no son.

He died in his own country a kinless king,
A name heavy with deeds, and mounrded as one
Will mourn for the frozen year when it is done.
They buried him next the sea on a thrust of land;
Twelve men rode round his barrow all in a ring,
Singing of him what they could understand.

   The Anglo-Saxon culture is centered around fighting and war because that is what their lives depended upon. The time of Beowulf was one of constant fighting between lords, trying to scrape out a tiny existence in an unforgiving land, and having no technological comforts to ease such a burdensome existence. The Anglo-Saxons had to face life every single day knowing that they might not live to see the end of the harvest, or even that day, because of the many perils. If one was to love everyone and everything in your life dearly, then they would be forced to face tremendous grief almost on a daily basis. However, if one was to focus only on geting through the same routine, never worrying about how someone was feeling, then you would not be hurt as much. Someone would die, and you would feel less grief since it would only be the death of a stranger, you never having taken the time to get to know them. By remaining cold and distant, the people were removing themselves from the one pain they had control over.
     This is why they mourned without passion at the death of Beowulf. They grieved that such a great warrior and king had died, not that Beowulf himself-his soul-had left the earth. They did not mourn because of the end of such a great individual, nor were they sadened by the passing of all his particular gifts and quirks that they would never see again. Like the ending of the season, they grieved for the loss of something that they had become accustomed to seeing every day. Those twelve men paid homage to a great man because that is what tradition dictated, not that they personnaly felt any sort of love towards Beowulf. They could only speak of his deeds and the things everyone knows about him, becuase no one took the time to find out who the real Beowulf was.
     This distancing yourself from the world around you was usually too diffcult to bear. So the Anglo-Saxon people relied on their family to help ease the hollowness caused by their removal from life. Their culture shows this in a complex system of relationships and extended family members, all living together in a single hall or keep. This safety net of family was another adaptation the Anglo-Saxon culture developed to cope with their harsh way of life. So when Beowulf dies as kinless king, it is an even greater tragedy because there is no one to carry on his great name, making sure that his life and deeds will be remembered for all time through his descendants. He cries that he has no son, even though heaps of treasure and honor has been heaped before him from gratified strangers, since it is al for naught. There is no real value to treasure without any one to share it with, any one to turn to in this harsh land of ice and warriors.