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Lyric Tactics
THE MIDDLE AGES SERIES
Ruth Mazo Karras, Series Editor
Edward Peters, Founding Editor
A complete list of books in the series is available from the publisher.
Lyric Tactics
Poetry, Genre, and Practice in Later Medieval England
Ingrid Nelson
UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA PRESS
PHILADELPHIA
Copyright © 2017 University of Pennsylvania Press
All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used for purposes of review or scholarly citation, none of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without written permission from the publisher.
Published by
University of Pennsylvania Press
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19104-4112
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
A Cataloging-in-Publication record is available from the Library of Congress
ISBN 978-0-8122-4879-1
Lillian
In memoriam
CONTENTS
Chapter 1. The Voices of Harley 2253
Chapter 2. Enchanting Songs and Rhyming Doctrine in William Herebert’s Hymns
Chapter 3. Lyric Negotiations: Continental Forms and Troilus and Criseyde
Chapter 4. Form and Ethics in Handlyng Synne and the Legend of Good Women
Introduction
The “boat song” of King Cnut survives in the twelfth-century monastic chronicle of Ely, making it the earliest post-Conquest evidence of an English lyric.1 The chronicle preserves the song’s first quatrain, along with an account of its composition and performance:
When they were approaching the land, the king rose up in the middle of his men and directed the boatmen to make for the little port at full speed, and then ordered them to pull the boat forward more slowly as it came in. He raised his eyes towards the church which stood out at a distance, situated as it was at the top of a rocky eminence; he heard the sound of sweet music echoing on all sides, and, with ears alert, began to drink in the melody more fully the closer he approached. For he realized that it was the monks singing psalms in the monastery and chanting clearly the Divine Hours. He urged the others who were present in the boats to come round about him and sing, joining him in jubilation. Expressing with his own mouth his joyfulness of heart, he composed aloud a song in English the beginning of which runs as follows:
| Merie sungen the munekes binnen Ely | monks |
| Tha Cnut king rew ther-by | When; rowed |
| Roweth, cnihtes, ner the land, | knights |
| And here we thes munekes sang.… |
This and the remaining parts that follow are up to this day sung publicly by choirs and remembered in proverbs.
The king, while tossing this around in his mind, did not rest from singing piously and decorously in concert with the venerable confraternity, until he reached land.2
The chronicle’s description of the composition and performance of Cnut’s song suggests certain features of the survival, composition, reception, and adaptations of vernacular lyrics in later medieval England. Hearing the liturgical singing by chance, Cnut first joins and then departs from it. Liturgical formulae frequently occasioned new Anglo-Saxon and Middle English verses, in the form of tropes or sequences that amplified the original Latin text.3 Yet Cnut’s song differs from these kinds of adaptations in the oblique relationship it poses between the liturgical source and the new poem, which does not cite or embellish the liturgical text. Rather, it narrates its own inspiration and situation of composition as at once aleatory and somatic. According to the prose account, Cnut’s inspiration occurs by chance, and his response to the liturgical song engages multiple senses: sight (“he raised his eyes towards the church”), hearing (“he heard the sound of sweet music”), and, metaphorically, taste (“and … began to drink in the melody”).4 By describing Cnut’s response to the song in this way, the chronicler suggests features of vernacular lyric that at once identify it with and distinguish it from the monks’ song. Such songs were central to regulated institutional practices, from their liturgical use to their function in early education, as children learned them in cathedral “song schools.”5 Yet, as the chronicler’s account shows, even these songs can have an element of chance in their reception. Cnut’s sensory response to the song emphasizes the somatic and sensual aspects of all music, produced and heard by the body, notwithstanding medieval theories of music that foregrounded its abstraction as a branch of mathematics.6 Although emanating from the architecturally and symbolically fixed point of the church, the monks’ song seems, to the rowers, to have no single point of origin but “echo[es] on all sides.” It inspires both a communal performance of the original song (“He
