Q: Is She Still Complaining about Old English?

A: Yes.

At least, I'm pretty sure I have complained here in the past about how people think Shakespeare wrote in Old English.  And how, in fact, he did not. (Just in case I haven't mentioned it a spajillion times, let's go over it again, yes?)  What he wrote in is called Early Modern English, which is much closer to Modern English than it is to Old English - though there are differences in pronunciation and no small number of examples of words who's meanings have changed in 400 years (imagine!).

Goodness gracious, if I haven't prattled on about it here, I am certain it's because I thought I prattled previously.

Anyway! I bring this up because there is this excellent piece written by Thijs Porck, an actual professor of Old English, and he takes Shakespeare's lovely sonnet 18 and translates it into Old English, because he too was sick of people being WRONG.

You gasp: "Being WRONG on the Internet? Does that happen, Khaki?! Truly?"
It sure does, fair reader. It sure does. And I have become that sucker who is here to try and fix it.

Anyway, let's compare!

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

This is the original, and it has a great example of certain words being pronouced differently - tying in my awesome point from earlier.  In these lines, it's clear that 'temperate' and 'date' rhyme, though in nowadays they do not (and the audience oohs and aahs).

Now!  Let's look at these four lines translated into Old English:

Sceal ic þē gelīcian tō sumeres dæge?

Þū eart luflīcra ond staþolfæstra.

Rūge windas sceacað þrīmilces dȳrlinge blōstman

Ond sumeres lǣn hæfð eall tō lȳtelne termen

That... is different, yes?  When those who are FAR more talented than I am read Old English aloud, it is quite pretty.  But I will not dare to try; that is not my expertise, even a little bit.  I took but a single Chaucer class in grad school.

The one thing I will point out, however, is that our old buddy thorn (þ) shows up here.  Do you remember?? Do you remember when I ranted about Ye, as in Ye Olde?! And it was just the letters þ and e combined, and not a Y at all!  Psh, what am I saying, of course you remember.

So what is the lesson we've learned today?  Probably just that I like to beat a dead horse.  

In my defense, it doesn't seem dead enough yet.

If you'd like to read more about this from an actual Old English expert, you can find the rest of the translated sonnet, and more detail here at the Dutch Anglo-Saxonist blog.  It's an excellent source for Old and Middle English, as well as the history of the English language.  

Basically he is pretty rad.

Alan Rickman, You Were a Gift to Screen and Stage

A terribly sad thing has come to pass.

Alan Rickman has passed away at the age of 69.  I am not usually one to get wrapped up in celebrity deaths, though there have been a few that have hit me harder than expected.  But Alan Rickman's passing feels like a quiet injustice to the best faculties of my heart.

Antony in
Antony and Cleopatra

Aside from being a gifted actor in most every role he had, Alan Rickman was also an appreciator of the Bard.  All I can do, in my small way, is to pay tribute here to a man who furthered the rich culture of Shakespeare in our world.

Achilles in
Troilus and Cressida

Alan Rickman studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and there studied Shakespeare.  He was also a performer in the Royal Shakespeare Company, and appeared in adaptations of Antony and Cleopatra, As You Like It, Troilus and Cressida, as well as the 1978 TV movie of Romeo and Juliet.

If you are up for a good Alan Rickman binge-watch tonight (as I am), I also loved him desperately in Sense and Sensibility as the noble and quietly love-struck Colonel Brandon. And of course, there is Die Hard, Truly, Madly, Deeply, Love Actually and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, to name a few.

And for your enjoyment and reflection, I'll end with his moving reading of Shakespeare's 130th Sonnet - coinicdentally my favorite sonnet.  His distinct voice and impeccable diction draw such increased beauty from the words.  It is my favorite rendition of this poem.  Rest in peace; you were an incredibly moving performer, and you will undoubtedly be missed.

(I also fee the desire to note that David Bowie - who also passed this week - included in his final album [Black Star] a re-recording of "'Tis a Pity She Was a Whore,"  which, while not Shakespeare, is taken from a play of the same name by his contemporary, John Ford.  I don't know why I feel the need to note this here, aside from the fact that I feel such a connection to these men through their love of 17th century playwrites; for me personally it deepends the chasm their passing has created in our culture.)