A Complaint Against the Blacksmith (14th century, Anonymous; British Museum , Arundel MS 292)
Swart [1] smutted [2] smiths, smattered with smoke,
Drive me to death with din of their dints;
Such noise on nights ne heard men never.
What with knaven [3] cry and clattering of knocks!
The crooked caitiffs [4] cryen [5] after coal! coal!
And bloweth their bellows till their brain bursteth.
Huf! Puf! says the one; Haf! Paf! says the other;
They spitten and they sprawlen [6] and they spellen many spells.
They gnawen and gnashen and they groan all together,
And holden them hot with their hard hammers.
Of a bull-hide be their barm-fells; [7]
Their shanks be shackled for the fiery flinders; [8]
Heavy hammers they have that are hard to be handled,
Stark strokes they striken on a steely stock, [9]
Lus! Bus! Las! Das! Snore [10] they by the row,
Such doleful a dream that the devil it to-drive!
The master loungeth a little and catcheth a less,
Twineth them twain and toucheth a treble, [11]
Tik! Tak! Hic! Hac!, Tiket! Taket! Tyk! Tyk!
Lus! Bus! Las! Das!. Such a life they lead
May no man for brenn waters on night have his rest? [12]
Or, my modern interpretation:
Dark and dirty smiths, darkened with dust,
Drive me to death with din of their dents;
Such nightly noise no man has ever heard.
What with course cries and clattering of knocks!
The crooked cowards crying for coal! Coal!
And bend upon their bellows until their brains burst.
Huf! Puf! says the one; Haf! Paf! says the other;
They spit and scrawl and speak many spells.
They gnaw and gnash and they groan all together,
And hold them hot with their hard hammers.
Of a full bull-hide be their leather aprons;
Their limbs be enveloped against the searing embers;
Heavy hammers they wield that are hard to handle.
Strong strokes they strike on a steely stock,
Lus! Bus! Las! Das! Grunt them by the row,
Such a doleful dream that it drives one to the devil.
The master rests little and picks up a small hammer,
Striking them together, the lesser sounds a treble note,
Tik! Tak! Hic! Hac!, Tiket! Taket! Tyk! Tyk!
Lus! Bus! Las! Das!. Such a life they lead
All blacksmiths: Christ give them sorrow!
For the hissing of steaming water may no man have his rest?
[1] Squat and burly.
[2] Smudged.
[3] Lower class.
[4] A contemptible or cowardly person.
[5] Calls
[6] To write, draw, or mark awkwardly, hastily, or carelessly; esp., to write with sprawling, poorly formed letter
[7] Blacksmith's apron.
[8] Small fragments or splinters, most likely used here as slag being hammered out of the metal. The line might describe how the smith's arms are covered, rather than literally shackled.
[9] Anvil
[10] Here meaning snorting or grunting.
[11] Beautiful imagery with these two lines. The master smith rest little and grabs a smaller [hammer], working in tandem with a heavy and light hammer. The lighter hammer making a higher pitch noise as it strikes.
[12] No man may get sleep, because of these ‘brenwateres’, referring to the hissing noise as a smith cools his irons in water.
Gimpel, Jean. Medieval Machine: The Industrial Revolution of the Middle Ages. New York. Penguin Books, 1977.
Salter, Elizabeth. "A Complaint against Blacksmiths," Literature and History 5 (1979): 194-215.
Schrader, Richard J. "The Inharmonious Choristers and Blacksmiths of MS Arundel 292." Studies in Philology, vol. 104 no. 1, 2007, p. 1-12. Project MUSE, doi:10.1353/sip.2007.0004.
Thorpe, Deborah. "Heated Words: The Politics and Poetics of Work in 'A Complaint against Blacksmiths,'" Parergon 32 (2015): 77-101.
Image from Arundel 292 f. 72 Detail of marginal pointing finger. Devotional miscellany, including the Creed in English, a bestiary, Apollonius of Tyre (ff. 41-61); Henry of Sawtrey's De purgatio Sancti Patricii (ff. 73-88) http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/ILLUMIN.ASP?Size=mid&IllID=12304
