
Hebban olla vogala nestas hagunnan hinase hic enda thu uuat abidan uue nu?
The Rochester Poem, mmc (CE).
Let’s just see where this goes.
It used to be said, and maybe still is, that the only surviving fragment of Old Dutch was the sentence “Hebben olla vogala nestas hagunnan hinase hic enda thu uuat abidan uue nu?”, which is almost visible above. This means “All the birds have begun their nests except for me and you. What are we waiting for?”. I find it utterly delightful that this rather surreal sentence would constitute the first known text in any language. It has an appealing oddness to it. However, apparently things are not so clear cut. In fact there are much older examples of Dutch known today and it’s also been argued that this sentence isn’t even in the language.
The sentence is somewhat reminiscent of the oldest known sentence in a Romance language as opposed to Latin, which is “Τορνα, τορνα, φρατρε”, apparently uttered by a Dacian soldier in the sixth Christian century in the Byzantine Empire. “Torna, torna, fratre” in Latin script. This one is remarkable in that not only is it the earliest Romance text, but it’s in the ancestor of the last major Romance language to acquire a regular written form, Romanian. Before the Strassburg Oaths, generally considered to be the earliest continuous text in a Romance language, in this case French, dating from Valentine’s Day 842, there was this.
Actually, the Strassburg Oaths, which I now realise isn’t usually spelt the way I spell it, is bilingual and may be relevant to the question of what the oldest Dutch text is, because they were sworn by two kings, Charles The Bald and Louis The German, and the latter’s language was Frankish, the Germanic language of the future France, now surviving in various forms in Germany including the to me impenetrable Kölsch. Frankish was closer to Dutch than High German was or is, so it may be relevant:
In Godes minna ind in thes christianes folches ind unser bedhero gealtnissi, fon thesemo dage frammordes, so fram so mir Got geuuizci indi mahd furgibit, so hald ih tesan minan bruodher, soso man mit rehtu sinan bruodher scal, in thiu, thaz er mig sosoma duo ; indi mit Ludheren in nohheiniu thing ne gegango, zhe minan uuillon imo ce scadhen uuerhen.
Louis The German, dcccxlii
That’s more or less comprehensible, I imagine, to a reader of 21st century English. I don’t run into problems until the word “geuuizci”. There are clear signs of the High German sound shift in it, though not in the places a reader of standard High German today might expect them, for instance “folches” rather than “Volkes”. It clearly is not Dutch, partly for that reason.
“Hebban olla vogala” may in fact not be Dutch either. Since it was written in Rochester, apparently by a Flemish monk in a convent, it’s also been claimed to be Old Kentish. Now at this point I could breezily make the claim that I can understand it because it’s in Kentish and I come from, well, Canterbury, but for all intents and purposes Kent, but the fact is that by the time I was born practically all the distinctive features of the Kentish accent and dialect had vanished in the face of the railways, probably more than a century before I was born. Dickens’s 1860 novel ‘Great Expectations’ famously has Abel Magwitch using the pronunciation “wittles” for “victuals”, which starts with a bilabial fricative /β/. There is no trace of this in my accent and nor have I ever heard it in any other person hailing from that county or from Canterbury (whose accent I’m assuming is the same as East Kent’s). Nonetheless I am faintly aware of what count as Kentish features, and even more Southern ones, such as the tendency to voice initial fricatives like F, TH, S and SH. This does actually give Southern English as was a rather Dutch flavour, and that seems like more than coincidence to me since Kent, Sussex and Wessex are the closest parts of England to the Low Countries. This could well mean, for example, that in Mediæval times people would’ve been saying and writing something like “voules” instead of “foules”, and earlier, in the more conservative southern region, “vogeles”. However, as I understand it the plural ending for present tense verbs in the South was “-eþ” rather than the later dominant “-en” (Chaucer’s “smale foules maken melodie” for example), so “hebben” is not Kentish, and the word “hinase” means nothing to me. It’s also odd that there’s an apparently hypercorrected H before “ic”, suggesting that there was a tendency to drop aitches in whatever that language was at some point which was being over-compensated for here. I also find it slightly surprising that /θ/ is apparently written as “TH” rather than “Þ”, although I seem to have seen this before in Old High German. I’m not sure what sound it actually represents. Also, “W” is written as “uu”, which is common even in Anglo-Saxon texts even though there was a perfectly respectable letter Ƿ to represent /w/ at the time. Then again, modern Dutch uses a labiodental semivowel in that position, and Flemish /v/. At the time, Kentish would’ve used the word “wat” in that position too, and it might well have been “uuat”.
The “nu” at the end seems to indicate that the Dutch “ui” diphthong had yet to emerge, if this is indeed Dutch, as it seems to be. This is not surprising and doesn’t provide a means of deciding between the languages this may be in.
In Middle English of the time, perhaps a mixed Kentish-Midland version, this could be something like “Hebben alle vogeles nestes gunnan bote vor me ende thee uuat abiden uue nu?”. However, although that’s probably a valid Middle English sentence, it is also quite contrived because, for example, the dual “wit” for “we two” was still used in Kent at the time. Placing these two next to each other:
Hebben alle vogeles nestes gunnan bote vor me ende thee uuat abiden uue nu? (My garbled English example)
Hebban olla vogala nestas hagunnan hinase hic enda thu uuat abidan uue nu? (The real version)
The biggest difference is caused by the fact that “hinase” is apparently a conjunction in Old Dutch and is represented by a prepositional construction in Middle English, which obscures the similarity in that part of the sentence by causing the objective forms of the pronouns to be adopted.
Nowadays this sentence is no longer considered to be the earliest Dutch. The Wachtendonck Psalms are older and longer, although they’re mixed Dutch and German, and the Egmond Willeram is another eleventh century Dutch translation of a German commentary on the Song Of Songs. Although these two sources are, I’m sure, prized and considered useful by Dutch speakers, I still find it a shame that this peculiar sentence is not now officially thought to be the only example of Old Dutch. On the other hand, both those examples are translations from German rather than original Dutch texts. I expect there’s another earlier and longer Dutch text I don’t know about.
For me, Dutch is what I think of as a “pincer movement” language. Although it’s a little unfair of me to think of a language in its own right as an adjunct to others, because I know English and standard (High) German well, both of which are quite close to it, Dutch itself makes some sense to me too without my having formally learnt it at all, although I have kind of glanced at it and I do also know some Afrikaans, which is very close indeed. In other words, my knowledge and awareness of Dutch is based on knowledge and awareness of adjacent subject areas, which makes it easier to learn. This phenomenon of the “frilly border” is easier to picture when learning certain languages but also applies to other subject areas. Unfortunately, it probably leads to a non-linguistic equivalent to «faux amis», where we think we know something but we don’t.
Something I’ve never done is compare Scots and English separately to Dutch. I expect English shorn of Romance terms to be somewhat closer to Dutch than Dutch is to Scots because that strikes me as more influenced by Scandinavian. English and Scots are both Ingvæonic languages and Dutch isnae. This shows with the nasal spirant law: a nasal consonant followed by a sibilant loses the nasal, such as the English “us” versus the Dutch “ons”. Scandinavian languages do something similar, which brings up the issue of whether English is actually even a West Germanic language at all or a Nordic one.
Somewhere on here I’ve written about the Dark Ages Ages on this island, and it’s that period which determines what we call Old English or Anglo-Saxon. They traditionally began with the “Last Groans Of The Britons” in around 450 and ended in 1066 when you-know-what happened. This is a 616-year period. Superimposed on the timeline ending in 2022, the earliest part of that period corresponds to about 1500, so it’s about the same as the Battle Of Bosworth Field to today. By that time, English was clearly recognisable and legible to the twenty-first century eye, so it can be expected, I suppose, that at least written Anglo-Saxon, such as it was at the start, would’ve been comprehensible to a reader such as Edward The Confessor. The actual period during which Germanic language was spoken in Great Britain started earlier than that because of German soldiers in the Roman army, and there are therefore runic inscriptions from earlier. These, however, may not be directly ancestral to English as they were from all over the place. English has never been a unified entity and I imagine few languages are. At least four tribes came over from the Angeln Peninsula, also known as Engla Land, speaking somewhat different languages, and writing was in the form of brief runic inscriptions. One of the earliest of these is found on the Loveden Hill Urn in Lincolnshire, a cremation urn dating from the fifth century on which is engraved the text:
ᛋᛇᚦᚫᛒᚫᛞ || ᚦᛁᚢᚹ || ᚻᛚᚫ[ᚹ]
This says “Siþæbæd þiuw hlæw”, which is difficult to interpret. A closer representation of the runes looks like this:

This is a typical example of early runic inscriptions, which look to me almost illiterate, like what a child would write as they are just starting out. I don’t know why this is exactly but it doesn’t seem to me that anyone among the early English speakers, insofar as the language can even be said to have existed at all back then, would’ve been spending much time writing, and the refinement of their instruments might also not have been up to much. Then again, something like the Sutton Hoo Hoard, which was sixth to seventh century, clearly demonstrates that there was sophisticated metalworking and jewellery at that time, only a century or so later. It says something like “Siþæbæd’s . . . barrow”, and presumably she was the woman whose remains were in the urn.
There’s also an Old Dutch runic inscription, or something like Old Dutch, dating from the same period: the Bergakker Inscription, found on a scabbard. These look similarly, er, rustic?:
These are unusual because they aren’t from the coast around the Frisian area but further inland in Gelderland. Cleaned up, they read as follows:
ᚺᚨ?[V]ᚦ[V]??ᛋ᛬ᚨᚾᚾ᛬ᚲ[V]ᛋᛃᚨᛗ᛬᛬ᛚᛟᚷ[V]ᚾᛋ᛬
Most people agree that the first bit is the genitive of “Hæþuþewaz”, but beyond that it becomes controversial. The last word looks to me like “loguns”, which has been taken to be a kenning (poetic synonym) for “flame”, meaning sword, which calls light sabres to mind incidentally. Given their location, this does in a way appear to be Dutch but at such a remote and early point in time, is it really at all significantly distinctive? Is the English inscription any more so? There could certainly be dialectal variations, but did those survive long enough to be recorded in written form by the time the languages had a distinct identity?
I can’t help thinking the Romans, Greeks and their ancient predecessors such as the Sumerians and Ancient Egyptians, were doing a better job than that with their writing. Then again, Linear B and others look pretty sloppy, so I don’t know. I don’t want to be judgemental about this. Maybe it’s just that the people in question were the likes of blacksmiths and farm labourers who were having to rely on their muscle power, making it hard to be neat and delicate. They did succeed in being so very soon afterwards though.
So that’s it really. The earliest fragments of Dutch and English, when they were the same language basically.

