Caedmon
2 of the 7 encyclopedias on this shelf carry an entry for Caedmon. Both are reproduced below, so you can see where they agree and where they differ.
Aiton's Encyclopedia (1910)
ked'mon, an English monk. He is one of the earliest English poets. The Abbey of Whitby stands on a cliff on the northeastern coast of England. It was founded by a colony of Irish monks. It was a center of learning and civilization, long before the commercial interests of England had decided upon London as a center of wealth. According to the tradition Caedmon was an ignorant cowherd in the service of the Abbey. He listened to the singing of the monks and to their playing on the harp with a sad heart, for he had not been educated. One night, as he lay with moist eye on his rude couch, the gift of poesy came to him. He began to sing of the creation of the world and the goodness of God to man. In the morning he told the steward of the gift that had come to him. The steward led him to the Abbess Hilda. The astonished monks considered that the hand of God had been laid upon him. They made him an honored member of their order. The date of his singing is not known, but he preceded the Venerable Bede. He died about 673. His versification was long considered lost, but in 1655 a tenth century manuscript was discovered accidentally. It contained the Paraphrase, a biblical history of the creation, the revolt, the fall, the flood, and the exodus. The people of the Paraphrase seem to stand half way between the Scandinavian gods and the Puritanic types of Milton's Paradise Lost . It is quite possible that Caedmon's Paraphrase may have suggested Milton's great work. Resemblances are quite remarkable. Milton appears to have begun his Paradise Lost in 1658, three years after the discovery of this manuscript. The following translation gives some idea of Caedmon's style. The first selection is from the account of the creation. The second describes Pharaoh's death; There had not here as yet, Save cavern-shade, Aught been. But this wide abyss Stood deep and dim, Strange to its Lord, Idle and useless; On which looked with his eyes The King firm of mind, Beheld those places void of joys; Saw the dark clouds Lower in eternal night, Swart under heaven, Dark and waste, Until this wordly creation Through the word existed Of the Glory King. The earth as yet Was not green with grass; Ocean-covered, Swart in eternal night, Far and wide the dusky ways. The folk was affrighted, The flood-dread Seized on their sad souls; Ocean wailed with death, The mountain heights Were with blood besteamed, The sea foamed gore, Crying was in the waves, The water full of weapons, A death-mist rose; The Egyptians were turned back; Trembling they fled, They felt fear; Would that host Gladly find their homes; Their vaunt grew sadder: Against them, As a cloud, Rose the fell Rolling of the waves; There came not Any of that host to home, But from behind Inclosed them Fate with the wave. Where ways ere lay Sea Raged. Their might was merged, The streams stood, The storm rose High to heaven; The loudest army-cry The hostile uttered; The air above Was thickened With dying voices. Ocean raged, Drew itself up on high, The storms rose, The corpses rolled. See Milton
Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)
an English poet ;, styled " the father of English song " on account of his epics of sacred history, written in old Northumberland dialect, mostly without titles, although one is called "Genesis." He died in 680.