OLD ENGLISH POEMS (optional)

Secondary reading (optional):

https://www.bl.uk/medieval-literature/articles/the-elegies-of-the-exeter-book

TEXTS (translated from Old English into Modern English

by Dr. Aaron K. Hostetter)

Deor
Weland knew his torment through wyrms,
a single-minded man, enduring miseries—
as mates he kept sorrow and longing,
wrack winter-cold. He often suffered woe
after Nithhad laid him into close straits
upon an excellent man willowy bone-bonds.

That passed over, so can this—

Beadohilde was never so beset about her heart

for her brother’s death as about her own straits:
too true she perceived that she was pregnant—
She could never boldly devise what must be done about it.

That passed over, so can this —

We have learned much about Mæthhild:

the affection of the Geat was without bottom.
so that sorrowing love stole them from sleep.

That passed over, so can this —

Theodric possessed thirty winters’ time

the city of the Mæringas. All too apparent to many…

That passed over, so can this —

We have learned of the wolven mind

of Eormanric—he wielded his rule widely
over the citizens of the Gothic realm.
That was a grim king. Many men sat
bound up by sorrows, in woe’s expectation—
often they wished that his kingdom
would be cast down.

That passed over, so can this —

A sorrow-anxious man sits, deprived of his joys,

growing dark inside, thinking to himself
that his handle of hardship seem endless.
He can ponder then that throughout this world
the wise Lord often renders change—
to many earls he shows his grace
and true profits, to some their share of woe.

I wish to speak something about myself:

one time I was the poet of the Heodeningas,
dear to my lord. My name was Deor.
I held many winters this good office,
loyal to my lord, until now Heorrenda,
a man skilled in verse, received my land-rights,
which before the shelter of earls had given to me.

That passed over, so can this —

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Wulf and Eadwacer

Wulf and Eadwacer

Possibly whoever had given a gift to my tribe—

they would chew him up if he came with a company.
It is not like that with us.

Wulf is on one island, I am on another.

It’s strong there, surrounded by swamps.
Slaughter-fierce men crowd there—
they would chew him up if he came with a company.
It is not like that with us.

I wondered with hope on my Wulf’s wide wanderings

when there was rainy weather and I sat weeping,
when the battle-bold wrapped me up in his arms,
it was my delight — but it was hateful as well.

Wulf, my Wulf! My hopes for you

have sickened, your seldom visits—
a mourning mind—I’m not hungry—

Do you hear me, Eadwacer? Wulf bears

our wretched whelp into the woods.

One may easily sever

what was never bound fast,
our mutual riddling…

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The Wife’s Lament

I wrack this riddle about myself
full miserable, my very own experience.
I can speak it—
what I endured in misery,
after I was grown, both new and old,
none greater than now. Always I suffered
the torment of my wracked ways. (ll. 1-5)

My lord departed at first, from his tribe here

over the tossing of waves—
I watched a sorrow at dawn
wondering where in these lands
my chieftain might be.
Then I departed myself to venture,
seeking his followers, a friendless wayfarer
out of woeful need. (ll. 6-10)

They insinuated, the kinsmen of that man,

by secret thought, to separate us two
so that we two, widest apart in the worldly realm,
should live most hatefully—and it harrowed me. (ll. 11-14)
My lord ordered me to take this grove
for a home — very few dear to me
in this land, almost no loyal friends. (ll. 15-17a)

Therefore my mind so miserable —

than I met a well-suited man for myself
so misfortunate and mind-sorrowing,
thought kept close, plotting a crime. (17b-20)

Keeping cheery, we vowed quite often

that none but death could separate us. (21-23a)

That soon changed…

it’s now as if it had never been —

our friendship. I must, far and near,
endure the feuding of my dearly beloved. (ll. 23b-26)

My husband ordered me anchored

in a woody grove, under an oak-tree
within this earthen cave.
Ancient is the earth-hall:
I am entirely longing— (27-29)

Dark are the valleys, the mountains so lofty,

bitter these hovels, overgrown with thorns.
Shelters without joy. So many times here
the disappearance of my husband
seizes me with a stewing. (ll. 30-33a)

All my friends dwell in the dirt,

I loved them while they lived,
now guarding their graves,
when I go forth alone
in the darkness of daybreak
under the oak-tree
outside this hollowed earth. (ll. 33b-36)

There I may sit a summer-long day,

where I can weep for my exiled path,
my many miseries—therefore I can never
rest from these my mind’s sorrowings,
not from all these longings
that seize me in my living. (ll. 37-41)

A young man must always be sad at heart,

hard in the thoughts inside,
also he must keep a happy bearing —
but also breast-cares, suffering never-ending grief— (ll. 42-45a)

May he depend only upon himself

for all his worldly pleasures.
May he be stained with guilt far and wide,
throughout the lands of distant folk,
so that my once-friend should sit under the stony cliffs,
rimed by storms, my weary-minded ally,
flowed around by waters in his dreary hall. (ll. 42-50a)

My former companion may know a great mind-sorrow—

remembering too often his joyful home. (ll. 50b-52a)

Woe be to that one who must

wait for their beloved with longing. (ll. 52b-53)

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The Husband’s Message

Now I wish to tell
apart from you—
the kindred of trees
I wake from seeds
within me….

… I must set down

in another land…
the salt streams…

Quite often
in a boat I
sought the spine,
the homes of heroes
where my manly lord
sends me…
across lofty halls—

I am now come here

on the ship’s deck,

and now you ought

to know how
you ponder
in your mind
the pithy love
of my master.

I dare a command—
to locate there
a tree glory-fast—

What he bids you

request then,
he who cut this wood
so that you would
remember yourself
his promises
treasure-laden

in your wit’s enclosure,

that you two
often spoke of
in days of old,

until you two

were allowed
in the mead-towns
to keep homestead,
to inhabit a single land,
to make love
to each other.

Vendetta drove him

from his triumphant tribe
now he orders you
yourself
be instructed gladly,
to trouble the waters—

afterwards you heard

upon the coastal cliffs
the mournful cuckoo
singing in the boughs.

Do not allow
yourself to end
this journey afterwards—
no living man can
hinder your course.

Seek already the sea,

the homestead of gulls—
be seated in a seaward
ship, so that you may find
your husband—
to the south from here
across the way of waters,
where your lord dwells
in your hopes and dreams.

Nor can worldly desire suit him

more in his mind, of this he said to me,
when All-Wielding
God should grant us two…
together afterwards
we are allowed to
before men and friends…

nailed rings—he holds enough

decorous gold…
strangers hold homewards
the fair earth….

… heroes, though here my friends…

impelled by need
rushing out on a ship
youthful upon the waves
must go forth
upon the ship-ways,
eager for the trip
must blend sea-currents.

Now the man

has subdued
his woes—

there is no want
of desire in him,
not horses nor treasures,
nor the joys of mead

any of them
across the earth,
an earl’s treasures,

prince’s daughter
if he possesses
both of you
over his ancient vow.

Together I should choose

S and R as one, EA, W and D,
declaring my oath,

so that he wishes
to serve this compact,
this conjugal pact,
while he still lives,
that you two often
spoke about
in days gone by

[Muir and some others editors see an M-rune rather than the D-rune (the former has
longer legs). There are explanations for what the runes are meant to encrypt. Muir
thinks he punctuation around the runes indicates taht they are to be taken as
separate words. Together they spell “SWEARD” but that word really doesn’t make
sense here (a “sweard” is a covering or turf over the ground).]
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The Ruin
The Ruin

These wall-stones are wondrous —

calamities crumpled them, these city-sites crashed, the work of giants
corrupted. The roofs have rushed to earth, towers in ruins.
Ice at the joints has unroofed the barred-gates, sheared
the scarred storm-walls have disappeared—
the years have gnawed them from beneath. A grave-grip holds
the master-crafters, decrepit and departed, in the ground’s harsh
grasp, until one hundred generations of human-nations have
trod past. Subsequently this wall, lichen-grey and rust-stained,
often experiencing one kingdom after another,
standing still under storms, high and wide—
it failed—
The wine-halls moulder still, hewn as if by weapons,
penetrated [XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] savagely pulverized
[XXXXXXXXXXXXXX] [XXXX] shined [XXXXXXXXXX] [XXXX] adroit ancient
edifice [XXXXX] [XXXXXXX] bowed with crusted-mud —

The strong-purposed mind was urged to a keen-minded desire

in concentric circles; the stout-hearted bound
wall-roots wondrously together with wire. The halls of the city
once were bright: there were many bath-houses,
a lofty treasury of peaked roofs, many troop-roads, many mead-halls
filled with human-joys until that terrible chance changed all that.

Days of misfortune arrived—blows fell broadly—

death seized all those sword-stout men—their idol-fanes were laid waste —
the city-steads perished. Their maintaining multitudes fell to the earth.
For that the houses of red vaulting have drearied and shed their tiles,
these roofs of ringed wood. This place has sunk into ruin, been broken
into heaps,

There once many men, glad-minded and gold-bright,

adorned in gleaming, proud and wine-flushed, shone in war-tackle;
There one could look upon treasure, upon silver, upon ornate jewelry,
upon prosperity, upon possession, upon precious stones,
upon the illustrious city of the broad realm.
Stone houses standing here, where a hot stream was cast
in a wide welling; a wall enfolding everything in its bright bosom,
where there were baths, heated at its heart. That was convenient,
when they let pour forth [XXXXXXXXX] over the hoary stones
countless heated streams [XXXXXXXXXXX] until the ringed pool
hot [XXXXXXXXXXXXXX] where there were baths
Then is [XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX]. That is a kingly thing—
a house [XXXXX],

a city

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All these modern Engéish translations are from:

https://oldenglishpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu