The Wanderer Flashcards
Oft him anhaga are gebideð,
Often the solitary man experiences favour
metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig
The mercy of the lord, although sorrowful in heart he
geond lagulade longe sceolde
must long throughout the sea route
hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ,
must stir with his hands the ice cold sea
wadan wræclastas. Wyrd bið ful aræd!
travel the paths of exile. Fate is very inflexible
Swa cwæð eardstapa, earfeþa gemyndig,
So spoke the earth-stepper, mindful of miseries
wraþra wælsleahta, winemæga hryre:
of cruel battles, the deaths of kinsman
“Oft ic sceolde ana uhtna gehwylce
Often I should alone at every dawn
mine ceare cwiþan. Nis nu cwicra nan
lament my sorrows. Now is no one listening
þe ic him modsefan minne durre
to whom I my thoughts might dare to
sweotule asecgan. Ic to soþe wat
clearly reveal. I know too truly
þæt biþ in eorle indryhten þeaw,
that it be in a warrior noble custom
þæt he his ferðlocan fæste binde,
that he his spirit-enclosure should securely bind
healde his hordcofan, hycge swa he wille.
hold his treasure-chamber, think as he will.
Ne mæg werig mod wyrde wiðstondan,
Nor can the weary mind withstand fate
ne se hreo hyge helpe gefremman.
nor the turbulent mind find help
Forðon domgeorne dreorigne oft
Thus fame seekers must, often bloody/dreary- minded,
in hyra breostcofan bindað fæste;
bind fast their breast-chamber
swa ic modsefan minne sceolde,
thus I my thoughts should
oft earmcearig, eðle bidæled,
often miserable, deprived of my home-land
freomægum feor feterum sælan,
often miserable, deprived of my home-land
siþþan geara iu goldwine minne
since long ago my gold-friend
hrusan heolstre biwrah, ond ic hean þonan
I covered in the earth’s hiding place, and I wretched from thence
wod wintercearig ofer waþema gebind,
wintry-minded over the binding waves
sohte seledreorig sinces bryttan,
sought, miserable since lacking a hall, a giver of treasure
hwær ic feor oþþe neah findan meahte
where I, far or near, might find
þone þe in meoduhealle mine wisse,
that in that mead hall I happiness experience
oþþe mec freondleasne frefran wolde,
or me friendless would find comfort
wenian mid wynnum. Wat se þe cunnað,
entertain me with joys. He knows, who is able to know
hu sliþen bið sorg to geferan,
how hard sorrow is as a companion
þam þe him lyt hafað leofra geholena.
to one with so few beloved confidants.
Warað hine wræclast, nales wunden gold,
He is wary of the miserable track of exile, not wound with gold at all
ferðloca freorig, nalæs foldan blæd.
his frozen spirit-enclosure, not the joys of the earth
Gemon he selesecgas ond sincþege,
He remembers old retainers and the receiving of treasure
hu hine on geoguðe his goldwine
how he in his youth his gold-friend
wenede to wiste. Wyn eal gedreas!
accustomed to feasting. Joy is entirely gone!
Forþon wat se þe sceal his winedryhtnes
Therefore he knows, that he shall his lord and friend
leofes larcwidum longe forþolian,
his beloved lord’s counsel long forgo
ðonne sorg ond slæp somod ætgædre
when sorrow and sleep both together
earmne anhogan oft gebindað.
the miserable solitary-dweller often bind.
Þinceð him on mode þæt he his mondryhten
It seems to him in his mind that he his liege-lord
clyppe ond cysse, ond on cneo lecge
embraces and kisses, and on his knees lays
honda ond heafod, swa he hwilum ær
head in his hands, as he did at times before
in geardagum giefstolas breac.
in former days the gift-seat enjoyed.
Ðonne onwæcneð eft wineleas guma,
Then the friendless man awakes
gesihð him biforan fealwe wegas,
sees before him the fallow waves
baþian brimfuglas, brædan feþra
bathing sea-birds, feathers outstretched
hreosan hrim ond snaw, hagle gemenged.
falling frost and snow mingled with hail
Þonne beoð þy hefigran heortan benne,
then the wounds of the heart are their heaviest
sare æfter swæsne. Sorg bið geniwad,
sorrowful after the beloved. Sorrow is renewed
þonne maga gemynd mod geondhweorfeð;
when memories of past kinsman pervade the mind
greteð gliwstafum, georne geondsceawað
he greets them joyfully, eagerly surveys each one
secga geseldan. Swimmað eft on weg.
the companions of men. They swim away again often.
Fleotendra ferð no þær fela bringeð
The company of birds does not bring many
cuðra cwidegiedda. Cearo bið geniwad
familiar utterances there. Sorrow is renewed
þam þe sendan sceal swiþe geneahhe
for he who shall send frequently
ofer waþema gebind werigne sefan.
over the binding waves his weary heart.
Forþon ic geþencan ne mæg geond þas woruld
Therefore I cannot think throughout this world
for hwan modsefa min ne gesweorce,
how my mind does not grow dark
þonne ic eorla lif eal geondþence,
when I on the lives of warriors meditate
hu hi færlice flet ofgeafon,
who fled so quickly the floor of the hall
modge maguþegnas. Swa þes middangeard
brave young warriors. So this middle-earth
ealra dogra gehwam dreoseð ond fealleþ,
every day declines and falls
forþon ne mæg weorþan wis wer, ær he age
Therefore no man may become wise, before he has had
wintra dæl in woruldrice. Wita sceal geþyldig,
his share of winters in the worldly kingdom. The wise man shall be patient;
ne sceal no to hatheort ne to hrædwyrde,
nor shall he be too hot hearted, nor too hasty of speech
ne to wac wiga ne to wanhydig,
nor too weak a warrior, nor too reckless
ne to forht ne to fægen, ne to feohgifre
nor too timid nor too eager, nor too greedy for riches
ne næfre gielpes to georn, ær he geare cunne.
nor ever too desirous of boasting, before he may clearly have knowledge.
Beorn sceal gebidan, þonne he beot spriceð,
A warrior shall wait when he speaks a boast
oþþæt collenferð cunne gearwe
until, brave-hearted, he knows clearly
hwider hreþra gehygd hweorfan wille.
where the thoughts of his heart might tend.
Ongietan sceal gleaw hæle hu gæstlic bið,
The wise warrior is able to perceive how ghostly it will be
þonne ealre þisse worulde wela weste stondeð,
when all this earth’s wealth stands waste
swa nu missenlice geond þisne middangeard
just as now in various places throughout this middle-earth
winde biwaune weallas stondaþ,
wind blows the standing walls
hrime bihrorene, hryðge þa ederas.
covered with frost, the buildings snow-swept
Woriað þa winsalo, waldend licgað
the wine-halls topple. The rulers lie
dreame bidrorene, duguþ eal gecrong,
deprived of joys; mature men all perished
wlonc bi wealle. Sume wig fornom,
proud by the wall. Some battle destroyed
ferede in forðwege, sumne fugel oþbær
carried them off on the way; a bird carried one away
ofer heanne holm, sumne se hara wulf
over the high seas; one the hoary wolf
deaðe gedælde, sumne dreorighleor
dismembered in death; one a brave-hearted warrior
in eorðscræfe eorl gehydde.
concealed in an earth-cave.
Yþde swa þisne eardgeard ælda scyppend
The creator of men thus laid waste this earth
oþþæt burgwara breahtma lease
until deprived of joy of its inhabitants,
eald enta geweorc idlu stodon.
the ancient work of giants stood still.
Se þonne þisne wealsteal wise geþohte
So then he who reflects wisely upon this foundation
ond þis deorce lif deope geondþenceð,
and on this dark life deeply reflects
frod in ferðe, feor oft gemon
wise in mind, remembers far off
wælsleahta worn, ond þas word acwið:
many slaughters, and utters these words
“Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?
Where has the horse gone? Where has the man gone? Where have the treasure-givers gone?
Hwær cwom symbla gesetu? Hwær sindon seledreamas?
Where has the place of banquet gone? Where have the joys of the hall gone?
Eala beorht bune! Eala byrnwiga!
Alas the gleaming cup! Alas the armoured warrior!
Eala þeodnes þrym! Hu seo þrag gewat,
Alas the prince’s glory! How time has passed away
genap under nihthelm, swa heo no wære.
grown dark under the helm of night, as though it never were
Stondeð nu on laste leofre duguþe
Stands now in the track of the beloved retainer
weal wundrum heah, wyrmlicum fah.
a wall, wondrously high, adorned with serpent- patterns
weal wundrum heah, wyrmlicum fah.
The ash-spears of warriors snatched away
wæpen wælgifru, wyrd seo mære,
weapons greedy for carnage, notorious fate
ond þas stanhleoþu stormas cnyssað,
and storms beat the stone-heaps
hrið hreosende hrusan bindeð,
falling snow-storms bind the earth
wintres woma, þonne won cymeð.
winter’s chaos, then darkness comes
Nipeð nihtscua, norþan onsendeð
Night-shadows spread gloom, sending from the north
hreo hæglfare hæleþum on andan.
fierce hailstorms to the terror of men
Eall is earfoðlic eorþan rice,
All is hardship on this earthly kinfdom
onwendeð wyrda gesceaft weoruld under heofonum.
the action of fate changes the world under the heavens
Her bið feoh læne, her bið freond læne,
Here wealth is transitory, here friends are transitory
her bið mon læne, her bið mæg læne,
here a man is transitory, here a warrior is transitory
eal þis eorþan gesteal idel weorþeð.”
All this earth’s foundation will stand empty.
Swa cwæð snottor on mode, gesæt him sundor æt rune.
So spoke the man wise in heart, sat apart in secret meditation.
Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ, ne sceal næfre his torn to rycene
It will be well for he who retains his faith, nor shall his misery too quickly
beorn of his breostum acyþan, nemþe he ær þa bote cunne,
a man from his breast express, unless before he might a remedy know
eorl mid elne gefremman. Wel bið þam þe him are seceð, an earl with courage.
It will be well for him who seeks mercy,
frofre to fæder on heofonum, þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð.
consolation from our father in heaven, where for us all security stands.
