Anglo-Saxon Poetry

It doesn't get any better!

From The Seafarer 

Forþon nis þæs modwlonc mon ofer eorþan,

ne his gifena þæs god, ne in geoguþe to þæs hwæt,

ne in his dædum to þæs deor, ne him his dryhten to þæs hold,

þæt he a his sæfore sorge næbbe,

to hwon hine Dryhten gedon wille.



"Yet lives no man so lordly of mood...

Who is free from dread in his far sea-travel"

(The Seafarer, translated by Charles W. Kennedy)



From Beowulf

"Heald þu nu, hruse, nu hæleð ne moston,
eorla æhte! Hwæt, hyt ær on ðe
gode begeaton. Guðdeað fornam,

feorhbealo frecne, fyra gehwylcne
leoda minra, þara ðe þis lif ofgeaf,
gesawon seledream. Ic nah hwa sweord wege
oððe feormie fæted wæge,
dryncfæt deore; duguð ellor sceoc.

Sceal se hearda helm hyrsted golde
fætum befeallen; feormynd swefað,
þa ðe beadogriman bywan sceoldon,
ge swylce seo herepad, sio æt hilde gebad
ofer borda gebræc bite irena,

brosnað æfter beorne. Ne mæg byrnan hring
æfter wigfruman wide feran,
hæleðum be healfe. Næs hearpan wyn,
gomen gleobeames, ne god hafoc
geond sæl swingeð, ne se swifta mearh

burhstede beateð. Bealocwealm hafað

fela feorhcynna forð onsended!"



"Take these treasures, earth, now that no one

Living can enjoy them. They were yours, in the beginning:

Allow them to return...

The harp's

Bright song, the hawk crossing through the hall

On its swift wings, the stallion tramping

In the courtyard- all gone, creatures of every

Kind, and their masters, hurled to the grave!"



(Beowulf, translated by Burton Raffel)



The Wanderer

Oft him anhaga are gebideð,

Metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig

geond lagulade longe sceolde

hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ

wadan wræclastas. Wyrd bið ful aræd!

Nis nu cwicra nan

þe ic him modsefan minne durre

sweotule asecgan. Ic to soþe wat

þæt biþ in eorle indryhten þeaw,

þæt he his ferðlocan fæste binde,

healde his hordcofan, hycge swa he wille.

Ne mæg werig mod wyrde wiðstondan,

ne se hreo hyge helpe gefremman.



From The Ruin

Wrætlic is þes wealstan - wyrde gebræcon,
burgstede burston; brosnað enta geweorc.

From The Wanderer

Winde biwaune weallas stondaþ,
hrime bihrorene, hryðge þa ederas.

Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago?