Anglo-Saxon poetry - arras.net

T h e W i f e ’ s L a m e n tI will speak my plight’s tale, carewretched,about myself. I can say: whatwoes I’ve borne growing up, presentand past, were all less than now. I havewon, for my exile-paths, just pain.First, my lord left: over deep seas, farfrom people, and I’ve grieved eachmorning, where, earth-wide, he couldbe. Then I left: voyaging sought service– sad exile – for my woeful desires!My lord’s kin schemed secretly: thatthey’d estrange us, keep us most apart,across the earth-kingdom, and my heartsuffered. My lord bade me: takedwelling here. I had few friends inthis land, no devoted comrades – so Ifeel as if lost! I had found a man full fitto me, though unfortunate, spirituallyfraught – a feigning mind, blissvisaged,but planning a crime! Fulloft we vowed we’d never part, not tilldeath alone, nothing else; but that ischanged, our friendship – is now, as ifit never were. I must hear, far and near,contempt for my loved. My manpg. 2

T h e S e a f a r e rMay I myself tell a true story: howI, on journeys, bore hardship often,and for toilsome days, housedbitter breast-cares – lived in shipsof woe, the wrathful tossing ofwaves! I was fear-taunted atnightwatch, as the ship’s prowtossed close to cliffs. My feet –fettered by cold, as with chains –were frost-ringed. Sorrow groanedhot round my heart, hunger torefrom bowels, spirit stifled bysea-weariness! A man on landdoesn’t know the life he leads ispleasantest. Nor how I, carewracked,on the ice-cold sea,survived winter in these exilepaths:cut off from kinsmen,icicles my companions! Hail flewin showers. I heard nothing but thesounding sea, the waves ice-cold.Song of the swan for pleasure, Itook the cry of gannets, the blabberof curlews for laughter, andthe seagull’s wail for mead-drink.Storms beat the stone-cliffs; therethe tern called them, icy-feathered.pg. 4

Full oft the eagle cried, dewyfeathered!I had no shipmate toshare such barrenness. Thatman who found life’s joy citydwelling,proud and wine-plump,without such adversities, cannotthink how I struggled tired, often,on the sea. Night-shadowsdarkened; it snowed from thenorth; hoarfrost surroundedthe earth. Hail fell ground-ward,coldest kernel. But then, myheart’s thoughts urge I leave, livethe deeps myself, the play of seawaves. And mind-lust urges,always, my soul: that I go forth,seek strangers’ territories, far off.For there is no man on earth soarrogant, nor whose giving is sogracious, nor who, youthful, is sovigorous, nor who is so deedbrave,nor whose lord is sogenerous, that he takes to the seaindifferent to the Lord’s wishes.His mind is not on harps, or ringreceiving,not on a woman’spleasures, or on ambitions –on nothing: just the tossing ofwaves. He has longings always,who treks sea-ward. Groves adoptpg. 5

a blossom-sheen, the citybeautifies, and hills self-animate –the world rushes on! Thesethings all urge the eager soul – todepart! travel wide on the floodways.So the cuckoo moans with itsmournful murmur. Summer’sharbinger sings, inspires sorrows,heart-bitter. That man isignorant, fortunate man! of whatthose undergo who wend exile’spaths widest. For now my mindbreaks out of my soul’s breast,heart amid the sea’s flood, over thewhale’s home, and travelswidely the earth’s lengths, comingback – ravenous and greedy! Thelone flyer cries, lures me onto thewhale-way, and the breast over thesea-stretch irresistibly. So for me,Lord’s joy is hotter than thisdead land-life, that is but fleeting. Ido not think earth-riches standeternally. One of three things,invariably, suddenly, raises doubt:disease, age, or sword-violence –takes away life! from thedoomed, the destined to die. So, foreach soldier, praise of the laterpg.6

living is the best memorial hewins, that, ere he leaves, his earthdoings– against enemies’ evil,great deeds against the devil –make sons of the old praise him; sohis praise then lives with theangels, eternal glory of life, a joyfor heaven’s hosts. Those dayshave passed, the pomp of earthtreasures.No kings, emperors,or patron gold-givers, now, such asthere were, when they themselveswon achievement, lived lordly infame. Dead is that godly host,those joys gone; the weaker thrive,keep this world throbbing;they turn it through toil. Fame isthrust down, earth’s nobilitywastes, withers, so it is likewise formany: Age comes... face pales...white-haired, he moans... oldfriends, prince’s sons, he hasknown, die! entering the earth. Hewhose soul’s vacant, gone, cannottaste sweetness, cannot sensetorture, cannot lift a hand, has nolight in his mind. Though thebrother wants to strew hisbrother’s grave with gold, buryhim with bounty that he garneredpg. 7

with him, a soul full of sin will notbe helped by this – by the power ofGod! – though he hid his sin onearth when alive. Great is theCreator’s might: he moves the earth.He made the ground, the acres of earthand the heavens firm. He is a fool whois not Lord- fearing: death fells himsuddenly. He is blessed who liveshumbly: heaven’s mercy finds him– a bearing God-given, forthose born to His bounty. Man shouldsteer with a strong soul, hold thatposture firm, and be loyal to all, and ofaction pure. Man should hold the spiriteven, equal for loved and loathed, andnot burn a new-made friend – witha torch, or on an alter!Fate is might: the Creator more mighty– than the meaning of any man! Let usthink where home is, then hope to getthere, to the blessedness that is eternallife – in the Lord’s love, in heaven’sheights! Give thanks for the Holy,because he honored us,Prince of Glory! Lord Everlasting,and of all eternity. Amen.pg. 8

T h e B a t t l e o f B r u n a n b u r hThat year King Aethelstan, lord of Earls,warrior’s patron, and his brother also, PrinceEdmund, gained gloryeternal by the blade’sedge, at battle in Brunanburh. Edward’sdescendants, they scaled the shield-wall,sliced linden with hammerblows– a naturalpassion for them, known from posterity, thatthey at war hold firm from danger: land,hoard and home. EnemyScots fell dead;sailors faltered, fated to die. The fieldblackened with men’s blood, from time whenthe morning sun – gloriousstar! – glidedover the grounds – God’s bright candle! ofthe Lord eternal! – till the noble disk sank toits seat. Many men, shreddedby spears, laythere – Northern men, shattered over shield,and scores of Scots, sated with war, exhausted.The West Saxonsburned, all day, inpg. 9

troops, a path forward – after the detestedpeople! They cut down fugitives fiercely frombehind with swords grindstone-sharp.TheMercians refused rough hand-play to none,not one hero, who, in ships’ wombs, hadsought land with Anlaf,over the sea’sclamor – but doomed in battle! Five youngkings – enslumbered by the sword! – lay onthe slaughter-field. Andseven Earls ofAnlaf! numberless shipmen, and of the army,and Scots. The Northerns’ leader was pushedto flight, forced to the ship’sprow with atrifling corps. The ship crowded onto the sea– the king flew! forth on the darkening sea,salvaged his life. OldConstantine alsojourneyed north, to his native land! Hoarywarrior – now, not able to exult in swungswords! Thrashed of kinsmen,thrust frompg. 1 0

his friends, beat on the battlefield at war – heleft his own son, so young! on the slaughterplace,wound-ravaged. Grayhairedman – hecould not boast of the battle-clash! no morethan Anlaf! Old wily-one! They could not,among such tatteredsquadrons, laugh thattheir war-field work was superior – not in therush of standards! in the meeting of spears!in the bruising of men! inthe weapons’exchange! when, with the kin of Edward,they sported on that slaughter-field. Then theNormans – arrows’ sadsurvivors! – left innailed-ships over Dingesmere, again overdeep water seeking Dublin – in Ireland, butashamed in spirit. So thebrothers – Kingand Prince both – sought native turf, the landof the West-Saxons, cheering war. Corpseswere left to be mashedby the rook, hornybeakedand dark-coated, and by the duncoated,white-headed eagle – a feast for thepg. 1 1

greedy war-hawk! then thatgray beast, thewolf of the wild. Since then, not more havefallen on this island, more folk downed thanby these sword-edges – sothe book says, andold wise scholars – since that time whenAngles and Saxons came hither, from theeast sought Britain, overstretched sea –proud warmakers! – glorious Earls! – andbeat the Welsh,and found a homeland.pg. 1 2

T h e D r e a m o f t h e R o o dListen! I want to tell the best dream, of what Idreamt in night’s pitch, when all mankindis slouched in their couches. I thought I saw thefinest tree, stretching to sky, compassed bylight – of crosses brightest! This beacon was allgold-strung, fine jewels earth-spread beforeit, and five set in the shoulders’ span. All saw God’sangel there, splendid througheternity. No, this was no criminal’s gallow! Holyspirits attended to see it, and all earth’s men– the entire cosmos! Amazing was this victory beam!And I – sullied with sins, dark with stains. Isaw the Tree of Glory, clothed in garments beautifullyshining, and decked with gold. Gemsworthily clad this Ruler’s tree. Yet, I was able to see,through the gold-radiance, thewretched men’s strife it suffered earlier, bleedingfrom its right. I was trembling carewrecked,fearing the wondrous apparition. I saw thebrilliant beam – alter clothes and colors!Now, it was liquid-moist, drenched with blood’sflow! Now, it was traced with treasures. So,lying there a long time, I saw, saddened, the Savior’sCross, until I heard it talk. Thisbest of woods started to speak these words: “Thatwas years ago – I yet remember – when Ipg. 1 3

was felled by the forest’s edge, ripped from my roots.The strong foes took me, planning a show,and ordered me to hold their felons. They carried meby shoulder to a hill’s stretch, on which Iwas stood; many foes fastened me there. I sawmankind’s Lord hasten eagerly, forhe wanted to climb onto me! I dared not, then – overGod’s word! – bend or break, for I saw theearth’s face shimmer. I might have killed all thefiends, but stood firm. The young hero, whowas God Almighty, then stripped, strong and sure ofmind. He scaled the lofty gallow, bold inmen’s sight, for he sought to save mankind. Whenthe Man grasped me – I shook! butI dared not bend, or fall to the land’s length, for Ihad to stand rigid. I was built as a Rood; Iheld the rich King, heaven’s Lord; I dared not stoop.They drove dark nails through me; on me,the wounds can yet be seen, exposed, malicious. Idared not complain of any of this. Theymocked us together, both. I was soaked with blood,that spurted from this Man’s side,for he had sent his spirit onward. I lived the worstfate on that hill, witnessed the host Godstretched out miserably. Mists’ darkness covered theSavior, his corpse the shiniest radiance!Obscured under clouds, a shadow flew away. Allcreation wept, lamented the King’s death:Christ was on the Rood. After this, from afar camepg. 1 4

eager ones to the Prince; I saw allthat. Sore, I was care-wracked, but I bent hands-wideto the men, avid, humbly. They took theirAlmighty God, held his body torture-heavy. Thewarriors let me stand blood-drenched; I waswounded all through with arrows. They laid thelimb-weary down, stood at his body’s head.And they beheld there Heaven’s Lord; he rested awhile, weary after the great battle.They began to build a sepulcher in sight of theCross. They carved it from bright stone, andset therein Victory’s Savior; they began a dirge, sadin this night time. Then they, weary, had toleave the fine Being; he rested there alone. So westood there weeping a while, still, after thefoes’ voices grew; the corpse grew cold, lovely Form.Then they began to fell us, fold usearth-towards – a terrible fate! They closed us in adeep cave; but the Lord’s friends andservants learned our location – clothed me withsilver and gold! Now you must hear, dearwarrior, that I have borne bad men’s deeds, the mostsore cares. The time comes that all men allover revere me – on the earth, the entire creation! –and send prayers to this sign. Onme, God’s Being pained, and for that I am glorious,a tower under heaven! and may heal all whofear me. Once I became tortures’ worst, men’s mostpg.1 5

hated, before I opened Life’s way – the Truebearing – to the dwellers of earth. Listen! the Elderof wonders chose me over other wild trees!Heaven’s Guardian! as he had his mother also, Maryherself, whom Almighty Godhonored over all wife-kind. Now I order, dearsoldier, that you show this to each man, andreveal word-wise: That this is Wonder’s tree, onwhich Almighty God suffered, formankind’s sins, and Adam’s early deeds. He tasteddeath there; but the Lord again rose, withhis raw might, to help man; He climbed to heaventhere. Again he will set forth onthis middle-earth, on Doomsday to seek mankind,the Lord himself with his angels, AlmightyGod, at Judgment time, and he will judge each ofthem according as they acted here earlier,during this flying life. None of them must beunheedful of the Creator’s words; he asksmany where that man is, who for God’s name wouldtaste bitter death, as He had on thistree. But they will be afraid; only few know what tostart to say to Christ. None need be fearful,who bear breast-close this finest beacon, but throughthis Rood each soul must seek the Kingdom– far from these earth-ways – who, with the Creator,wants to live.” I prayed, zealously, to thebeam with bright mind, for I was alone there,companionless. My heart drewpg. 1 6

forth to the path-ways; my desire was powerful. It isnow my life’s glory that I seek this signalbeamalone, more often than others, and well honorit. I have a drive to do this; it crowds mymind; now all my solace’s hope lies in the Rood. Ihave not many rich friends on these earthlengths,but they have gone forth from this world’ssplendors, sought the king ofwonders, and are now in heaven – with the Highfather,living in glory! And I live each dayfor when the Lord’s Rood – which I saw here earlieron earth – will fly me from this fleeting life,and bring me... to where there is a great bliss,heaven’s vision, and God’s folk seated atfeast! A continuous joy! and for me to be set down,that I henceforth walk in wonder,well amid the Holy Ones – and drink of dreams! Iwould be the Lord’s friend, who on earthpained earlier on the gallow tree, for men’s sins – hesaved us, gave us back life, a heaven-home.Joy was renewed – with blessing, with bliss – forthose in hell’s torment. The Son’s expeditionwas victorious, strong and successful,when he, Creator Almighty,arrived with angels into God’s reign, to happinessamong spirits and the Saints, all alreadyliving in heaven’s splendor, when their Creator came– God Almighty – to his own land.pg. 1 7

T h e Wa n d e r e rThe lonely wanderer often wants mercy, God’sgrace, because he, care-heavy, must stir with hishands through water-ways, the rime-cold sea,and journey an exile’s paths. Fate is full fixed!So the earth-stepper spoke, pained with torment– of cruelest slaughters, the fall of friends:“Alone, each morning, I must utter my cares.There is no man now alive to whom, openly, Idare speak my mind. I know now: it is a nobletrait, that a man binds fast his soul-cage, keepsin his heart-casement, believe what he will. Aweary mood cannot fight fate, the mind heapsno help, because their judgment – sadly, deep inthe breast-coffin – holds him fast! Such the wayI – care-poor, home-barren, orphaned from mytribe – must bear in fetters, for the many yearssince I buried my gold-friend in dark earth; I,wretched, have since trekked full of winter-caresover the waves’ laces, sad for hall-want, seekinga treasure-giver, and wherever I might find in apg. 1 8

mead hall one knowing my own, or who wouldconsole me – friendless – and entertain me withjoys. He knows who has lived: how cruel care isto a friend with no comrades. Twisted gold can’tquiet this exile, a frozen soul-cage! not all theearth’s splendor. He remembers the hallwarriors,the treasure-receiving, how he in hisyouth was reared on gold, on feasting. Joy is allperished. For he knows he must leave a longtime the counsel of his sacred liege-lord. Andwhen care and sleep press upon the lone exile,he dreams he grasps and kisses his lord, layshands and head on his knees, such as he did,often, in the years past, near the gift-throne.Then, the friendless awakes: sees around himblack waves, the bathing sea-birds, with spreadfeather. Frost and snow falls, and frozen hail.Then is the heavy heart wounded, sore for thebeloved. Care is renewed: when thoughts offriends muddle the mind, he greets thempg. 1 9

gratefully, examines them eagerly. Man’scompanions swim off, floating, bring no familiarspeeches. Anxiety is renewed: because he mustsend his exhausted mind often over the waves’laces. I can’t think – beyond this world – whythis my soul doesn’t blacken, when I ponder thelives of warriors: how they quit the hall, smartthinking,courageous young retainers. In thisway earth dies, each of all days falls. But a mancannot be wise ere he knows very many of theworld-kingdom’s winters. A man must bepatient: not too hot of heart, not too quick ofspeech, not too timid at battle, not too wildminded,not too afraid, not too elated, not toogreedy, and not too fast to boast before heknows. A nobleman must stand, uttering vows,until his bold spirit, through years, knows thevicissitudes of his heart. A smart man mustvision the phantasmagoria: when all of thisworld stands, suddenly, in waste, how now invarious parts of this middle-earth – wallssmolder, wind-broken, rime-ringed, thepg. 2 0

uildings storm-beaten. Wine-halls molder,monarchs lie dream-vacant. Soldiers are dead,proud by the wall. War carried some off, fleeingon paths; birds carried some off, to their craggednests; the gray wolf shared some with death;some, a cheek-stained earl buried in an earthsepulcher.Old Builder, he wastes this earthuntil a time when – clamor-absent, silent ofcitizens – the Giants’ works stand idle! He who,wise, has considered this creation, and on darklife thought deep, cold-in-soul, remembers thelong-past slaughters often, and says these words:‘Where went the steed? Where went the youth?where went the treasure-giver? Where thebanquet-halls? Where the hall-spectacles? Allthe bright cups! All the mailed soldiers!Glorious princes! How that time is gone, growndark under night-dampening, as though it neverwere!’ Now stands, testament to the lovedwarrior-band, a wall high with wonders, woundwith snakes. Spears have taken the earls –weapons wanting slaughter! Fate so great! –pg. 2 1

storms toss that rocky slope. Snow chokes theearth, winter’s torture. Evening comes, nightshadowsdarken, and the north sends hale,furthering man’s torment. All this earthrichnessis hardship-heavy; faith’s makingdrives the heaven-under World. Here propertypasses, here friends pass, here a man has passed on! hereis a warrior passing! all this earth fundament turns tonaught!” So said the wise spirit, he sat apart: “Good ishe who grips faith, nor must a man let feelings burstfrom his bosom too quickly – not till he knows, zealously,how to cure them. Well is him who, wretched, seeks helpfrom the Heaven-father, who stands as our support.”pg. 2 2