Anglo-Saxon poetry - arras.net

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