THE WANDERER

(92a-110a)

Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago?

Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?

Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?

Hwær sindon seledreamas?

Eala beorht bune!

Eala byrnwiga!

Eala þeodnes þrym!

Hu seo þrag gewat,

genap under nihthelm,

swa heo no wære.

Stondeð nu on laste

leofre duguþe

weal wundrum heah,

wyrmlicum fah.

Eorlas fornoman

asca þryþe,

wæpen wælgifru,

wyrd seo mære,

ond þas stanhleoþu

stormas cnyssað,

hrið hreosende

hrusan bindeð,

wintres woma,

þonne won cymeð,

nipeð nihtscua,

norþan onsendeð

hreo hæglfare

hæleþum on andan.

Eall is earfoðlic

eorþan rice,

onwendeð wyrda gesceaft

weoruld under heofonum.

Her bið feoh læne,

her bið freond læne,

her bið mon læne,

her bið mæg læne,

eal þis eorþan gesteal

idel weorþeð!

Anonymous

THE WANDERER

(92a-110a)

Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?

Where the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats at the feast?

Where are the revels in the hall?

Alas for the bright cup!

Alas for the mailed warrior!

Alas for the splendour of the prince!

How that time has passed away,

dark under the cover of night,

as if it had never been!

Now there stands in the trace

of the beloved troop

a wall, wondrously high,

wound round with serpents.

The warriors taken off

by the glory of spears,

the weapons greedy for slaughter,

the famous fate (turn of events),

and storms beat

these rocky cliffs,

falling frost

fetters the earth,

the harbinger of winter;

Then dark comes,

nightshadows deepen,

from the north there comes

a rough hailstorm

in malice against men.

All is troublesome

in this earthly kingdom,

the turn of events changes

the world under the heavens.

Here money is fleeting,

here friend is fleeting,

here man is fleeting,

here kinsman is fleeting,

all the foundation of this world

turns to waste!

Modern English: Sean Miller