[Nu ic onsundran þe secgan wille]
Nu ic onsundran þe secgan wille
…… treocyn ic tudre aweox;
in mec æld… sceal ellor londes
settan…… sealte streamas
…sse. Ful oft ic on bates
bosme……gesohte
þær mec mondryhten min……
ofer heah hafu. Eom nu her cumen
on ceolþele, ond nu cunnan scealt
hu þu ymb modlufan mines frean
on hyge hycge. Ic gehatan dear
þæt þu þær tirfæste treowe findest.
Hwæt, þec þonne biddan het se þisne beam agrof
þæt þu sinchroden sylf gemunde
on gewitlocan wordbeotunga,
þe git on ærdagum oft gespræcon,
þenden git moston on meoduburgum
eard weardigan, an lond bugan,
freondscype fremman. Hine fæhþo adraf
of sigeþeode. Heht nu sylfa þe
lustum læran þæt þu lagu drefde,
siþþan þu gehyrde on hliþes oran
galan geomorne geac on bearwe.
Ne læt þu þec siþþan siþes getwæfan,
lade gelettan lifgendne monn.
Ongin mere secan, mæwes eþel,
onsite sænacan, þæt þu suð heonan
ofer merelade monnan findest,
þær se þeoden is þin on wenum.
Ne mæg him worulde willa mara
on gemyndum, þæs þe he me sægde,
þonne inc geunne alwaldend god
þæt git ætsomne siþþan motan
secgum ond gesiþum s…
næglede beagas; he genoh hafað
fædan goldes …
geond elþeode eþel healde,
fægre foldan …….
holdra hæleþa, þeah þe her min wine…….
nyde gebæded, nacan ut aþrong,
ond on yþa gelagu ana sceolde
faran on flotweg, forðsiþes georn,
mengan merestreamas. Nu se mon hafað
wean oferwunnen; nis him wilna gad,
ne meara ne maðma ne meododreama,
ænges ofer eorþan eorlgestreona,
þeodnes dohtor, gif he þin beneah.
Ofer eald gebeot incer twega,
gehyre ic ætsomne .ᛋ.ᚱ. geador
ᛠ.ᚹ. ond .ᛗ. aþe benemnan,
þæt he þa wære ond þa winetreowe
be him lifgendum læstan wolde,
þe git on ærdagum oft gespræconn.
in days gone by
The Husband's Message
now i’ll speak to you, apart.
i’m a twig, sprig, tree’s kid.
a man’s son somewhere else
set words on me, sent me
over salty streams. in boat’s
breast, i go
where my lord sends me,
across the deep. now i’m here,
off the ship, to hear,
in your heart’s heart, do you love
my lord? you’ll find—i dare swear—
faith rooted deeply there.
he carved this wood and had me bid
you, bejeweled, open thought’s box,
remember oaths
sworn in days gone by,
when you called the city home,
lived in one place, had your
friendship. bad blood
banished him. now follow him
—i’m to say—row ripples
when you hear cuckoo sing,
sad in the hillside grove.
let no one, no living soul,
change your path, check your course.
seek the sea, gulls’ domain,
board a ship ’til you find
your prince, south
overseas, expecting you.
he has one wish
—he told me so—nothing more:
that god almighty bring
you together,
sharing gifts, spangled rings
among friends. he has enough
polished gold.
he found home abroad,
good land,
and friends, but arrived
needy. eager, he launched,
into stormy seas,
followed ships’ road alone:
oars whisked seas. his woe’s now
done. he’ll lack nothing
noble in the world
—horses, cash, joy—
if he’s with you, princess.
about those old vows between you,
i think ᛋ with ᚱ, along with
ᛠ, ᚹ, and ᛗ swear this oath:
long as he lives, he’ll keep
love’s vows and oaths
sworn in days gone by.
translated from Old English by Elijah John Petzold