ELEGIES: THE WANDERER AND THE SEAFARER Exizmis the theme of the more personal poetry of Anglo-Sexon England, as it is of ancient Chinese poetry. Ane meaning ‘wretch, stranger, wanderer, pilgrim, wah the protgonist ‘Old English clegies. Why is, One must consider the conditions of Anglo-Saxo ‘was organize in small- very small -u was organized aromd tuted ~ to a degree we would find the ey, all more or les related munities were truly yphobic. The men of ed much the same tasks, ‘Anglo-Saxon communities, though there there was no snobbery. The banded together to overcome ~ lord was orphaned, out "lord, is derived from i provider of bread, the incarnation oft cultural society. The meal in the mes guardian of the he life-principle of ‘poetry refers to ‘the joys ofthe mead. ‘no nation abandons itself moze com ‘German’ and that ‘drinking-bor sidered in no way ay that the passing round ofthe the most important Anglo-Ssxon social But a man got more his lord and his king No one would be ex of solidarity from “he got protection, lst a man who had a powerful lord Thu Gerlust Cralh bres, frac, ded floater% ‘THE BARLINST BNGLISH FORMS be tohisinterest to defend his maa from a wrongful accusation, He ‘was held responsible even for deeds committed before the man centered his service, and would therefore be unwise too readily to accept an unknown man. This may explain why inthe poem The Wanderer the man bereftof his led finds io difficult to finda new ‘protector. The lord's responsibilty for his follower is he arpect of this lationship which stands out most prominently inthe laws 'No one story gives a better inpresion of the temper of those times or forms a more appropriate introduction to these clegiac ‘poems than that which Bede tell of King Edwin of Northumbria and ofhis conversion by Paulinus In che year 62s Paulinus brought the Gospel across the Humber, and Edwin, “being a man of ‘unusual wisdom’, summoned a Council: “And one ofthe King’s chief mea presently sid: “Thus sem it to ‘me, thou King, the present life ef man on earth agsint that tine ‘whichis unknown to us: i sas if thou were sitting at «feast with thy chief men and thy thanes inthe wintertime; the fice bums and theballis warmed, and outside t nins and sows and storms. Comes ‘sparrow and swifly fies through the howe; it comes through one door and goes out another. Lo in the ime in which he is within he is not touched by the winter storm, but that time isthe ash of an ‘eye and the lest of times, and he ioon passes from winter to winter again. Sos the life of man revealed fora brie space, but what went before and what follows after we know not." So spoke Coif chief of the pagan priests, and upon hearing that the new Word would tell of what went before and what follows after, he mounted upon horseback and rode, spear in hand, to the demolishing ofthe idot-altars ... So Mss Wiliams tells the story in her Word-Hoard, using not the Latin of the Exlesastcal History ‘but the Old English version of Aled the Great.* "This picture ofthe hall and ofthe impact of Chritanity upon a people who could not be ather than aware tha ife eat best tem porary affir, goes a long way explain the recurrent and fre quently unreconciled contrast which the elegies always point beeween the wrarca and the cm, the fireit, old-adomed, beet= ‘warm ball and the exterior darknes of ca and moor. Theie pestim= {am aboutthisifeisas unmitigated and inescapable as Hardy's; and, ‘Tua WANDunuR and THE SAAPARER 85 two hundved years after Paulinus they are not quite sare of ‘what, follows afte". Although The Wanderer and The Sefer ace eparated by two leavrin The xetet Book, they deal with indaranesand preset similar dificulies. The speaker in both is a wre ~ ‘lone, ‘ithoten any comsignye. The difesty ia bot ast oneal ‘punctuation: the poem ate writen ous pro and sch pining there i i oporade snd inconset. So there sno Enowing ‘where peches gino nd: Parl a3. comequnce of thi, hve Ea big sacral problems ded by the mal eter of today, which ae thow of scons Ica taison. The Wander zd The Seafarer lack thematie coberece, They do not resolve Tesnatralo suppose that when orl pty was it commited to paper twas al tended to be spoken albud, though the poet ingelf might aot be preset. The mantacpe was text for onl peeformance; hee poetry conserved tora tle more ot es ‘Now, an oa syle neds ational ater, eerie it oes it shage. The hero poe are held togete: by thr given sory. ven the elegy, TheWanie and The Sefer apa, deal wi eradonal themes: The Rin, "The Lay ofthe Lat Survive’, The “usond's Mee and the oer ll re onanized by the atce of thei tater eter ready-made damatcssuation 02 descriptive set-piece, But The Wander and The Sefer, hough they both begin with set description ofthe physical hahip 9 ‘he wre’ ify and giveth eradional hie answer tha they rust be overcome by deeds which wll win "a name dat sal fever do beneath the heaves are coma snuclogues of ew kind. They both take the signet stepfather by aking, ‘What if there ar no afelivers to keep that name alive? They ‘ot give dhe only posveanwer known he Chan one btn sachs manner tat the render ma judge for kimsel how far they were convinced ofthe efiesy ofthe Redemption The Wander and The Serer, then, pure the problema ofthe86 THE BARLIEST ENGLISH FORMS ethical aspects tothe - This question ofthe salvation lirecely asked elsewhere in Anglo- nown extent the authors ‘look in task ofan oral poet was, as we have seen from Beowlf ‘word wrlon ~to vary the words, wes |, oflanguage coming off the his audiences. But Shakespeare's soliloguies also have a sustained build-up of hought which no oral vversecan show, judged that the point had he Sire thre was 0 ade deed, the poets had gone beyond tradition, The unususl number of conjunctions in The Seafrer ‘TH WANDERER 87 sives the impresion that the posts arguing with himsel€ a very modem activity fora sop, ad "The abrupt changes of mood and direction in these poems do not in any way diminish theie impact yi one doesnot expect «a desperate man to prodiuce a neat ‘resolution of theme”, The angst shows how far the anonymity of Widsith has been. lefébehind; but we must beware of approaching The Wanderer and ‘The Seafrer with the expectations ofa classical and literary tad ton. Their eloquence and bleak truth were bred in the school of heroic oral poetry. A brief account of the structure of The Wanderer and The Sea fuer maight be found usefl Tara WANDERER ‘The Wanderer consists essentially of two moralizi place his dead gold verse 29 (in the Anglo-Saxon) he begins to speak of IF in the thd pers ‘better to manage the sorrow he then he imagines himself back in the meadhall. At the ead. ech he reves ny thinking how, soon or ridge passa some gnomic lines about the folly of boasting, In. hero boasts in the meadhall ofthe decds he will accomplish; when he has achieved his boast the sop celebrates the deed, ensuring that the hero’s name will live om carviesthe argument step further by picturing a ruined city ia which there are no ‘aftr speakers”, There is no hint of a redemptive Christian fich: the Maker of men is cst in the role of a Destroyer a8 inexorable 23 ‘The second speech in The Wanderer is that of the wise man, slow to boast, described at the beginning oft reflections upon the blasted city whose88 ‘THE BARLLNST ENGLISH FORMS vith the wepent-apes of deucion ofr no consaaton: ibe tory of wine aad igh “erent id coming “hese Beak scsi, one atobiograpical, the ther dete agtinet the word ar whole, together with dr Eaking page, 2c ct within» more Cheistan fraework by a prolgec aad tpiloge, both of ive ines. In the Sie one and shal ins ofthe for and gun in hela one nd ahalflines, references madeto the mecey of God Some schol ove thought dha by puting these Chan quotation marks arcund the poem the anton wat trying expore te hallownes and the hoplemes of the pagan thi theceinexprewed, Bot the very nests ofthe parla i Seapicioy trary, nd, omy way of tnkng, ts inexpete tion tun the poet nid owt. Hing made ellos forthe Into of te authon, coe has orgies the ipa ofthe porn itelfon ons own conscious ad to me thee geouerions 0 the Crestor teem somewhat perfincory. ‘The epllogue, jn any cae rien inde me cp yh ego po wien fcr dealing with something of cypecal sclermiey: thas Shee nx oy oer ih af ead ry keep sits moat endl h ove tte wad Found pt of the cial pcr, we wosld il have cheer Sion that tc author, hough he mh ease the Liiatons Ofte ercic ec did nthe he desprfth of the ator of The Dream of the Rod, Whatever relative weight is attached to the various constituent parts of The Wanderer, the poem docs fill, sey natarally, ato five son Thera of Te Sissel aii ais cof tack more violent. The poem (by which I mean lines seoeag ote ger aegis oe scribal addition ita sobloguy: a ure tel of the many winters Gene) i han pe neal cn the an ofthat ‘ome. isin then moves (line 33 the future, and his trepide- tion at the thought of «new sa-jouracy he has to make. The mani festations of spring pric him on: TH SEAPARER % Cackoo’sdirge drags out my heart, whet will tothe wales beat acrom wattes of water: far warmer to me are the Lord’ kindness than thi life of death lent us oa land, ‘This sudden reversal of attitude towards thesca, and the preference expressed for the ‘joys ofthe Lord’, a aginst the fleeting satis= factions of life on land, have made tome scholats think that the ‘Seafarer has rejected his previous longing for his old life with lord ‘and kin and is here vowing to devote hs lf to contemplation, sea-bound solitary, a pilgrim-hermit ofthe waves, This theory is ‘much more logical than the poem itself, a any strict line-by-line application of i will show; but the rource-diviners and inuence- peddlers wall not willingly let such 2 controversy die, Much more revealing of the haziness in which we all sand as regards these texts isthe now discredited theory that The Seafarer isa dialogue between an old man and a young man, Only ehus could Professor Rieger explain these contradictory attitudes towards the sea. ‘True its, in any case, that from this point onwards the pertona ofthe Seafarer is discarded, and the poet Iaunches into a pasionate snd categorical denial ofthe permanent value of ary human life — except ins far a the individual can overcomehis mortality; fame is, according to the traditional formula, earned by deeds “before wayfaring’. But the deeds this time are agucst the Devil, and the fame is among the angels The Seafarer then makes its final om slaught: the poet laments the dead lords, the feebleness of theiz modem suecesiors, the inevitable wasting of our Aes, the fuiey ‘of hoarding gold if man's sou! is weighed down with sin. Ths ss one ofthe greatest pasages of our literature, and those unsatisfied by my version should look at Mr Pound's Svfarer to see what le rnd tearslatenr of our age has done with it. A commentary on The Sefer is not called for here. Transla- tion involves as many decisions as there ae words inthe original ~ indeed, many mote; however inadequate, i is the best critique ‘one can make,The Corlush Eyloh faens, trans. (dad ttxan br The Wenderer ‘Who liveth alone longeth for mercy, ‘Maker's metey. Though he must eraverse ‘acts of , sick at heart, = trouble with oats joe-cold waters, the ways of exile ~ Wierd ist fist. ‘Thus spoke such a‘ grasshopye’, ol grief in is mind, cold slaughter, the death of dear kinemen: “Alone am I deiven each day 2efore daybreae to give my cares utterance. [None are there now among the living to-whom I dare declare me throughly, tell my heart's thought. Too truly know that he keep close his hearts chest hhold his thought-hoard, eink at he ma [No weary mind may sand against Wierd nor may a wrecked will work new hope; wherefore, mos often, thot eager for me bind the disk mood fuse a thir brass. So must Tals curb my mind, cut off from country, from kind far distant, by cates overworn, bind it in feters; this since, long ago, the ground’s shroud cenwrapped my gold-fiend. Wretched I went thence, ‘winter-wearied, over the wares’ bounds dreary I sought hall of gold-giver, ‘where far or near {might find him who in meadhall might take heed of me, firnish comfort toa man frendles, ‘win me with cheer. He knows who makes trial x 5 10 as 20 25 THE WANDERER Oft him anhaga are gebidet, ‘metudes miltse, eah be he modcearig sgeond lagulade Jonge sceolde hhreran mid hondum _hrimeealde se, ‘wadan wreclastas, Wyrd bi® ful ered! Swa cwed eardstapa, earfeba gemyndi wrapra welsleabta, winemmga hryre: “Oft ic sceolde ana uhtna gehwylee mine ceare ewipan. Nis nu ewiera nan be ichim modsefan_ mine durre sweotule asecgan. Ic to sope wat pat bip in eorle indryhten peaw, pet he his ferblocan {este binde, healde his hordcofan, hycge swa be wille, Ne mag werig mod | wyrde witstondan, i ne se hreo hyge helpe gefremman. Forton domgeome dreorigne oft in hyra breostcofan bindab feste; swa ic modsefan minne sceolde, oft earmcearig, eble bideled, 4 freomegum feor feterum sean, j sippan geara iu goldwine minne 4 hhrusan heolstre biwrah, ond ic heen ponan wod wintercearig” ofer wabema gebind, f sohte sele dreorig sinces bryttan, 4 hhwer ic feor oppe neah findan methte 4 Done pe in meodubiealle min mine wisse, obpe mec freondleasne frefran wolie, weman mid wynnum, Wat se pe cunna®, onoa THE BARLMST BNOLISH FORMS how harsh and bitur ir care for companion ‘o him who hath few friends o shield him. ‘Track ever taketh him, never the torqued gold, not carthly glory, but cold hear’ cave He minds him of hl-men, of treaare-giving, hhow in is youth his gold frend ‘gave hizn to fase, Fallen ll his joy. He knows this who is forced to forgo his lors, his friend's counsel, to lack them for long oft sorrow and sleep, banded together, ‘come to bind the lone outcast; he thinks in his heat then tha he bis lord claspeth and ksseth, and on knee layeth hhand and head, ashe had at otherwhiles in days nov gone, when he enjoyed the gift-stool, Awakeneth after this Giendless man, seeth before him falow waves, seabirds bathing, broading out feathers, snow and hail sel, hoarfros filling. ‘Then all the heavier his heat’s wounds, sore for his loved lord, Sorrow freshens, ‘Remembered kinsmen pres through his mind; ‘he singeth out glad, scanneth eageely ‘men from the same hearth. They swim away, Sailors’ ghosts bring not many known songs there, Care grows fesh in him who shal srl forth too often lover locked waves his weary spiit. ‘Therefore I may not think, throughout this world, ‘why cloud cometh uot on my mind swhen I think overall the life of exes, hhow ata stroke they have given up ball, ‘mood-proud thanes. So this middle eat, cach of all days ageth and falleth’” THE WANDERER 93 30 hu slipen bi sorg to geferan, am pe him lyt hafat Jeofra geholena, Wara® hine wreclast, nales wunden gold, ferdloca freorig, nals foldan ble<. Gemon he selesecgas ond sinchege, 35 hu hine on geogube his goldwine wenede to wiste. Wyn cal gedreas! Forpon wat se pe sceal his winedryhtnes leofes larewidum —longe forpolian, ‘Gonne sorg ond slep somod etgeére 40 earmne anhogan oft gebindats ince him on mode pet he his mondryhten lyppe ond cysse, ond on cneo lecge honda ond heafod, swa he hwilum er in geardagum _giefstolas breac. 45 Donne onwecne® eft wineleas guna, gesih6 him biforan fealwe wegas, bapian brimfuglas, bredan fepra, hhreosan hrim ond snaw, hagle gemenged. Ponne beo® py hefigran heortan benne, 50 sare efter swasne. Sorg bid geniwad, onne mage gemynd mod geondhweorfed; greted gliwstafum, georne geondsceawa’ secga geseldan, Swimma® eft on weg! Fleotendra fer® no per fela bringe’ 55 cutira cwidegiedda. Cearo bi8 geniwad Jam pe sendan sceal swipe geneabhe ofer wabema gebind werigne sefan. Forpon ic gebencan ne marg geod pas woruld for hwan modsefa min ne gesweoree, 60 ponne ic eorla lif eal geondpence, hu hiferlice flet ofgeafon, ‘modge magupegnas. Swa pes middangeard calra dogra gehwam dreose® ond fealle),m4 vim BARLIBST ENGLISH FORMS ‘Wherefore no man grows wite without he have his share of winters, A wise man holds out; he is not too hot-hearted, nor too hasty in speech, ‘or too wesk a warrior, not wanting in fore-though, not too greedy of goods, nor too glad, nor too mild, nor ever too eager to bosst, re he knows all ‘Arman should forbear bosstmaking until his ferce mind fally knows ‘which way his spleen shall expend itself, ‘Avwise man may grasp how ghastly it shall be ‘hen all this world’s wealth standeth waste, even as now, in many places, over the earth walls stand, wind-beaten, ‘hung with hoar-Fost; ruined habitations, ‘The wine-halls crumble; thet wielders ie bereft of bs, the band al fllen proud by the wall. War toot off some, carried them on their course hence; one a bird bore ‘over the high sea; one the hoar wolf dealt to death; one his drear-checked cat! stretched in an earthen trench, ‘The Maker of men hath so ated this dwelling that human laughter is not heard about it and idle stand these old giant-works. ‘A man who on these walls wisely looked ‘who sounded deeply this dak life ‘would think back to the blood spilt here, ‘weigh it in his wit, Hs word would be this “Where is chat horse now? Where are those mea? Where is the hoard-tharer? ‘Where is the house of the feast? Where is the hall's uproar? ‘Als, bright cup! Als, burnished fighter! ‘Als, proud prince! How that ime has pasted, dark under night's helm, as though i never had been run waNDanan 9s forhon ne meg weorban wis wer, ex he age (65 wintra del in woruldrice. Wita sceel gepylaig, ne sceal no to hatheort ne to hredwyrde, ne to wac wiga ne to wanhydig, ne to forbt ne to fegen, ne to feohgifre ne nefre gielpes to georn, er he geare cunne. 70 Beorn sceal gebidan, ponne he beot sprieb, ‘obpet collenfer5cunne gearwe hwider hrepra gehygd hweorfan will Ongietan sceal gleaw hile hu gastlicbi8, Fone ealre isse worulde wela weste stondeS, 75 swa nu missenlce geond pisne midéangeard winde biwaune weallas stondap, harime bihrorene, hrytge pa ederas, Woria® pa winselo, waldend lcgat dreame bidrorene, | dugup eal gecrong, 80 wlonc bi wealle. “Sune wig fornom, ferede in forBwege, sumne fugel opber ofer heanne holm, sumne se hara walf deate gedlde, Sumne dreorighleor in eortscraefe eoel gehydde. 85 Ypvle swa pisne eardgeard elda seyppend oppet burgwara breahtma lease cald enta geweore ilu stodon. ; Se ponne pisne wealsteal wise geJohte ond pis deorce lif deope geondpenced, 90 {rod in ferBe, feor oft gemon ‘welsleahta worn, ond pas word acui®: “war cwom mearg? Hwar cwom mago? Hwer ewom mappumgyia? Heer cvom symbla gesctu? Hwer sindon seledreamas? Eala beorht bune! Eala byrawiga! 95 Eala peodnes brym! Hu seo brag gewat, sgenap under nihthelm, swa heo no ware9 ‘THR BARLIEST ENGLISH POEMS “There stands in the stead of taunch thanes a towering wall wrought with worm-hapes; the earl are off-taken by th ash-spar's point, ~ that thirsty weapon. Theic Wieed is glorious. Storms break on the stone hillside, the ground bound by driving sleet, ‘winter's wrath, Then wanes comet, night's shade spreadeth, sendeth fcom north the rough hail to harry maskind. In the earth-realm alliscrosed; ‘Wierd’ will changeth the world. ‘Wealth is lent ws, fiends are lent us, man is lent, kin is lent; allthis earths frame shall sand empty.” So spoke the sage in his hecrt; he sat apart in thought. ‘Good is he who keeps faith: nor should care too fast ‘be out ofa man’s breat before he frst know the cure: ‘a wacrior fights on bravely. Wel iit for him who seeks forgivencs, the Heavenly Father's solace, in whom all our fastnes stands, rue WANDERER ” Stonde® nu on laste leofre dugupe weal wundrum heah, wyrmlicum fab. Eorlas fornoman asca prybe, 100 wepen walgifru, wyrd seo mee, ond pas stanhleopu stormas enyss6, hi hreosende hrusan binde®, ‘wintres woma, pone won cyme®, nipet nibtscua, norpan onsendets 105 hreo heglfare helepum on andan Eall is earfotlic eorpan rice, onwendet wyrda gesceaft weoruld under heofonum. Her bif fech lene, her bif freond lene, her bi8 mon lene, her bi8 mag lene, 110 eal pis eorpan gesteal idel weorpeS!” ‘Swa cwa® snottor on mode, geset him sundor st rune. ‘Til bip se pe his treowe gehealdep, ne sceal nefre his tora t to rycene beom of his breostum acypan, nembe he ar pa bote orl mid elne gefcemman. Wel bi8 pam pe him are sece®, 115 frofre to feder on heofonum, par us eal seo festnung stonded, t50 THE ELEGIES ‘THE WANDERER Often the wanderer pleads for pity and mercy from the Lord; but fo: a long time, sad in mind, he must dip his oars into icy waters, the lanes of the sea; hhe must follow the paths of exile: fate is inflexible ‘Mindful of hardships, grievous slaughter, the ruin of kinsmen, the wanderer said: “Time and again at the day's dawning I must mourn all my afflictions alone, There is no one still living to whem I dare open the doors of my heart. I have no doubt that it is a noble habit for a man to bind fast all his heart’s feelings, guard his thoughts, whatever he is thinking, ‘The weary in spirit cannot withstand fate, and nothing comes of venting spleen: wherefore those eager for glory often hold some ache imprisoned in their hearts. Thus I had to bind my feelings in fetters, often sad at heart, cut off from my count far from my kinsmen, after, long ago, dark clods of earth covered 'my gcld- I left that place in wretchedness, ploughed the icy waves with winter in my heart; in sadness I sought far and wide for a teasure-giver, for a man who would welcome me into his mead-hall, give me good cheer (for I boasted no friends), entertain me with delights, He who has experienced it knows how cruel a comrade sorrow can be to any man who has few loyal friends: for him are the ways of exile, in ro wise twisted gold; for him is a frozen body, in no wise the fruits of the earth, He remembers hall-retainers and treasure and how, in his youth, his gold-friend iend; Tre Aral Saar ele, tras. Kevin Coneley- Hollond THE WANDERER sl entertained him. Those joys have all vanished. ‘A man who lacks advice for a long while from his loved lord understands this, that when sorrow and sleep together hhold the wretched wanderer in their grip, it seems that he clasps and kisses his lord, and lays hands and head upon his lord’s knee as he had sometimes done when he enjoyed the gift-throne in earlier days, Then the friendless man wakes again and sees the dark waves surging arourd him, the sea-birds bathing, spreading their feathers, frost and snow falling mingled with hail Then his wounds lie more heavy in his heart, aching for his lord. His sorrow is renewed; the memory of kinsmen sweeps through his mind; joyfully he welcomes them, eagerly scans his comrade warriors. Then they swiz: away again, ‘Their drifting spirits da not bring many old songs to his lips. Sorrow upon sorrow attend the man who must send time and again his weary heart over the frozen waves. ‘And thus T cannot think why in the world my mind does not darken when I brocd on the fate of brave warriors, how they have suddenly had to leave the mead-hall, the bold fellowers. So this world dwindles day by day, and passes away; for a man will not be wise before he has weathered his share of winters in the world, A wise man must be patient, neither too passionate nor too hasty of speech, neither too irresolute nor too rash in battle; not too anxious, too content, nor too grasping, and never too eager to boast before he knows himself. ‘When he boasts a man must bide his time until he has no doubt in his brave heart that he has fully made up his mind, ‘A wise man must fathom how eerie it will be32 THE ELEGIES when all the riches of the world stand waste, as now in diverse places in this middle-earth walls stand, tugged at by winds and hung with hoar-frost, buildirgs in decay. ‘The wine-halls crumble, lords lie dead, deprived of joy, all the proud followers have fallen by the wall: battle cartied off some, led them on journeys; the bird carried one over the welling waters; one the grey wolf devoured; a warrior with downcast face hid one in an earth-cave. ‘Thus the Maker of Men laid this world waste until the ancient works of the giants stood idle, hushed without the hubbub of innabitants. Then he who has brooded over these noble ruins, and who deeply ponders this dark life, wise in his mind, often remembers the many slaughters of the past and speaks these words: Where has the horse gone? Where the man? Where the giver of gold? ‘Where is the feasting-place? And where the pleasures of the hall? I mourn the gleaming cup, the warrior in his corselet, the glory of the prince. How that time has passed away, darkened under the shadow of night as if it had never been. ‘Where the loved warriors were, there now stands a wall of wondrous height, carved with serpent forms. The savage ash-spears, avid for slaughter, have claimed all the warriors ~ a glorious fate! Storms crash against these rocky slopes, sleet and snow fall and fetter the world, winter howls, then darkness draws on, the night-sludow casts gloom and brings fierce hailstorms from the north to frighten men, Nothing is ever easy in the kingdom of earth, the world beneath the heavens is in the hands of fate, Here possessions are fleeting, here friends are fleeting, here man is fleeting, here kinsman is fleeting, the whole world becomes a wilderness.” ‘THE SEAFARER 33 So spoke the wise man in his heart as he sat apart in thought, Brave is the man who holds to his beliefs; nor shall he ever show the sorrow in his heart before he knows how he ‘can hope to heal it. It is best for a men to seek mercy and comfort from the Father in heaven where security stands for us all. E SEAFARER T can\ying a true song about myself, tell of Wyy travels, how in days of tribulation Toften Oydured a time of hardship, / how I hay harboured bitter sorz0 were afflicted by frozen chains; ther tj a hunger within tore (cary man. He who lives, does not understand ff from my kinsmen, at the mind of the si how I, careworn gfd cut have as an exile éndured a on the icy sea / ff the gannet was all my the cal/f the curlew, not the laughter of men, the Awy-winged, screeched overhead, could console the cheerless heart,25 30 40 Fidkceness, who ruled the Gothic fol the lat ott OF Goa, walking ofer nerds Shedding mere And dropping Of myzelel vif say that once Ne For the Héogenings ard he a Wee Innyrauls hearty tane Ny Der. sang in fy good locsservce dug aan Winters ne erent won NOY cis harp And soe my place with poet ski ‘That passed, and so may this, 58 Ars fr a ght, ras. Form kel 10 16 20 30 THE WANDERER ‘This lonely traveller longs for grace, For the mercy of God; grief hangs on His heart and follows the frostcold foam. He cuts in the sea, sailing endlessly, Aimlestly, in exile, Fate has opened Asingle port: memory. He sees His kinsmen slaughtered again, and cries: “Y've drunk too many lonely dawns, Grey with mourning. Once there were men ‘To whom my heart could hurry, hot With open longing. They're long since dead. ‘My heart has closed on itself, quietly Learning that silence is noble and sorrow Nothing chat speech can cure. Sadness Has never driven sadness off; Fate blows hardest on a bleeding heart. So those who thirst for glory smother Secret weakness and longing, neither ‘Weep nor sigh nor listen to the sickness In their souls. So I, lost and homeless, Forced to fee the darkness that fell (On the earth and my lord, Leaving everything, ‘Weary with winter I wandered out (On the frozen waves, hoping to find A place, a people, a lord to replace My lost ones. No one knew me, now, No one offered comfort, alloved ‘Me feasting or joy. How cruel a journey T've travelled, sharing my bread with sorrow Alone, an exile in every land, Could only be told by telling my footsteps. For who can hear: “friendlese and poor,” 5935 40 5 50 55 60 65 And know what I've known since the long cheerful nights When, young and yearning, with my lord I yet feasted Most welcome of all. That warmth is dead. He only knows who needs his lord As Ido, eager for longmissing aid; He only knows who never sleeps Without the deepest dreams of longing, Sometimes it seems I sze my lord, Kiss and embrace him, bend my hands And head to his knee, kneeling as though He still sat enthroned, ruling his thanes, ‘And I open my eyes, embracing the air, And see the brown seabillows heave, See the sea-birds bathe, spreading ‘Their whitefeathered wings, watch the frost ‘And the hail and the snow. And heavy in heart 1 long for my lord, alone and unloved. Sometimes it seems I see my kin ‘And greet them gladly, give them welcome, ‘The best of friends. They fade away, Swimming soundlessly out of sight, Leaving nothing. How loathsome become ‘The frozen waves to a weary heart. In this brief world I cannot wonder ‘That my mind is set on melancholy, Because I never forget the fate Of men, robbed of their riches, suddenly Looted by death—the doom of earth, ‘Sent to usall by every rising ‘Sun. Wisdom is slow, and comes But late. He who has itis patient; He carinot be hasty to hate or speak, ‘He must be bold and yet not blind, ‘Nor ever too craven, complacent, or covetous, 60 70 80 85 90 95 Nor ready to gloat before he wins glory. ‘The man's a fool who flings his boasts| Holly to the heavens, heeding his spleen ‘And not the better boldness of knowledge. ‘What knowing man knows aot the ghostly, ‘Waste-like end of worldly wealth: See, already the wreckage is there, ‘The windswept walls stand far and wide, ‘The storm-beaten blocks besmeared with frost, ‘The mead-halls crumbled, the monarchs thrown down And stripped of their pleasures. The proudest of Now lie by the wall: some of them war Destroyed; some the monstrous sea-bird Bore over the ocean; to some the old wolf Dealt out death; and for some dejected Followers fashioned an earth-cave coffin. ‘Thus the Maker of men lays waste ‘This earth, crushing our callow mirth. And the work of old giants stands withered and still.” He who these ruins tightly sees, And deeply considers this dark twisted life, ‘Who sagely remembers the endless slaughters, Of. bloody past, is bound to proclaim: “Where is the war-stoed? Where is the warrior? ‘Where is his warlord? ‘Where now the feasting-pleces? Where now the mead- hall pleasures? Alas, bright cup! Alas, brave knight! ‘Alas, you glorious princes! All gone, Lost in the night, as you never had lived. And all that survives you a serpentine wall, Wondrously high, worked in strange ways. “Mighty spears have slain these men, 61100 105 no Greedy weapons have framed their fate, ‘These rocky slopes are beaten by storms, ‘This earth pinned down by driving snow, By the horror of winter, smothering warmth In the shadows of night. And the north angrily ‘Huurls its hailstorms at our helpless heads. Everything earthly it evilly born, Firmly clutched by a fickle Fate, Fortune vanishes, friendship vanishes, 5 Man is fleeting, woman is fleeting, And all this earth rolls into emptiness.” So says the sage in his heart, sitting alone with His thought, It's good to guard your faith, nor let your grief come 10 forth Until it cannot call for help, nor help but heed The path you've placed before it. It’s good to find your grace In God, the heavenly rock where rests our every hope. ww Riddle #60: THE RE ‘To my empty lanYvon}y by accident. Buc every dawn a bYXwn weve swept ‘Around me with wate! Could I ever imagine a De when, mouthless, Td sing across ghe benches\yhere mead. Was poured,And carry secre What a ras and wonderful To/make me a message-bearer to your €: fone, boldly bringing you what no one Ise could carry and no one hears!