The Wanderer

Verse Indeterminate Saxon

Oft him anhaga         are gebideð,
metudes miltse,         þeah þe he modcearig
geond lagulade         longe sceolde
hreran mid hondum         hrimcealde sæ,

wadan wræclastas.         Wyrd bið ful aræd!
Swa cwæð eardstapa,         earfeþa gemyndig,
wraþra wælsleahta,         winemæga hryre:
"Oft ic sceolde ana         uhtna gehwylce
mine ceare cwiþan.         Nis nu cwicra nan

þe ic him modsefan         minne durre
sweotule asecgan.         Ic to soþe wat
þæt biþ in eorle         indryhten þeaw,
þæt he his ferðlocan         fæste binde,
healde his hordcofan,         hycge swa he wille.

Ne mæg werig mod         wyrde wiðstondan,
ne se hreo hyge         helpe gefremman.
Forðon domgeorne         dreorigne oft
in hyra breostcofan         bindað fæste;
swa ic modsefan         minne sceolde,

oft earmcearig,         eðle bidæled,
freomægum feor         feterum sælan,
siþþan geara iu         goldwine minne
hrusan heolstre biwrah,         ond ic hean þonan
wod wintercearig         ofer waþema gebind,

sohte sele dreorig         sinces bryttan,
hwær ic feor oþþe neah         findan meahte
þone þe in meoduhealle         min mine wisse,
oþþe mec freondleasne         frefran wolde,
weman mid wynnum.         Wat se þe cunnað,

hu sliþen bið         sorg to geferan,
þam þe him lyt hafað         leofra geholena.
Warað hine wræclast,         nales wunden gold,
ferðloca freorig,         nalæs foldan blæd.
Gemon he selesecgas         ond sincþege,

hu hine on geoguðe         his goldwine
wenede to wiste.         Wyn eal gedreas!
Forþon wat se þe sceal         his winedryhtnes
leofes larcwidum         longe forþolian,
ðonne sorg ond slæp         somod ætgædre

earmne anhogan         oft gebindað.
þinceð him on mode         þæt he his mondryhten
clyppe ond cysse,         ond on cneo lecge
honda ond heafod,         swa he hwilum ær
in geardagum         giefstolas breac.

ðonne onwæcneð eft         wineleas guma,
gesihð him biforan         fealwe wegas,
baþian brimfuglas,         brædan feþra,
hreosan hrim ond snaw,         hagle gemenged.
þonne beoð þy hefigran         heortan benne,

sare æfter swæsne.         Sorg bið geniwad,
þonne maga gemynd         mod geondhweorfeð;
greteð gliwstafum,         georne geondsceawað
secga geseldan.         Swimmað eft on weg!
Fleotendra ferð         no þær fela bringeð

cuðra cwidegiedda.         Cearo bið geniwad
þam þe sendan sceal         swiþe geneahhe
ofer waþema gebind         werigne sefan.
Forþon ic geþencan ne mæg         geond þas woruld
for hwan modsefa         min ne gesweorce,

þonne ic eorla lif         eal geondþence,
hu hi færlice         flet ofgeafon,
modge maguþegnas.         Swa þes middangeard
ealra dogra gehwam         dreoseð ond fealleþ,
forþon ne mæg weorþan wis         wer, ær he age

wintra dæl in woruldrice.         Wita sceal geþyldig,
ne sceal no to hatheort         ne to hrædwyrde,
ne to wac wiga         ne to wanhydig,
ne to forht ne to fægen,         ne to feohgifre
ne næfre gielpes to georn,         ær he geare cunne.

Beorn sceal gebidan,         þonne he beot spriceð,
oþþæt collenferð         cunne gearwe
hwider hreþra gehygd         hweorfan wille.
Ongietan sceal gleaw hæle         hu gæstlic bið,
þonne ealre þisse worulde wela         weste stondeð,

swa nu missenlice         geond þisne middangeard
winde biwaune         weallas stondaþ,
hrime bihrorene,         hryðge þa ederas.
Woriað þa winsalo,         waldend licgað
dreame bidrorene,         duguþ eal gecrong,

wlonc bi wealle.         Sume wig fornom,
ferede in forðwege,         sumne fugel oþbær
ofer heanne holm,         sumne se hara wulf
deaðe gedælde,         sumne dreorighleor
in eorðscræfe         eorl gehydde.

Yþde swa þisne eardgeard         ælda scyppend
oþþæt burgwara         breahtma lease
eald enta geweorc         idlu stodon.
Se þonne þisne wealsteal         wise geþohte
ond þis deorce lif         deope geondþenceð,

frod in ferðe,         feor oft gemon
wælsleahta worn,         ond þas word acwið:
"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,

100

wæpen wælgifru,         wyrd seo mære,
ond þas stanhleoþu         stormas cnyssað,
hrið hreosende         hrusan bindeð,
wintres woma,         þonne won cymeð,
nipeð nihtscua,         norþan onsendeð

105

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,

110

eal þis eorþan gesteal         idel weorþeð!"
Swa cwæð snottor on mode,         gesæt him sundor æt rune.
Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ,         ne sceal næfre his torn to rycene
beorn of his breostum acyþan,         nemþe he ær þa bote cunne,
eorl mid elne gefremman.         Wel bið þam þe him are seceð,

115

frofre to fæder on heofonum, þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð.

The Wanderer

Translated by Robert E. Diamond

Often the solitary dweller awaits favor for himself, the mercy

of the Lord, although he, anxious in spirit, has long been

obliged to stir with his hands (i.e., row?) the ice-cold (lit.

frost-cold) sea over the path of the waters, to travel the paths

of exile. (5b) Fate is utterly inexorable (lit. resolute).

(6) So spoke the wanderer, mindful of hardships, of cruel

slaughters, of the death of beloved kinsmen: Often alone each

dawn I have had to bewail my sorrows; there is not now any

one living (lit. none of the living) to whom I dare speak my

mind openly. (11b) In truth I know that (it) is a very noble

custom in a man that he should bind fast his mind, guard the

treasury of his heart, let him think as he will. (15) (One)

weary in spirit cannot resist fate nor (can) the troubled

thought afford consolation ( lit. perform help ); therefore

(those) eager for glorious reputation often bind fast in their

hearts a gloomy (thought). (19) So I, often wretched, de-

prived of my native land, far from my noble kinsmen, have

had to bind my mind with fetters, since (the time) years ago

(when I) hid in the concealment of the earth (i.e., buried) my

gold-friend (i.e., generous lord), and I, abject, winter-griev-

ing (i.e., in a mood as dreary as winter? oppressed by ad-

vancing years?) went from there over the surface (lit. bind-

ing) of the waves, wretched, I sought the dwelling of a dis-

penser of treasure (i.e., generous lord), (sought) where I

might be able to find far or near some one who, in a mead-hall,

might know of my (people) or might be willing to console me,

friendless, comfort (me) with pleasures. (29b) He who ex-

periences (it) knows how cruel is sorrow as a companion to

him who has few friendly protectors for himself. (32) The

path of exile attends him, not twisted gold, a mournful spirit,

not earthly prosperity. He remembers the warriors in the hall

(lit. hall-warriors) and the receiving of treasure, (remem-

bers) how in his youth his gold-friend (i.e., generous lord)

entertained him at feasting. Joy has all disappeared !

(37) Therefore he who must knows (how to) do without

the instructive speeches of his beloved friendly lord for a long

time, when sorrow and sleep together often bind the wretched

solitary (one). (41) It seems to him in his mind that he is

embracing and kissing his lord and laying his hands and head

on his knee, as he sometimes formerly in the days of yore

enjoyed the gift-throne (i.e., the throne where his lord sat

dispensing gifts). (45) Then the friendless (lordless?) man

awakens again, sees before him the dark waves, (sees) sea-

birds bathe (and) spread their feathers, (sees) hoar-frost and

snow fall mingled with hail.

(49) Then the wounds of the heart are the more severe,

painful (with longing) for a loved one. Sorrow is renewed

when the memory of kinsmen passes through his mind; (he)

greets (them) joyfully, eagerly regards (his) comrades in

arms (lit. companions of warriors). (53b) They float away

again. The spirit of the floating ones (i.e., phantoms) does not

bring there many familiar songs. Care is renewed for him who

must very often send forth his weary spirit over the surface

(lit. binding) of the waves.

(58) Therefore I cannot imagine why throughout this

world my mind will not grow gloomy when I consider all the

life of men, how they suddenly left the hall (lit. floor of the

hall), the courageous young retainers. (62b) So this world

every day (lit. each of all days) is crumbling and falling;

therefore a man cannot become wise before he has his portion

of years in the world. (65b) A wise man must (be) patient,

nor must he (be) at all too irascible nor too hasty of speech

nor too weak a warrior nor too reckless nor too fearful nor

too elated nor too avaricious nor ever (lit. never) too eager

for glory before he really knows--a man must wait, when he

makes a vow, until, bold-spirited, (he) really knows whither

the thought of his heart will turn.

(73) A clever man ought to realize how terrible (it) will

be when all the wealth of this world stands waste, as now

variously (i.e., here and there) throughout this world walls

stand wind-blown, covered with hoar-frost, the dwellings

storm-beaten. (78) The wine-halls are crumbling, the rulers

lie dead, deprived of revelry, all the band of warriors has

fallen proud by the wall. (80b) War destroyed some, carried

(them) away; a bird carried one off over the high sea; the

gray wolf shared one with death; a sad-faced man hid (i.e.,

buried) one in a grave.

(85) Thus the Creator of men laid waste this dwelling-

place, until the old works of giants (i.e., buildings) stood

vacant, without the noise of the inhabitants. (88) He then

thoughtfully (lit. wisely) reflected upon this place of ruins

(lit. wall-place) and profoundly meditates upon this sad life,

wise in heart, (he) often remembers many slaughters in battle

far (back in time) and speaks these words: (92) Where has

the horse gone ? Where has the warrior gone ? Where has the

giver of treasure gone? Where have (lit. has) the banquet

seats gone? Where are the revelries in the hall? Alas, bright

cup ! Alas, armored warrior ! Alas, princely splendor (lit.

splendor of a prince) ! How that time has passed away, grown

dark under cover of night, as (if) it had never been!

(97)

Now the wall, wondrously high, decorated with serpent de-

signs, outlasts the beloved band of warriors. (99) The force

(lit. forces) of ash-wood spears destroyed the warriors,

weapons greedy for slaughter, (and) fate, that famed (one),

and storms beat upon these stone slopes (walls?), a driving

(lit. falling) snowstorm binds the earth, the howling of

winter, when (it) comes, (all) dark, the shadow of night

grows dark, sends from the north a fierce hailstorm, to the

vexation of men. (106) All the kingdom of the earth is full of

hardships, the decree of the fates changes the world under

the heavens. (108) Here wealth is transitory, here friend is

transitory, here man is transitory, here kinsman is transitory,

this whole foundation of the earth is becoming empty.

(111) So spoke the (man) wise in spirit, sat apart in secret

meditation. Good is he who keeps his pledges, nor ought a

man ever (lit. never) make known the grief from out of his

breast too quickly, unless he, the man, should know beforehand

how to bring about a remedy with fortitude. (114b) It will be

well for him who seeks grace for himself, comfort from the

Father in heaven, where for us is (lit. stands) all security.

The Wanderer

Translated by Benjamin Thorpe

‘Oft the lonely one experiences compassion,

the Creator's kindness; though he with sorrowing mind,

o'er the watery way, must long

agitate with his hands the rime-cold sea,

go in exile tracks; his fate is full decreed.'-- (5)

So said a wanderer, of his hardships mindful,

of hostile slaughters, his dear friends' fall.--

' Oft I must alone, each morn,

my care bewail: there is now none living,

to whom my thoughts I dare (10)

tell openly. I in sooth know,

that it is in man a noble quality,

that he his soul's coffer fast bind,

hold his treasure. Strive as he will,

the weary-minded cannot fate withstand, (15)

nor the rugged soul'd help effect;

even the ambitious a sad one oft

in their breast's coffer fast bind.

So I my thoughts must,

oft miserable, from country separated, (20)

far from my friends, in fetters bind,

since that long ago my bounteous patron

earth's cavern cover'd, and I abject thence

went, stricken with years, over the billowy mass;

sad sought the hall of some munificent lord, (25)

where I far or near might find

one who in the mead-hall my ** might know,

or me friendless would comfort,

allure with pleasure. He knows who tries,

how hapless is care as a comrade (30)

to him who little has of faithful friends;

him an exile's track awaits, not twisted gold;

a trembling body, not earth's riches:

he remembers the hall-retainers, and receipt of treasure;

how him in youth his bounteous patron (35)

train'd to the feast; but pleasure all has fall'n;

for he knows who must his dear lord's,

his lov'd master's lessons long be depriv'd of,

when sorrow and sleep at once together

a poor solitary often bind, (40)

that seems to him in mind, that he his lord

embraces and kisses, and on his knee lays

hands and head, as when he ere at times,

in former days, his gifts enjoy'd;

then wakes again the friendless mortal, (45)

sees before him fallow ways,

ocean fowls bathing, spreading their wings,

rime and snow descending with hail mingled;

then are the heavier his wounds of heart,

painful after dreaming; sorrow is renew’d, (50)

when his friends' remembrance through his mind passes;

when he greets with songs, earnestly surveys

the seats of men, swims again away.

The spirit of seafarers, brings there not many

known songs: but care is renew'd (55)

to him who must send very abundantly

over the billowy mass his weary spirit;

therefore I cannot think, throughout this world,

why my mind it saddens,

when I the chieftains' life all consider; (60)

how they suddenly their halls resign'd,

the proud kinsmen. So this mid-earth

every day declines and falls;

therefore may not become wise a man, ere he has pass'd

his share of winters in the world. The sagacious must be patient,

must not be too ardent, nor too hurrying of fortune,

nor too faint a soldier, nor too reckless, (67)

nor too fearful, nor too elate, nor too greedy of money,

nor ever too vaunting, ere he be well experienced.

a man must wait, when he a promise utters,

till that he, bold of spirit, well know (71)

to what his breast's thoughts shall lead.

The prudent man should understand, how ghastly it will be,

when all this world's wealth shall stand waste,

as now divers, over this mid-earth, (75)

with wind shaken walls stand,

with rime bedeck'd: tottering the chambers,

disturb'd are the joyous halls, the powerful lie

of joy bereft, the noble all have fall'n,

the proud ones by the wall. Some hath war destroy'd,

borne on their journey hence; one the fowl hath borne away

o'er the deep ocean; one the hoar wolf (82)

by death hath separated; one with gory countenance,

in an earth-grave a man hath hidden.

So o'erwhelm'd this world the Creator of men,

till that of the inhabitants, in the briefest moment,

the old works of giants stood desolate. (87)

But he who this wall'd place wisely devis'd,

and this dark life profoundly contemplates,

wise in spirit, afar oft remembers (90)

his many battles, and these words utters:

Where is horse, where is man? where is the treasure-giver ?

where are the festive sittings ? where are the joys of the hall?

Alas bright cup ! alas mail'd warrior ! (94)

alas chieftain's splendour ! how the time has pass'd,

has darken'd under veil of night, as if it had not been.

Stands now behind the beloved warriors

the wall of wonderous height, with worm carcases foul.

The men has swept away the spearmen's band, (99)

the slaughter-greedy weapon, and fate omnipotent

and these stone shelters storms dash,

fierce-rushing; binds the earth

the winter's violence; then comes dusky,

darkens, the shade of night, from the north sends

the rough hail-shower, to men's grievance. (105)

Irksome is all the realm of earth,

the fates' decrees change the world under heaven:

here is wealth transient, here is a friend transient,

here is man transient, here is a kinsman transient;

all this place of earth hall become desolate.'-- (110)

so spake a sage in mind, sat apart in meditation.

Good is he who holds his faith. Never his affliction too quickly should

a man from his breast make known, unless he ere the remedy can

vigorously forward. Well it is for him who seeketh mercy,

comfort, at the Father in heaven, where all our fastness standeth.

The Wanderer

Translation by Michael Alexander

(lines 1- 5)

Who liveth alone longeth for mercy,

Maker's mercy. Though he must traverse

Tracts of sea, sick at heart,

- Trouble with oars ice-cold waters,

The ways of exile - Weird is set fast.

(lines 6-7)

Thus spoke such a 'grasshopper', old griefs in his mind,

Cold slaughters, the death of dear kinsmen:

(line 7- 14)

'Alone am I driven each day before daybreak

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 I know

It is in a man no mean virtue

That he keep close his heart's chest,

Hold his thought-hoard, think as he may.

(lines 15-18)

No weary mind may stand against Weird

Nor may a wrecked will work new hope;

Wherefore, most often, those eager for fame

Bind the dark mood fast in their breasts.

(lines 19-29a)

So must I also curb my mind,

Cut off from country, from kind far distant,

By cares overworn, bind it in fetters;

This since, long ago, the ground's shroud

Enwrapped my gold-friend. Wretched I went thence,

Winter-wearied, over the waves' bound;

Dreary I sought hall of a gold-giver,

Where far or near I might find

Him who in meadhall might take heed of me,

Furnish comfort to a man friendless,

Win me with cheer.

(lines 29b-36)

He knows who makes trial

How harsh and bitter is care for companion

To him who hath few friends to shield him.

Track ever taketh him, never the torqued gold,

Not earthly glory, but cold heart's cave.

He minds him of hall-men, of treasure-giving,

How in his youth his gold-friend

Gave him to feast. Fallen all this joy.

(lines 37-44)

He knows this who is forced to forgo his lord's,

His friend's counsels, to lack them for long:

Oft sorrow and sleep, banded together,

Come to bind the lone outcast;

He thinks in his heart then that he his lord

Claspeth and kisseth, and on knee layeth

Hand and head, as he had at otherwhiles

In days now gone, when he enjoyed the gift-stool.

(lines 45-50)

Awakeneth after this friendless man,

Seeth before him fallow waves,

Seabirds bathing, broading out feathers,

Snow and hail swirl, hoar-frost falling.

Then all the heavier his heart's wounds,

Sore for his loved lord. Sorrow freshens.

(lines51-57)

Remembered kinsmen press through his mind;

He singeth out gladly, scanneth eagerly

Men from the same hearth. They swim away.

Sailors' ghosts bring not many

Known songs there. Care grows fresh

In him who shall send forth too often

Over locked waves his weary spirit.

(lines 58-63)

Therefore I may not think, throughout this world,

Why cloud cometh not on my mind

When I think over all the life of earls,

How at a stroke they have given up hall,

Mood-proud thanes. So this middle earth

Each of all days aeth and falleth. '

(lines 64-72)

Wherefore no man grows wise without he have

His share of winters. A wise man holds out;

He is not too hot-hearted, nor too hasty in speech,

Nor too weak a warrior, not wanting in fore-thought,

Nor too greedy of goods, nor too glad, nor too mild,

Nor ever too eager to boast, ere he knows all.

A man should forbear boastmaking

Until his fierce mind fully knows

Which way his spleen shall expend itself.

(lines 73-84)

A wise man may grasp how ghastly it shall be

When all this world's wealth standeth waste,

Even as now, in many places, over the earth

Walls stand, wind-beaten,

Hung with hoar-frost; ruined habitations.

The wine-halls crumble; their wielders lie

Bereft of bliss, the band all fallen

Proud by the wall. War took 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

Earl stretched in an earthen trench.

(lines 85-91)

The Maker of men hath so marred 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 dark life

Would think back to the blood spilt here,

Weigh it in his wit. His word would be this:

(lines 92-93)

'Where is that horse now? Where are those men? Where is the hoard-sharer?

Where is the house of the feast? Where is the hall 's uproar?

(lines 94-96)

Alas, bright cup! Alas, burnished fighter!

Alas, proud prince! How that time has passed,

Dark under night's helm, as though it never had been!

(lines 97-100)

There stands in the stead of staunch thanes

A towering wall wrought with worm-shapes;

The earls are off-taken by the ash-spear's point,

- That thirsty weapon. Their Weird is glorious.

(lines 101-05)

Storms break on the stone hillside,

The ground bound by driving sleet,

Winter's wrath. Then wanness cometh,

Night's shade spreadeth, sendeth from north

The rough hail to harry mankind.

(lines 106-115)

In the earth-realm all is crossed;

Weird's will changeth the world.

Wealth is lent us, friends are lent us,

Man is lent, kin is lent;

All this earth's frame shall stand empty. '

So spoke the sage in his heart; he sat apart in thought.

Good is he who keeps faith: nor should care too fast

Be out of a man's breast before he first know the cure:

A warrior fights on bravely. Well is it for him who seeks forgiveness,

The Heavenly Father's solace, in whom all our fastness stands.

The Wanderer

Translated by Rick McDonald

Often the one dwelling alone mercy awaits for himself

the creator’s kindness although he is sorrowful at heart

through the water path a long he has been obliged to

stir with his hands the frost cold sea--

traverses the paths of exile Fate is fully determined. (5)

Thus said the earth-stepper, hardship remembering,

of grievous slaughter, dear kinsmen’s deaths.

"Often I am obliged alone each dawn

to lament my sorrows. There is not now anyone alive

to whom my heart I dare (10)

openly express. Also, I know truly

that it is in a warrior a very noble custom

that he his inner thoughts should fetter firm,

contain his treasured thoughts, think as he wishes.

Nor may the miserable of mind fate withstand. (15)

therefore those eager for fame, oft wretchedness

in their breast chambers bind fast.

Therefore those eager for justice wretchedness often

in their breast chamber bind fast.

So I my mind must

often miserable bereft of native land (20)

far from noble kinsman fastened with fetters

since years ago my gold-friend

the earth with darkness covered and I abject thence

proceed winter-grieving over the waves’ binding.

Gloomy, I sought the house of a treasure bestower (25)

where I, far or near might meet with a power (powerful one?)

Him who in meadhall my mine understood

until my friendless (ness) will comfort

console with pleasures. He who experiences it, knows

how cruel is the sorrow at traveling (30)

As he who possesses for himself few friendly protectors,

the path of exile hold him not the wound gold

soul’s enclosure chilled, not earthly glory.

He remembers the hall-warriors and the receiving of treasure

how in his youth his gold-friend (35)

honored him there at feast. Joy has all crumbled!

Therefore he knows that he must his friendly lord’s

dear instructive speeches long go without

Then sorrow and sleep united together

the miserable solitary one often fetter. (40)

He thinks in his mind that he his lord

is embracing and kissing and on knee laying

his hands and head, just as he sometimes before

in days of yore the gift-stool enjoyed.

Then he awakes again, lordless man, (45)

sees before him the dusky path (to be traveled)

sea gulls bathe spread their feathers

hoarfrost and snow fall rapidly mingled with hail

Then are those severe heart wounds

for beloved ones painful. Sorrow is made new, (50)

when the kinsman’s memory passes through his mind.

He salutes joyfully eagerly looks upon

warrior companions. They float away again.

The floating ones’ spirits there bring not many

familiar songs. Grief is renewed (55)

for him who must send (over the waves’ binding)

(his exceedingly) weary spirit

Therefore I can not think throughout this world

for when (my) heart will not become gloomy

when I this warrior’s life thoroughly contemplate (60)

how they suddenly the floor abandoned

courageous young-retainers. So this middle dwelling

every day crumbles and falls dead.

Therefore one cannot become too learned a man, before he has

winters’ portion in this earthly kingdom. A wise man must be patient (65)

nor he ought not to be too hot-tempered nor too hasty in speech

not too weak a warrior nor too reckless

nor too afraid, nor too joyful nor too greedy for gifts

nor never of glory too desirous before he really knows.

A man ought to wait when he speaks a vow (70)

until fierce-minded he indeed knows

whither his heart’s deliberation will wander.

A clever warrior ought to understand how terrible it is,

when all this world’s wealth stands desolate

as now diversely throughout this middle earth. (75)

Against wind blows walls stand

covered with hoarfrost the dwellings storm-beaten

the wine halls crumbling to pieces the ruler lies dead

revelry has perished the multitude all fell dead,

by the magnificent wall. Some war destroyed. (80)

carried them on a journey some a bird carried off

over the high sea some that hoary wolf

divided with death some a sad-faced one

in earthen cave a warrior concealed.

Thus this dwelling place (of men) the creator (devastated) (85)

until the inhabitants of the city lacking any a sound [or revelry]

ancient giant’s fortress stood vacant

He then this foundation prudently reflected upon

and upon this gloomily life profoundly contemplates,

wise in spirit often he remembers many (90)

a multitude slaughtered in battle and utters this speech:

"Where has the man gone? Where has the horse gone? whence went the treasure giver?

whence went the banquet places? Where are all the hall revelry(s)

Alas bright cup! Alas mail-clad warrior!

Alas prince’s splendor! How time has passed (95)

darkened under night’s-helm as if it had not been.

Now the stone slope outlasts the footstep of beloved one’s army

wall wondrously high with serpent images inscribed.

Warriors destroyed by the ash-spear troop

weapons greedy for slaughter. Fate, that illustrious one, (100)

and its stone slope with tempests trouble

rapidly falling snow storm the ground binds

winter’s howling then comes darkly

the shadow of night grows dark sends forth from the north

a fierce hailstorm to the warriors’ vexation. (105)

All is full of hardship in this rich earth

fate changes destiny in the world under heaven.

Here is wealth transitory here is friend transitory

here is man transitory here is kinsman transitory

the foundation of all this earth becomes vain, (110)

thus spoke the one wise in mind seated alone in secret counsel

Good is he that his troth keeps nor should (the warrior) his anger too quickly

of his breast make known unless he can know before then the remedy

nobleman to accomplish with strength accomplish It is best for him who seeks honor,

consolation from the father in heaven, where for us all security remains. (115)