poholshi

THE EXETER BOOK - RIDDLE 5	SHIELD
Anon.	trans. Graham Holderness (from 10c. English)
Ic eom anhaga......iserne wund, bille gebennad,...... beadoweorca sæd, ecgum werig.......Oft ic wig seo, frecne feohtan.......Frofre ne wene, þæt me geoc cyme ......guðgewinnes, ær ic mid ældum ...... eal forwurðe, ac mec hnossiað ......homera lafe, heardecg heoroscearp,......hondweorc smiþa, bitað in burgum;......ic abidan sceal laþran gemotes....... Næfre læcecynn on folcstede ......findan meahte, þara þe mid wyrtum ...... wunde gehælde, ac me ecga dolg ......eacen weorðað þurh deaðslege ......dagum ond nihtum.	Look at me, love-lorn, Lost in my loneliness, A blade-bitten sword-slashed Iron-etched Battle-brassed-off Victim of violence! Wars I've witnessed: Caught in the carnage Of many a massacre I've hopelessly howled out And hollered for help, But round none to nab me Out of harm's way, Or snatch me to safety Before I fell. All too soon I'm struck to my centre By the flame-forged sharp-honed Shaped-on-an-anvil hard-edged Blacksmith's handiwork, The shining sword. No rest, no respite; Always another war. I've never found A fine physician Who'd heal all my hurts With health-giving herbs, So you see no improvement But increase of injury, Long days and nights Of death-dealing illness. Most fatal of all Mankind's infirmities Bites at my being - The sword's sharp edge.