Glǽmscrafu - The Seafarer

Mæg ic be mé sylfum sóðgied wrecan,

I can narrate a true story about myself,

síþas secgan, hú ic geswincdagum

speak of the journey, how, in days of toil, I

earfoðhwíle oft þrowade,

often suffered a time of hardship.

bitre bréostceare gebiden hæbbe,

Grievous heartfelt anxiety I have experienced,

gecunnad in céole cearselda fela,

explored in a boat many places of sorrow,

atol ýþa gewealc, þǽr mec oft bigeat

dreadful tossing of waves, where the anxious night-watchful

nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan,

often held me at the prow of the boat

þonne hé be clifum cnossað. Calde geþrungen

when it crashes beside the cliffs. Afflicted by cold

wǽron míne fét, forste gebunden,

were my feet, frost bound

caldum clommum, þǽr þá ceare séofedun

by cold fetters, where the sorrows surged

hát ymb heortan; hungor innan slát

hot about the heart. Hunger within tore

merewérges mód. Þæt se mon ne wát

the spirit of the sea-weary. The man who lives most happily

þe him on foldan fægrost limpeð,

on land does not know this:

hú ic earmcearig íscealdne sǽ

how I, wretched and sad, dwelt a winter

winter wunade wræccan lástum,

on the ice-cold sea on the paths of the exile,

winemǽgum bidroren,

deprived of dear kinsmen,

bihongen hrímgicelum; hægl scúrum fléag.

hung around with icicles; hail flew in storms.

Þǽr ic ne gehýrde bútan hlimman sǽ,

There I heard nothing but the roar of the sea,

íscaldne wǽg. Hwílum ylfete song

the ice-cold wave. Sometimes, the song of the swan

dyde ic mé tó gomene, ganetes hléoþor

I had as my entertainment, the cry of the gannet,

ond húilpan swég fore hleahtor wera,

and the curlew’s sound instead of the laughter of men;

mǽw singende fore medodrince.

the seagull singing in the place of mead-drinking.

Stormas þǽr stánclifu béotan,

Storms beat the rocky cliffs there,

þǽr him stearn oncwæð

where the tern calls out to them

ísigfeþera; ful oft þæt earn bigeal,

icy-feathered; very often that sea-eagle cries in response,

úrigfeþra; nǽnig hléomǽga

wet-feathered. No protective kinsman

féasceaftig ferð fréfran meahte.

might comfort the desolate spirit.

Forþon him gelýfeð lyt, se þe áh lífes wyn

Thus he little believes, he who possesses life’s joy,

gebiden in burgum, bealosíþa hwon,

lives in the city, free from dangerous journeys,

wlonc ond wíngál, hú ic wérig oft

pround and merry with wine, how, weary, I had often

in brimláde bídan sceolde.

to survive in the sea-path.

Náp nihtscúa, norþan sníwde,

The shadow of night grew dark, it snowed from the north,

hrím hrusan bond, hægl féol on eorþan,

frost gripped the earth, hail fell on the ground,

corna caldast. Forþon cnyssað nú

the coldest of grains. Therefore now the thoughts of my heart

heortan geþóhtas, þæt ic héan stréamas,

are troubled whether I should try out for myself

sealtýþa gelác sylf cunnige;

the deep seas, the tossing of the salty waves;

monað módes lust mǽla gehwylce

the mind’s desire at all times prompts

ferð tó féran, þæt ic feor heonan

the spirit to travel so that, I, far from here,

elþéodigra eard geséce.

might seek the home of those living in a foreign land.

Forþon nis þæs módwlonc mon ofer eorþan,

Therefore there is no man so proud-hearted on the earth,

ne his gifena þæs gód,

so generous in his gifts,

ne in geoguþe tó þæs hwæt,

so keen in youthfulness,

ne in his dǽdum tó þæs déor,

in his deeds so brave,

ne him his dryhten tó þæs hold,

nor his lord so gracious to him,

þæt hé á his sǽfóre sorge næbbe,

that he will never be anxious in his sea voyage

tó hwon hine dryhten gedón wille.

about what the Lord will bring to him.

Ne biþ him tó hearpan hyge ne tó hringþege,

Nor is his thought on the harp nor on the receiving of rings,

ne tó wífe wyn ne tó worulde hyht,

nor on pleasure in a woman nor the joy of worldly things,

ne ymbe ówiht elles, nefne ymb ýða gewealc,

nor about anything else except the tossing of the waves;

ac á hafað longunge se þe on lagu fundað.

but he always has a longing who sets out on the sea.

Bearwas blostmum nimað, byrig fægriað,

The groves assume blossoms, they adorn the cities,

wongas wlitigað, woruld onetteð;

the meadows grow beautiful, the world quickens;

ealle þá gemoniað módes fúsne

all of this urges those eager of spirit,

sefan tó síþe, þám þe swá þenceð

the spirit of the journey, to him who is so inclined

on flódwegas feor gewítan.

to venture far on the paths of the sea.

Swylce géac monað géomran reorde,

Likewise the cuckoo urges him with a melancholy voice,

singeð sumeres weard, sorge béodeð

the watchman of summer sings, announces sorrow

bitter in bréosthord. Þæt se beorn ne wát,

bitter in his heart. This the warrior does not know,

eftéadig secg, hwæt þá sume dréogað

the man blessed with luxury, what some endure,

þe þá wræclástas wídost lecgað.

those who travel furthest on the paths of the exile.

Forþon nú mín hyge hweorfeð ofer hreþerlocan,

And yet now my spirit roams beyond the enclosure of the heart,

mín módsefa mid mereflóde

my thought of mind, along with the sea-flood,

ofer hwæles éþel hweorfeð wíde,

travels widely over the whale’s haunt,

eorþan scéatas, cymeð eft tó mé

over the world’s expanse; it comes again to me

gífre ond grǽdig, gielleð ánfloga,

eager and greedy; the solitary flier yells,

hweteð on hwælweg hreþer unwearnum

incites the spirit irresistibly on the whale’s path,

ofer holma gelagu. Forþon me hátran sind

over the sea’s expanse. Thus the joys of the Lord are

dryhtnes dréamas þonne þis déade líf,

warmer to me than this dead life,

lǽne on londe. Ic gelýfe nó

transitory on land. I do not believe

þæt him eorðwelan éce stondað.

that earthly happiness will endure eternally.

Simle þréora sum þinga gehwylce,

Always, in all conditions, one of three things

ǽr his tíddege tó twéon weorþeð;

hangs in the balance before his final day:

ádl oþþe yldo oþþe ecghete

disease or old age or attack by the sword

fǽgum fromweardum feorh oðþringeð.

will wrest life for those doomed to die, on their way hence.

Forþon bið eorla gehwám æftercweþendra

Therefore for every man, praise from those who speak of him afterwards,

lóf lifgendra lástworda betst,

from the living, is the best memorial

þæt hé gewyrce, ǽr hé on weg scyle,

that he might earn before he must depart,

fremum on foldan wið féonda níþ,

achievements on earth against the wickedness of enemies,

déorum dǽdum déofle tógéanes,

opposing the devil with brave deeds

þæt hine ælda bearn æfter hergen,

so that the children of men might praise him afterwards,

ond his lóf siþþan lifge mid englum

and his glory will live then among the angels,

áwa tó ealdre, écan lífes blǽd,

always forever in the glory of eternal life,

dréam mid dugeþum. Dagas sind gewitene,

joy among the host. The days are gone

ealle onmédlan eorþan ríces;

of all the pomp of the kingdoms of earth;

nearon nú cyningas ne cáseras

there are now no kings or emperors

ne goldgiefan swylce iú wǽron,

or gold-givers such as there formerly were,

þonne hí mǽst mid him mǽrþa gefremedon

when they most performed glorious deeds among themselves,

ond on dryhtlícestum dóme lifdon.

and lived in magnificent renown.

Gedroren is þéos duguð eal,

The whole of this noble band has fallen;

dréamas sind gewitene,

joys are departed.

wuniað þá wácran ond þás woruld healdaþ,

Inferior ones live and possess the world,

brúcað þurh bísgo. Blǽd is gehnǽged,

they enjoy it by way of toil. Glory is brought low.

eorþan indryhto ealdað ond séarað,

The earth’s nobility grows old and withers,

swá nú monna gehwylc geond middangeard.

as does each man now throughout the earth:

Yldo him on fareð, onsýn blácað,

old age overtakes him, his face grows pale,

gomelfeax gnornað, wát his iúwine,

a gre-haired one laments; he knows that his friends of old,

æþelinga bearn, eorþan forgiefene.

the children of princes, have been consigned to the earth.

Ne mæg him þonne se flǽschoma,

Nor when his life is lost

þonne him þæt feorg losað,

will his body

ne swéte forswelgan ne sár gefélan,

taste sweetness of feel pain,

ne hond onhréran ne mid hyge þencan.

or move a hand, or think with the mind.

þéah þe græf wille golde strégan

Though a brother might wish to scatter the grave

bróþor his geborenum, byrgan be déadum,

with gold for his sibling, to bury with the dead

máþmum mislícum þæt hine mid wille,

various treasures that he would wish to have with him,

ne mæg þǽre sáwle þe biþ synna ful

the gold that he hid before while he lived here

gold tó geóce for godes egsan,

cannot be a help to the soul which is full of sins

þonne hé hit ǽr hýdeð þenden hé hér leofað.

when it comes in the presence of the terrible power of God.

Micel biþ se meotudes egsa,

Great is the terrible power of the Ordainer

forþon hí séo molde oncyrreð;

before which the earth will quake;

se gestaþelade stíþe grundas,

he established the firm ground,

eorþan scéatas ond uprodor.

the expanse of the earth and the heavens above.

Dol biþ se þe him his dryhten ne ondrǽdeþ;

Foolish is he that does not fear his Lord:

cymeð him se déað unþinged.

death will come to him unexpectedly.

Éadig bið se þe éaþmód leofaþ;

Blessed is the man who lives humbly:

cymeð him séo ár of heofonum,

the favour of heaven will come to him.

meotod him þæt mód gestaþelað,

God established that spirit in him

forþon hé in his meahte gelýfeð.

because he believes in his power.

Stíeran mon sceal strongum móde,

A man must control a headstrong spirit

ond þæt on staþelum healdan,

and hold that firmly,

ond gewis werum, wísum clǽne,

reliable in his pledges and clean in his ways.

scyle monna gehwylc mid gemete healdan

Every man should act with restraint

wiþ léofne ond wið láþne bealo,

towards both friend and foe,

þéah þe hé hine wille fýres fulne

although he might want him filled with fire,

oþþe on bǽle forbærnedne

or consumed on the pyre,

his geworhtne wine. Wyrd biþ swíþre,

this friend that he had made. Fate is greater,

meotud meahtigra þonne ǽnges monnes gehygd.

the Lord more mighty than any man’s conception.

Uton wé hycgan hwǽr wé hám ágen,

Let us consider where we might have a home,

ond þonne geþencan hú wé þider cumen,

and then reflect upon how we could come there

ond wé þonne éac tilien, þæt wé tó móten

and then we may also strive so that we should come there

in þá écan éadignesse,

into that eternal blessedness,

þǽr is líf gelong in lufan dryhtnes,

where there is life to be obtained in the love of God,

hyht in heofonum. Þæs sý þám hálgan þonc,

hope in heaven. Thanks be to the Holy One

þæt he úsic geweorþade, wuldres ealdor,

that he has exalted us, Prince of glory,

éce dryhten, in ealle tíd.

eternal Lord, through all time.

Amen.