The Wife's Lament
(upon being bannished)
Verse
Indeterminate Saxon
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Ic þis giedd wrece bi me ful geomorre, minre sylfre sið. Ic þæt secgan mæg, hwæt ic yrmþa gebad, siþþan ic up weox, niwes oþþe ealdes, no ma þonne nu.
5 A ic wite wonn minra wræcsiþa. ærest min hlaford gewat heonan of leodum ofer yþa gelac; hæfde ic uhtceare hwær min leodfruma londes wære. ða ic me feran gewat folgað secan,
wineleas wræcca, for minre weaþearfe. Ongunnon þæt þæs monnes magas hycgan þurh dyrne geþoht, þæt hy todælden unc, þæt wit gewidost in woruldrice lifdon laðlicost, ond mec longade.
Het mec hlaford min herheard niman, ahte ic leofra lyt on þissum londstede, holdra freonda. Forþon is min hyge geomor, ða ic me ful gemæcne monnan funde, heardsæligne, hygegeomorne,
mod miþendne, morþor hycgendne. Bliþe gebæro ful oft wit beotedan þæt unc ne gedælde nemne deað ana owiht elles; eft is þæt onhworfen, is nu swa hit no wære 25 freondscipe uncer. Sceal ic feor ge neah mines felaleofan fæhðu dreogan. Heht mec mon wunian on wuda bearwe, under actreo in þam eorðscræfe. Eald is þes eorðsele, eal ic eom oflongad,
sindon dena dimme, duna uphea, bitre burgtunas, brerum beweaxne, wic wynna leas. Ful oft mec her wraþe begeat fromsiþ frean. Frynd sind on eorþan, leofe lifgende, leger weardiað,
þonne ic on uhtan ana gonge under actreo geond þas eorðscrafu. þær ic sittan mot sumorlangne dæg, þær ic wepan mæg mine wræcsiþas, earfoþa fela; forþon ic æfre ne mæg
þære modceare minre gerestan, ne ealles þæs longaþes þe mec on þissum life begeat. A scyle geong mon wesan geomormod, heard heortan geþoht, swylce habban sceal bliþe gebæro, eac þon breostceare,
sinsorgna gedreag, sy æt him sylfum gelong eal his worulde wyn, sy ful wide fah feorres folclondes, þæt min freond siteð under stanhliþe storme behrimed, wine werigmod, wætre beflowen
on dreorsele. Dreogeð se min wine micle modceare; he gemon to oft wynlicran wic. Wa bið þam þe sceal of langoþe leofes abidan |
Full sadly this song I sing of myself, of my own experience. I can assert what trials I bore, since I grew up, or new or old, were never more than now. Ever I suffer the pain of my exile. .... First my lord from his folk hence over the wild waves went. Dawn-cares I had as to where in the land my lord might be. When I set out a retinue to seek, a friendless exile, for my woeful plight, that man's people began to plot, through secret schemes, to sunder us, so that most widely in this world apart we should dwell wretched; I was ill at ease. .... My lord bade me here my dwelling to hold; loved and loyal friends in this land I owned few; for this my soul is sad. .... When I had found a well-matched man, ill-starred, melancholy-minded, his dissembling heart was plotting homicide with pleasant mien. Full oft we pledged, save death alone, naught should divide us else; that is altered now. Now is destroyed, as though it never were, our friendship. Far or near I must endure the feud of my much-loved one. .... They bade me dwell in a wooded grove, under an oak-tree, in this earth-cave. Old this earth-hall; I all longing-filled. .... Dales are dim, hills high, cities choked with bitter briars, dwellings joyless. Here I am full oft beset by my lord's going. Friends there are on earth, lovers living, who lie abed, when I, at daybreak, walk alone, under oak-tree, through these earth-caves. .... There I must sit the summer's day long, where my exile-ways I mourn, my many woes, for I never can my careworn self compose, nor all the longing in me that this life begat. .... Ever shall that youth be sad of mood, pained his brooding heart; he shall sustain, besides a cheerful mien, breast-cares as well, endure incessant griefs; let him depend upon himself for all his worldly joy. .... Let him be cast adrift, afar in a distant land, that he, my friend, may sit neath stony slopes, by storms berimed, my evil-minded comrade, water drenched in drear dwelling. .... My comrade will endure great grief; too often he will think upon a happier home. Woe is it to him who out of longing must abide love. |