The Wanderer

	Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago?	Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?
	Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?	Where the giver of treasure?
	Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?	Where are the seats at the feast?
	Hwær sindon seledreamas?	Where are the revels in the hall?
	Eala beorht bune!	Alas for the bright cup!
	Eala byrnwiga!	Alas for the mailed warrior!
	Eala þeodnes þrym!	Alas for the splendour of the prince!
	Hu seo þrag gewat,	How that time has passed away,
	genap under nihthelm,	dark under the cover of night,
	swa heo no wære.	as if it had never been!
	Stondeð nu on laste	Now there stands in the trace
	leofre duguþe	of the beloved troop
	weal wundrum heah,	a wall, wondrously high,
	wyrmlicum fah.	wound round with serpents.
	Eorlas fornoman	The warriors taken off
	asca þryþe,	by the glory of spears,
	wæpen wælgifru,	the weapons greedy for slaughter,
	wyrd seo mære,	the famous fate (turn of events),
	ond þas stanhleoþu	and storms beat
	stormas cnyssað,	these rocky cliffs,
	hrið hreosende	falling frost
	hrusan bindeð,	fetters the earth,
	wintres woma,	the harbinger of winter;
	þonne won cymeð,	Then dark comes,
	nipeð nihtscua,	nightshadows deepen,
	norþan onsendeð	from the north there comes
	hreo hæglfare	a rough hailstorm
	hæleþum on andan.	in malice against men.
	Eall is earfoðlic	All is troublesome
	eorþan rice,	in this earthly kingdom,
	onwendeð wyrda gesceaft	the turn of events changes
	weoruld under heofonum.	the world under the heavens.
	Her bið feoh læne,	Here money is fleeting,
	her bið freond læne,	here friend is fleeting,
	her bið mon læne,	here man is fleeting,
	her bið mæg læne,	here kinsman is fleeting,
	eal þis eorþan gesteal	all the foundation of this world
	idel weorþeð!	turns to waste!