The Wanderer

For this he knows who must long

forego the wise counsels of his dear lord and friend,

that often when sorrow and sleep, both together,

bind him, poor solitary wretch,

it seems in his heart as though he clasps and kisses

his great lord, and on his knee lays

hand and head, even as when,

in former days, he shared the gift-givers throne.

Then wakes again the friendless wight,

sees before him the fallow ways,

sea-birds bathing and spreading their wings,

falling hoar-frost and snow mingled with hail.

Then the wounds of his heart become the heavier,

in grief for the loved one; his sorrow is renewed,

when the memory of kinsmen passes through his mind;

he greets them with joy, he scans them eagerly,

comrades of heroes soon they swim away;

the sailor-souls do not bring there

many old familiar songs, his grief is renewed,

who must too often send forth his weary spirit

o’er the frozen waves.

 

Truly I cannot imagine, as I survey this world,

why my mind should not be saddened, when I fully consider

the life of earls, how they have suddenly resigned their halls,

brave-hearted fellows! So day by day

this middle-earth declines and falls,

for mortals cannot grow wise until he lives his years

portion in the world.

A wise man must be patient;

he must not be too passionate, not too hasty of speech,

not too timid a warrior, neither too rash,

not too afraid, nor too exultant, nor too greedy of money,

never too ready to boast ere he know full well.

A man must pause when he utters a boast,

until, for all his magnanimity, he really knows

whether his heart’s meditation will tend.

A wise man must grasp how ghastly it will be,

when all the wealth of this world stands waste,

even as now throughout this middle-earth

many a wall stands wind-beaten,

covered with rime, the hedges uprooted.

The guest-halls crumble;  the masters lie bereft

of joy; the warrior – band has all fallen,

once so stately at the rampart; war seized some

and carried them on their way hence; one a bird bore off

over the deep sea; another the grey wolf

apportioned unto death; a third a sad-faced

lord imprisoned within an earth-cave.

Thus did the Creator of men lay waste this abode,

until, deprived of the noise of its inhabitants,

the ancient buildings of the giants stood empty.

Wherefore he who reflects well, with wise contemplation,

on this walled place and this dark life, sagacious of spirit,

oft calls back to mind many a fatal fight, and breaks forth in these words:

Where is gone the horse? Where is gone the hero?

Where is gone the giver of treasure?

Where are gone the seats of the feast? Where are the joys of the hall?

Ah, thou bright cup! Ah, thou mailed warrior!

Ah, the prince’s pride! How has the time passed away,

has darkened beneath the veil of night, as if it had not been!

Where once loved warriors trod, now stands a wondrous high wall,

glistening with worm-shapes;

the might of the spears, slaughter-loving weapons,

has swept off the nobles, theirs was a glorious fate,

but storms lash the rocky slopes,

and falling snow-drift binds the earth, all winter’s terror,

when night’s shadow comes darkling, and summons from the north

fierce hail-storms, to the grievance of men.

All the realm of earth is full of hardships;

fate’s decree changes the world beneath the heavens.

Here wealth passes away, here friend passes away,

here man passes away, here woman passes away,

all this earth’s structure becomes empty.

 

So spoke the wise of heart; he sat apart in thought.

Worthy is he who keeps his faith; a man must never too rashly

divulge his bosom’s grief, unless he know beforehand bravely to find its cure.

Well is it with him who seeks grace, solace of the Father in Heaven,

with whom rests all our security!