THE WANDERER¹

A New Translation

Clifford A. Truesdell, IV

© 2007

Oft him anhaga	Often the lone-dweller	see note^2 on anhaga
are gebideð,	God’s comfort finds,
metudes miltse,	Creator’s kindness;	see note^3
þeah þe he modcearig	though he, heart-troubled,
geond lagulade	through ocean roads
longe sceolde	long rows
hreran mid hondum	with hands	lit: “stirs with his hands”
hrimcealde sæ,	the rime-cold sea,
5
wadan wræclastas.	walks exile ways:
Wyrd bið ful aræd!	Fate is full moveless.^4
Swa cwæð eardstapa,	So spoke a wanderer	eard-stapa, "earth walker"
earfeþa gemyndig,	mindful of troubles,
wraþra wælsleahta,	fierce battle slaughter,
winemæga hryre:	killing of kin.
"Oft ic sceolde ana	“Often each day,
uhtna gehwylce	alone, before dawn,	uhtna: see note^5
mine ceare cwiþan.	I speak my sorrows.
Nis nu cwicra nan	For none now lives
10
þe ic him modsefan	to whom my spirit
minne durre	I could
sweotule asecgan.	plainly open.
Ic to soþe wat	I too well know
þæt biþ in eorle	that for the well-born^6
indryhten þeaw,	it is noble custom
þæt he his ferðlocan	that he his breast
fæste binde,	bind fast	ferð-loca, “soul’s container,” i.e.
healde his hordcofan	hold heart’s coffer,	breast
hycge swa he wille.	think what he will.
15
Ne mæg werig mod	The weary mind Fate
wyrde wiðstondan,	can’t withstand,
ne se hreo hyge	nor troubled spirit
helpe gefremman.	render help.
Forðon domgeorne	So honor-eager	dom, “the opinion of others,”
dreorigne oft	sadness oft	reputation
In hyra breostcofan	in breast	breostcofan, “breast coffer”
bindað fæste;	bind fast;
swa ic modsefan	as I my spirit
minne sceolde,	must,
20
oft earmcearig,	(often wretched,
eðle bidæled,	of home bereft,
freomægum feor	far from kin)
feterum sælan,	fasten with fetters --
siþþan geara iu	since long ago
goldwine minne	my gold-giver	gold-wine = “gold-friend” (lord)
hrusan heolstre biwrah,	I covered with earth’s darkness;^8
ond ic hean þonan	and wretched, thence
wod wintercearig	went, winter-worn
ofer waþema gebind,	over waves’ expanse,	waþema gebind, “the weft of the
		waves”
25
sohte seledreorig	sought, hall-saddened,	see note^9
sinces bryttan,	a giver of treasure,
hwær ic feor oþþe neah	where far or near
findan meahte	I might find
þone þe in meoduhealle	him who in mead hall
min mine wisse,	would show me affection,	see note^10
oþþe mec freondleasne	or comfort me,
frefran wolde,	friendless,
weman mid wynnum.	treat me with kindness.	or: “comfort with pleasures”
Wat se þe cunnað,	He who knows, can tell forth^10
30
hu sliþen bið	how cruel a comrade
sorg to geferan,	is sorrow
þam þe him lyt hafað	to him who lacks	litotically: “little has of beloved
leofra geholena.	beloved companions.	protectors”
Warað hine wræclast,	Exile’s path holds him,
nales wunden gold,	not twisted gold.
ferðloca freorig,	chill spirit,
nalæs foldan blæd.	not world’s wealth.
Gemon he selesecgas	He calls to mind hall-fellows,
ond sincþege,	the giving of treasure:
35
hu hine on geoguðe	How in youth
his goldwine	his gold-giver	gold-wine, “gold friend” (lord)
wenede to wiste.	treated him to feasting.
Wyn eal gedreas!	All joy has perished.
Forþon wat se þe sceal	This knows he who must
his winedryhtnes	his loved lord’s
leofes larcwidum	wise sayings
longe forþolian,	long forego:
ðonne sorg ond slæp	When sorrow and sleep
somod ætgædre	At once together
40
earmne anhogan	the poor lone man
oft gebindað.	so often bind,
þinceð him on mode	he dreams
þæt he his mondryhten	that his liege lord he
clyppe ond cysse,	hugs and kisses
ond on cneo lecge	and on knee lays
honda ond heafod,	hand and head,
swa he hwilum ær	as in times past he did,
In geardagum	in his past days
giefstolas breac.	by the gift throne.
45
Đonne onwæcneð eft	Then wakens again
wineleas guma,	the lordless man.
gesihð him biforan	sees before him
fealwe wegas,	dark waves,	if fealwe wegas [MS] , “dark
baþian brimfuglas,	sea birds swim,	ways”; but if fealwe wægas, which
brædan feþra,	spread their feathers.	makes better sense, “dark waves.”
hreosan hrim ond snaw,	Frost and snow fall,
hagle gemenged.	mixed with hail.
þonne beoð þy hefigran	Then are yet heavier
heortan benne,	heart’s wounds,
50
sare æfter swæsne.	sore for dear lord.
Sorg bið geniwad,	Sorrow renews^12
þonne maga gemynd	when thoughts of kin
mod geondhweorfeð;	pass through mind,
greteð gliwstafum,	come joyously,
georne geondsceawað	fondly survey
secga geseldan.	the warriors’ companions.
Swimmað eft on weg	Then they float away.
fleotendra ferð;	The swimmers’ spirits
no þær fela bringeð	bring back few
55
cuðra cwidegiedda.	of their familiar sayings.
Cearo bið geniwad	Sadness returns
þam þe sendan sceal	for him who sends
swiþe geneahhe	all too often
ofer waþema gebind	over weaving waves
werigne sefan.	his weary spirit.
Forþon ic geþencan ne mæg	And so, I cannot think
geond þas woruld	throughout this world,
for hwan modsefa	why my spirit
min ne gesweorce,	should not darken,
60
þonne ic eorla lif	when man’s life
eal geondþence.	I fully think upon:
Hu hi færlice	How suddenly
flet ofgeafon,	they left the hall	lit: “gave up the floor” (of the
modge maguþegnas.	the mighty kin of thanes!	hall)
Swa þes middangeard	Thus this earth	see note^13 on middangeard
ealra dogra gehwam	each every day
dreoseð ond fealleþ,	fails and falls to ruin.
forþon ne mæg weorþan wis	So man cannot be wise
wer, ær he age	until he hath
65
wintra dæl in woruldrice.	many winters in world’s realm.
Wita sceal geþyldig,	The wise man should be patient,
ne sceal no to hatheort	not too hot of heart.
ne to hrædwyrde,	not too quick of word,
ne to wac wiga	not too weak in battle,
ne to wanhydig,	not too rash
ne to forht ne to fægen,	nor too fearful, nor too happy,	fægen: modern “fain”
ne to feohgifre	nor too wealth greedy;	feohgifre: literally “goods-eager”
ne næfre gielpes to georn,	never too prone to boast	(cf. German vieh-eifrig)
ær he geare cunne.	until he can make it good.
70
Beorn sceal gebidan,	A man should wait
þonne he beot spriceð,	when he makes vow
oþþæt collenferð	until, spirit-bold
cunne gearwe	he knows full well
hwider hreþra gehygd	Whither his heart’s purpose
hweorfan wille.	he will turn.
Ongietan sceal gleaw hæle	The wise man knows
hu gæstlic bið,	how dreadful it will be
þonne ealre þisse worulde wela	when all world’s wealth
weste stondeð,	stands waste;
75
swa nu missenlice	as now variously
geond þisne middangeard	throughout this earth
winde biwaune	wind blown
weallas stondaþ,	walls stand,
hrime bihrorene,	frost covered,
hryðge þa ederas.	storm-beaten the ramparts.
Woriað þa winsalo,	The wine halls crumble;
waldend licgað	their rulers dead,
dreame bidrorene,	all revelry bereft.
duguþ eal gecrong,	Their followers fell	see note^14 on duguþ
80
wlonc bi wealle.	proud by the wall.
Sume wig fornom,	Some battle took,
ferede in forðwege,	carried in death’s path;	forðwege, the “path forth,” i.e. the
sumne fugel oþbær	one bird bore off	path leading out of life
ofer heanne holm,	over the high sea;
sumne se hara wulf	one was in death
deaðe gedælde,	the gray wolf’s portion;
sumne dreorighleor	one, sad-faced,
In eorðscræfe	his lord hid
eorl gehydde.	in earthly grave.	eorðscræfe, earth cave
85
Yþde swa þisne eardgeard	Thus man’s Creator
ælda scyppend	destroyed this earth realm,
oþþæt burgwara	until, of castle-dwellers’
breahtma lease	revelries bereft,
eald enta geweorc	the giants’ ancient forts
idlu stodon.	stood empty.
Se þonne þisne wealsteal	So he who earth realm
wise geþohte	wisely ponders
ond þis deorce lif	and this dark life
deope geondþenceð,	thinks deeply through,
90
frod in ferðe,	wise in spirit,
feor oft gemon	too often mindful
wælsleahta worn,	of heaped battle corpses,
ond þas word acwið:	these words speaks:
"Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær	“Where went the steed?
cwom mago?	Where went the rider?
Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?	Where went the giver of treasure?
Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?	Where went the high seats?
Hwær sindon seledreamas?	Where are the halls of feasting?
Eala beorht bune!	Alas for the bright cup!
Eala byrnwiga!	Alas for the mailed warrior!
95
Eala þeodnes þrym!	Alas for the prince’s glory!
Hu seo þrag gewat,	How time vanishes,
genap under nihthelm,	darkens under night’s helmet
swa heo no wære.	as if it never were.”
Stondeð nu on laste	Stands now where stood
leofre duguþe	beloved companions
weal wundrum heah,	a wall, wondrous high,
wyrmlicum fah.	snake-like mottled.	see note ^15
Eorlas fornoman	Spears’ might
asca þryþe,	took off the warriors,
100
wæpen wælgifru,	slaughter-greedy weapons,
wyrd seo mære,	notorious fate;
ond þas stanhleoþu	and storms smite
stormas cnyssað,	these stone walls;	literally “stone cliffs”
hrið hreosende	snow falling
hrusan bindeð,	binds the earth,
wintres woma,	winter’s tumult.
Þonne won cymeð,	When dark comes
nipeð nihtscua,	night’s shadow deepens,
norþan onsendeð	sends from north
105
hreo hæglfare	fierce hail-fall,
hæleþum on andan.	to harrow men.
Eall is earfoðlic	All is hardship
eorþan rice,	in earth realm,
onwendeð wyrda gesceaft	Fate’s course undoes
weoruld under heofonum.	world under heaven.
Her bið feoh læne,	Here are goods brief,
her bið freond læne,	here is friend brief,
her bið mon læne,	here is man brief,
her bið mæg læne.	here is kin brief.
110
eal þis eorþan gesteal	All earth’s wallstead
idel weorþeð!"	will lie desolate!”
Swa cwæð snottor on mode,	So spoke the wise man,
gesæt him sundor æt rune.	sat apart to ponder.
Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ,	Happy he who keeps his faith,
ne sceal næfre his torn to rycene	nor should ever care too quickly
beorn of his breostum acyþan,	man speak from heart,
nemþe he ær þa bote cunne,	until he can ably,
eorl mid elne gefremman.	well-born, find remedy with courage.
Wel bið þam þe him are seceð,	Well be he who mercy seeketh,
115
frofre to fæder on heofonum,	comfort, from father in heaven
þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð.	where for us all the fortress stands.

Preliminary Note: I thank my son, Cliff Truesdell, for posting my translation of the Wanderer on the Web.

This translation, the work of many years, is I believe the best translation yet made of this wonderful poem. Other translations have merits, and I have sometimes borrowed from them, perhaps on occasion stolen. (“Bad poets borrow, good poets steal” –T.S.Eliot.) I have two criticisms of earlier efforts. Those which seek to stick as closely as possible to the original work (though they do not always succeed) tend to be utterly unpoetic. As well translate the poem into flat prose! (As some do.) Those which seek to be poetic, tend to diverge widely from the original meaning. Some translations do both.

So I have sought to hew closely to the original meanings, yet to produce a poetic translation. One choice I made was to try, wherever possible, to use simple, short words of Anglo-Saxon origin, rather than Latin words. Occasionally, I could not do this; for example, I could find no better word for þeaw (line 12) than “custom.” At the same time, I have always sought to avoid silly and pedantic archaisms.

I made no attempt to keep the alliterative scheme of the Anglo-Saxon text, but where possible, have used other alliterations to reproduce its poetic style. For example, in translating line 7b, for winemæga hryre, my original translation was “murder of kin.” Borrowing from another translation, I changed that to the alliterative “killing of kin,” in any event a more accurate rendering, as deaths in feud or battle were not “murder” as the Anglo-Saxons understood the term.

Some of my readings will be controversial, a matter I often address in the footnotes below.

While I differ from, and sometimes criticize, previous translations and interpretations, I owe them much. I am the first to acknowledge that this translation is built upon a foundation of eald enta geweorc. Nor do I consider this translation, and my interpretations, the final word. I will probably work on and tinker with them for the rest of my life. Criticisms and corrections are welcome, though the greatest compliment would be an entirely new translation, incorporating, using, stealing from, what I have done right, correcting me and replacing me when I am wrong, but above doing better than I have done in what I have sought to do: Producing a poetic, yet accurate, translation of the original.

A final note. I acknowledge all the work of predecessors, and found the recent translations of Jonathan E. Glenn and Ezequiel Viñao particulary enlightening (though I think mine poetically superior, and certainly closer to the original). However, my greatest debt, and our greatest debt, is to the man, his name long forgotten, who, eleven hundred years or more ago, wrote The Wanderer.

Clifford A. Truesdell

April, 2007

catr4@yahoo.com

1) The Anglo-Saxon text has no title for the poem. While it has always been known as THE WANDERER (ear-stapa, earth-stepper”, line 6a), it has often been pointed out that the title is a misnomer, and that “The Solitary” (anhaga = lone dweller, line 1) would be the more appropriate title.

2) The word anhaga is easy to understand (“alone dweller”) but hard to translate. “Loner” has the wrong connotations; so does “isolate.” “The solitary man” (often used) is more or less accurate, but unpoetic. I tried “kinless man,” which accords reasonably well with the body of the poem and the society of the time, but finally realized “lone dweller” did best. There is something to be said for coming back to a job again and again over many years.

3) It is typical of the poem’s difficulties that these lines can also be translated (and have been by some) “Often the lone-dweller looks for God’s grace and mercy…” There are, however, subtle linguistic arguments in favor of “experiences God’s grace and mercy,” and if that is the correct translation, God’s grace and mercy at the beginning and end of the poem frame the sad and troublesome temporal life of the exile which forms its central subject.

4) “Aræd” is somewhat difficult to grasp or render. I find one translation, “redeless,” a worthless cop-out. The base meaning of ræd is advice, counsel; extended meanings include plan, wisdom, reason, profit, good fortune. (The Greek λόγος has somewhat similar connotations.) Unræd, the antonym of ræd, means folly, foolish plan, and extended meanings include mischief, injury, treachery. Thus the name of the unfortunate king Eþelred Unræd (1014-1022), “Ethelred the Unready,” is better rendered “Ethelred Ill-Counsel,” or even “Ethelred the Fool.” Or, to convey the spirit of the term in modern slang, “Ethelred the Clueless.” (Though, as a matter of historical accuracy, Ethelred Unræd was usually unready too!) What aræd here connotes is that fate is beyond human counsel or influence. This reflects the pagan Germanic view of fate, for while the three Latin Parcae (Greek Moirai) had one tooth, one ear and one eye among them, which they shared, the three Norns had no tooth, no ear, no eye among the three of them.. They were unreachable and immovable, totally aræd, so the translation “fate is full moveless” is not bad.

5) Uht, according to Leslie, whose annotated edition of The Wanderer (Manchester 1962) I found particularly helpful, means not “dawn,” (dægred, “day red”), but the hour before dawn starts --a lonely time of night indeed!

6) Eorl literally, and sometimes actually, means “earl.” It is clear that in The Wanderer it often means something different, but it cannot be well translated with a single consistent word. It does not mean “man,” in the general sense, since it clearly does not apply to the baseborn. “Warrior” is generally too warlike. So I translate it variously as “well born,” (line 12a, line 114a), “man,” (line 60a) ,“lord” (line 84b), or warrior (line 99a) depending on the context.

7) Even by the standards of Anglo-Saxon, hreo is a word of great semantic breadth, ranging from “rough” through “fierce” to “troubled.”

8) Alternately: “Since earth’s darkness covered my gold-friend.”

8) The manuscript reads seledreorig, “hall-sad” (i.e. saddened by the loss of hall, cf. “homesick”). I accept Leslie’s argument that it should not be amended to sele dreorig. (“left, sad, the hall”). Although seledreorig does not appear elsewhere in surviving Old English texts, this sort of compound is common in Old English poetry, and it is metrically superior to sele dreorig. If, however, sele dreorig is the correct reading, then the passage reads “sought, sad, the hall of a giver of treasure.” (While Anglo-Saxon is an inflected language, its inflections are few compared with Latin, and bryttan, “giver of treasure,” can be either an accusative or a genitive.)

9) The manuscript reads “mine wisse,” which is metrically defective, and also doesn’t seem to make sense. Depending on how one amends it, it could read “one who in the mead-hall knew my [dear lord]” (minne wisse); “may show (me) favor” (also minne wisse, differently interpreted); or “would acknowledge my love; might know of my (people)” [Diamond]. There are other possibilities too, some based on the supposition that there is a missing line –but let us not go there.

10) Literally: “He who experiences it knows”

11) The passage beginning with “Sorg bið geniwad” and ending with cuðra cwidegiedda is the most problematic of the poem, and its meaning depends on how one punctuates it, which subjects govern the various verbs and what objects these verbs in turn govern, whether đonne here means “when” or “then,” and on whether the manuscript should be amended. For example, it is possible to read it as follows: “Sorrow is renewed. Then the memory of kin traverses his mind. He cries out joyously, eagerly surveys the companions of men; then they swim away. The seafarers’ spirit does not bring back to him many of their familiar utterances.” I generally follow Leslie’s interpretation in my translation, and agree with his suggestion that (starting with line 34 (Gemon he selesecga) the wanderer remembers the giving of treasure; then, sleeping, dreams (line 41, þinceð him on mode, ff.) of embracing his lord; awakens to dark seas (line 45ff); and finally has an almost hallucinatory vision of his friends and kin. I do not accept Leslie’s suggestion that secga geselsani in line 53a means “the companion of men” and is a kenning for “imagination,” and instead choose to interpret it as referring to the lost lord (“the companion of warriors”).

12) Middengeard = “middle earth,” (the earth below heaven and above the nether regions). Yes, this is where Tolkien got the term.

13) Duguþ is the comitatus, the lord’s body of companions.

14) Wyrmlicum fah is another mysterious line. Wyrm is snake or serpent or worm or dragon, licum is “-like,” and fah means “variegated.” The line is often interpreted to mean that the crumbling walls are decorated with a dragon or snake freeze. Thus Diamond (“the wall, wondrously high, decorated with serpent designs.”); McDonald (“wall wondrously high with serpent images inscribed”); Bradley (“a wall, remarkably high, painted with serpentine patterns”). Thorpe’s translation (“the wall of wondrous height, with worm carcasses foul”) has no justification in the text. Alexander’s translation is “A towering wall wrought with worm-shapes,” but I think that wyrm, if it refers to a frieze or decoration, has to be dragon or serpent. Worms are not common motifs in decoration.

As a New Englander, familiar with long-abandoned, lichen-covered stone walls, and with wood snakes, I choose to translate the line “snake-like mottled,” for long abandoned walls often resemble the camouflage of wood snakes. This seems to me to be the more likely if the poet is thinking of a Roman ruin (as the author of the Anglo-Saxon poem “The Ruin” clearly is). The Romans built much in stone, the Anglo-Saxons little or none; but the Romans did not decorate with snake or dragon friezes. And certainly not with worms!