Norman Rockwell - "Boy and old Sea Captain" |
Norman Rockwell, “Home Sweet Home” (1923) |
Johnny Collins with Jim Mageean + Co
Poor old Horse (Man)
"This 124-line poem is often considered an elegy, since it appears to be spoken by an old sailor looking back on his life and preparing for death. He discusses the solitariness of a life on the waves, the cold, the danger, and the hardships. As such, the poem captures the bewitching fascination the sea holds for us, but also its darker, more unpredictable side. Ezra Pound produced a loose translation of the poem in the early twentieth century." - Dr. Oliver Tearle
THE SEAFARER
Anon
Mæg ic 2: be me sylfum | I can 1: make a true song | |
1: soðgied wrecan, | 2: about me myself, | |
siþas secgan, | tell my travels, | |
hu ic 2: geswincdagum | how I 1: often endured | |
3: earfoðhwile | 2: days of struggle, | |
1: oft þrowade, | 3: troublesome times, | |
4a | 5: bitre breostceare | 4: [how I] have suffered |
4: gebiden hæbbe, | 5: grim sorrow at heart, | |
gecunnad in ceole | have known in the ship | |
cearselda fela, | many worries [abodes of care], | |
atol yþa gewealc, | the terrible tossing of the waves, | |
þær 4: mec 2: oft 3: bigeat | where 1: the anxious night watch | |
1: nearo nihtwaco | 2: often 3: took 4: me | |
æt nacan stefnan, | at the ship's prow, | |
8a | þonne he be clifum cnossað. | when it tossed near the cliffs. |
Calde geþrungen | Fettered by cold | |
wæron mine fet, | were my feet, | |
forste gebunden | bound by frost | |
caldum clommum, | in cold clasps, | |
þær þa ceare seofedun | where then cares seethed | |
hat ymb heortan; | hot about my heart -- | |
hungor innan slat | a hunger tears from within | |
12a | merewerges mod. | the sea-weary soul. |
Þæt se mon ne wat | This the man does not know | |
þe him on foldan | for whom on land | |
fægrost limpeð, | it turns out most favourably, | |
hu ic earmcearig | how I, wretched and sorrowful, | |
iscealdne sæ | on the ice-cold sea | |
winter wunade | dwelt for a winter | |
wræccan lastum, | in the paths of exile, | |
16a | winemægum bidroren, | bereft of friendly kinsmen, |
bihongen hrimgicelum; | hung about with icicles; | |
hægl scurum fleag. | hail flew in showers. | |
þær ic ne gehyrde | There I heard nothing | |
butan hlimman sæ, | but the roaring sea, | |
iscaldne wæg. | the ice-cold wave. | |
Hwilum ylfete song | At times the swan's song | |
20a | dyde ic me to gomene, | I took to myself as pleasure, |
ganotes hleoþor | the gannet's noise | |
ond huilpan sweg | and the voice of the curlew | |
fore hleahtor wera, | instead of the laughter of men, | |
mæw singende | the singing gull | |
fore medodrince. | instead of the drinking of mead. | |
Stormas þær stanclifu beotan, | Storms there beat the stony cliffs, | |
þær him stearn oncwæð, | where the tern spoke, | |
24a | isigfeþera; | icy-feathered; |
ful oft þæt earn bigeal, | always the eagle cried at it, | |
urigfeþra; | dewy-feathered; | |
nænig hleomæga | no cheerful kinsmen | |
2: feasceaftig ferð | 1: can comfort | |
1: frefran meahte. | 2: the poor soul. | |
Forþon him gelyfeð lyt, | Indeed he credits it little, | |
se þe ah lifes wyn | the one who has the joys of life, | |
28a | gebiden in burgum, | dwells in the city, |
bealosiþa hwon, | far from terrible journey, | |
wlonc ond wingal, | proud and wanton with wine, | |
hu ic werig oft | how I, weary, often | |
2: in brimlade | 1: have had to endure | |
1: bidan sceolde. | 2: in the sea-paths. | |
Nap nihtscua, | The shadows of night darkened, | |
norþan sniwde, | it snowed from the north, | |
32a | hrim hrusan bond, | frost bound the ground, |
hægl feol on eorþan, | hail fell on the earth, | |
corna caldast. | coldest of grains. | |
Forþon cnyssað nu | Indeed, now they are troubled, | |
heortan geþohtas | the thoughts of my heart, | |
þæt ic 2: hean streamas, | that I 1: myself should strive with | |
3: sealtyþa gelac | 2: the high streams, | |
1: sylf cunnige -- | 3: the tossing of salt waves -- | |
36a | monað modes lust | the wish of my heart urges |
mæla gehwylce | all the time | |
ferð to feran, | my spirit to go forth, | |
þæt ic feor heonan | that I, far from here, | |
2: elþeodigra | 1: should seek the homeland | |
1: eard gesece -- | 2: of a foreign people -- | |
Forþon nis þæs modwlonc | Indeed there is not so proud-spirited | |
mon ofer eorþan, | a man in the world, | |
40a | ne his gifena þæs god, | nor so generous of gifts, |
ne in geoguþe to þæs hwæt, | nor so bold in his youth, | |
ne in his dædum to þæs deor, | nor so brave in his deeds, | |
ne him his dryhten to þæs hold, | nor so dear to his lord, | |
þæt he a his sæfore | that he never in his seafaring | |
sorge næbbe, | has a worry, | |
to hwon hine Dryhten | as to what his Lord | |
gedon wille. | will do to him. | |
44a | Ne biþ him to hearpan hyge | Not for him is the sound of the harp |
ne to hringþege | nor the giving of rings | |
ne to wife wyn | nor pleasure in woman | |
ne to worulde hyht | nor worldly glory -- | |
ne ymbe owiht elles | nor anything at all | |
nefne ymb yða gewealc; | unless the tossing of waves; | |
ac a hafað longunge | but he always has a longing, | |
se þe on lagu fundað. | he who strives on the waves. | |
48a | Bearwas blostmum nimað, | Groves take on blossoms, |
byrig fægriað, | the cities grow fair, | |
wongas wlitigað, | the fields are comely, | |
woruld onetteð: | the world seems new: | |
ealle þa gemoniað | all these things urge on | |
modes fusne | the eager of spirit, | |
sefan to siþe | the mind to travel, | |
þam þe swa þenceð | in one who so thinks | |
52a | 2: on flodwegas | 1: to travel far |
1: feor gewitan. | 2: on the paths of the sea. | |
Swylce geac monað | So the cuckoo warns | |
geomran reorde; | with a sad voice; | |
singeð sumeres weard, | the guardian of summer sings, | |
sorge beodeð | bodes a sorrow | |
bitter in breosthord. | grievous in the soul. | |
Þæt se beorn ne wat, | This the man does not know, | |
56a | sefteadig secg, | the warrior lucky in worldly things |
hwæt þa sume dreogað | what some endure then, | |
þe 2: þa wræclastas | those who 1: tread most widely | |
1: widost lecgað. | 2: the paths of exile. | |
Forþon nu min hyge hweorfeð | And now my spirit twists | |
ofer hreþerlocan, | out of my breast, | |
min modsefa | my spirit | |
mid mereflode, | out in the waterways, | |
60a | ofer hwæles eþel | over the whale's path |
hweorfeð wide, | it soars widely | |
eorþan sceatas -- | through all the corners of the world -- | |
cymeð eft to me | it comes back to me | |
gifre ond grædig; | eager and unsated; | |
gielleð anfloga, | the lone-flier screams, | |
hweteð on hwælweg | urges onto the whale-road | |
hreþer unwearnum | the unresisting heart | |
64a | ofer holma gelagu. | across the waves of the sea. |
Forþon me hatran sind | Indeed hotter for me are | |
Dryhtnes dreamas | the joys of the Lord | |
þonne þis deade lif | than this dead life | |
læne on londe. | fleeting on the land. | |
Ic gelyfe no | I do not believe | |
þæt him eorðwelan | that the riches of the world | |
ece stondað. | will stand forever. | |
68a | Simle 2: þreora sum | Always 1: and invariably, |
1: þinga gehwylce | 2: one of three things | |
4: ær his tiddege | 3: will turn to uncertainty | |
3: to tweon weorþeð: | 4: before his fated hour: | |
adl oþþe yldo | disease, or old age, | |
oþþe ecghete | or the sword's hatred | |
2: fægum fromweardum | 1: will tear out the life | |
1: feorh oðþringeð. | 2: from those doomed to die. | |
72a | Forþon biþ eorla gehwam | And so it is for each man |
2: æftercweþendra | 1: the praise of the living, | |
1: lof lifgendra | 2: of those who speak afterwards, | |
lastworda betst, | that is the best epitaph, | |
þæt he gewyrce, | that he should work | |
ær he on weg scyle, | before he must be gone | |
fremum on foldan | bravery in the world | |
wið feonda niþ, | against the enmity of devils, | |
76a | deorum dædum | daring deeds |
deofle togeanes, | against the fiend, | |
þæt hine ælda bearn | so that the sons of men | |
æfter hergen, | will praise him afterwards, | |
ond his lof siþþan | and his fame afterwards | |
lifge mid englum | will live with the angels | |
awa to ealdre, | for ever and ever, | |
ecan lifes blæd, | the glory of eternal life, | |
80a | dream mid dugeþum. | joy with the Hosts. |
Dagas sind gewitene, | The days are gone | |
ealle onmedlan | of all the glory | |
eorþan rices; | of the kingdoms of the earth; | |
nearon nu cyningas | there are not now kings, | |
ne caseras | nor Cæsars, | |
ne goldgiefan | nor givers of gold | |
swylce iu wæron, | as once there were, | |
84a | þonne hi mæst mid him | when they, the greatest, among themselves |
mærþa gefremedon | performed valorous deeds, | |
ond on dryhtlicestum | and with a most lordly | |
dome lifdon. | majesty lived. | |
Gedroren is þeos duguð eal, | All that old guard is gone | |
dreamas sind gewitene; | and the revels are over -- | |
wuniað þa wacran | the weaker ones now dwell | |
ond þæs woruld healdaþ, | and hold the world, | |
88a | brucað þurh bisgo. | enjoy it through their sweat. |
Blæd is gehnæged, | The glory is fled, | |
eorþan indryhto | the nobility of the world | |
ealdað ond searað, | ages and grows sere, | |
swa nu monna gehwylc | as now does every man | |
geond middangeard. | throughout the world. | |
Yldo him on fareþ, | Age comes upon him, | |
onsyn blacað, | his face grows pale, | |
92a | gomelfeax gnornað, | the graybeard laments; |
wat his iuwine, | he knows that his old friends, | |
æþelinga bearn | the sons of princes, | |
eorþan forgiefene. | have been given to the earth. | |
Ne mæg him þonne se flæschoma | His body fails then, | |
þonne him þæt feorg losað | as life leaves him -- | |
ne swete forswelgan | he cannot taste sweetness | |
ne sar gefelan | nor feel pain, | |
96a | ne hond onhreran | nor move his hand |
ne mid hyge þencan. | nor think with his head. | |
Þeah þe 3: græf 1: wille | Though he 1: would 2: strew | |
4: golde 2: stregan | 3: the grave 4: with gold, | |
broþor his geborenum, | a brother for his kinsman, | |
byrgan be deadum | bury with the dead | |
maþmum mislicum, | a mass of treasure, | |
þæt hine mid wille, | it just won't work -- | |
100a | ne mæg þære sawle | nor can the soul |
þe biþ synna ful | which is full of sin | |
gold to geoce | preserve the gold | |
for Godes egsan, | before the fear of God, | |
þonne he hit ær hydeð | though he hid it before | |
þenden he her leofað. | while he was yet alive. | |
Micel biþ se Meotudes egsa, | Great is the fear of the Lord, | |
forþon hi seo molde oncyrreð; | before which the world stands still; | |
104a | se gestaþelade | He established |
stiþe grundas, | the firm foundations, | |
eorþan sceatas | the corners of the world | |
ond uprodor. | and the high heavens. | |
Dol biþ se þe him his Dryhten ne ondrædeþ: | A fool is the one who does not fear his Lord | |
cymeð him se deað unþinged. | -- death comes to him unprepared. | |
Eadig bið se þe eaþmod leofaþ; | Blessed is he who lives humbly | |
cymeð him seo ar of heofonum. | -- to him comes forgiveness from heaven. | |
108a | Meotod him þæt mod gestaþelað, | God set that spirit within him, |
forþon he in his meahte gelyfeð. | because he believed in His might. | |
Stieran mon sceal strongum mode, | Man must control his passions | |
ond þæt on staþelum healdan, | and keep everything in balance, | |
ond gewis werum, | keep faith with men, | |
wisum clæne. | and be pure in wisdom. | |
Scyle monna gehwylc | Each of men must | |
mid gemete healdan | be even-handed | |
112a | wiþ leofne ond wið laþne | with their friends and their foes. |
* * * bealo. | ? | |
þeah þe he hine wille | ? though he does not wish him | |
fyres fulne | ? in the foulness of flames | |
oþþe on bæle | ? or on a pyre | |
forbærnedne | ? to be burned | |
his geworhtne wine, | ? his contrived friend, | |
Wyrd biþ swiþre, | Fate is greater | |
116a | Meotud meahtigra, | and God is mightier |
þonne ænges monnes gehygd. | than any man's thought. | |
Uton we hycgan | Let us ponder | |
hwær we ham agen, | where we have our homes | |
ond þonne geþencan | and then think | |
hu we þider cumen; | how we should get thither -- | |
ond we þonne eac tilien | and then we should all strive | |
þæt we to moten | that we might go there | |
120a | in þa ecan | to the eternal |
eadignesse | blessedness | |
þær is lif gelong | that is a belonging life | |
in lufan Dryhtnes, | in the love of the Lord, | |
hyht in heofonum. | joy in the heavens. | |
Þæs sy þam Halgan þonc | Let there be thanks to God | |
þæt he usic geweorþade, | that he adored us, | |
wuldres Ealdor | the Father of Glory, | |
124a | ece Dryhten, | the Eternal Lord, |
in ealle tid. Amen. | for all time. Amen. |
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