Sailing over seals’ bath. Who am I?
9
My dress is silver, shimmering gray,
Spun with a blaze of garnets. I craze
Most men—rash fools I run on a road
Of rage, and cage quiet determined men.
Why they love me—lured from mind, 5
Stripped of strength—remains a riddle.
If they still praise my sinuous power
When they raise high the dearest treasure,
They will find through reckless habit
Dark woe in the dregs of pleasure. 10
10
Foot-furrowing, I walk and wound—
Living I ravage the raw land;
Lifeless I bind lord and servant.
Sometimes out of my belly I bring
The rush of drink to the fierce-hearted 5
War-man. Sometimes the arch-wild,
Fierce-footed woman treads my back.
Sometimes the dark-haired, drunken slave
Lifts me up near the night fire
With hot hands—turns, teases, 10
Presses, thrusts, warm and wet,
Down dark ways. Say what I am,
Who living plunder the down land
And after death serve man.
11
I saw six creatures scratch the ground,
Their four lively sisters strutting round;
The house of each, pale skin on shell,
A fine, filament robe hung on a wall,
Well-seen. Though each had been stripped 5
Of a gossamer skin, none was nude
Or raw with pain; but quickened, covered,
And brought to grass and grain by God—
They pecked, strutted, and stripped sod.
12
Once I was a plain warrior’s weapon—
Now a stripling prince wraps my body
With bright twists of silver and gold.
Sometimes men kiss me or carry me to battle
Where I call my lord’s companions to wage war. 5
Bright with jewels, I am borne by a horse
Over hard plains, sometimes by the sea-stallion
Over storm-waves. Sometimes a woman,
Ring-adorned, fills my breast for the table—
Later I lie stripped of sweet treasure, 10
Hard and headless on the long boards.
Clothed in gold, I may grace the wall
Where men sit drinking, a soldier’s gem.
Wound with silver, I sometimes ride
A warrior’s horse, swallowing soldier’s breath, 15
Blasting battle-song. Sometimes I bring
Bold men to wine; sometimes I sing caution
Or rescue thieves’ catch or scatter foes
For my lord. Say what I am called.
13
I am a warrior with a white throat.
My head and sides are tawny. Two ears
Tower above my eyes. My back and cheeks
Are furred. I bear battle-weapons.
My gait is swift. I lope through green 5
Grass on battle-toes. My song is sorrow
If the slaughter-hound scents the narrow
Hall where I lie hidden with a brood
Of children, and we wait nestled in the curve
Of love while death snuffs at the door. 10
The dog drags doom—so quick with terror,
I seize my children for a secret flight.
If he bellies down, stalking in my chamber,
I cannot choose to fight—that is fools’
Counsel—I must tunnel a quick road 15
Through a steep hill, paw for the light,
Rush mothered babes through the burrow
Safely on secret streets out the hill-hole.
Brood-free I do not fear the hound’s rush.
If the death-foe tracks the fierce mother 20
Through side streets, he will find
A narrow road through Grimsgate and a hard
Meeting on hilltop as I turn battle-tooth
And war-claw on the foe I once fled.
14
In battle I rage against wave and wind,
Strive against storm, dive down seeking
A strange homeland, shrouded by the sea.
In the grip of war, I am strong when still;
In battle-rush, rolled and ripped 5
In flight. Conspiring wind and wave
Would steal my treasure, strip my hold,
But I seize glory with a guardian tail
As the clutch of stones stands hard
Against my strength. Can you guess my name? 10
15
I guard a full flock of old treasures
In a belly bound by wires. Sometimes
I spit forth death-spears by day—
And slay more surely, the fatter my belly.
Sometimes I swallow battle-weapons, 5
Dark gleaming spears, arrows that ache
And snakelike points. My belly is great
In its death-bright hoard, dear to proud warriors
Who may remember what I thrust through my mouth.
16
A strange creature. I cannot speak,
Mix words with men, though I have a mouth
And a broad belly
* * *
I sailed on a ship crowded with kin.
17
I saw the smooth-prancing S R O
H, high-powered and head-bright,
Sail on the plain. The proud one
Held on its back a battle-power,
N O M. On the nailed creature came 5
The A G E W. The wide road carried,
Fierce in its flowing, a bold C O
F O A H. The journey of these was flash
And glint. Let the wise who catch
The drift of this riddle say what I mean. 10
18
I am a strange creature shaped for battle,
Coated in colors, dear to my lord.
Bright thread lurks and swings in my mail,
Cradles the death-gem, gift of a lord
Who grips and guides my body forward 5
Through the wide rush of war. In the clear
Court of day, I bear the glint of gold,
Bright song of smiths. Often I slay
Soul-bearers with thrust and slash.
Sometimes the hall-king decks me in silver 10
Or garnet praise, raises my power
Where men drink mead, reins my killing
Or cuts me loose, heart-keen, swing-tired,
Through the broad room of war. Sometimes I sing
Through the throat of a friend—the curse 15
Of weapons. No son will seek vengeance
On my slayer when battle-foes ring death.
My tribe will not count children of mine
Unless I lordless leave the guardian
Who gave me rings. My fate is strange: 20
If I follow my lord and wage war,
Sure thrust of a prince’s pleasure,
Then I must stroke in brideless play
Without the hope of child-treasure.
I am bound by an ancient craft to lose 25
That joy—so in sheer celibacy I enjoy
The hoard of heroes. Wrapped with wire
Like a bright fool, I frustrate a woman,
Steal her joy, slake desire. She rants,
Rails, curses, claps hands, chants 30
Unholy incantations—bladed words
In a bloodless battle I cannot enjoy.
* * *
19
Head down, nosing—I belly the ground.
Hard snuffle and grub, I bite and furrow—
Drawn by the dark enemy of forests,
Driven by a bent lord who hounds my trail,
Who lifts and lowers me, rams me down, 5
Pushes on plain, and sows seed.
I am a ground
-skulker, born of wood,
Bound by wizards, brought on wheel.
My ways are weird: as I walk, one flank
Of my trail is gathering green; the other 10
Is bright black. Through my back and belly,
A sharp sword thrusts; through my head,
A dagger is stuck like a tooth: what I slash
Falls in a curve of slaughter to one side
If my driving lord slaves well. 15
20
Sixty rode horses down to the shore—
Eleven were prancers, proud and fine,
Four gleaming white. They champed
For the sea-charge, but the channel was deep,
The wave-clash cruel, the banks steep, 5
The current strong—so the spear-proud warriors,
Horses and earls, mounted a wagon
And under its beam rode the bright wain
Over sea-curve to land. No ox drew the wagon,
No strength of slaves, no road-horse hauling. 10
She was no sea-floater or ground-roller
With her weight. She did not drag water,
Fly down from the air, or double back,
But bore earls and white horses from steep
Shore to shore—mounts and their men 15
Over deep water and home safe again.
21
Agob is my name twisted about—
I’m a strange creature shaped for battle.
When I bend and the battle-sting snakes
Through my belly, I am primed to drive off
The death-stroke. When my lord and tormentor 5
Releases my limbs, I am long again,
As laced with slaughter, I spit out
The death-blend I swallowed before.
What whistles from my belly does not easily pass,
And the man who seizes this sudden cup 10
Pays with his life for the long, last drink.
Unwound I will not obey any man;
Bound tight, I serve. Say what I am.
22
I’m a strange creature with changing cries—
I can bark like a dog, bleat like a goat,
Honk like a goose, shriek like a hawk.
Sometimes I imitate the eagle’s cry,
The gray warrior’s “keee,” sometimes the call 5
Of the kite, sometimes the scream of the gull,
While I sit singing, a saucy mimic.
My name is spelled with G, Æ, and R—
Also an O, an H, and an I—
Say what these six letters clearly spell. 10
23
I am a wonderful help to women,
The hope of something to come. I harm
No citizen except my slayer.
Rooted I stand on a high bed.
I am shaggy below. Sometimes the beautiful 5
Peasant’s daughter, an eager-armed,
Proud woman grabs my body,
Rushes my red skin, holds me hard,
Claims my head. The curly-haired
Woman who catches me fast will feel 10
Our meeting. Her eye will be wet.
24
A life-thief stole my world-strength,
Ripped off flesh and left me skin,
Dipped me in water and drew me out,
Stretched me bare in the tight sun;
The hard blade, clean steel, cut, 5
Scraped—fingers folded, shaped me.
Now the bird’s once wind-stiff joy
Darts often to the horn’s dark rim,
Sucks wood-stain, steps back again—
With a quick scratch of power, tracks 10
Black on my body, points trails.
Shield-boards clothe me and stretched hide,
A skin laced with gold. The bright song
Of smiths glistens on me in filigree tones.
Now decorative gold and crimson dye, 15
A clasp of wire and a coat of glory,
Proclaim the world’s protector far and wide—
Let no fool fault these treasured claims.
If the children of men make use of me,
They will be safer and surer of heaven, 20
Bolder in heart, more blessed in mind,
Wiser in soul: they will find friends,
Companions and kinsmen, more loyal and true,
Nobler and better, brought to a new faith—
So men shall know grace, honor, glory, 25
Fortune, and the kind clasp of friends.
Say who I am—glorious, useful to men,
Holy and helpful from beginning to end.
25
I am man’s treasure, taken from the woods,
Cliff-sides, hill-slopes, valleys, downs;
By day wings bear me in the buzzing air,
Slip me under a sheltering roof—sweet craft.
Soon a man bears me to a tub. Bathed, 5
I am binder and scourge of men, bring down
The young, ravage the old, sap strength.
Soon he discovers who wrestles with me
My fierce body-rush—I roll fools
Flush on the ground. Robbed of strength, 10
Reckless of speech, a man knows no power
Over hands, feet, mind. Who am I who bind
Men on middle-earth, blinding with rage
And such savage blows that dazed
Fools know my dark power by daylight? 15
26
Part of the earth grows lovely and grim
With the hardest and fiercest of bitter-sharp
Treasures—felled, cut, carved,
Bleached, scrubbed, softened, shaped,
Twisted, rubbed, dried, adorned, 5
Bound, and borne off to the doorways of men.
This creature brings in hall-joy—sweet
Music clings to its curves, live song
Lingers in a body where before bloom-wood
Said nothing. After death it sings 10
A clarion joy. Wise listeners
Will know what this creature is called.
27
I saw a wonderful creature carrying
Light plunder between its horns.
Curved lamp of the air, cunningly formed,
It fetched home its booty from the day’s raid
And plotted to build in its castle if it could 5
A night-chamber brightly adorned.
Then over the east wall came another creature
Well known to earth-dwellers. Wonderful as well,
It seized back its booty and sent the plunderer home
Like an unwilling wanderer. The wretch went west, 10
Moved morosely and murderously on.
Dust rose to the heavens, dew fell on earth—
Night moved on. Afterwards no one
In the world knew where the wanderer had gone.
28a
I am sun-struck, rapt with flame,
Flush with glory, and flirt with the wind.
I am clutched by storm, touched by fire,
Ripe for the road, bloom-wood or blaze.
My path through the hall is from hand to hand, 5
So friends raise me, proud men and women
Clutch and kiss me, praise my power
And bow before me. To many I bring
A ripe bliss, a rich blooming.
29
Middle-earth is made lovely in unmatched ways
Rich and rare. Across the hall
I saw a creature singing—nothing wilder
In the haunts of men. Her shape is strange.
Her beak hung down, her hands and feet 5
Slung up like a shouldered bird—she waits
Song-hungry in the hall of earls her hour
Of craft. She cannot feast or fly about,
Drink man’s delight (she dreams of skill,
A task, her art), but begins to dance 10
On a road of hands—brash mute lies du
mb,
Gathering glory while a beautiful haunting
Song sails through her strange foot—
A gift of sound. How her long dangling
Legs chant is a wonderful riddle. 15
Jeweled, naked, proud of rings—
She sings like a mighty sister,
Guardian of air, bearing bass brothers
Droned on her neck. Let the song-lifter,
Truth-shaper, name this creature. 20
30
Middle-earth is made lovely in unmatched ways
Rich and rare. I saw a strange creature
Riding the road, weird craft and power
From the workshops of men. She came sliding
Up on the shore, shrieking without sight, 5
Eyes, arms, shoulders, hands—
Sailed on one foot over smooth plains—
Treasure and haul. Her mouth in the middle
Of a hoard of ribs, she carries corn-
Gold, grain-treasure, wine-wealth. 10
The feast-floater brings in her belly food
For rich and poor. Let the wise who catch
The drift of this riddle say what I mean.
31
An awesome beauty angled the wave;
The deep-throated creature called to land,
Laughed loud-lingering, struck terror
Home to men. Her blades honed sharp,
She was slow to battle but battle-grim, 5
Savage wound-worker. The slaughterer
Struck ship-walls, carried a curse.
The cunning creature said of herself:
“My mother, who comes from the kind of women
Dearest and best, is my daughter grown 10
Great and pregnant; so is it known to men
On earth that she shall come and stand
Gracefully on the ground in every land.”
32
I saw close to the houses of men
A strange creature that feeds cattle.
By tooth-hoard and nose-haul
(A useful slave), it scruffs the ground,
Scratches at plants, dogs walls 5
Or drags fields for plunder—seeks
A crop-catch and carries it home.
Its prey is bent stalk and weak root;
Its gift is firm grain and full flower
On a glittering plain—growing, blooming. 10
33
The earth was my mother—I was raised
From her cold, wet womb. I know in my mind
I was not woven from hair or wool
By skilled hands. I have no winding
Weft or warp, no thread to sing 5
Its rushing song; no whirring shuttle
Slides through me, no weaver’s sley
Strikes belly or back. No silkworms spin
With inborn skill their subtle gold
For my sides, yet warriors call me 10
A clever garment, a coat of joy.
If you are clever and quick with words,
Say what this strange coat is called.
34
The Complete Old English Poems Page 64
