Metrical Charm 6: For a Delayed Birth

Another translation made for a student, for an assignmentn using the Word Exchange as a point of comparision.

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The woman, who cannot nourish her child, should go to a man’s grave and step over the grave three times and three times speak these words:

“This is my remedy—against the hateful late-birth,
This is my remedy —against the grievous heavy-birth,
This is my remedy—against the hateful lame-birth.”

And when that woman is with child and she goes to rest with her husband, then she should say:

“Up I go, and I step over you
With my living child, not at all with a dead one
Not at all with a full-born one, not at all with a doomed one.”

And when the mother feels that her baby is alive, she should go then to a church, and then she should come before the altar, and say this:

“Christ, I have said, make this known!”

The woman, who cannot nourish her child, should take herself some piece from the grave of her own child, and wrap it afterwards in black wool and sell it to merchants and speak this:

“I sell this! You sell this!
This dark wool and these grains of sorrow!”

The woman, who cannot nourish her child, should take a milk cow of one color in her hand and sip from it with her mouth and then go to running water and spit the milk into it there and then draw up a mouthful of that water with the same hand and swallow it. Then she should speak these words:

“Everywhere I have carried this glorious, strong child
By means of this glorious, strong nourishment
I will keep him for myself and go home.”

When she goes down to the brook, she should not look back nor again when she goes from there, and then she should go into a house other than the one she left, and there she should eat some food.

The Rune Poem

A translation I made to help out one of my students this past semester. It was intended to be baldly literal, and so of assistance when trying to figure out where James Harpur's version in The Word Exchange was taking liberties. (I was so happy nobody chose the Riming Poem for their comparision...) That version is charming, even if it goes too far sometimes (see for example the stanza about the river-fish).

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Wealth is a comfort to every man,
Although every man must share it out greatly
If he would obtain a portion of the Lord’s glory.

The ox is single-minded and over-horned,
A very savage beast, fighting with his horns,
A famous moor-stepper. That is a proud creature.

Thorns are severely sharp. To any thane
Seizing it is an evil, measurelessly cruel
To every man who comes to rest upon it.

The mouth is the beginning of all speech,
A support to wisdom and a comfort to the wise,
And a prosperity and trust to every earl.

Riding is a comfort to every warrior
in the hall, and very trying to those who sit upon
A powerful courser over the mile-paths.

A torch is known by every living being to be on fire,
White and bright, most often burning
Where the nobles rest themselves within.

Gifts are an honor and praise of men,
A support and a distinction, and to every wretch
Mercy and meat to those who are free from other possessions.

Joy is enjoyed by those who little know of woe,
Pains and sorrow, and to those who have of themselves
Profit and bliss and also many citadels.

Hail is the whitest of grains. It comes down from heaven’s breeze,
The wind’s showers rolls it down, and after it becomes water.

Need is a constraint on the breast, although it often becomes to the sons of men
A help and a healing of every one, if they hearken to his demands before.

Ice is really cold, measurelessly slippery
Glistening clear as glass, most like gemstones
A floor created by frost, and a fair face.

The new year is the hope of men, when God allows,
The Holy Heaven’s King, the earth to give
Her bright fruits to rich and poor alike.

The yew is an unsmooth tree without,
Hard, fixed to the earth, a warden of fires,
Supported by its roots, a joy in the home.

Peorth is always a play and laughter
To the proud where warriors sit
In the beer-hall, happy together.

Elk-sedge keeps its home most often in the swamps,
It grows in the water, and grimly wounds,
It burns the blood of any man
Who grasps it.

The sun is ever a hope to seamen,
When they carry themselves over the fishes’ bath,
Until their brine-horses bring them to shore.

Tir is a certain token, it keeps its troth well
With noble men. It is always on its journey
Over the clouds of night, never wandering.

Birch lacks fruit, even though it bears
Shoots without seed. It is lovely in its branches,
High in its crown and fairly adorned,
Laden with leaves, pressing into the breeze.

Horses are for earls the joy of noblemen,
A steed proud in its hooves, where the heroes about him,
Prosperous on horseback, weave their speech,
And ever a comfort to those on the move.

Man is in mirth, dear to his brother;
Though every one must depart to another place,
Because the Lord wishes, through his own doom,
That our wretched flesh be commended to the earth.

The waters seem to men to be broad,
If they should venture upon an unstable ship,
And the sea-waves terrify them so,
And the brine-horse cares not for his bridle.

Ing was first among the Eastern Danes
seen by men, until he soon afterwards
departed over the ways, a wagon running after him.
Thus bold men named this hero.

A homeland is very dear to every man,
If there he may enjoy in his household
What is right and fitting, very often with its fruits.

The day is the Lord’s message, dear to men,
the renowned light of the Measurer, a mirth and troth
to the prosperous and the wretched, useful to all.

The oak is fodder for flesh on earth
For the sons of men. It frequently ferries
Over the gannet’s bath. The spear-waves test
Whether the oak possesses reliability for noble men.

The ash is very tall, dear to men,
Stout in its trunk, its hilt is rightfully fixed,
Although it fights against many men.

A bow is for every noble and earl
A joy and an honor. It is fair on horseback,
Support on a journey, some part of a warrior’s tackle.

The gar is a river-fish, and though he takes
His food on land, he owns a lovely home
Surrounded by water, where he lives in joy.

The grave is terrible to every earl,
When the fixed flesh begins,
The corpse cooling, to choose the earth
Paleness as its bedmate. Fruits fail,
Joys depart, mankind ceases [to be].

Order of the World

Here's something that's been sitting in my folder for a few weeks. I don't usually do much with the lyric poetry, and wonder if the voice is right. I taught this poem a few months agom, using Daniel Tobin's translation in The Word Exchange. Then I felt that his version had a New Age-y feel to it that rankled me, but after looking at it so hard while working on this, I realized I must have been imagining that license. So I have an appreciation for Tobin's work, and a growing respect for the poems of that volume in general. The semester is now over, and I think my students got a lot out of the experience. I did too, learning a lot about the lyric poetry of Old English, as well as figuring out some things and hard truths about my own translations.

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The Order of the World

Do you wish, hurrying hero, to wordfully greet the alien moon,
the wise bearer of prophecies, and ask that much-traveled one
about the creation to come, to inquire who speaks of broad destinies,
of kindly crafts alive in every way, which every day
through the glory of God bring forth many miracles
to the generations of men?

Each a manifest token to him who through his wisdom
knows how to perceive the entire world in his breast,
the brooding man, that many years ago with skill of the wise
and with songs, men, warriors counsel-fast,
often knew how to express and to speak rightly,
always asking that of the kindred of men
and speaking about the joining of cunning mysteries
ever mindful of what the greatest men know.

Therefore one who lives in courage must inquire,
that deep-hearted man, of secret creations,
to be inscribed in the mind with the skill
of word-hoards, and fastened in the spirit’s close—
and to think forth stoutly, nor must it
weary a mindful man, to wisely perfect the world.

Learn this lore! Quickly I must speak
of the Measurer’s majesty too great
for you, mind-crafty in your chest,
to be able to comprehend with your mind.
Is that power of yours very great?

There is no measure of man, moving on the earth,
that he might be able in breast his high creation
further to investigate when the Lord gives him
in order to understand God’s own decree;
but we must thank the Famous Prince
ever forever, for that which the Eternal King
wishes to give us into the beauty of the soul
so that we can easily ascend
forth to the celestial kingdom,
if it is sufficient to us in our spirits
and we wish to hold to the decrees of the Heaven-King.

Hear this mortal message and affix your thought.
Listen! The Father Almighty shaped at the start,
the Warden of High Hosts, heaven and earth,
the bed of the broad ocean, all of patent creation,
which now in the chastisement through the Lord’s hand
heightens and heaves up the holy fruits.

He that readily knows therefore joined all,
everything with another; they must all bear
stiff direction, just as their guide ordered them
various measures through this greater kind.

So they bear forth beauty into the world,
the Glory of the Lord and his majestic deeds,
his glittering praise into those lengthy times,
performing faithfully the word of the Eternal Lord
in that first throne where the Lord seats himself,
the pure Guardian of Heaven, eagerly holding
the boundaries of the ocean; his might draws forth
the heaven-candle and, among the waves,
the Owner of Life laps and leads
into his own bosom all creation.

So wide-spirited glory stands for him
of all judges the most fitting,
who shaped this life for us and this bright light
that comes every morning over the misty cliffs,
wading across the waves, adorned with miracles,
and at dawn hastens from the east,
lovely and winsome to the generations of men;
for every one living it bears forth its light
the brightest brands so everything on earth
can enjoy his radiance, which he wishes to give,
the Truth-King of Victories, sight of the eyes.
Then it turns with this glory into the western skies
the star much magnified, traveling together,
until in the evening out of the spear-waves
traversing the grounds, calling across the gloom;
night comes afterward, keeping his constraining command
the Holy Lord. The heaven-bright skies
incites the resplendence into the creation of God
under the embrace of the earth, the traveling star.

Therefore no man lives of his wisdom
so that he can know of his departure through his own power,
how the gold-bright sun passes beyond the earth
into that inky blackness below the crowding waters,
or who of the land-dwellers can enjoy that light,
after she departs over the ocean.

He that readily knows therefore joined
day to night, the deeps to the heights,
breeze to sea-stream, land to water,
flood to flood, fish to the waves.
Nor do these works weaken, but he holds them well;
they stand stoutly, firmly covered over
with his great belt of power in that great majesty
among them may be heaved up heaven and earth,

The ones who abide in that place are blessed then,
hopeful is his hearth-band. That is the greatest army,
an uncountable number of the prosperous, the bands of angels.
They always see their own king,
looking in their eyes and having enough of everything.
There is no dark creature among them, for those who
see the King of Glory in the skies; his is the feast and the joy
eternal and endless, with blessedness as consolation.

Therefore one must ponder their Measurer.
Every child of man abandon your useless desires,
the joys of this loaned life, and set out for mild bliss.
Forsake hateful malice, settling everything
amid fiery sins, and betake yourself to the one granting the realm.