THE OLD POETIC

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TRANSLATIONS OF OLD ENGLISH POETRY

By Rupert Granville Glover  |  M.A. (Hons), LL.B. Hons (Cantuar)

 

The Poems

Wulf and Eadwacer

To my people

it is as if they were given a present:

they will take him if he comes

with a company of warriors.


Our lives are not alike.


Wulf is on one island, I

on another. That island is

fen-bound, surrounded past access;

there are cruel men there on the island.

They will take him if he comes

with a company of warriors.


Our lives are not alike.


My Wulf wandered distant

and I waited with desire;

it was rainy weather then,

and I sat tearful.


Ready for battle, the man embraced me.

In his arms I felt pleasure, but it was

hateful to me also. Wulf, my Wulf,

desire of you makes me sick, not a lack

of food; your rare visits, my mourning heart.

Do you hear, Eadwacer?

a wolf bears our cowardly whelp

to the woods.


                   

       It is easy to split

what was never joined, our

song together.