Riddle 27

Riddle 27
bertha rogers

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english translation

Riddle 27

I am treasure    lofted from the forest,
cliff-rims, rolling hills,    town slopes.
All day wings     lift me in the shaking wind,
slip me through     the edge of a land-ship,
sweet sanctuary.     Then a man abducts me,   
carries me to the cauldron.      Bathed,
I bind and beat men,    draw down   
both young and old,    rip and ravage,
steal strength.    Soon he finds
he’s taken me on    my wild and mighty work.
I twirl those fools   right down to earth.
Strength gone, speech foolish,    a man
has no influence    over hands, feet, brain.   
Say what I am    who hold men
to Middle Earth,    blind them with bluster
and such barbaric blows    the befuddled fools
know my dark bent    only by the light of day.

original Anglo-Saxon poem

Riddle 27 — Anglo-Saxon Original

Ic eom weorξ werum,    wide funden,
brungen of bearwum     ond of burghleoζum,
of denum ond of dunum.     DΦges mec wΦgun
on lifte,     feredon mid liste
under hrofes hleo.     HΦleξ mec siζζan
baζedan in bydene.     Nu ic eom bindere
ond swingere,     sona weorpe
esne to eorζan,      hwilum ealdne ceorl.
Sona ζΦt onfindeξ,     se ζe mec fehξ ongean,
ond wiξ mΦgenζisan      minre genΦsteξ,
ζΦt he hrycge sceal     hrusan secan,
gif he unrΦdes     Φr ne geswiceξ,
strengo bistolen,    strong on sprΦce,
mΦgene binumen—     nah his modes geweald,
fota ne folma.     Frige hwΦt ic hatte,
ξe on eorζan swa     esnas binde,
dole Φfter dyntum     be dΦges leohte.