THE OLD
SAILOR:
True
is the tale that I tell of my travels,
Sing
of my seafaring sorrows and woes;
Hunger
and hardship's heaviest burdens,
Tempest
and terrible toil of the deep,
Daily
I've borne on the deck of my boat.
Fearful
the welter of waves that encompassed me,
Watching
at night on the narrow bow,
As she
drove by the rocks, and drenched me with spray.
Fast
to the deck my feet were frozen,
Gripped
by the cold, while care's hot surges
My heart
o'erwhelmed, and hunger's pangs
Sapped
the strength of my sea-weary spirit.
Little
he knows whose lot is happy,
Who
lives at ease in the lap of the earth,
How,
sick at heart, o'er icy seas,
Wretched
I ranged the winter through,
Bare
of joys, and banished from friends,
Hung
with icicles, stung by hailstones.
Nought
I heard but the hollow boom
Of wintry
waves, or the wild swan's whoop.
For
singing I had the solan's scream;
For
peals of laughter, the yelp of the seal;
The
sea mew's cry, for the mirth of the mead hall.
Shrill
through the roar of the shrieking gale
Lashing
along the sea cliff's edge,
Pierces
the ice-plumed petrel's defiance,
And
the wet-winged eagle's answering scream.
Little
he dreams that drinks life's pleasure,
By danger
untouched in the shelter of towns,
Insolent
and wine-proud, how utterly weary
Oft
I wintered on open seas.
Night
fell black, from the north it snowed
Harvest
of hail.
THE YOUTH:
Oh,
wildly my heart
Beats
in my bosom and bids me to try
The
tumble and surge of seas tumultuous,
Breeze
and brine and the breakers' roar.
Daily,
hourly, drives me my spirit
Outward
to sail, far countries to see.
Liveth
no man so large in his soul,
So gracious
in giving, so gay in his youth,
In deeds
so daring, so dear to his lord,
But
frets his soul for his sea adventure,
Fain
to try what fortune shall send.
Harping
he needs not, nor hoarding of treasure;
Nor
woman can win him, nor joys of the world.
Nothing
does please but the plunging billows;
Ever
he longs, who is lured by the sea.
Woods
are abloom, the wide world awakens,
Gay
are the mansions, the meadows most fair;
These
are abut warnings, that haste on his journey
Him
whose heart is hungry to taste
The
perils and pleasures of the pathless deep.
THE OLD
SAILOR:
Dost
mind the cuckoo mournfully calling?
The
summer's watchman sorrow forebodes.
What
does the landsman that wantons in luxury,
What
does he reck the rough sea's foe,
The
cares of the exile, whose keel has explored
The
uttermost parts of the ocean ways!
THE YOUTH:
Sudden
my soul starts from her prison house,
Soareth
afar o'er the sounding main;
Hovers
on high, o'er the home of the whale;
Back
to me darts the bird sprite and beckons,
Winging
her way o'er woodland and plain,
Hungry
to roam, and bring me where glisten
Glorious
tracts of glimmering foam.
This
life on land is lingering death to me,
Give
me the gladness of God's great sea.
What follows is the Saxon it was translated from:
Mæg ic be me sylfum soðgied
wrecan,
siþas secgan, hu ic geswincdagum
earfoðhwile oft þrowade,
bitre breostceare gebiden hæbbe,
gecunnad in ceole cearselda fela,
atol yþa gewealc, þær
mec oft bigeat
nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan,
þonne he be clifum cnossað.
Calde geþrungen
wæron mine fet, forste gebunden,
caldum clommum, þær
þa ceare seofedun
hat ymb heortan; hungor innan slat
merewerges mod. þæt
se mon ne wat
þe him on foldan fægrost
limpeð,
hu ic earmcearig iscealdne sæ
winter wunade wræccan lastum,
winemægum bidroren,
bihongen hrimgicelum; hægl
scurum fleag.
þær ic ne gehyrde butan
hlimman sæ,
iscaldne wæg. Hwilum ylfete
song
dyde ic me to gomene, ganetes hleoþor
ond huilpan sweg fore hleahtor
wera,
mæw singende fore medodrince.
Stormas þær stanclifu
beotan, þær him stearn oncwæð
isigfeþera; ful oft þæt
earn bigeal,
urigfeþra; ne ænig hleomæga
feasceaftig ferð frefran meahte.
Forþon him gelyfeð lyt,
se þe ah lifes wyn
gebiden in burgum, bealosiþa
hwon,
wlonc ond wingal, hu ic werig oft
in brimlade bidan sceolde.
Nap nihtscua, norþan sniwde,
hrim hrusan bond, hægl feol
on eorþan,
corna caldast. Forþon cnyssað
nu
heortan geþohtas, þæt
ic hean streamas,
sealtyþa gelac sylf cunnige;
monað modes lust mæla
gehwylce
ferð to feran, þæt
ic feor heonan
elþeodigra eard gesece.
Forþon nis þæs
modwlonc mon ofer eorþan,
ne his gifena þæs god,
ne in geoguþe to þæs hwæt,
ne in his dædum to þæs
deor, ne him his dryhten to þæs hold,
þæt he a his sæfore
sorge næbbe,
to hwon hine dryhten gedon wille.
Ne biþ him to hearpan hyge
ne to hringþege,
ne to wife wyn ne to worulde hyht,
ne ymbe owiht elles, nefne ymb
yða gewealc,
ac a hafað longunge se þe
on lagu fundað.
Bearwas blostmum nimað, byrig
fægriað,
wongas wlitigað, woruld onetteð;
ealle þa gemoniað modes
fusne
sefan to siþe, þam
þe swa þenceð
on flodwegas feor gewitan.
Swylce geac monað geomran reorde,
singeð sumeres weard, sorge
beodeð
bitter in breosthord. þæt
se beorn ne wat,
esteadig secg, hwæt þa
sume dreogað
þe þa wræclastas
widost lecgað.
Forþon nu min hyge hweorfeð
ofer hreþerlocan,
min modsefa mid mereflode
ofer hwæles eþel hweorfeð
wide,
eorþan sceatas, cymeð
eft to me
gifre ond grædig, gielleð
anfloga,
hweteð on hwælweg hreþer
unwearnum
ofer holma gelagu. Forþon
me hatran sind
dryhtnes dreamas þonne þis
deade lif,
læne on londe. Ic gelyfe
no
þæt him eorðwelan
ece stondað.
Simle þreora sum þinga
gehwylce,
ær his tid aga, to tweon
weorþeð;
adl oþþe yldo oþþe
ecghete
fægum fromweardum feorh oðþringeð.
Forþon þæt bið
eorla gehwam æftercweþendra
lof lifgendra lastworda betst,
þæt he gewyrce, ær
he on weg scyle,
fremum on foldan wið feonda
niþ,
deorum dædum deofle togeanes,
þæt hine ælda
bearn æfter hergen,
ond his lof siþþan
lifge mid englum
awa to ealdre, ecan lifes blæd,
dream mid dugeþum. Dagas sind
gewitene,
ealle onmedlan eorþan rices;
næron nu cyningas ne caseras
ne goldgiefan swylce iu wæron,
þonne hi mæst mid him
mærþa gefremedon
ond on dryhtlicestum dome lifdon.
Gedroren is þeos duguð
eal, dreamas sind gewitene,
wuniað þa wacran ond
þas woruld healdaþ,
brucað þurh bisgo. Blæd
is gehnæged,
eorþan indryhto ealdað
ond searað,
swa nu monna gehwylc geond middangeard.
Yldo him on fareð, onsyn blacað,
gomelfeax gnornað, wat his
iuwine,
æþelinga bearn, eorþan
forgiefene.
Ne mæg him þonne se
flæschoma, þonne him þæt feorg losað,
ne swete forswelgan ne sar gefelan,
ne hond onhreran ne mid hyge þencan.
þeah þe græf
wille golde stregan
broþor his geborenum, byrgan
be deadum,
maþmum mislicum þæt
hine mid wille,
ne mæg þære sawle
þe biþ synna ful
gold to geoce for godes egsan,
þonne he hit ær hydeð
þenden he her leofað.
Micel biþ se meotudes egsa,
forþon hi seo molde oncyrreð;
se gestaþelade stiþe
grundas,
eorþan sceatas ond uprodor.
Dol biþ se þe him his
dryhten ne ondrædeþ; cymeð him se deað unþinged.
Eadig bið se þe eaþmod
leofaþ; cymeð him seo ar of heofonum,
meotod him þæt mod
gestaþelað, forþon he in his meahte gelyfeð.
Stieran mon sceal strongum mode,
ond þæt on staþelum healdan,
ond gewis werum, wisum clæne,
scyle monna gehwylc mid gemete
healdan
wiþ leofne ond wið laþne
bealo,
þeah þe he hine wille
fyres fulne
oþþe on bæle
forbærnedne
his geworhtne wine. Wyrd biþ
swiþre,
meotud meahtigra þonne ænges
monnes gehygd.
Uton we hycgan hwær we ham
agen,
ond þonne geþencan
hu we þider cumen,
ond we þonne eac tilien,
þæt we to moten
in þa ecan eadignesse,
þær is lif gelong in
lufan dryhtnes,
hyht in heofonum. þæs
sy þam halgan þonc,
þæt he usic geweorþade,
wuldres ealdor,
ece dryhten, in ealle tid.