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	Mæg ic be me sylfum	I can make a true song
	soðgied wrecan,	about me myself,
	siþas secgan,	tell my travels,
	hu ic geswincdagum	how I often endured
	earfoðhwile	days of struggle,
	oft þrowade,	troublesome times,
4a	bitre breostceare	[how I] have suffered
	gebiden hæbbe,	grim sorrow at heart,
	gecunnad in ceole	have known in the ship
	cearselda fela,	many worries [abodes of care],
	atol yþa gewealc,	the terrible tossing of the waves,
	þær mec oft bigeat	where the anxious night watch
	nearo nihtwaco	often took me
	æt nacan stefnan,	at the ship's prow,
8a	þonne he be clifum cnossað.	when it tossed near the cliffs.
	Calde geþrungen	Fettered by cold
	wæron mine fet,	were my feet,
	forste gebunden	bound by frost
	caldum clommum,	in cold clasps,
	þær þa ceare seofedun	where then cares seethed
	hat ymb heortan;	hot about my heart --
	hungor innan slat	a hunger tears from within
12a	merewerges mod.	the sea-weary soul.
	Þæt se mon ne wat	This the man does not know
	þe him on foldan	for whom on land
	fægrost limpeð,	it turns out most favourably,
	hu ic earmcearig	how I, wretched and sorrowful,
	iscealdne sæ	on the ice-cold sea
	winter wunade	dwelt for a winter
	wræccan lastum,	in the paths of exile,
16a	winemægum bidroren,	bereft of friendly kinsmen,
	bihongen hrimgicelum;	hung about with icicles;
	hægl scurum fleag.	hail flew in showers.
	þær ic ne gehyrde	There I heard nothing
	butan hlimman sæ,	but the roaring sea,
	iscaldne wæg.	the ice-cold wave.
	Hwilum ylfete song	At times the swan's song
20a	dyde ic me to gomene,	I took to myself as pleasure,
	ganotes hleoþor	the gannet's noise
	ond huilpan sweg	and the voice of the curlew
	fore hleahtor wera,	instead of the laughter of men,
	mæw singende	the singing gull
	fore medodrince.	instead of the drinking of mead.
	Stormas þær stanclifu beotan,	Storms there beat the stony cliffs,
	þær him stearn oncwæð,	where the tern spoke,
24a	isigfeþera;	icy-feathered;
	ful oft þæt earn bigeal,	always the eagle cried at it,
	urigfeþra;	dewy-feathered;
	nænig hleomæga	no cheerful kinsmen
	feasceaftig ferð	can comfort
	frefran meahte.	the poor soul.
	Forþon him gelyfeð lyt,	Indeed he credits it little,
	se þe ah lifes wyn	the one who has the joys of life,
28a	gebiden in burgum,	dwells in the city,
	bealosiþa hwon,	far from terrible journey,
	wlonc ond wingal,	proud and wanton with wine,
	hu ic werig oft	how I, weary, often
	in brimlade	have had to endure
	bidan sceolde.	in the sea-paths.
	Nap nihtscua,	The shadows of night darkened,
	norþan sniwde,	it snowed from the north,
32a	hrim hrusan bond,	frost bound the ground,
	hægl feol on eorþan,	hail fell on the earth,
	corna caldast.	coldest of grains.
	Forþon cnyssað nu	Indeed, now they are troubled,
	heortan geþohtas	the thoughts of my heart,
	þæt ic hean streamas,	that I myself should strive with
	sealtyþa gelac	the high streams,
	sylf cunnige --	the tossing of salt waves --
36a	monað modes lust	the wish of my heart urges
	mæla gehwylce	all the time
	ferð to feran,	my spirit to go forth,
	þæt ic feor heonan	that I, far from here,
	elþeodigra	should seek the homeland
	eard gesece --	of a foreign people --
	Forþon nis þæs modwlonc	Indeed there is not so proud-spirited
	mon ofer eorþan,	a man in the world,
40a	ne his gifena þæs god,	nor so generous of gifts,
	ne in geoguþe to þæs hwæt,	nor so bold in his youth,
	ne in his dædum to þæs deor,	nor so brave in his deeds,
	ne him his dryhten to þæs hold,	nor so dear to his lord,
	þæt he a his sæfore	that he never in his seafaring
	sorge næbbe,	has a worry,
	to hwon hine Dryhten	as to what his Lord
	gedon wille.	will do to him.
44a	Ne biþ him to hearpan hyge	Not for him is the sound of the harp
	ne to hringþege	nor the giving of rings
	ne to wife wyn	nor pleasure in woman
	ne to worulde hyht	nor worldly glory --
	ne ymbe owiht elles	nor anything at all
	nefne ymb yða gewealc;	unless the tossing of waves;
	ac a hafað longunge	but he always has a longing,
	se þe on lagu fundað.	he who strives on the waves.
48a	Bearwas blostmum nimað,	Groves take on blossoms,
	byrig fægriað,	the cities grow fair,
	wongas wlitigað,	the fields are comely,
	woruld onetteð:	the world seems new:
	ealle þa gemoniað	all these things urge on
	modes fusne	the eager of spirit,
	sefan to siþe	the mind to travel,
	þam þe swa þenceð	in one who so thinks
52a	on flodwegas	to travel far
	feor gewitan.	on the paths of the sea.
	Swylce geac monað	So the cuckoo warns
	geomran reorde;	with a sad voice;
	singeð sumeres weard,	the guardian of summer sings,
	sorge beodeð	bodes a sorrow
	bitter in breosthord.	grievous in the soul.
	Þæt se beorn ne wat,	This the man does not know,
56a	sefteadig secg,	the warrior lucky in worldly things
	hwæt þa sume dreogað	what some endure then,
	þe þa wræclastas	those who tread most widely
	widost lecgað.	the paths of exile.
	Forþon nu min hyge hweorfeð	And now my spirit twists
	ofer hreþerlocan,	out of my breast,
	min modsefa	my spirit
	mid mereflode,	out in the waterways,
60a	ofer hwæles eþel	over the whale's path
	hweorfeð wide,	it soars widely
	eorþan sceatas --	through all the corners of the world --
	cymeð eft to me	it comes back to me
	gifre ond grædig;	eager and unsated;
	gielleð anfloga,	the lone-flier screams,
	hweteð on hwælweg	urges onto the whale-road
	hreþer unwearnum	the unresisting heart
64a	ofer holma gelagu.	across the waves of the sea.
	Forþon me hatran sind	Indeed hotter for me are
	Dryhtnes dreamas	the joys of the Lord
	þonne þis deade lif	than this dead life
	læne on londe.	fleeting on the land.
	Ic gelyfe no	I do not believe
	þæt him eorðwelan	that the riches of the world
	ece stondað.	will stand forever.
68a	Simle þreora sum	Always and invariably,
	þinga gehwylce	one of three things
	ær his tiddege	will turn to uncertainty
	to tweon weorþeð:	before his fated hour:
	adl oþþe yldo	disease, or old age,
	oþþe ecghete	or the sword's hatred
	fægum fromweardum	will tear out the life
	feorh oðþringeð.	from those doomed to die.
72a	Forþon biþ eorla gehwam	And so it is for each man
	æftercweþendra	the praise of the living,
	lof lifgendra	of those who speak afterwards,
	lastworda betst,	that is the best epitaph,
	þæt he gewyrce,	that he should work
	ær he on weg scyle,	before he must be gone
	fremum on foldan	bravery in the world
	wið feonda niþ,	against the enmity of devils,
76a	deorum dædum	daring deeds
	deofle togeanes,	against the fiend,
	þæt hine ælda bearn	so that the sons of men
	æfter hergen,	will praise him afterwards,
	ond his lof siþþan	and his fame afterwards
	lifge mid englum	will live with the angels
	awa to ealdre,	for ever and ever,
	ecan lifes blæd,	the glory of eternal life,
80a	dream mid dugeþum.	joy with the Hosts.
	Dagas sind gewitene,	The days are gone
	ealle onmedlan	of all the glory
	eorþan rices;	of the kingdoms of the earth;
	nearon nu cyningas	there are not now kings,
	ne caseras	nor Cæsars,
	ne goldgiefan	nor givers of gold
	swylce iu wæron,	as once there were,
84a	þonne hi mæst mid him	when they, the greatest, among themselves
	mærþa gefremedon	performed valorous deeds,
	ond on dryhtlicestum	and with a most lordly
	dome lifdon.	majesty lived.
	Gedroren is þeos duguð eal,	All that old guard is gone
	dreamas sind gewitene;	and the revels are over --
	wuniað þa wacran	the weaker ones now dwell
	ond þæs woruld healdaþ,	and hold the world,
88a	brucað þurh bisgo.	enjoy it through their sweat.
	Blæd is gehnæged,	The glory is fled,
	eorþan indryhto	the nobility of the world
	ealdað ond searað,	ages and grows sere,
	swa nu monna gehwylc	as now does every man
	geond middangeard.	throughout the world.
	Yldo him on fareþ,	Age comes upon him,
	onsyn blacað,	his face grows pale,
92a	gomelfeax gnornað,	the graybeard laments;
	wat his iuwine,	he knows that his old friends,
	æþelinga bearn	the sons of princes,
	eorþan forgiefene.	have been given to the earth.
	Ne mæg him þonne se flæschoma	His body fails then,
	þonne him þæt feorg losað	as life leaves him --
	ne swete forswelgan	he cannot taste sweetness
	ne sar gefelan	nor feel pain,
96a	ne hond onhreran	nor move his hand
	ne mid hyge þencan.	nor think with his head.
	Þeah þe græf wille	Though he would strew
	golde stregan	the grave with gold,
	broþor his geborenum,	a brother for his kinsman,
	byrgan be deadum	bury with the dead
	maþmum mislicum,	a mass of treasure,
	þæt hine mid wille,	it just won't work --
100a	ne mæg þære sawle	nor can the soul
	þe biþ synna ful	which is full of sin
	gold to geoce	preserve the gold
	for Godes egsan,	before the fear of God,
	þonne he hit ær hydeð	though he hid it before
	þenden he her leofað.	while he was yet alive.
	Micel biþ se Meotudes egsa,	Great is the fear of the Lord,
	forþon hi seo molde oncyrreð;	before which the world stands still;
104a	se gestaþelade	He established
	stiþe grundas,	the firm foundations,
	eorþan sceatas	the corners of the world
	ond uprodor.	and the high heavens.
	Dol biþ se þe him his Dryhten ne ondrædeþ:	A fool is the one who does not fear his Lord
	cymeð him se deað unþinged.	-- death comes to him unprepared.
	Eadig bið se þe eaþmod leofaþ;	Blessed is he who lives humbly
	cymeð him seo ar of heofonum.	-- to him comes forgiveness from heaven.
108a	Meotod him þæt mod gestaþelað,	God set that spirit within him,
	forþon he in his meahte gelyfeð.	because he believed in His might.
	Stieran mon sceal strongum mode,	Man must control his passions
	ond þæt on staþelum healdan,	and keep everything in balance,
	ond gewis werum,	keep faith with men,
	wisum clæne.	and be pure in wisdom.
	Scyle monna gehwylc	Each of men must
	mid gemete healdan	be even-handed
112a	wiþ leofne ond wið laþne	with their friends and their foes.
	* * * bealo.	?
	þeah þe he hine wille	? though he does not wish him
	fyres fulne	? in the foulness of flames
	oþþe on bæle	? or on a pyre
	forbærnedne	? to be burned
	his geworhtne wine,	? his contrived friend,
	Wyrd biþ swiþre,	Fate is greater
116a	Meotud meahtigra,	and God is mightier
	þonne ænges monnes gehygd.	than any man's thought.
	Uton we hycgan	Let us ponder
	hwær we ham agen,	where we have our homes
	ond þonne geþencan	and then think
	hu we þider cumen;	how we should get thither --
	ond we þonne eac tilien	and then we should all strive
	þæt we to moten	that we might go there
120a	in þa ecan	to the eternal
	eadignesse	blessedness
	þær is lif gelong	that is a belonging life
	in lufan Dryhtnes,	in the love of the Lord,
	hyht in heofonum.	joy in the heavens.
	Þæs sy þam Halgan þonc	Let there be thanks to God
	þæt he usic geweorþade,	that he adored us,
	wuldres Ealdor	the Father of Glory,
124a	ece Dryhten,	the Eternal Lord,
	in ealle tid. Amen.	for all time. Amen.