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29 | 42 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_4.txt | (29-42) | (29-42) | Alas! you are the Eternal and the Almighty, the Shaper and the Director of all creation— your arms are a mercy, the seeds of the earth are mankind, all through your magnificence. Why then, God Eternal, would you ever wish that fortune should turn upon your desire toward the evils of all men so prevalent? She very often injures the innocent. Wicked men sit throughout the realm of earth upon high thrones, oppressing the righteous under their feet. It is unknown to men why fortune should turn out so perverse. So these bright skills are hidden here in this world throughout many cities. | Wel la, ðu eca and ðu ælmihtiga, ealra gesceafta sceppend and reccend, ara ðinum earmum eorðan tudre, monna cynne, ðurh ðinra mehta sped. Hwi ðu, ece god, æfre wolde þæt sio wyrd on gewill wendan sceolde yflum monnum ealles swa swiðe? Hio ful oft dereð unscyldegum. Sittað yfele men giond eorðricu on heahsetlum, halige þriccað under heora fotum; firum uncuð hwi sio wyrd swa wo wendan sceolde. Swa sint gehydde her on worulde geond burga fela beorhte cræftas. | 103 | 78 | 25 |
1 | 20 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_5.txt | (1-20) | (1-20) | You can perceive clearly by the sun and by all the other stars which brightest shine across the cities. If the dark clouds should hang before them, then they could not send down their rays so radiant, until the thick clouds become thinned. So often the south wind grimly stirs up the smooth sea, grey and glassy-clear, when they are mixed by a great tempest, moving the whale-waters—then they are false whose face was gleaming before. So often the wellspring washes forth from the hoary cliffs, cool and pure, and flows straight down by rights, running along with its landscape, until the mountain’s mighty stone cleaves it from within, and lies in its midst, rolling away from that peak. Afterwards it becomes separated into two— the brightness of the brook is disturbed and blended, the stream is diverted from its straight course, running apart in rivulets. | ðu meaht be ðære sunnan sweotole geþencean and be æghwelcum oðrum steorran þara þe æfter burgum beorhtost scineð. Gif him wan fore wolcen hangað, ne mægen hi swa leohtne leoman ansendan, ær se þicca mist þynra weorðe. Swa oft smylte sæ suðerne wind græge glashlutre grimme gedrefeð, þonne hie gemengað micla ysta, onhrerað hronmere; hrioh bið þonne seo þe ær gladu onsiene wæs. Swa oft æspringe ut awealleð of clife harum col and hlutor, and gereclice rihte floweð, irneð wið his eardes, oð him on innan felð muntes mægenstan, and him on middan geligeð, atrendlod of ðæm torre. He on tu siððan tosceaden wyrð, scir bið gedrefed, burna geblonden, broc bið onwended of his rihtryne, ryðum toflowen. | 146 | 117 | 29 |
21 | 34a | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_5.txt | (21-34a) | (21-34a) | So now the shadows of your heart wish to withstand the light of my teaching and greatly disturb your heart-thoughts. But if you now desire it, as well as you might, to plainly perceive that true light, that bright belief, you must forsake this idle and excessive delight, this useless joy. You must as well abandon the wicked fear of earthly miseries, nor may you despair for them all, nor ever allow yourself to be weakened by pride, lest you become disgraced with your arrogance soon, and raised up with carelessness and worldly delight. | Swa nu þa þiostro þinre heortan willað minre leohtan lare wiðstondan and ðin modgeþonc miclum gedrefan. Ac gif ðu nu wilnast, þæt ðu wel mæge, þæt soðe leoht sweotole oncnawan, leohte geleafan, ðu forlætan scealt idle ofersælða, unnytne gefean. þu scealt eac yfelne ege an forlætan, woruldearfoða, ne most ðu wesan for ðæm ealles to ormod, ne ðu ðe æfre ne læt wlenca gewæcan, þe læs þu weorðe for him mid ofermettum eft gescended, and to up ahafen for orsorgum woruldgesælðum, | 94 | 81 | 13 |
34b | 45 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_5.txt | (34b-45) | (34b-45) | Nor despair even so weakly in any good things, when your adversary fattens you for the world, you may be oppressed by these matters and you may dread them very strongly. Because the mind will always be greatly bound up with confusion, if both of these evils may vex it and toil within. Therefore these two misfortunes draw together against the mind before the mist of error, that the eternal sun may not illuminate it within, due to the dark clouds, before they melt away. | ne eft to waclice geortreowe æniges godes, þonne þe for worulde wiðerwearda mæsð þinga þreage and þu ðe selfum swiðost onsitte. Forðæm simle bið se modsefa miclum gebunden mid gedrefnesse, gif hine dreccean mot þissa yfla hwæðer, innan swencan. Forðæm þa twegen tregan teoð tosomne wið þæt mod foran mistes dwoleman, þæt hit seo ece ne mot innan geondscinan sunne for ðæm sweartum mistum, ærðæm hi geswiðrad weorðen. | 85 | 68 | 17 |
0 | 0 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_6.txt | (0-0) | null | Then Lady Wisdom unlocked her word-hoard, singing truth-saws and speaking in this way: “When the sun is shining its clearest and brightest from heaven, it quickly becomes obscured all over the earth by another object in space, and then its brilliance becomes nothing, set against the light of the sun. When the gentle wind blows from the south or west under the heavens, then the blossoms of the field quickly grow up and are allowed to be joyful. But the storm so stark, when he comes in strength, from the north or the east, he swiftly seizes the lovely rose— and also the northern tempest afflicts the spacious sea, stirring it up strongly, beating upon its own shores. Alas, nothing on earth is of stable work and may not ever abide in this world! | ða se wisdom eft wordhord onleac, sang soðcwidas, and þus selfa cwæð: ðonne sio sunne sweotolost scineð, hadrost of hefone, hræðe bioð aðistrod ealle ofir eorðan oðre steorran, forðæm hiora birhtu ne bið auht to gesettane wið þære sunnan leoht. ðonne smolte blæwð suðan and westan wind under wolcnum. þonne weaxeð hraðe feldes blostman, fægen þæt hi moton. Ac se stearca storm, þonne he strong cymð norðan and eastan, he genimeð hraðe þære rosan wlite, and eac þa ruman sæ norðerne yst nede gebædeð, þæt hio strange geondstyred on staðu beateð. Eala, þæt on eorðan auht fæstlices weorces on worulde ne wunað æfre! | 134 | 103 | 31 |
11b | 28 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_7.txt | (11b-28) | (11b-28) | “Nor could any man raise up wisdom where covetousness overshadows the mountains. Bare sand will swallow the rains, and so does the bottomless greed of the rich for boasting and trinkets, drinking to the dregs failing prosperity, and though the thirst of these beggars will never be cooled. “Nor can the house of man last for long on the mountainside, because the swift winds will sweep it down suddenly. Nor will sand be any better guardian of the house to any man against a great rain, but it will be tumbled to the ground, the sand sinking after the downpour. “So will be the mind of every lonely man greatly undermined from an agitated place, when the wind of worldly misery under the skies strongly troubles it, or the fierce rains moves it about— a certain anxiety, universal superfluity. | Ne mæg eac fira nan wisdom timbran þær ðær woruldgitsung beorg oferbrædeð. Baru sond willað ren forswelgan; swa deð ricra nu grundleas gitsung gilpes and æhta, gedrinceð to dryggum dreosendne welan, and þeah þæs þearfan ne bið þurst aceled. Ne mæg hæleþa gehwæm hus on munte lange gelæstan, forðæm him lungre on swift wind swapeð. Ne bið sond þon ma wið micelne ren manna ængum huses hirde, ac hit hreosan wile, sigan sond æfter rene. Swa bioð anra gehwæs monna modsefan miclum awegede, of hiora stede styrede, þonne hi strong dreceð wind under wolcnum woruldearfoða, oþþe hi eft se reða ren onhrereð sumes ymbhogan, ungemet gemen. | 139 | 106 | 33 |
29 | 41 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_7.txt | (29-41) | (29-41) | “But he who wishes to possess true and eternal happiness, he shall quickly fly from these worldly facades, and build himself afterwards a house of the mind, where he can find humble stones, a huge fortress and a ready foundation. “He will not need to collapse though the winds of worldly misery should drive against it or intense rains of anxiety, because in that valley the lord of settled humility himself dwells, were wisdom always abides in the mind. Therefore wise world-men may always lead a secure life without alteration. | Ac se ðe þa ecan agan wille soðan gesælða, he sceal swiðe flion ðisse worulde wlite, wyrce him siððan his modes hus, þær he mæge findan eaðmetta stan unigmet fæstne, grundweal gearone; se toglidan ne þearf, þeah hit wecge wind woruldearfoða oððe ymbhogena ormete ren, forþæm on þære dene drihten selfa þara eadmetta eardfæst wunigað, þær se wisdom a wunað on gemyndum. Forðon orsorg lif ealnig lædað woruldmen wise buton wendinge. | 90 | 71 | 19 |
42 | 54 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_7.txt | (42-54) | (42-54) | “Then he would reject all this earthly good and also become accustomed to its predictable evils, expecting them eternally to follow after, and then almighty good from every direction continually and always keeps him the one dwelling alone through the Measurer’s grace, though the wind of worldly woe troubles him greatly and eternal care encumber him, then the grim wind of worldly good blows angrily against him, although always his anxiety of worldly fortune cruelly afflicts him.” | þonne he eall forsihð eorðlicu good, and eac þara yfela orsorh wunað, hopað to þæm ecum þe þær æfter cumað, hine þonne æghwonan ælmihtig good singallice simle gehealdeð anwunigendne his agenum modes gesælðum þurh metodes gife, þeah hine se wind woruldearfoða swiðe swence, and hine singale gemen gæle, þonne him grimme on woruldsælða wind wraðe blaweð, þeah þe hine ealneg se ymbhoga ðyssa woruldsælða wraðe drecce. | 77 | 66 | 11 |
1 | 11a | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_7.txt | (1-11a) | (1-11a) | Next Lady Wisdom attended to her practice, singing her wise words, a poem according to her message, chanting a certain true statement further, speaking what she had never heard that on a high hill any man could establish a firm-roofed hall. “No man needs also to believe in these works, to ever mediate wisdom with pride. Have you ever heard that any man who could set a fixed hall on a sand dune? | ða ongon se wisdom his gewunan fylgan, gliowordum gol, gyd æfter spelle, song soðcwida sumne þa geta, cwæð þæt he ne herde þæt on heane munt monna ænig meahte asettan healle hroffæste. Ne þearf eac hæleða nan wenan þæs weorces, þæt he wisdom mæge wið ofermetta æfre gemengan. Herdes þu æfre þætte ænig mon on sondbeorgas settan meahte fæste healle? | 73 | 60 | 13 |
1 | 13 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_8.txt | (1-13) | (1-13) | As soon as Lady Wisdom had these words plainly related, she then began to afterwards sing in sooth-words, and spoke herself thusly: Listen, the former age was bountiful for all earth-dwellers throughout the world, when all of the land’s fruits seemed sufficient for everyone. Now it is not so! There were no opulent homes across the world, nor was there a wide array of food and drink, nor did they care indeed for these garments that now lordly men esteem as dearest. Because none of these things existed yet, nor were they seen among the sea-dwellers. | Sona swa se wisdom þas word hæfde swetole areahte, he þa siððan ongan singan soðcwidas, and þus selfa cwæð: Hwæt, sio forme eld foldbuendum geond eorðan sceat æghwam dohte, þa þa anra gehwæm on eorðwæstmum genoh ðuhte. Nis hit nu ða swelc! Næron þa geond weorulde welige hamas, ne mislice mettas ne drincas, ne hi þara hrægla huru ne gemdon þe nu drihtguman diorost lætað. Forðæm hiora nænig næs þa gieta, ne hi ne gesawon sundbuende, | 96 | 76 | 20 |
14 | 29 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_8.txt | (14-29) | (14-29) | Listen! Nor had they heard anywhere around them. of these rash and sinful desires, rather they could attend to what was most apt by kind, just as Christ himself had made them. They only ate one meal during the day, at even-tide, of the blossoms of the earth, of the groves and the herbs, not at all drinking wine shining from the goblet. There was no man who knew how to meddle his meat or drink, water with honey, nor did they knit together their raiment with silk, with cunning skill girding fine fabrics, nor did they raise up costly halls with cleverness, instead they always beslept themselves the whole year outside, under the shadow of trees, drinking river-water cool from the stream. Never did a merchant see | ne ymbutan hi awer ne herdon. Hwæt, hi firenlusta frece ne wæron, buton swa hi meahton gemetlicost ða gecynd began þe him Crist gesceop, and hi æne on dæge æton symle on æfentid eorðan wæstmas, wudes and wyrta, nalles win druncon scir of steape. Næs þa scealca nan þe mete oððe drinc mængan cuðe, wæter wið hunige, ne heora wæda þon ma sioloce siowian, ne hi siarocræftum godweb giredon, ne hi gimreced setton searolice, ac hi simle him eallum tidum ute slepon under beamsceade, druncon burnan wæter, calde wyllan. Nænig cepa ne seah | 128 | 93 | 35 |
30 | 45 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_8.txt | (30-45) | (30-45) | over the blending of waves a foreign shore. Indeed, men did not know about ship-reavers, just as no man had spoken about fighting. Nor was the earth yet defiled with the blood of man that dyed the blade red, just as no world-dwelling man had ever seen another wounded under the sun, since none had yet happened in the world. If someone conceived a desire to do wickedness among men, he would be loathed by everyone. Alas, that there should become or God wished it to be that upon the earth now in our time, throughout this wide world it should be for everyone, alike under the sun. Yet it is much worse these days, so that avarice has corrupted the mind of every man, so that he does not care about greater things, but he burns inside his welling wits. | ofer eargeblond ellendne wearod, ne huru ymbe sciphergas scealcas ne herdon, ne furðum fira nan ymb gefeoht sprecan. Næs ðeos eorðe besmiten awer þa geta beornes blode þe hine bill rude, ne furðum wundne wer weoruldbuende gesawan under sunnan. Nænig siððan wæs weorð on weorulde, gif mon his willan ongeat yfelne mid eldum; he wæs æghwæm lað. Eala, þær hit wurde oððe wolde god þæt on eorðan nu ussa tida geond þas widan weoruld wæren æghwæs swelce under sunnan. Ac hit is sæmre nu, þæt ðeos gitsunc hafað gumena gehwelces mod amerred, þæt he maran ne recð, ac hit on witte weallende byrnð. | 141 | 103 | 38 |
46 | 59 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_8.txt | (46-59) | (46-59) | Even this gluttony, which has no bottom, smokes darkly much like that particular mountain, which the sons of men call Etna. That place on the island of Sicily burns with sulfur, so that one widely calls it the fires of hell— because it is always ever-burning, and all around it pallidly consumes other places with a bitter flame. Alas, what should this earliest miser be in the world, who grabbled up the ground seeking gold and different kinds of gemstones? What should he find on many occasions, but wicked pelf covered over in the world by sea and by earth? | Efne sio gitsung þe nænne grund hafað swearte swæfeð sumes onlice efne þam munte þe nu monna bearn Etne hatað. Se on iglonde Sicilia swefle byrneð, þæt mon helle fyr hateð wide, forþæm hit symle bið sinbyrnende, and ymbutan hit oðra stowa blate forbærnð biteran lege. Eala, hwæt se forma feohgitsere wære on worulde, se þas wongstedas grof æfter golde and æfter gimcynnum. Hwæt, he frecnu gestreon funde mænegum bewrigen on weorulde, wætere oððe eorðan. | 100 | 75 | 25 |
1 | 18a | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_9.txt | (1-18a) | (1-18a) | What we all know what criminal deeds both far and near, Nero committed, the King of the Romans, when his reign as highest under the heavens, as the downfall of many. The fornications of this bloodthirsty man were revealed, very widely known, many criminal acts, wickedness and felony, a plenitude of evil deeds, the evil intentions of that unrighteous man— A game to him, he ordered the city of the Romans to be burned completely to the ground, which was the capital-seat of all his realm. He wished to discover, in his unwisdom, if those flames could be lighted so brightly and also so long-enduring, to rage so red, as he had heard told among the Romans that on one certain day the city of Troy had been destroyed, in the brightest of flames, the longest of conflagrations of the homes under the heavens. | Hwæt, we ealle witon hwelce ærleste ge neah ge feor Neron worhte, Romwara cyning, þa his rice wæs hehst under heofonum, to hryre monegum. Wælhreowes gewed wæs ful wide cuð, unrihthæmed, arleasta fela, man and morðor, misdæda worn, unrihtwises inwidþoncas. He het him to gamene geara forbærnan Romana burig, sio his rices wæs ealles eðelstol. He for unsnyttrum wolde fandian gif þæt fyr meahte lixan swa leohte and swa longe eac, read rasettan, swa he Romane secgan geherde þæt on sume tide Troia burg ofertogen hæfde lega leohtost, lengest burne hama under hefonum. | 144 | 93 | 51 |
37 | 52 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_9.txt | (37-52) | (37-52) | Yet he, elated in spirit for these treacheries and deceits, continued to be slaughter-thirsty—he ruled over this celebrated middle-earth entirely, just as breeze and stream embrace the earth, the spear-waves surrounding the realm of men, the habitations of humans, south, east and west unto the northernmost cliffs of the earth— all that had to obey Nero by force or by choice, every one of those battle-warriors. He considered it his own amusement, when he mounted up in boasting, how he made the earth-kings wretched and killed them. Would you expect that the authority of God Almighty could not easily deprive that vaunting foe of his realm and snatch away his sovereignty through that eternal might or otherwise restrain him in his evil? | ac he on ferðe fægn facnes and searuwa wælriow wunode. Wiold emne swa þeah ealles þisses mæran middangeardes, swa swa lyft and lagu land ymbclyppað, garsecg embegyrt gumena rice, secgea sitlu, suð, east and west, oð ða norðmestan næssan on eorðan; eall þæt Nerone nede oððe lustum, heaðorinca gehwilc, heran sceolde. He hæfde him to gamene, þonne he on gylp astag, hu he eorðcyningas yrmde and cwelmde. Wenst ðu þæt se anwald eaðe ne meahte godes ælmihtiges þone gelpscaðan rice berædan and bereafian his anwaldes ðurh þa ecan meaht, oððe him his yfeles elles gestioran? | 122 | 95 | 27 |
53 | 63 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_9.txt | (53-63) | (53-63) | Alas! If he wished to, he well could prohibit his unrighteousness easily! Alas! That the lord slipped this heavy yoke onto the necks of his own people grievously, of all those warriors who must dwell in his season throughout this loaned world! Nero soiled his sword so very frequently in the blood of his guiltless earls: There it was very patent what we have often said, that the authority does not perform good at all if he who possesses the power does not want it. | Eala, gif he wolde, ðæt he wel meahte, þæt unriht him eaðe forbiodan! Eawla, þæt se hlaford hefig gioc slepte sware on þa swyran sinra ðegena, ealra ðara hæleða þe on his tidum geond þas lænan worold liban sceoldon. He on unscyldgum eorla blode his sweord selede swiðe gelome; ðær wæs swiðe sweotol, þæt we sædon oft, þæt se anwald ne deð awiht godes gif se wel nele þe his geweald hafað. | 85 | 72 | 13 |
18b | 36 | the_meters_of_boethius_meter_9.txt | (18b-36) | (18b-36) | Not at all a noble deed, he longed in the arrogance of such diversions, then he did not strive after anything else except that he wished to display indeed his sole authority over his nation! Also it occurred at a certain time that this same man ordered to be killed all the most powerful Roman counselors and he ordered slain with swords, by the edge of blades, the most exalted of the noble children whom he had learned about among his own people, his own brother also along with his mother as well— he killed his bride himself with a sword and he always was the more delighted in his breast-coffer when he committed the most heinous of murders likewise: he didn’t worry at all whether afterwards the Mighty Lord wished to mete out vengeance for his crooked deeds. | Næs þæt herlic dæd, þæt hine swelces gamenes gilpan lyste, þa he ne earnade elles wuhte, buton þæt he wolde ofer werðiode his anes huru anwald cyðan. Eac hit gesælde æt sumum cierre ðæt se ilca het ealle acwellan þa ricostan Romana witan and þa æþelestan eorlgebyrdum þe he on þæm folce gefrigen hæfde, and on uppan agene broðor and his modor mid meca ecgum, billum ofbeatan. He his bryde ofslog self mid sweorde, and he symle wæs micle þe bliðra on breostcofan þonne he swylces morðres mæst gefremede. Nalles sorgode hwæðer siððan a mihtig drihten ametan wolde wrece be gewyrhtum wohfremmendum, | 139 | 102 | 37 |
0 | 0 | the_meters_of_boethius_proem.txt | (0-0) | null | In this way Alfred, the king of the West-Saxons, stretched forth this old story to us, announcing his art, the skill of a song-wright. Within him a great desire to proclaim these poems unto his peoples, a mirth for men, these manifold songs, so that his ardor would drive out the arrogant man— correcting then one owning so little—not much but pride. Yet I shall claim counsel lodged deep within the people, fold it into fitts, and say unto humanity. Listen who will! | ðus ælfred us ealdspell reahte, cyning Westsexna, cræft meldode, leoðwyrhta list. Him wæs lust micel ðæt he ðiossum leodum leoð spellode, monnum myrgen, mislice cwidas, þy læs ælinge ut adrife selflicne secg, þonne he swelces lyt gymð for his gilpe. Ic sceal giet sprecan, fon on fitte, folccuðne ræd hæleðum secgean. Hliste se þe wille! | 83 | 55 | 28 |
1 | 7 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (1-7) | (1-7) | So you reckon you’re ready— tongue-rapid, tone-tripping— to greet the mystery itself, word-burdened, listening to that one young forever when they tell of existences unknown ahead, asking who speaks about spacious destinies, the kindred capacities, kindling life that each day through god’s glory may birth endless miracle to serve waves of humanity. | Wilt þu, fus hæle, fremdne monnan, wisne woðboran wordum gretan, fricgan felageongne ymb forðgesceaft, biddan þe gesecge sidra gesceafta cræftas cyndelice cwichrerende, þa þe dogra gehwam þurh dom godes bringe wundra fela wera cneorissum! | 52 | 34 | 18 |
17 | 20 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (17-20) | (17-20) | So you best ask, you deep-hearted someone who dwells in daring, ask of hidden relics, best get scribbling in your spaces the skills of a treasury of words folding them up in the soul’s closet— think it forth bravely. | Forþon scyle ascian, se þe on elne leofað, deophydig mon, dygelra gesceafta, bewritan in gewitte wordhordes cræft, fæstnian ferðsefan, þencan forð teala; | 39 | 22 | 17 |
21 | 26 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (21-26) | (21-26) | Don’t let it weary the receiver to rectify it all, wisely, the world. Learn what’s taught. I’m telling you in rapid fire of the meter’s forward strut greater than you, son — than anything you can clutch in your chest, though your tongue may trip — Will it be enough? | ne sceal þæs aþreotan þegn modigne, þæt he wislice woruld fulgonge. Leorna þas lare. Ic þe lungre sceal meotudes mægensped maran gesecgan, þonne þu hygecræftig in hreþre mæge mode gegripan. Is sin meaht forswiþ. | 50 | 34 | 16 |
27 | 36 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (27-36) | (27-36) | There is no measure of the human, from those stirring upon the earth — nothing that can be used to explore any further the highness of works within the heart — than what the master grants them to mind-grabble god’s own pronunciation. Still we must give respect to the real prince always to ever, for what the always king cares to hand out, in their shine of soul, so we can climb up higher so easily to the upwards realm, if our starch suffices our spirits and we hope to keep hold of the speech of a lofty lord. | Nis þæt monnes gemet moldhrerendra, þæt he mæge in hreþre his heah geweorc furþor aspyrgan þonne him frea sylle to ongietanne godes agen bibod; ac we sculon þoncian þeodne mærum awa to ealdre, þæs þe us se eca cyning on gæste wlite forgiefan wille þæt we eaðe magon upcund rice forð gestigan, gif us on ferðe geneah ond we willað healdan heofoncyninges bibod. | 99 | 63 | 36 |
37 | 42 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (37-42) | (37-42) | ii. Hear it now, this song uplifting and nail down your needs. What, at the start of the starting, the every-mighty father, the high ward of hoards, what’s up and what’s here, the beds of broad oceans — can’t you see it everywhere — what now lies in fetters through that one’s hand, shall heighten and heave this sacred blossom. | Gehyr nu þis herespel ond þinne hyge gefæstna. Hwæt, on frymþe gescop fæder ælmihtig, heah hordes weard, heofon ond eorðan, sæs sidne grund, sweotule gesceafte, þa nu in þam þream þurh þeodnes hond heaþ ond hebbaþ þone halgan blæd. | 60 | 39 | 21 |
43 | 46 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (43-46) | (43-46) | And so everything clumps together, they who sees it knows it, every bit its other, everything must bear its persuasive pushing, just as the steerer steers them, their myriad possibilities, their own greatening truth. | Forþon eal swa teofanade, se þe teala cuþe, æghwylc wiþ oþrum; sceoldon eal beran stiþe stefnbyrd, swa him se steora bibead missenlice gemetu þurh þa miclan gecynd. | 34 | 27 | 7 |
47 | 56 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (47-56) | (47-56) | So they ferry the shine back into the world, the multitude of the master and the majesty of makings, incandescent in praise in their lengthy seasons, mouthing the words in truth, of the limitless leader on the spot it all went down where the first sat himself down, impeccable watch of heaven, holding it eagerly, limming oceans— the possibilities streaking forth, a twinkling in the sky and rustling in the waves, the landlord of life laps and leads all of entirety into their one big arm. | Swa hi to worulde wlite forþ berað dryhtnes duguþe ond his dæda þrym, lixende lof in þa longan tid, fremmaþ fæstlice frean ece word in þam frumstole þe him frea sette, hluttor heofones weard, healdað georne mere gemære; meaht forð tihð heofoncondelle ond holmas mid, laþað ond lædeþ lifes agend in his anes fæþm ealle gesceafta. | 86 | 56 | 30 |
57 | 63 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (57-63) | (57-63) | By the breadth of breathing standing for them as glory, of every referee the most rightful who sculpted living here, right here for us — and the brilliance of illumination rippling forth each & every morning over the bulwarks of dark mist, wading through water, fierce in the fabulous — it snows down from the east at daybreak, sparkling, sweet-fast, for this trudge of kind. | Swa him wideferh wuldor stondeþ, ealra demena þam gedefestan, þe us þis lif gescop, ond þis leohte beorht cymeð morgna gehwam ofer misthleoþu wadan ofer wægas wundrum gegierwed, ond mid ærdæge eastan snoweð wlitig ond wynsum wera cneorissum; | 65 | 38 | 27 |
64 | 66 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (64-66) | (64-7) | Glow birthed for everything living, brightest brands, and they are allowed to exult in its ownership, all creatures on earth, which they are happy to share, the vision of sight, the ruler in fact, ruler of the win. | lifgendra gehwam leoht forð biereð bronda beorhtost, ond his brucan mot æghwylc on eorþan, þe him eagna gesihð | 38 | 18 | 20 |
76 | 81 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (76-81) | (76-81) | Therefore there ain’t a bean on this planet who lives solely by wisdom — who can foresee their fountaining by their own powers alone, how the hammered gold of suns gallops across these grounds, into the darkening of darkness below the writhing of waters — or who among these land-dwellers should be allowed to luxuriate in their own light, once the candle huffles off over the oceans. | Forþon nænig fira þæs frod leofað þæt his mæge æspringe þurh his ægne sped witan, hu geond grund færeð goldtorht sunne in þæt wonne genip under wætra geþring, oþþe hwa þes leohtes londbuende brucan mote, siþþan heo ofer brim hweorfeð. | 67 | 40 | 27 |
82 | 89 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (82-89) | (82-89) | Again, it clumps together, and they who sees it still knows it, day parleys with night, the depths exchange with the heights, the toss with the tides, the land gives back to water, floods flow together with floods, fish circulate with waves. The work never weakens, what’s cradled so well — they stand upright, heaping up high & true with a girthed girdle of potential in the majesty of making — May it be heaved aloft, both heaven and earth. | Forþon swa teofenede, se þe teala cuþe, dæg wiþ nihte, deop wið hean, lyft wið lagustream, lond wiþ wæge, flod wið flode, fisc wið yþum. Ne waciað þas geweorc, ac he hi wel healdeð; stondað stiðlice bestryþed fæste miclum meahtlocum in þam mægenþrymme mid þam sy ahefed heofon ond eorþe. | 80 | 50 | 30 |
90 | 97 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (90-97) | (90-97) | Who dwells there will be fortuned, rich in hope these holders of hearth. That is a true multitude, innumerable in blessings, cascades of the angelic. Those always see fully their own first, gazing with many eyes, holding enough of what’s needed. Nothing goes without light, those who view the king of vision in lofty spaces. Feasting & fascination an endless uncounting, what can be kept is their comfort. | Beoð þonne eadge þa þær in wuniað, hyhtlic is þæt heorðwerud. þæt is herga mæst, eadigra unrim, engla þreatas. Hy geseoð symle hyra sylfra cyning, eagum on wlitað, habbað æghwæs genoh. Nis him wihte won, þam þe wuldres cyning geseoþ in swegle; him is symbel ond dream ece unhwylen eadgum to frofre. | 68 | 52 | 16 |
98 | 102 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (98-102) | (98-102) | To sum up here: one ought to consider, every sprout of humanity, letting go of the worthless chase for their true meter — letting go of the joy of borrowed existence, and hustle along its singing swing. Forsake hateful malice, sink it all into flaming wrong — and ferry yourself to the granting of realms. | Forþon scyle mon gehycgan þæt he meotude hyre; æghwylc ælda bearna forlæte idle lustas, læne lifes wynne, fundige him to lissa blisse, forlæte heteniþa gehwone sigan mid synna fyrnum, fere him to þam sellan rice. | 55 | 35 | 20 |
67 | 75 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (67-75) | (67-75) | Into westerly aboves it turns at that moment, dripping in glory, its fame known ahead, a star, a sun traversing in fellowship, until it evens out of the speared waves, pathing the playgrounds, crashing across the gloom. Night spreads after, holding the ordaining principle of this sacred lord. Heaven-bright heavens incited into illumination into god-like makings beneath the fathoming fold, our wandering star. | sigora soðcyning syllan wolde. Gewiteð þonne mid þy wuldre on westrodor forðmære tungol faran on heape, oþþæt on æfenne ut garsecges grundas pæþeð, glom oþer cigð; niht æfter cymeð, healdeð nydbibod halgan dryhtnes. Heofontorht swegl scir gescyndeð in gesceaft godes under foldan fæþm, farende tungol. | 63 | 45 | 18 |
8 | 16 | the_order_of_the_world.txt | (8-16) | (8-16) | Each one a token true-seen to that one whose wisdom widens the whole world to them, kenning in chest, mind-marking what so many lengthy days, cropped with mindful craft, with singings, these souls often twisted tales forth, the nervy bastards — they correctly comprehended how to pronounce it — what always the inquiring type, what the whispering cleverness demands you do — ever minding the most & mighty. | Is þara anra gehwam orgeate tacen, þam þurh wisdom woruld ealle con behabban on hreþre, hycgende mon, þæt geara iu, gliwes cræfte, mid gieddingum guman oft wrecan, rincas rædfæste; cuþon ryht sprecan, þæt a fricgende fira cynnes ond secgende searoruna gespon a gemyndge mæst monna wiston. | 68 | 46 | 22 |
52 | 53a | the_panther.txt | (52-53a) | (52-53a) | in the choicest company hastily streaming forth, players of the spear— | eoredcystum, ofestum gefysde, dareðlacende; | 11 | 4 | 7 |
50b | 51 | the_panther.txt | (50b-51) | (50b-51) | many troops of men venture upon the earth-ways, in a multitude of peoples, | beornþreat monig farað foldwegum folca þryþum, | 13 | 6 | 7 |
55 | 57a | the_panther.txt | (55-57a) | (55-57a) | Such is Lord God, Ruler of Joys, mild unto the rest of creation of every multitude— | Swa is dryhten god, dreama rædend, eallum eaðmede oþrum gesceaftum, duguða gehwylcre, | 16 | 12 | 4 |
53b | 54 | the_panther.txt | (53b-54) | (53b-54) | similarly wild beasts come running in that smell, after that calling. | deor efne swa some æfter þære stefne on þone stenc farað. | 11 | 11 | 0 |
45 | 46a | the_panther.txt | (45-46a) | (45-46a) | from that hollow, a pleasant emanation, sweeter and stronger | of þam wongstede, wynsumra steam, swettra ond swiþra | 9 | 8 | 1 |
46b | 47 | the_panther.txt | (46b-47) | (46b-47) | than any other fragrance, the blooming of herbs or forest flowerings, | swæcca gehwylcum, wyrta blostmum ond wudubledum, | 11 | 6 | 5 |
1 | 3 | the_panther.txt | (1-3) | (1-3) | There are many throughout middle-earth, an uncountable kindred, that we cannot rightly account the variety or know their number— | Monge sindon geond middangeard unrimu cynn, þe we æþelu ne magon ryhte areccan ne rim witan; | 19 | 16 | 3 |
4 | 6a | the_panther.txt | (4-6a) | (4-6a) | There are multitudes scattered widely of fowl and beasts, stalking the earth throughout the wide world and within it, | þæs wide sind geond world innan fugla ond deora foldhrerendra wornas widsceope, | 19 | 12 | 7 |
6b | 8a | the_panther.txt | (6b-8a) | (6b-8a) | so the waters enclose this bright bosom, the ocean roaring, the surge of salty waves. | swa wæter bibugeð þisne beorhtan bosm, brim grymetende, sealtyþa geswing. | 15 | 10 | 5 |
8b | 10 | the_panther.txt | (8b-10) | (8b-10) | We have heard spoken by certain men a wondrous species of wild beast, illustrious to men, in distant lands | We bi sumum hyrdon wrætlice gecynd wildra secgan firum freamærne feorlondum on | 19 | 12 | 7 |
11 | 12a | the_panther.txt | (11-12a) | (11-12a) | guarding its territory, enjoying its homeland among the earthen caves. | eard weardian, eðles neotan æfter dunscrafum. | 10 | 6 | 4 |
12b | 14 | the_panther.txt | (12b-14) | (12b-14) | That wild beast is called the Panther by name, so the children of humanity, wise-fast men, revealed in books | Is þæt deor pandher bi noman haten, þæs þe niþþa bearn, wisfæste weras on gewritum cyþað | 19 | 16 | 3 |
15 | 16a | the_panther.txt | (15-16a) | (15-16a) | about this solitary stepper. That one is friend to all, gracious to the multitudes, | bi þam anstapan. Se is æghwam freond, duguða estig, | 14 | 9 | 5 |
16b | 18 | the_panther.txt | (16b-18) | (16b-18) | except to the dragon alone, by whom he in all seasons is enraged, by every sort of evil that he can achieve. | butan dracan anum, þam he in ealle tid ondwrað leofaþ þurh yfla gehwylc þe he geæfnan mæg. | 22 | 17 | 5 |
19 | 20 | the_panther.txt | (19-20) | (19-20) | That is a wondrous beast, miraculously lovely, of every hue—so heroes say, | ðæt is wrætlic deor, wundrum scyne hiwa gehwylces; swa hæleð secgað, | 12 | 11 | 1 |
21 | 23a | the_panther.txt | (21-23a) | (21-23a) | holy-spirited men, that Joseph’s tunic was, of every branch varying color, every sort | gæsthalge guman, þætte Iosephes tunece wære telga gehwylces bleom bregdende, | 13 | 10 | 3 |
23b | 24 | the_panther.txt | (23b-24) | (23b-24) | of that brightness, in every way singular shining for the other | þara beorhtra gehwylc æghwæs ænlicra oþrum lixte | 11 | 7 | 4 |
48 | 50a | the_panther.txt | (48-50a) | (48-50a) | every adornment of this noble earth. Then from the cities and from the citadels and from the homely halls | eallum æþelicra eorþan frætwum. þonne of ceastrum ond cynestolum ond of burgsalum | 19 | 12 | 7 |
25 | 26a | the_panther.txt | (25-26a) | (25-26a) | children of the multitude, so is that beast’s hue, dazzling every color’s play, | dryhta bearnum, swa þæs deores hiw, blæc brigda gehwæs, | 13 | 9 | 4 |
29 | 30a | the_panther.txt | (29-30a) | (29-30a) | and lovely [hairs] shine forth from the other ornaments, singular besides, always the best. | ond fægerra frætwum bliceð, symle sellicra. | 14 | 6 | 8 |
30b | 32a | the_panther.txt | (30b-32a) | (30b-32a) | He possesses a unique quality— mild and moderate. He is gentle and kind, | He hafað sundorgecynd, milde, gemetfæst. He is monþwære, lufsum ond leoftæl, | 13 | 11 | 2 |
32b | 33a | the_panther.txt | (32b-33a) | (32b-33a) | loving and gracious, not wishing to endure anything loathsome, | nele laþes wiht ængum geæfnan | 9 | 5 | 4 |
33b | 34 | the_panther.txt | (33b-34) | (33b-34) | except the venomous harmer, his ancient foe, that I mentioned before. | butan þam attorsceaþan, his fyrngeflitan, þe ic ær fore sægde. | 11 | 10 | 1 |
35 | 36a | the_panther.txt | (35-36a) | (35-36) | Always desiring repletion, when it takes its meals— after its feasting it seeks | Symle fylle fægen, þonne foddor þigeð, æfter þam gereordum | 13 | 9 | 4 |
36b | 38a | the_panther.txt | (36b-38a) | (36b-38a) | its rest in a secret place within an earthen cave— there the mighty fighter | ræste seceð dygle stowe under dunscrafum; ðær se þeodwiga | 14 | 9 | 5 |
38b | 39 | the_panther.txt | (38b-39) | (38b-39) | for three nights’ space wends into slumber, occupied by sleep. | þreonihta fæc swifeð on swefote, slæpe gebiesgad. | 10 | 7 | 3 |
40 | 41 | the_panther.txt | (40-41) | (40-41) | Then the bravery-bold rises up again bolstered in its majesty, on the third day, | þonne ellenrof up astondeð, þrymme gewelgad, on þone þriddan dæg, | 14 | 10 | 4 |
42 | 43a | the_panther.txt | (42-43a) | (42-43a) | swiftly from sleep. Melodious sound emerges, the most winsome of cries | sneome of slæpe. Sweghleoþor cymeð, woþa wynsumast | 11 | 7 | 4 |
43b | 44 | the_panther.txt | (43b-44) | (43b-44) | through that wild beast’s mouth— and after that voice a scent comes forth | þurh þæs wildres muð. æfter þære stefne stenc ut cymeð | 13 | 10 | 3 |
57b | 58a | the_panther.txt | (57b-58a) | (57b-58a) | except for the dragon alone, the venomous origin. | butan dracan anum, attres ordfruman. | 8 | 5 | 3 |
26b | 28 | the_panther.txt | (26b-28) | (26b-28) | brighter and more beautiful, wondrously illumined, so that all of the well-wrought | beorhtra ond scynra wundrum lixeð, þætte wrætlicra æghwylc oþrum, ænlicra gien | 12 | 11 | 1 |
58b | 59 | the_panther.txt | (58b-59) | (58b-59) | That is the ancient enemy whom he bound at the base of torments | þæt is se ealda feond, þone he gesælde in susla grund, | 13 | 11 | 2 |
66b | 68 | the_panther.txt | (66b-68) | (66b-68) | throng in heaps from every side unto that scent across the entire turn of the earth. | soðfæste men on healfa gehwone heapum þrungon geond ealne ymbhwyrft eorþan sceata. | 16 | 12 | 4 |
62 | 63a | the_panther.txt | (62-63a) | (62-63a) | he arose from secrecy, after he suffered death for us for three nights, | of digle aras, þæs þe he deað fore us þreo niht þolade, | 13 | 12 | 1 |
73b | 74 | the_panther.txt | (73b-74) | (73b-74) | of all creation above and below.” That is a noble scent! | ealra gesceafta, uppe ge niþre." þæt is æþele stenc. | 11 | 9 | 2 |
71b | 73a | the_panther.txt | (71b-73a) | (71b-73a) | which the Almighty Father shares with us in gift and salvation and that is the solitary hope | þe us to giefe dæleð ond to feorhnere fæder ælmihtig, ond se anga hyht | 17 | 14 | 3 |
69 | 71a | the_panther.txt | (69-71a) | (69-71a) | So Saint Paul the wise man told: “There are many across middle-earth gracious with their goods | Swa se snottra gecwæð sanctus Paulus: "Monigfealde sind geond middangeard god ungnyðe | 16 | 12 | 4 |
60 | 61 | the_panther.txt | (60-61) | (60-61) | and fettered in olden chains, immured in constraints, and on the third day, | ond gefetrade fyrnum teagum, biþeahte þreanydum, ond þy þriddan dæge | 13 | 10 | 3 |
63b | 64 | the_panther.txt | (63b-64) | (63b-64) | Prince of Angels, Granter of Victory. That was the sweet odor, | þeoden engla, sigora sellend. þæt wæs swete stenc, | 11 | 8 | 3 |
65 | 66a | the_panther.txt | (65-66a) | (65-66a) | lovely and pleasant throughout the entire world. Afterwards truth fast men | wlitig ond wynsum geond woruld ealle. Siþþan to þam swicce | 11 | 10 | 1 |
0 | 0 | the_partridge.txt | (0-0) | null | I have heard told moreover about a certain bird wonderful… … fair, that word which the Prince of Glory spoke: “In any season, so you all turn towards me in troth within your minds, and you all yield to dark hellish crimes, so I always turn back to you at once with peaceful love, through a mild spirit. You all are reckoned and counted among the brightly glory-blessed afterwards, blazing brethren in the place of children.” Let us be soothing to God more eagerly, despising foul deeds, laboring towards peace, the multitude to the Lord, as long as day may shine for us, so that the most noble of dwellings be allowed to abide in the brightness of glory. Finit. | Hyrde ic secgan gen bi sumum fugle wundorlicne fæger, þæt word þe gecwæð wuldres ealdor: "In swa hwylce tiid swa ge mid treowe to me on hyge hweorfað, ond ge hellfirena sweartra geswicað, swa ic symle to eow mid siblufan sona gecyrre þurh milde mod. Ge beoð me siþþan torhte tireadge talade ond rimde, beorhte gebroþor on bearna stæl." Uton we þy geornor gode oliccan, firene feogan, friþes earnian, duguðe to dryhtne, þenden us dæg scine, þæt swa æþelne eardwica cyst in wuldres wlite wunian motan. Finit. | 120 | 87 | 33 |
381 | 392 | the_phoenix.txt | (381-392) | (381-92) | So every blessed man himself chooses eternal life after the painful wrack through dark death, so that he may enjoy the gifts of the Lord in perpetual bliss after his past days, and abide ever after in deeds of glory as reward. The nature of this bird, much like the chosen thanes of Christ in the cities, betokens how they held bright joy through the father’s help in this dangerous time under the heavens, and how they secured the highest profit for themselves in that heavenly homeland. | Swa þæt ece lif eadigra gehwylc æfter sarwræce sylf geceoseð þurh deorcne deað, þæt he dryhtnes mot æfter geardagum geofona neotan on sindreamum, ond siþþan a wunian in wuldre weorca to leane. þisses fugles gecynd fela gelices bi þam gecornum Cristes þegnum beacnað in burgum, hu hi beorhtne gefean þurh fæder fultum on þas frecnan tid healdaþ under heofonum, ond him heanne blæd in þam uplican eðle gestrynaþ. | 87 | 68 | 19 |
491 | 503a | the_phoenix.txt | (491-503a) | (491-503a) | Then many will be led to the moot, the kindred of men— the Father of Angels, the Truth-King of Victories, the Lord of Armies will hold council and judge them with righteousness. Then all men of earth shall all experience resurrection, just as the Mighty King commanded, the Lord of Angels, with a trumpet’s voice across the broad ground, the Savior of Souls. Through the Lord’s power dark death will be ended for the blessed. Nobly they shall turn, thronging in crowds, when this sin-working world shall burns in shame, kindled in the pyre. | ðonne monge beoð on gemot læded fyra cynnes; wile fæder engla, sigora soðcyning, seonoþ gehegan, duguða dryhten, deman mid ryhte. þonne æriste ealle gefremmaþ men on moldan, swa se mihtiga cyning beodeð, brego engla, byman stefne ofer sidne grund, sawla nergend. Bið se deorca deað dryhtnes meahtum eadgum geendad. æðele hweorfað, þreatum þringað, þonne þeos woruld, scyldwyrcende, in scome byrneð, ade onæled. | 94 | 62 | 32 |
393 | 406 | the_phoenix.txt | (393-406) | (393-406) | We have learned that the Almighty made man and woman through the fullness of his wonder, and they were then established in that best corner of the earth, that the children of men call Paradise-plain, where there was no want of prosperity while the word of the Eternal, his holy commandment would be kept in the newness of their joy. There hatred harmed them, the malice of their olden-foe, who offered them eat the fruit of the tree, which they both ate, with ill counsel over the mercy of God, and they tasted the forbidden apple. There misery became bitter for them after the eating and for their heirs, a grievous feast for their sons and daughters. | Habbaþ we geascad þæt se ælmihtiga worhte wer ond wif þurh his wundra sped, ond hi þa gesette on þone selestan foldan sceata, þone fira bearn nemnað neorxnawong, þær him nænges wæs eades onsyn, þenden eces word, halges hleoþorcwide, healdan woldan on þam niwan gefean. þær him niþ gescod, ealdfeondes æfest, se him æt gebead, beames blede, þæt hi bu þegun æppel unrædum ofer est godes, byrgdon forbodene. þær him bitter wearð yrmþu æfter æte ond hyra eaferum swa, sarlic symbel sunum ond dohtrum. | 117 | 84 | 33 |
407 | 423 | the_phoenix.txt | (407-423) | (407-23) | Their busy teeth were terribly punished after their guilt. They held the wrath of God, a bitter and baleful sorrow. Afterwards their child paid for their sorrow, they who accepted that morsel over the word of the Eternal. Therefore they must forsake sad-minded the joys of home through the spite of the serpent, when it deceived closely our forefather in days of old by its guileful heart, so that they sought a dwelling far thence in the valley of death, a sorrowful home. A better life was hidden from them in shadow, and that holy plain was closed up fast by the enemy’s wiles for many winters, until the Glory-King, the Joy of Mankind, Comforter of the Weary, and our Only Hope opened it up again for the holy by his coming hither. | Wurdon teonlice toþas idge ageald æfter gylte. Hæfdon godes yrre, bittre bealosorge. þæs þa byre siþþan gyrne onguldon, þe hi þæt gyfl þegun ofer eces word. Forþon hy eðles wyn geomormode ofgiefan sceoldon þurh nædran niþ, þa heo nearwe biswac yldran usse in ærdagum þurh fæcne ferð, þæt hi feor þonan in þas deaðdene drohtað sohton, sorgfulran gesetu. Him wearð selle lif heolstre bihyded, ond se halga wong þurh feondes searo fæste bityned wintra mengu, oþþæt wuldorcyning þurh his hidercyme halgum togeanes, moncynnes gefea, meþra frefrend, ond se anga hyht, eft ontynde. | 133 | 92 | 41 |
424 | 442 | the_phoenix.txt | (424-442) | (424-42) | This is most like, as learned men say to us wordfully and reveal by writing, the journey of this bird, when the aged Phoenix forsakes his home and native seat, and is grown old. He departs weary-hearted, weighed down by winters, to where he discovers a high shelter in the woods, and in that he builds with the most noble twigs and herbs a new abode, a nest in the grove. There is a great desire in him to be allowed, soul-young once again, to take up through the blast of fire life after death and be renewed, and then seek out his olden home, his sun-bright land after the flaming bath. Just so when our forefathers, Adam and Eve our ancestors, forsook that beautiful plain, the seat of glory, lovely in their tracks, and undertook the long journey in the harmer’s hand, where the hater, the miserable wretch, often did them injury. | Is þon gelicast, þæs þe us leorneras wordum secgað, ond writu cyþað, þisses fugles gefær, þonne frod ofgiefeð eard ond eþel, ond geealdad bið. Gewiteð werigmod, wintrum gebysgad, þær he holtes hleo heah gemeteð, in þam he getimbreð tanum ond wyrtum þam æþelestum eardwic niwe, nest on bearwe. Bið him neod micel þæt he feorhgeong eft onfon mote þurh liges blæst lif æfter deaþe, edgeong wesan, ond his ealdcyðþu, sunbeorht gesetu, secan mote æfter fyrbaðe. Swa ða foregengan, yldran usse, anforleton þone wlitigan wong ond wuldres setl, leoflic on laste, tugon longne sið in hearmra hond, þær him hettende, earme aglæcan, oft gescodan. | 153 | 103 | 50 |
443 | 450 | the_phoenix.txt | (443-450) | (443-50) | Nevertheless there were many, who obeyed the Measurer under the heavens with holy customs, glorious deeds, so that the Lord, Heaven’s High-King, became kindly in his heart towards them. That is the high tree in which the blessed now make their abode, where the olden-foe cannot scathe them a bit with venom, the sign of sin, in this terrible time. | Wæron hwæþre monge, þa þe meotude wel gehyrdun under heofonum halgum ðeawum, dædum domlicum, þæt him dryhten wearð, heofona heahcyning, hold on mode. ðæt is se hea beam in þam halge nu wic weardiað, þær him wihte ne mæg ealdfeonda nan atre sceþþan, facnes tacne, on þas frecnan tid. | 60 | 49 | 11 |
451 | 465a | the_phoenix.txt | (451-465a) | (451-65a) | There a nest is wrought for them against every malice by their glorious deeds and the champion of the Lord when he gives out alms to the wretched, deprived of glory, and invokes the Lord, the Father as a fulcrum, and is well employed on forth, and wipes out the iniquities of this loaned life, the dark deeds of evil, and he holds the law of the Measurer bold in his breast, and seeks out his prayers with clean thoughts, and bends his knee, noble to the earth, and flies from every evil, the grim guilts, for terror of God, and yearns glad-minded to perform deeds of the most good. The shield of God shall be theirs in every journey, the Warden of Victories, the Will-Giver of Hosts. | þær him nest wyrceð wið niþa gehwam dædum domlicum dryhtnes cempa, þonne he ælmessan earmum dæleð, dugeþa leasum, ond him dryhten gecygð, fæder on fultum, forð onetteð, lænan lifes leahtras dwæsceþ, mirce mandæde, healdeð meotudes æ beald in breostum, ond gebedu seceð clænum gehygdum, ond his cneo bigeð æþele to eorþan, flyhð yfla gehwylc, grimme gieltas, for godes egsan, glædmod gyrneð þæt he godra mæst dæda gefremme; þam biþ dryhten scyld in siþa gehwane, sigora waldend, weoruda wilgiefa. | 128 | 78 | 50 |
465b | 481 | the_phoenix.txt | (465b-481) | (465b-81) | These are the herbs, the fruits of the blossom, which the wild fowl gather under the sky from far and wide to his dwelling-place, where the Phoenix, fixed in wonder, against every malice, constructs his nest. So now in that place the champions of the Measurer perform his pleasures with mind and might, and strive for renown, for which the Eternal Almighty wishes to repay them with blessed reward. A home shall be established from these herbs for them in a city of glory as recompense for their works, because they have kept holy precept, hot at their heart, welling in their mind, all day and all night, and they love the Lord, choosing the light and beloved belief over the worldly wealth. They have no joyful hope that they will live long in this loaned life. | þis þa wyrta sind, wæstma blede, þa se wilda fugel somnað under swegle side ond wide to his wicstowe, þær he wundrum fæst wið niþa gehwam nest gewyrceð. Swa nu in þam wicum willan fremmað mode ond mægne meotudes cempan, mærða tilgað; þæs him meorde wile ece ælmihtig eadge forgildan. Beoð him of þam wyrtum wic gestaþelad in wuldres byrig weorca to leane, þæs þe hi geheoldan halge lare hate æt heortan, hige weallende dæges ond nihtes dryhten lufiað, leohte geleafan leofne ceosað ofer woruldwelan; ne biþ him wynne hyht þæt hy þis læne lif long gewunien. | 137 | 97 | 40 |
482 | 490 | the_phoenix.txt | (482-490) | (482-90) | Thus the blessed man earns in courage eternal joy and a heavenly home with the High-King, until the end of the count of days will come, when death, a slaughter-greedy warrior, will seize armed with many weapons, the lives of everyone, and into the bosom of the earth swiftly send the captured souls and loaned life-houses, where they will be covered by loam for a long time until the coming of the fire. | þus eadig eorl ecan dreames, heofona hames mid heahcyning earnað on elne, oþþæt ende cymeð dogorrimes, þonne deað nimeð, wiga wælgifre, wæpnum geþryþed, ealdor anra gehwæs, ond in eorþan fæðm snude sendeð sawlum binumene læne lichoman, þær hi longe beoð oð fyres cyme foldan biþeahte. | 73 | 45 | 28 |
503b | 517 | the_phoenix.txt | (503b-517) | (503b-517) | Everyone shall become fearful in their souls when the fire destroys this loaned land-wealth, the flames consuming all the treasures of earth, appled gold gripped greedily, speedily swallowed the adornments of this world. Then in that revelatory hour the fair and joyous symbol of that bird shall come into the light for all these men, when all that power shall be raised from the tombs, gathering up the bones and the body’s limbs alike, and the spirit of life before the knee of Christ. Majestically the King from his high throne will shine upon the holy, the beautiful Gem of Glory. It would be well for him to be allowed to be pleasing to God on that sorrowful day. | Weorþeð anra gehwylc forht on ferþþe, þonne fyr briceð læne londwelan, lig eal þigeð eorðan æhtgestreon, æpplede gold gifre forgripeð, grædig swelgeð londes frætwe. þonne on leoht cymeð ældum þisses in þa openan tid fæger ond gefealic fugles tacen, þonne anwald eal up astelleð of byrgenum, ban gegædrað, leomu lic somod, ond lifes gæst, fore Cristes cneo. Cyning þrymlice of his heahsetle halgum scineð, wlitig wuldres gim. Wel biþ þam þe mot in þa geomran tid gode lician. | 119 | 78 | 41 |
557 | 569 | the_phoenix.txt | (557-569) | (557-569) | And then after death through the Lord’s gift, just as the Phoenix bird is allowed to possess life again renewed after its resurrection, joys with the Lord, where that beloved throng praised the loved. I cannot wait for the end of this life forever, of light and bliss. Though my body must decay in its mouldy hall, the pleasure of worms, yet the God of Hosts after the season of death will release my soul and wake it in glory. My hope will never be found wanting in my breast, for which I have everlasting delight fixed in the Lord of Angels.” | ond þonne æfter deaþe þurh dryhtnes giefe swa se fugel fenix feorh edniwe æfter æriste agan mote, dreamas mid dryhten, þær seo deore scolu leofne lofiað. Ic þæs lifes ne mæg æfre to ealdre ende gebidan, leohtes ond lissa. þeah min lic scyle on moldærne molsnad weorþan wyrmum to willan, swa þeah weoruda god æfter swylthwile sawle alyseð ond in wuldor aweceð. Me þæs wen næfre forbirsteð in breostum, ðe ic in brego engla forðweardne gefean fæste hæbbe." | 102 | 78 | 24 |
534b | 545 | the_phoenix.txt | (534b-545) | (534b-45) | So will be any one of the kindred of men clothed in flesh, unique and revived, who works his own will here on earth so that the mighty Glory-King at the judgment shall become merciful unto him. Then the holy souls shall sing, the spirits truthfast, heaving up their song, the pure and the elect, praising the majesty of the King, voice after voice, ascending to glory— lovely scented amid their good deeds. Then the ghosts of men shall be cleansed, brightly purified by the burning flames. | Swa bið anra gehwylc flæsce bifongen fira cynnes, ænlic ond edgeong, se þe his agnum her willum gewyrceð þæt him wuldorcyning meahtig æt þam mæþle milde geweorþeð. þonne hleoþriað halge gæstas, sawla soðfæste, song ahebbað, clæne ond gecorene, hergað cyninges þrym, stefn æfter stefne, stigað to wuldre wlitige gewyrtad mid hyra weldædum. Beoð þonne amerede monna gæstas, beorhte abywde þurh bryne fyres. | 87 | 62 | 25 |
546 | 556 | the_phoenix.txt | (546-556) | (546-556) | Let none of the sons of men reckon that I render with false words this song, or write only in verse-craft. Hear the prophecy of the story of Job. By the fruit of the soul he was inspired in his breast, speaking boldly, worthying in glory, and he spoke these words: “I do not reject it with the thoughts of my heart, so that in my nest I choose my death-bed, a life-weary man, and depart thence abjected upon a lengthy journey, covered by loam, miserable of my former deeds, in the embrace of earth. | Ne wene þæs ænig ælda cynnes þæt ic lygewordum leoð somnige, write woðcræfte. Gehyrað witedom Iobes gieddinga. þurh gæstes blæd breostum onbryrded, beald reordade, wuldre geweorðad; he þæt word gecwæð: "Ic þæt ne forhycge heortan geþoncum, þæt ic in minum neste neobed ceose, hæle hrawerig, gewite hean þonan on longne sið, lame bitolden, geomor gudæda, in greotes fæðm, | 95 | 58 | 37 |
368 | 380 | the_phoenix.txt | (368-380) | (368-80) | Therefore he never fears drooping death, the sore killing blow, because he knows that life is always renewed after the flame’s wrack, the soul after its fall, when it is swiftly restored from the ashes through the bird’s nature, rejuvenated under the sheltering sky. He is both his own son and his dear father, and always again heir to the remains of his life. The Mighty Origin of Mankind grants him that he so wonderfully must become again the same that he was before, clothed in feathers, though the fire took him. | Forþon he drusende deað ne bisorgað, sare swyltcwale, þe him symle wat æfter ligþræce lif edniwe, feorh æfter fylle, þonne fromlice þurh briddes had gebreadad weorðeð eft of ascan, edgeong weseð under swegles hleo. Bið him self gehwæðer sunu ond swæs fæder, ond symle eac eft yrfeweard ealdre lafe. Forgeaf him se meahta moncynnes fruma þæt he swa wrætlice weorþan sceolde eft þæt ilce þæt he ær þon wæs, feþrum bifongen, þeah hine fyr nime. | 92 | 75 | 17 |
570 | 588 | the_phoenix.txt | (570-588) | (570-88) | Thus the aged man in his elder-days sang wise-minded, God’s messenger, about his resurrection into eternal life, so that we could understand the more eagerly the glory-fixed sign that the bright bird betokens by its burning. The remains of its bones, ashes, and cinders, he gathers together after the fire-lighting, afterwards the bird bears them in his claws to the home of his Lord, towards the sun. There they dwell after for many winters, renewed with blossoms, everything rejuvenated, where nothing can menace them with harm in that land. So now after death through the power of the Lord soul fares together with body, fairly ornamented, much like the bird in blessedness with noble scents, where the lovely and truth-fast sun shines over the multitude in the city of glory. | ðus frod guma on fyrndagum gieddade gleawmod, godes spelboda, ymb his æriste in ece lif, þæt we þy geornor ongietan meahten tirfæst tacen þæt se torhta fugel þurh bryne beacnað. Bana lafe, ascan ond yslan, ealle gesomnað æfter ligbryne, lædeþ siþþan fugel on fotum to frean geardum, sunnan togeanes. þær hi siþþan forð wuniað wintra fela, wæstmum geniwad, ealles edgiong, þær ænig ne mæg in þam leodscype læþþum hwopan. Swa nu æfter deaðe þurh dryhtnes miht somod siþiaþ sawla mid lice, fægre gefrætwed, fugle gelicast, in eadwelum æþelum stencum, þær seo soþfæste sunne lihteð wlitig ofer weoredum in wuldres byrig. | 130 | 100 | 30 |
589 | 610 | the_phoenix.txt | (589-610) | (589-610) | Then holy Christ, high over its roofs, will shine upon the sooth-fast souls. Brilliant birds follow him, brightly renewed, exultant in bliss in the gladsome home, selected spirits, eternal forever. There evil cannot do him injury, the stained fiend with malicious crimes, yet there an illuminated host lives forever, just as that bird the Phoenix, in the peace of the Lord, lovely in glory. The deeds of each one sparkles brightly in that blissful home ever in concord, before the face of the Eternal Lord, just like the sun. There the brightest bracelet, set with wondrous precious stones, each one blessed, towering overhead. Their heads glisten, covered by majesty. The wonderful crown of the Prince graces each one of the sooth-fast, light in their life, where that lengthy joy, eternal and forever young, will never diminish, but they will abide in beauty, arrayed in glory, with lovely ornaments, by the Father of Angels. | ðonne soðfæstum sawlum scineð heah ofer hrofas hælende Crist. Him folgiað fuglas scyne, beorhte gebredade, blissum hremige, in þam gladan ham, gæstas gecorene, ece to ealdre. þær him yfle ne mæg fah feond gemah facne sceþþan, ac þær lifgað a leohte werede, swa se fugel fenix, in freoþu dryhtnes, wlitige in wuldre. Weorc anra gehwæs beorhte bliceð in þam bliþan ham fore onsyne ecan dryhtnes, symle in sibbe, sunnan gelice. þær se beorhta beag, brogden wundrum eorcnanstanum, eadigra gehwam hlifað ofer heafde. Heafelan lixað, þrymme biþeahte. ðeodnes cynegold soðfæstra gehwone sellic glengeð leohte in life, þær se longa gefea, ece ond edgeong, æfre ne sweþrað, ac hy in wlite wuniað, wuldre bitolden fægrum frætwum, mid fæder engla. | 153 | 117 | 36 |
611 | 621 | the_phoenix.txt | (611-621) | (611-621) | Nor will there be anything in that place to sorrow them evil nor poverty nor days of struggle, burning hunger nor severe thirst, misery nor old age. The Noble King shall grant them every good thing. There the flock of souls shall exalt the Savior and shall celebrate the power of the Heaven-King, mounting praises to the Measurer. The heavenly host shall sing the greatest of songs, clear about the holy throne of God, blessing the best and joyous Lord, abounding amid the angels, speaking thus in harmonious voices: | Ne bið him on þam wicum wiht to sorge, wroht ne weþel ne gewindagas, hungor se hata ne se hearda þurst, yrmþu ne yldo. Him se æþela cyning forgifeð goda gehwylc. þær gæsta gedryht hælend hergað ond heofoncyninges meahte mærsiað, singað metude lof. Swinsað sibgedryht swega mæste hædre ymb þæt halge heahseld godes, bliþe bletsiað bregu selestan eadge mid englum, efenhleoþre þus: | 89 | 62 | 27 |
622 | 631 | the_phoenix.txt | (622-631) | (622-31) | “Peace be to you, true God, and your wisdom-craft, and thanks be to you sitting in majesty for these fresh gifts, each one good! Great strength and unmatched in power, high and holy! The heavens are filled with your fairness, Father Almighty, majesty of all majesties, with your glory up among the angels and upon the earth at the same time. Protect us, Shaper of Beginnings! You are our Father Almighty in your heights, the Warden of Heaven!” | "Sib si þe, soð god, ond snyttrucræft, ond þe þonc sy þrymsittendum geongra gyfena, goda gehwylces. Micel, unmæte mægnes strengðu, heah ond halig! Heofonas sindon fægre gefylled, fæder ælmihtig, ealra þrymma þrym, þines wuldres, uppe mid englum ond on eorðan somod. Gefreoþa usic, frymþa scyppend! þu eart fæder ælmihtig in heannesse, heofuna waldend." | 78 | 53 | 25 |
632 | 642a | the_phoenix.txt | (632-642a) | (632-642a) | Thus regale the right-doing, cleansed of their evils, in the famous city. They proclaim the kingly majesty, singing the praises of the Emperor in the skies, the multitude of the truth-fast, for whom alone is their honor perpetual forwards without end. There was never a start, a beginning of his blessing. Though he was conceived in childhood here on earth, in the middle-land, yet the bounty of his power, holy and high over heaven, remains, a glory unending. | ðus reordiað ryhtfremmende, manes amerede, in þære mæran byrig; cyneþrym cyþað, caseres lof singað on swegle soðfæstra gedryht, þam anum is ece weorðmynd forð butan ende. Næs his frymð æfre, eades ongyn. þeah he on eorþan her þurh cildes had cenned wære in middangeard, hwæþre his meahta sped heah ofer heofonum halig wunade, dom unbryce. | 78 | 55 | 23 |
642b | 654 | the_phoenix.txt | (642b-654) | (642b-54) | Though he must suffer the blow of death on the rood tree, that terrible torment, by the third day after his body’s fall he assumed life again through the help of the Father. So the Phoenix signifies, fresh in the fold, the might of the God-child, when he rises once more from the ashes into the life of lives, equipped with his limbs. So the Savior effected us aid, through the parting of his life, life without end, so the bird lades his two wings with sweet and pleasant herbs, with fair earth-fruits, when he becomes incited. | þeah he deaþes cwealm on rode treow ræfnan sceolde, þearlic wite, he þy þriddan dæge æfter lices hryre lif eft onfeng þurh fæder fultum. Swa fenix beacnað, geong in geardum, godbearnes meaht, þonne he of ascan eft onwæcneð in lifes lif, leomum geþungen. Swa se hælend us helpe gefremede þurh his lices gedal, lif butan ende, swa se fugel swetum his fiþru tu ond wynsumum wyrtum gefylleð, fægrum foldwæstmum, þonne afysed bið. | 97 | 72 | 25 |
655 | 666 | the_phoenix.txt | (655-666) | (655-66) | Those are the words, just as the books say to us, the speech of the sainted, whose heart will be kindled to heaven, to the merciful God, into the joy of joys, where they bring to their Lord, to their Measurer, the wholesome scent of their words and deeds as a gift into that famous creation, into that light life. May their praises to him be enduring through this world of worlds, and the fruit of glory, power and honor, in the lofty kingdom of heaven. He is by rights the King of middle-earth and the power majestic, wound about with glory in that beautiful city. | þæt sindon þa word, swa us gewritu secgað, hleoþor haligra, þe him to heofonum bið, to þam mildan gode, mod afysed in dreama dream, þær hi dryhtne to giefe worda ond weorca wynsumne stenc in þa mæran gesceaft meotude bringað, in þæt leohte lif. Sy him lof symle þurh woruld worulda, ond wuldres blæd, ar ond onwald, in þam uplican rodera rice. He is on ryht cyning middangeardes ond mægenþrymmes, wuldre biwunden in þære wlitigan byrig. | 106 | 76 | 30 |
667 | 677 | the_phoenix.txt | (667-677) | (667-677) | The author of light has granted us that we may here obtain attain with good deeds joy in heaven that we may in the greatest kingdom seek out and occupy in that high seat, live in the delight of light and peace possess a home of pleasant gladness enjoy fruiting days gracious and mild see the Lord of Victories with everlasting praise blessed amid the angels. Hallelujah! | Hafað us alyfed lucis auctor þæt we motun her merueri, goddædum begietan gaudia in celo, þær we motun maxima regna secan ond gesittan sedibus altis, lifgan in lisse lucis et pacis, agan eardinga almæ letitie, brucan blæddaga, blandem et mitem geseon sigora frean sine fine, ond him lof singan laude perenne, eadge mid englum. Alleluia. | 67 | 55 | 12 |
518 | 534a | the_phoenix.txt | (518-534a) | (518-534a) | There those life-homes, clean of their sins shall go glad-minded, turning their spirits in their bone-vessels, when the burning ascends high to the heavens. Many will be hot, terrifyingly kindled when every one the truthfast and the sinning, soul with the body, from the mouldy grave shall seek the glory of the Lord, terrified. The flames will be in motion, ignited by sin. There those blessed men shall be, after their season of exile, clothed by their works, their own deeds. That is what those noble and winsome herbs betoken, that wild fowl among them, his own nest surrounding him without, which is suddenly burned by the fire, scorched under the sun, and himself therein, and then after the flames life is again taken up renewed. | ðær þa lichoman, leahtra clæne, gongað glædmode, gæstas hweorfað in banfatu, þonne bryne stigeð heah to heofonum. Hat bið monegum egeslic æled, þonne anra gehwylc, soðfæst ge synnig, sawel mid lice, from moldgrafum seceð meotudes dom, forhtafæred. Fyr bið on tihte, æleð uncyste. þær þa eadgan beoð æfter wræchwile weorcum bifongen, agnum dædum. þæt þa æþelan sind wyrta wynsume, mid þam se wilda fugel his sylfes nest biseteð utan, þæt hit færinga fyre byrneð, forsweleð under sunnan, ond he sylfa mid, ond þonne æfter lige lif eft onfehð edniwinga. | 126 | 89 | 37 |
350 | 367 | the_phoenix.txt | (350-367) | (350-67) | V. And so the blessed bird after the hour of his death soon revisits his olden home, fairest on earth. The birds return from that warfarer sad-minded again to their homes. Then that noble one is young in his yard. God alone knows, the King Almighty, what sex he is: whether female or male. None of the kindred of men knows that, except the Measurer alone, how those facts are wonderful, the lovely and ancient decree of the bird’s gender. There the blessed one may enjoy his homeland, the welling waters within the wooded glade, dwelling upon the plain until a thousand winters have run. Then is the end of his life; the pyre will engulf him through kindled flame. Yet will it be awakened again miraculously and wonderfully back to life. | Swa se gesæliga æfter swylthwile his ealdcyðþe eft geneosað, fægre foldan. Fugelas cyrrað from þam guðfrecan geomormode eft to earde. þonne se æþeling bið giong in geardum. God ana wat, cyning ælmihtig, hu his gecynde bið, wifhades þe weres; þæt ne wat ænig monna cynnes, butan meotod ana, hu þa wisan sind wundorlice, fæger fyrngesceap, ymb þæs fugles gebyrd. þær se eadga mot eardes neotan, wyllestreama wuduholtum in, wunian in wonge, oþþæt wintra bið þusend urnen. þonne him weorþeð ende lifes; hine ad þeceð þurh æledfyr. Hwæþre eft cymeð aweaht wrætlice wundrum to life. | 132 | 94 | 38 |
290 | 304 | the_phoenix.txt | (290-304) | (290-304) | That fowl is fair of hue from the front flecked with various colors about his breast before. His head is green behind, wondrously varied and blended with purple. Then is his tail fairly colored, some brown, some red, some with black spots, cunningly covered. Those wings are white at the back, and the neck green below and above, and the beak shines like glass or gemstone, his jaws sparkle within and without. The nature of his eye is piercing and much like the hue of a stone, a merry gem when it is set into a golden vessel by the skill of smiths. | æþeltungla wyn, eastan lixeð. Is se fugel fæger forweard hiwe, bleobrygdum fag ymb þa breost foran. Is him þæt heafod hindan grene, wrætlice wrixled, wurman geblonden. þonne is se finta fægre gedæled, sum brun, sum basu, sum blacum splottum searolice beseted. Sindon þa fiþru hwit hindanweard, ond se hals grene nioþoweard ond ufeweard, ond þæt nebb lixeð swa glæs oþþe gim, geaflas scyne innan ond utan. Is seo eaggebyrd stearc ond hiwe stane gelicast, gladum gimme, þonne in goldfate smiþa orþoncum biseted weorþeð. | 103 | 83 | 20 |
320 | 330 | the_phoenix.txt | (320-330) | (320-30) | Then he seeks to go to the plains, his old home, from this native ground. As the fowl flies, it appears to the people, to many men throughout middle-earth, then they assemble from the south and the north, from east and west, in a band on horseback, they travel far and near in a host of people where they behold the gift of the Shaper fair in that fowl, just as he established him at the start, the Truth-King of Victories, the best of his species, more lovely in adornments than the kindred of birds. | þonne he gewiteð wongas secan, his ealdne eard, of þisse eþeltyrf. Swa se fugel fleogeð, folcum oðeaweð mongum monna geond middangeard, þonne somniað suþan ond norþan, eastan ond westan, eoredciestum, farað feorran ond nean folca þryþum þær hi sceawiaþ scyppendes giefe fægre on þam fugle, swa him æt fruman sette sigora soðcyning sellicran gecynd, frætwe fægerran ofer fugla cyn. | 95 | 59 | 36 |
Subsets and Splits