Animals -- Folklore -- Early works to 1800; Animals -- Folklore -- Poetry; Bestiaries; Didactic poetry, English (Old); Exeter book
The weary-hearted sailors mount the isle,
And, free from thought of peril, there abide.
Elated, on the sands they build a fire,
A mounting blaze. There, light of heart, they sit--
No more discouraged--eager for sweet rest.
Then when the crafty fiend perceives that men,
Encamped upon him, making their abode,
Enjoy the gentle weather, suddenly
Under the salty waves he plunges down,
Straight to the bottom deep he drags his prey;
He, guest of ocean, in his watery haunts
Drowns ships and men, and fast imprisons them
Within the halls of death.
Such is the way
Of demons, devils' wiles: to hide their power,
And stealthily inveigle heedless men,
Inciting them against all worthy deeds,
And luring them to seek for help and comfort
* * * * *
on that island; the vessels stand by the beach, enringed by the flood.
The weary-hearted sailors then encamp, dreaming not of peril.
On the island they start a fire, kindle a mounting flame. The dispirited
heroes, eager for repose, are flushed with joy. Now when the cunning
plotter feels that the seamen are firmly established upon him, and have
settled down to enjoy the weather, the guest of ocean sinks without
warning into the salt wave with his prey (?), and makes for the bottom,
thus whelming ships and men in that abode of death.
Such is the way of demons, the wont of devils: they spend their lives in
outwitting men by their secret power, inciting them to the corruption of
good deeds, misguiding
* * * * *
frōfre tō fēondum, oþþæt hy fæste ðǣr
æt þām wǣrlogan wīc gecēosað.
Þonne þæt gecnāweð of cwicsūsle
flāh fēond gemāh, þætte fīra gehwylc
40 hæleþa cynnes on his hringe biþ
fæste gefēged, hē him feorgbona,
þurh slīþen searo, siþþan weorþeð,
wloncum and hēanum þe his willan hēr
firenum fremmað; mid þām hē fǣringa,
45 heoloþhelme biþeaht, helle sēceð,
gōda gēasne, grundlēasne wylm
under mistglōme, swā se micla hwæl
se þe bisenceð sǣlīþende
eorlas and ȳðmearas.
Hē hafað ōþre gecynd,
50 wæterþisa wlonc, wrǣtlīcran gīen.
Þonne hine on holme hunger bysgað,
and þone āglǣcan ǣtes lysteþ,
ðonne se mereweard mūð ontȳneð,
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account