Oft him anhaga
Are gebideð
Metudes miltse
þeah þe he modcearig
Geond lagulade
Longe sceolde
Hreran mid hondum
Hrimcealde sæ
Wadan wræclastas
Wyrd bið ful aræd

Swa cwæð eardstapa
Earfeþa gemyndig
Wraþra wælsleahta
Winemæga hryre

Oft ic sceolde ana
Uhtna gehwylce
Mine ceare cwiþan
Nis nu cwicra nan
þe ic him modsefan
Minne durre
Sweotule asecgan

Ic to soþe wat
þæt biþ in eorle
Indryhten þeaw
þæt he his ferðlocan
Fæste binde
Healde his hordcofan
Hycge swa he wille
Ne mæg werig mod
wyrde wiðstondan

Wyrd bið ful aræd

Wreteched sorrowful
Bereft of the homeland
Bury my thoughts and Gods in the the dirt
Cast to the waves as a stripped out carcass
Salt sore eyes burn Cold in the hurt
Gone are the kith and the kin at the fireside
Path of the exiled cradling he
Gone is the mead and the gold of the noble
Come is the dark of a restless sleep
Green leviathan slithers in the silence
Sea birds floating on the surface preen
Frost and snow form heavy in the dull light
Fallow and friendless row with me
Wounds of the the heart run deeper than the ocean
Pining for the hall and the lord of men
Spirit of the seafarer swims ever
Farther away from the eyes that see
Rumination
This soul will not grow dark in the wonder of a mans life
Ruination
This earth will tear apart it will fall and decay
No man is wise from the sunrise
Many shall sink for the flower to bloom
Never impatient never impulsive
Burning to speak or warrior weak
The man with a proud heart
Hold till this oath shines bright with the words of truth
In wisdom lies the knowledge of the terror that will rise
When the world dies
Bitten by the wind entombed in frost
Storm swept ederas halls of decay
Grey faced lords all the men lie fallen
So the Creator lays to waste

Where does the horse run
Where does the rider lay
Where now the feast and the revel in the hall
Alas for the bright cup
Alas for the warrior
Alas for the splendour of the noble good
Time is a ghost now withered into memory
Shrouded in the night as if it never had been
Wonderous wall wound round with a serpent
Warriors taken by the glory of spears
Weapons ever ready grin greedy for the slaughter
Storm bites stone frost fetters this earth
Into the face of the land spits winter
Carried on the wings of a cold harbinger


þonne won cymeð
nipeð nihtscua
norþan onsendeð
hreo hæglfare
hæleþum on andan
Eall is earfoðlic
eorþan rice
onwendeð wyrda gesceaft
weoruld under heofonum

Her bið feoh læne
Her bið freond læne
Her bið mon læne
Her bið mæg læne
Eal þis eorþan gesteal
Idel weorþeð

Swa cwæð snottor on mode
Gesæt him sundor æt rune
Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ
Ne sceal næfre his torn to rycene
Beorn of his breostum acyþan
Nemþe he ær þa bote cunne
Eorl mid elne gefremman
Wel bið þam þe him are seceð
Frofre to Fæder on heofonum
þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð