The Anglo-Saxon period, also called the Early Medieval Literary Period, part of
The Anglo-Saxon period, also called the Early Medieval Literary Period, part of the Middle Ages
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8-23-2017
The Wife’s Lament
Christian Beck
University of Central Florida<EMAIL_ADDRESS>Part of the Literature in English, British Isles Commons, and the Medieval Studies Commons
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Beck, Christian, “The Wife’s Lament” (2017). Faculty Scholarship and Creative Works. 122. https://stars.library.ucf.edu/ucfscholar/122
The Wife’s Lament
Translation by Dr. Christian Beck
I make this song of myself, full of sorrow,
about my fate[1]. I can surely tell
what hardships I endured,
since I have grown up,
new and old, never more than now.
5 I must ever suffer my misery of exile.
First my lord[2] left his people over the waves;
at dawn I worry in what land my lord may be.
I departed on a journey, a friendless exile,
10 to find a place for my grievous need,
my lord’s kinsmen began to consider
in secret that they would separate us,
so that we, far apart in the world-realm
lived most wretchedly, and me in languish.
15 My lord commanded me to take up dwelling here.[3]
In this place, I had little valued,
honored friends; for that is my great misery.
Then I found my lord was like myself
— unfortunate, full of sorrow,
20 concealing violence, plotting murder—
with joyous demeanor we often vowed
that only death could part us, nothing else.
All that is changed; it has come to pass as though our love
25 had never been. I must, far and near,
suffer the deadly-feud of my much-beloved.[4]
I was ordered to live in a wooded grove
under an oak tree in an earth-cave. [5]
Old is this earth-hall; I am seized with longing.
30 The dales are dark, the hills high,
harsh hedges[6] overgrown with briars,
a joyless home. Here my lord’s departure
brutally lays hold of me. There are friends on earth,
lovers living together, lying in bed,
35 while I depart alone through the earth-cave,
under the oak tree at the break of day.
There I may sit the summer-long day;
There I may weep for my many difficult
journeys of exile, for then I may never
40 find comfort for that heart felt sorrow,
nor all that longing that I have in this life.
If a young man must be sad-hearted,
harsh heart-thoughts, let him have
a happy demeanor with that breast-care (i.e., heartache),
45 a multitude of everlasting sorrows[7]. Whether he is dependent onhimself
for all his world’s joy, or he is banished
far from his homeland, my friend sits
under a stony, frost-covered cliff.
A downcast lord surrounded by water
50 in a dreary-hall, my lord endures
great sorrow of the mind; he remembers too often
a more joyous dwelling-place. Woe to him
who languishes awaiting a