"The Husband's Message," anonymous Anglo-Saxon lyric

The Husband’s Message

[Text of the poem in the original Anglo-Saxon]

Nu ic onsundran þe     secgan wille
. . . . . . treocyn     ic tudre aweox;
in mec æld . . . sceal     ellor londes
settan . . . . . .     sealte streamas

. . . sse.     Ful oft ic on bates
. . . . . . gesohte
þær mec mondryhten     min . . . . . .
ofer heah hofu;     eom nu her cumen
on ceolþele,     ond nu cunnan scealt

hu þu ymb modlufan     mines frean
on hyge hycge.     Ic gehatan dear
þæt þu þær tirfæste     treowe findest.
Hwæt, þec þonne biddan het     se þisne beam agrof
þæt þu sinchroden     sylf gemunde

on gewitlocan     wordbeotunga,
þe git on ærdagum     oft gespræcon,
þenden git moston     on meoduburgum
eard weardigan,     an lond bugan,
freondscype fremman.     Hine fæhþo adraf

of sigeþeode;     heht nu sylfa þe
lustum læran,     þæt þu lagu drefde,
siþþan þu gehyrde     on hliþes oran
galan geomorne     geac on bearwe.
Ne læt þu þec siþþan     siþes getwæfan,

lade gelettan     lifgendne monn.
Ongin mere secan,     mæwes eþel,
onsite sænacan,     þæt þu suð heonan
ofer merelade     monnan findest,
þær se þeoden is     þin on wenum.

Ne mæg him worulde     willa gelimpan
mara on gemyndum,     þæs þe he me sægde,
þonne inc geunne     alwaldend god
. . . . . . ætsomne     siþþan motan
secgum ond gesiþum     s . . .

næglede beagas;     he genoh hafað
fædan goldes
. . . d elþeode     eþel healde,
fægre foldan
. . . ra hæleþa,     þeah þe her min wine . . .
nyde gebæded,     nacan ut aþrong, 

ond on yþa geong . . . . . . sceolde
faran on flotweg,     forðsiþes georn,
mengan merestreamas.     Nu se mon hafað
wean oferwunnen;     nis him wilna gad,

ne meara ne maðma     ne meododreama,
ænges ofer eorþan     eorlgestreona,
þeodnes dohtor,     gif he þin beneah
ofer eald gebeot     incer twega.
Gecyre ic ætsomne     ᛋ ᚱ geador

ᛠ ᚹ ond ᛞ     aþe benemnan, 
þæt he þa wære     ond þa winetreowe
be him lifgendum     læstan wolde,
þe git on ærdagum     oft gespræconn.

[Modern English translation by Michael Schmidt]

The Husband’s Message

To you far away     I carry this message

I remain true     to the tree I was hacked from

Wood I am, bearing     the marks of a man

Letters and runes     the words of his heart

I come from afar     borne on salt currents

Hiss . . .     in a hull I sought and I sought you

Where would I find you     my lord despatched me

Over fathomless seas     I’ve come, here I am

Do you think of him still     my lord in your dear heart

Do you recall him     or is your mind bare

He remains true to you     true and with fixed desire

You try his faith     you’ll find it stands firm

But hear me now, read     what is scratched on my surface

You, cherished treasure, dear     you in your youthful

Your hidden heart, dear     remember your vows

Your heart and his heart     when together you haunted

The lovely hamlets     the mead hall, the promise

To perform your love

                                             Well, all of that ended

In feud and in flight     he was forced from that place

Now he has sent me     to ask you come to me

Cross the seas, come to me     come here with joy

When to your listening     on the steep hillside

First comes the cuckoo’s voice     sad in the trees

Don’t pause don’t linger     come at that calling

Don’t stay or delay     come at that call

Go down to the shore     set out to sea then

To the tern’s chilly home     go south go south

Over the ragged sea     south find your lord

Come to him, there     he waits for you wedded

To your sure arrival     no other wish

But only the wish of you     You’re in his mind

Almighty God’s there     his power rebind you

One to the other     again as you were

Able to rule then     able to raise up

Your people, comrades     and endow you with jewels

Bracelets and carcanets     collars and combs

He has set aside for you     fair gold, bright gemstones

In a land far away     among foreign folk

A handsome mansion     hectares and cattle

Faithful retainers

                                  though when he set out

Pursued and a pauper     he pointed his prow

Out to the sea     alone set out sailing

Lost in his exile     yet eager to go

Weaving the currents     time in his veins

Now truly that man     has passed beyond pain

He has all he wants     has horses, has treasure

The great hall’s warm welcome     gifts the earth yields

Princess, Princess     you too are his portion

Remember the promises     each of you vowed

The sealing silences     he made and you made

A letter, a syllable     nothing is lost

What seem erasures     are kisses and praying

Are runes that keep counsel     a promise in touch

A promise in looking     how staunch he has stayed to you

Above him the heavens     the earth under foot

A man of his word he is     true to your contract

The twining of wills     in those days gone in time

Source of the text - The Word Exchange: Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation, Edited by Greg Delanty and Michael Matto.  New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2011, pp. 53-56.

TJB: Treemail. Riddlelike, burnmarked, devotional, ironic & earnest as hell, this lyric stresses its textuality beyond the grave & ends in runes.