The Seafarer Might I of the mere1-strife meet verse fashion, Roamings ration2, how I, struggling sea-weeks, Scourges suffered ever. Acrid anguish ate my heart fast-anchored, Grasped me by gunwale3 garrulous care-grips And rippling wave-claw, where I bent over bowsprit4, Oft broken by bleary nightwatch as the ship Scratched keel to cliffs. Clasped in coldness My feet were, frost-shod, algor5-greaved, Where grief’s heat haggards6 my heart, Hunger wastes from within the sea-worn soul. Should ever you doubt, fair-plainsman, Days of the fairest befall you, hear how I Wandered a winter’s salt-wretched out-roads Tilling the ice-rich surf; relations were reft of me there, My hair was flecked of frost-nails And the hail-flocks flew. What could I hear In the sea-craw’s cackle, save crackling waves of ice? At sail-lithe the swan-sigh soothed me, Bickering rooks I took for my Yule-cheer, Cries of the curlew for the laughter of kinsmen, Mews7, mocking, my music and mead-drink. Rock shook under storm-fist, stone-cliffs 1
"Mere": sea
2
"Ration": v., apportion, order
3
"Gunwale": rhymes with "tunnel"; rim of a boat
4
"Bowsprit": bow of a boat
5
"Algor": chill
6
7
"Haggards": as a verb, a novel coinage perhaps, etymologically evoking also the wildness of an untamed raptor "Mews": gulls
Veined of the Thor-levin8—terns mid-heaven To the gale turn frosted feathers; scream-eagle springs And spreads his spray-heavy staysails9; no kind companion Consoles the care-swept sea-wretch. This he cannot conceive- the burgher of living’s delight, Wine-washed mid fortune's flood, his haughty abode Beyond baleful journey- the weary home I made by the brine-way. Noons narrow nightward, north-snow's shadow, Earth rusteth of hoar10-rime11 and hails furrow frost-fields: Sky-seeds sowing snow-chill. Still claps in my chest The clash of vexatious currents— That I strive on high streams, by oar-blade Best salt swords in the sea-surge. Heavy my heart's urge over ocean To fly to far-folked front12-lands, To feel strange sands sink into my foot-falls. First among thewless13 throngs stands no Spine-girthy knight nor knave knows Any than nerve-knocked nights in sight of sea-fare. Steady deed-darer, even liege-belov'd, Bares not his boldness before it. For his hearth-wave Heareth wind-harp, golden gloam14-waves Ring his fingers, with mer-wives warmeth wave-bed8
"Levin": lightning
9
"Staysails": auxiliary sails to catch the wind
10
"Hoar": frost
11
"Rime": hoar
12
"Front-lands": frontiers, as in lands jutting into the sea
13
"Thewless": nerveless
14
"Gloam": twilight
Ye bard-waves belaud his revels at world's-height!Yet longing long stretcheth his whiles through the welter. Groves gather in green-guise, blithe bustle Breaketh burgh-brumes15 and blooms through the moor-mist Quicken the gray-grown world: with burgeoning broods Bristles also the breast-bower- in fare-man fond For barrenest bog-tides- to leave for the lea16-flood, Wake the white-caps' swift blossoms. Thicket-thatched The gowk17-bird warbles his ware18-woe, for summer's flight Wareth sorrow, shivering heart's-sap. Such fellows never know- they weal-sure and water-shyWhy brave over desolate depths Sea-thanes press each vast adventure. But spumes even now from the breast-spout, Over brine-swells spilleth the full heart's thoughtMy wakefulness, flung for far corners Whelms o'er the whale-realm- where clutch-call marks me Like howls of the harrow-hawk, keen claws Whet for the whale-trek my mind's limp landsmen Wide from the sward19-span. Sprint seaward My dreams beyond death-bounds, pass princedom Alike priesthood, keeping least this dead life Leased of the loam-gods, gone ere long To the God-acre20. Though he take his range of the earth, Some tide soon turneth him back, wracked pilgrims return 15
"Brume": mist, fog
16
"Lea": untilled, fallow land
17
"Gowk": cuckoo
18
"Ware": Scots for spring
19
"Sward": turf, grass
20
"God-acre": frequent Saxon kenning for graveyard
By three paths to the death-house: sickness, sword-stroke, Or slowness of age breaks from the breast-box With a life's last bondsman. But the best bequeath Full-flowering feal-glebes21, blowing praise To cover the grave-place: that he tend to the good Ere he rest under grass-waves, wickedness wrest From the earth and earls giving evil scatter Like chaff. First-fruits of the after-born, On tongues borne deathless as the angels, Glory's increase22 is to ages of ages, eternity's crown And cry of the lion-heart. Pride of days departed Pretends no present purchase23: Caesars and kings forsake us- the old lords, Gold-generous, lavishing valorous deeds Among the kingdoms, leave no vassals Mantled in their majesties, meet-realm's masters. Broad-necked barons lie breathless in death's-bed, Barren the bride-bower, and the vine-rows lie barren— Merest remains this serf of the face-furrow, Whose fair-earth hoareth, her splendors limp hump-backed. So slacken the last-man's sinews, his deed-hand droppeth, Nor blade draweth blood-prize. Presseth age-guard against him As the beard-place paleth. Gray-grasped he gaspeth, Grieves grass-covered sword-kin, findeth the finest Forfeit to the field-fund, and his own body, broken, As life fleeth flesh-field. Not swill the sweet,
21
"Glebe": soil, field
22
"Increase": produce of the earth
23
"Purchase": acquisition of an estate by means other than inheritance (in this case, land so acquired)
Nor weep out his sorrows, nor tarry in sweven24, Nor rise to the trumpets may any corpse keeping life's-path. Might he lay then the dead with the dead, forsake what forsakes him: Lucre with limbs and lands and titles To take to the black-tide over waste-back to the star-brink.
24
"Sweven": dream