The Seafarer

translated by
Benjamin Thorpe (1842)

I of myself can
a true tale relate,
my fortunes recount,
how I, in days of toil,
a time of hardship
oft suffer'd,
bitter breast-cares
have endur'd,
prov'd in the ship

5

strange mishaps many.
The fell rolling of the waves has me there oft drench'd:
an anxious night-watch,
at the vessel's prow,
when on the cliffs it strikes,
pierc'd with cold
were my feet,
bound with frost,
with cold bonds.
There cares sigh'd
hot around my heart,
hunger tore me within,
the sea-wolf's rage.
That the man knows not,
to whom on land
all falls out most joyfully,
how I miserable and sad,
on the ice-cold sea
a winter pass'd,
with exile traces;
* * *⁽¹⁾
of dear kindred bereft,
hung o'er with icicles,
the hail in showers flew;
where I heard nought
save the sea roaring,
the ice-cold wave.
At times the swan's song
I made to me for pastime,
the ganet's cry,
and the 'hu-ilpe's' note;
for men's laughter,
the mew-singing;
for mead-drinking,
storms there the stone cliffs beat;
there them the starling answer'd,
icy of wings.
Full of the eagle scream'd,
dewy of wings.
* * *
  * * *⁽²⁾
no hospitable kinsman;
he a poor soul
might go;
for he little believes,
who has the joy of life
experienced in cities,
misfortunes few,
elate and wine-flush'd,
how I weary oft,
in the ocean-way
must bide:
night's shadow darken'd,
from the north it snow'd,
frost bound the land,
hail fell on the earth,
coldest of grains;
therefore it oppresses now
my heart's thoughts,
that I the deep streams,
the salt wave's sport,
myself shall prove.
(Though my mind's desire exhorts
at all times,
my soul, to go,
that I far hence,
of strangers
the habitation seek;)
for there is not so elate of mind,
any man on earth,
nor in his qualities so good,
nor in youth so ardent,
nor in his deeds so estimable,
nor to him his Lord so benignant,
that he never on his sea-voyage
fear entertains,
as to what the Lord with him
will do.
He has to the harp no mind,
nor to the receipt of rings,
nor delight in woman,
nor in the world joy,
nor of aught else thinks,
save of the rolling of the waves;
but ever weariness has
he who on the deep ventures.
The groves increase with flowers,
towns appear fair,
the plains seem beautiful,
the world hastens on:
all these admonish
the prompt of mind
to go on journey;
those who so think,
on the flood-ways,
far to depart.
So also the cuckoo exhorts
with mournful voice,
the summer's warden sings,
sorrow announces
bitter in its heart.
The man knows it not,
the favour'd mortal,
what some endure,
who their exile traces
furthest set;
for now my thought wanders
o'er my breast's recess;
my spirit,
with the sea-flood,
over the whale's home,
wanders wide,
earth's regions
come again to me:
eager and greedy
yells the lone bird,
urges on the whale-way
natheless suddenly,
over ocean's flood:
for to me more exciting are
the Lord's joys,
than this dead life,
transient on the land.
I believe not
that its earthly wealth
will stand for ever.
Ever either one
of three things,
ere it take place,
will be doubtful; -
disease, or age,
or hostile sword,⁽³⁾
from the fated to departure
life will expel;
therefore that to every man
of after-speaking,
praise animating,
last words is best:
that he work,
(ere he must away)
act on earth,
against the hate of foes;
by estimable deeds,
against the devil;
so that him the sons of men
may after praise,
and his fame thenceforth
live with angels
for evermore,
in the blessing of eternal life,
joy with the good.
Days are pass'd away,
all the pomps
of earth's kingdom;
kings are not now,
nor emperors,
nor gold-givers,
such as were of yore,
when they most among themselves
glories perform'd,
and in most lordly
power liv'd: fall'n is this splendour all,
joys are pass'd away;
the weaker remain,
and this world hold,
enjoy in toil.
Glory is humbled,
the honours of earth
wax old and sere:
as now every man
throughout mid-earth;
age comes on him,
his face waxes pale;
hoary-lock'd he grieves,
knows that his friends of old,
sons of noble ones,
are to earth committed;
may not his body then,
when life escapes him,
nor sweets consume,
nor pain feel,
nor a hand move,
nor with its mind think:
though the grave will
strew o'er with gold
a brother his brother's,
heap for the dead
with various treasures,
he will not that take with him.
May not to the soul
that is full of sins
gold be for help,
before God's terror,
when he ere hides it,
while he here lives.⁽⁴⁾
Great is the dread of the Creator,
for the mould shall them return:
he establish'd
the rugg'd depths,
earth's regions,
and heaven above.
Foolish is he who his Lord dreads not,
death comes to him unsolicited:
happy is he who humbly lives,
to him comes mercy from heaven;
the Creator his mind strengthens,
because he in his might believes.
A man shall govern with strong mind,
and that with firmness hold,
and certain towards men,
in its ways pure.
Every man ought
moderation to preserve
towards his friend,⁽⁵⁾
and towards his foe
* * *
though he will him
of fire full,
* * *
or on the pile
burned,
one become his friend.
Fate is hard,
the Creator mightier
than any man's thought.
Let us consider
where we may have a home,
and then think
how we may thither come,
and then also prepare ourselves,
that we may go thereto,
into the eternal happiness,
where life depends
on the Lord's love,
joy in heaven;
therefore be to the Holy thanks,
that he us hath honour'd,
the Chief of glory,
the Lord eternal,
in all time.

Notes

1. Here a line is omitted.

2. Though there is no hiatus in the MS., some lines are evidently wanting.

3. Lit. edge-hate.

4. I suspect that a leaf here is wanting, and that what follows is the end of another poem.

5. Here [for the next five lines] the text seems very defective, though there is no hiatus in the MS.