| The Rune Poem |
| Wealth is a consolation to all men Yet much of it must each man give away If glory he desire To gain before his god. The Aurochs is fearless and huge of horn A ferocious beast, it fights with its horns A famous moor-stalker that: A mettlesome wight. The Thorn is sorely sharp for any thane Hurtful to hold Uncommonly severe To every man who lies among them. The Mouth is the source of every speech, The mainstay of wisdom, And solace of sages, And the happiness and hope of every eorl. For every hero in the hall is Harness soft And very hard for him who sits astride A stout steed Over miles of road. A Torch alight is known to all alive Brilliant and bright, It burns most oft Where Aethlings rest themselves within. Generosity in men is to honour and praise And dignity a prop; And for every wrack, Riches and substance, who has naught else. He enjoys Delight who knows little of woe, Of suffering and sorrow, And has for his own prosperity, pleasure, Eke the plenty of cities Hail is the whitest of grain Whirled from heaven's height, The wind hurls it in showers Into water then it turns. Hardship lies heavy on the heart Yet oft to the children of men It becomes nonetheless a help and a healing, If they heed it in time. Ice is extremely cold, immeasurably slippery. It glistens clear as glass; Most like to gems. Is a floor wrought of frost a fair sight? Harvest is the hope of men, then the gods, Heaven's holy Kings, Allows the earth to yield To prince and pauper, glorious fruit. The Yew is a rough tree without, Fixed hard in the earth, the fire's herd, Sustained by its roots, A delight on the homeland. The Peorth is ever the play and laughter Of proud men . . . . where warriors sit blithely Together in the beer-hall. The Elk's-sedge has its home most oft in the fen. It waxes in water, wounds grimly. The blood burns of every man Who makes any grasp at it. The Sun is ever the hope of seamen When they fare over the fishes' bath, Until the sea-steed Brings them to land. Tiw is a certain sign; it keeps trust well With Aethlings; ever on course Over the night-fogs, It never falls. The Birch is fruitless, nonetheless it bears Shoots without seed; it is beauteous in boughs High of helm, fairly adorned Laden with leaves, close to the sky A Steed is the joy of aethlings or eorls, a horse proud of hoof, where men about It, wealthy, on stallions, swap speech, and to the unquiet is ever a solace. A mirthful Man is to his kinsmen dear; Yet each one must from the others turn, Because Odin desires by his decree To deliver that frail flesh to earth. Water seems interminable to men If they should venture on a shaky bark; And the sea-surges greatly frighten them, And the sea-steed takes no heed of the curb. Ing was amongst the East-Danes first seen by men, Till later east he went over the wave; His wain followed after; The Heardings named the hero so. . An Estate is greatly dear to every man If what is right and fitting there He may enjoy at home With most prosperity. Day is Odin's messenger, dear to men, The Ruler's glorious light, Mirth and hope to prosperous and poor, Useful to all. |
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| All credit goes to the Runemaker for this information |