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The Wanderer is an Old English poem preserved only in an anthology known as the Exeter Book, a manuscript dating from the late 10th century. It comprises 115 lines of alliterative verse. As is often the case with Anglo-Saxon verse, the composer and compiler are anonymous, and within the manuscript the poem is untitled.
‘The Wanderer’ is a long Old English poem in which the speaker details the life and struggles of a wanderer. In the first part of this piece, the speaker describes a wanderer, someone who lost everything that meant something to him.
The Wanderer. “How often the lone-dweller anticipates some sign, this Measurer’s mercy — must always must— mind-caring, along the ocean’s windings, stirring rime-chill seas, hands as oars many long whiles, treading the tracks of exile— the way of the world an open book always.” (1–5)
tread the paths of exile. Wyrd bið ful aræd! Events always go as they must! Swa cwæð eardstapa, So spoke the wanderer, earfeþa gemyndig, mindful of hardships, wraþra wælsleahta, of fierce slaughters.
Apr 27, 2020 · The Wanderer is an Old English poem preserved in only one of the four major surviving Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, The Exeter Book, and whilst its basic structure and elegiac tone are widely agreed upon, the exact nature of the speech and number of speakers within the poem remain topics of some debate (see note 1).
Oct 2, 2023 · The Wanderer is an Anglo-Saxon poem that dates back to the 10th century and is found in the Exeter Book. The poem is one of the most significant pieces of literature in Old English, and it has been studied and analyzed by scholars for many years.
The Wanderer. translated by Charles W. Kennedy. Oft to the wanderer, weary of exile, Cometh God‟s pity, compassionate love, Though woefully toiling on wintry seas With churning oar in the icy wave, 5 Homeless and helpless he fled from fate. Thus saith the wanderer mindful of misery, Grievous disasters, and death of kin:
The Wanderer. Always the one alone longs for mercy, Maker’s mildness, though, troubled in mind, across the ocean-ways he has long been forced to stir with his hands the frost-cold sea, and walk in exile’s paths. Wyrd is fully fixed!1 Thus spoke the Wanderer, mindful of troubles, of cruel slaughters and the fall of dear kinsmen:2 “Often ...
The Wanderer. Oft I alone must 8. Utter my sadness, Each day before dawn. Living there’s none, No man, to whom. I’d clearly speak. My innermost mind. I know among. Men the custom 12. Truly is noble, That a man his. Thoughts fast bind, Hiding his mind-hoard, Whatever he thinks. For weary spirit may not. Withstand fate’s ways, Nor does a sad heart 16
Text. Often the lone-dweller waits [ 1 ] for favor, mercy of the Measurer, [ 2 ] though he unhappy across the seaways long time must stir with his hands the rime-cold sea, tread exile-tracks. Fate is established!5.
