Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/56
56 (k-d 93)
Old with many days over deep streams; sometimes he would climb the steep hills up in his homeland; sometimes he went back into deep dales, seeking for safety, strong of stride. He dug into stony ground, frozen hard; sometimes he shook the frost from his bright white hair. I rode with the eager ones until my younger brother seized the seat of joy and drove me off from my own home. Then the dark iron wounded me within; no blood flowed forth, no gore from within though the sharp-edged steel bit into me hard. I mourned not the time, nor wept for the wound, nor could I avenge my heavy fate, a life for a life: but I suffer the torment of all that bit the shield. Now I swallow the black, the wood and water. I embrace within me what falls from above on me where I stand (it is something dark). I have one foot. Now the ravaging foe plunders my treasure who bore once widely the wolf’s companion. What came from within me moves on and on, steps on the stout board . . . . |
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Frēa min […] […]de willum sinū […] heah ⁊ hyht[…] […]earpne hwilū […] […]wilum sohte frea […]s wod dægrime frōd deo[…]s · hwilū stealc hliþo stigan sceolde up in eþel · hwilū eft gewat In deop dalu duguþe secan strong on stæpe stanwongas grof hrimig hearde · hwilum hara scōc forst of feax Ic of fusum rad oþþæt him þone gleawstol gingran broþor min agnade ⁊ mec on earde adraf siþþan mec isern Innanweardne brun bennade blod ut ne com heolfor of hreþre þeah mec heard bite stiðecg style no ic þa stunde bemearn ne for wunde weop ne wrecan meahte on wigan feore wonnsceaft mine ac ic aglæca ealle þolige ꝥ te bord biton nu ic blace swelge wuda ⁊ wætre w[…]b[…] befæðme þæt mec on fealleð ufan þær ic stonde eorpes nathwæt hæbbe anne fot · Nu min hord warað hiþende feond se þe ær wide bær wulfes gehleþan · oft me of wombe bewaden fereð steppeð on stið bord […] […] deaþes d[…] þōn dægcondel sunne […] […]eorc eagum wliteð ⁊ spe[…] |
The answer is Inkhorn, its history from its beginning as an antler to its use in writing. The lines are ambitiously elaborate and leave the impression that the writer’s reach exceeded his grasp. A paraphrase will make the text clearer: “The stag on which I grew ranged the woodland, shed its antlers, and new ones grew in their place. The stag was killed and I was cut from its head and hollowed out to make an inkhorn. But I do not complain or seek vengeance, though I was sorely hurt by the iron instrument—what had, or might have, cut into battle shields” (or, as Wyatt interprets, “was pierced by the nails which fastened it to the stand”). The foe is the scribe with his quill pen (the feather of a raven, the wolf’s companion in battle) writing on the stiff vellum.