Fo ic under fot: funde ic hit. Huxet, eorðe mæg wið ealra wihta gehwilce, and wið andan and wið æminde, and wið þa micelan mannes tungan. Sitte ge sigewif, sigað to eorðan, næfre ge wilde to wude fleogan! Beo ge swa gemindinge mines godes, swa bið manna gehwilc metes and eþeles.
I’ve got it under foot: I found it. Listen! Earth has power against all creatures, every one, Against hatred and against malice, And against the tongue of a great man. Settle ye down, victory-women, sink to earth! May ye never fly wildly to the woods, But be ye as mindfull of my goods As each man is food and property.
II
Wisely I feasted, of the sweet food That stirs good thoughts, crusher of cares. The food ’round which Gods and men gather, Calling it the honey-mead.
I’ve drunk the bright drops, that give me freedom. Made me blaze brightly, like the Need-fire! Give us clear sight, and make us shine, Now we are come to life everlasting Give us clear sight, and make us shine, Now we have come to fame everlasting Give us clear sight, and make us shine, Now we have come to life everlasting.
We have drunk and become undead, We have gained what the Gods once hid.
Our sicknesses lost their strength and left, They feared and faded, away into darkness. Never hold sway with wastefull words- Ever hold sway with the spark of the mind. You’ve risen in us, so mighty of spirit, Give us your blessing, preserver of Gods! Give us clear sight, and make us shine. Now we are come to fame everlasting. Give us clear sight, and make us shine. Now we are come to life everlasting. Give us clear sight, and make us shine, Now we are come to fame everlasting. Give us clear sight, and make us shine, Now we are come to life everlasting…
III Latte ge, sigewif, scirne medo geotan!
Victory-women, let clear mead pour!
Ic eom weorð werum, wide funden, brungen of bearwum ond of burghleoþum, of denum ond of dunum, Dæges mec wægun feþre on lifte, feredon mid liste under hrofes hleo. Hæleð mec siþþan baþedan in bydene. Nu ic eom bindere one swingere, sona weorpe esne to eorþan, hwilum ealdne ceorl. Sona þæt unfindeð, se þe med fehð ongean, one wið mægenþisan minre genæsteð, þæt he hrycge sceal hrusan secan, gif he unrædes ær ne geswiceð, strengo bistolen, strong on spræce, mægene binumen; nah his modes geweald, fota ne folma. Frige hwæt ic hatte, ðe on eorþan swa esnas binde, dole æfter dyntum be dæges leohte.
I’m of worth to men, widely found, Brought from groves and mountainsides, From dales and hills. By day they carried me, wings aloft, cunningly carried me under protection of a roof. Men then bathed me in a tub. Now I am a binder and a scourger. Soon I cast a man to the ground, now and then an old churl. Soon he’ll realize, whoever fights me, And wrestled with my might, That he shall find his back on the ground, If, foolishly, he did not cease sooner- Deprived of strength, strong in language, Robbed of his main; not in command of his wits, Feet, or hands. Guess what I am called! So I bind every one of men on earth, dazed from m blows when morning comes.