Aledon þa leofne þeoden, beaga bryttan, on bearm scipes, mærne be mæste. þær wæs madma fela of feorwegum, frætwa, gelæded; ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwan hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum, billum ond byrnum; him on bearme læg madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon on flodes æht feor gewitan.
There laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
Don't you just hate it when you're putting out to sea, and you've got that feeling that you've left something behind, but you just can't remember what?
"Dear, what did you bring me from Essex?" [sound of rummaging, lifting items out of boat] "Um, just a moment, Gunhilde . . ." Under breath in Old Norse "I know I put that box next to the spare oars . . . ut oh . . ."
2 comments:
Don't you just hate it when you're putting out to sea, and you've got that feeling that you've left something behind, but you just can't remember what?
"Dear, what did you bring me from Essex?"
[sound of rummaging, lifting items out of boat]
"Um, just a moment, Gunhilde . . ." Under breath in Old Norse "I know I put that box next to the spare oars . . . ut oh . . ."
LittleRed1
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