Iċ þis ġiedd wrece bi mē ful ġeōmorre,
mīnre sylfre sīð. Iċ þæt secgan mæġ,
hwæt iċ yrmþa ġebād, siþþan iċ ūp wēox,
nīwes oþþe ealdes, nō mā þonne nū.
Ā iċ wīte wonn mīnra wræcsīþa.
Ǣrest mīn hlāford ġewāt heonan of lēodum
ofer ȳþa ġelāc; hæfde iċ ūhtċeare
hwǣr mīn lēodfruma londes wǣre.
Ðā iċ mē fēran ġewāt folgað sēċan,
winelēas wræċċa, for mīnre wēaþearfe,
ongunnon þæt þæs monnes māgas hycgan
þurh dyrne ġeþōht þæt hȳ tōdǣlden unc,
þæt wit ġewīdost in woruldrīċe
lifdon lāðlicost, ond mec longade.
Hēt mec hlāford mīn herheard niman.
Āhte iċ lēofra lȳt on þissum londstede,
holdra frēonda; for þon is mīn hyġe ġeōmor.
Ðā iċ mē ful ġemæcne monnan funde—
heardsǣliġne, hyġeġeōmorne,
mōd mīþendne, morþor hycgendne—
blīþe ġebǣro ful oft wit bēotedan
þæt unc ne ġedǣlde nemne dēað āna
ōwiht elles. Eft is þæt onhworfen;
is nū ġeworden swā hit nō wǣre
frēondscipe uncer. Sceal iċ feor ġe nēah
mīnes felalēofan fǣhðe drēogan.
Heht mec mon wunian on wuda bearwe,
under āctrēo in þām eorðscræfe.
Eald is þes eorðsele; eal iċ eom oflongad.
Sindon dena dimme, dūna ūphēa,
bitre burgtūnas brērum beweaxne,
wīċ wynna lēas. Ful oft mec hēr wrāþe beġeat
fromsīþ frēan. Frȳnd sind on eorþan
lēofe lifġende, leġer weardiað,
þonne iċ on ūhtan āna gonge
under āctrēo ġeond þās eorðscrafu.
Þǣr iċ sittan mōt sumorlangne dæġ;
þǣr iċ wēpan mæġ mīne wræcsīþas,
earfoþa fela, for þon iċ ǣfre ne mæġ
þǣre mōdċeare mīnre ġerestan,
ne ealles þæs longaþes þe mec on þissum līfe beġeat.
Ā scyle ġeong mon wesan ġeōmormōd,
heard heortan ġeþōht; swylċe habban sceal
blīþe ġebǣro, ēac þon brēostċeare,
sinsorgna ġedreag. Sȳ æt him sylfum ġelong
eal his worulde wyn, sȳ ful wīde fāh
feorres folclondes, þæt mīn frēond siteð
under stānhliþe storme behrīmed,
wine wēriġmōd, wætre beflōwen
on drēorsele, drēogeð se mīn wine
miċle mōdċeare. Hē ġemon tō oft
wynlicran wīċ. Wā bið þām þe sceal
of langoþe lēofes ābīdan.
"The Wife’s Lament" is a complex and evocative Anglo-Saxon poem attributed to Ealhswith of Mercia, expressing the deep sorrow of an exiled woman separated from her lord. This elegiac work, rich with themes of exile, loss, and longing, unfolds in a solitary voice that traverses the nuances of personal grief within a culturally prescribed understanding of loyalty and separation. Written in Old English, this poem is both structurally and thematically reflective of its historical context, which venerates kinship and fealty while recognizing the desolation of isolation.
The poem, often analyzed as part of the Anglo-Saxon elegiac tradition, reveals a poignant psychological and emotional landscape of a woman abandoned and isolated, possibly both physically and socially. It uses the first-person perspective to intensify the emotional authenticity, drawing the reader into the internal turmoil of the speaker. Thematically, the poem grapples with the consequences of loyalty and betrayal, the inevitability of suffering, and the endurance required in the face of insurmountable sorrow. The tone is somber and reflective, inviting interpretations of both personal despair and broader social commentary on the nature of exile.
The poem employs a formal structure characteristic of Old English poetry, notably alliteration, caesura, and the use of kennings. Lines such as "Ic þis ġiedd wrece bi mē ful ġeōmorre" ("I share this song about myself, deeply sorrowful") immediately establish the speaker’s melancholic tone, using alliteration to emphasize her sorrow. The word "ġiedd" (translated as "song" or "lament") situates this work within the oral tradition, where poetry served as both entertainment and a means of communal expression. The speaker refers to herself in the first person ("mīnre sylfre sīð," "my own journey"), grounding the narrative in personal experience and imbuing it with a confessional quality that suggests intimacy and immediacy.
The theme of exile permeates the poem. In Anglo-Saxon culture, exile was among the harshest fates, symbolizing a complete severance from one’s community, kin, and identity. Here, the speaker recounts the departure of her "hlāford" (lord or husband) and the subsequent plotting of his kinsmen to separate the couple. Her lord’s absence, described as a journey “ofer ȳþa ġelāc” ("over the tossing waves"), is metaphorically significant, with the sea often representing an insurmountable barrier or an uncontrollable force that enforces separation. The speaker’s grief is further compounded by the actions of her husband’s kin, whose secret machinations ensure that "wit ġewīdost in woruldrīċe / lifdon lāðlicost" ("we two would live farthest apart in the world, most wretched"). Here, the poet highlights not only the physical distance but also the emotional and social alienation imposed on her.
The imagery of the speaker’s place of exile is vividly grim: she is forced to dwell “on wuda bearwe, / under āctrēo in þām eorðscræfe” ("in a forest grove, under an oak tree in this earth-cave"), an environment that suggests entrapment and burial. The "eorðscræfe" (earth-cave) is symbolic of both physical and emotional confinement, linking her grief with a place traditionally associated with death and the dead. This imagery reflects a near-death state, emphasizing the depth of her despair and the lifelessness of her surroundings, encapsulated in the phrase "wic wynna lēas" ("a joyless dwelling"). The language here aligns with traditional elegiac motifs, particularly the sense of living death experienced by those separated from their community.
In the middle portion of the poem, there is a marked shift as the speaker recalls the seemingly contradictory behavior of her lord. She mentions their shared vow—"wit bēotedan þæt unc ne ġedǣlde nemne dēað āna" ("we two vowed that nothing would separate us except death alone"). However, her lamentation over this betrayal is complex: she refers to her lord as both “heardsǣliġne” ("ill-fated") and “morþor hycgendne” ("plotting murder"), implying a dichotomy between loyalty and malevolence. This duality not only intensifies her sense of abandonment but also suggests an unreliable narrator or a relationship fraught with conflicting emotions. Her sorrow is compounded by the realization that her partner may not have been as faithful or steadfast as she had believed, making her exile not only a physical but also an emotional rejection.
In the final stanzas, the speaker moves toward a reflection on universal suffering. She suggests that a “ġeong mon” (young man) should ideally be “ġeōmormōd” (sad-minded) but must outwardly maintain "blīþe ġebǣro" (a cheerful demeanor). This call for emotional restraint and endurance in the face of hardship reveals the stoic virtues valued in Anglo-Saxon society. Yet, there is also a sense of resignation as the speaker reflects that joy must come “sylfum ġelong” ("from oneself alone"). This contemplation culminates in a haunting image of her lord, now presumably suffering as she is, "under stānhliþe storme behrīmed" ("under a rocky cliff, frozen by storms"), mirroring her own condition of isolation and despair. Thus, the poem suggests a tragic universality in suffering, hinting that the pains of separation and exile are shared burdens across distances and even, symbolically, across life and death.
"The Wife’s Lament" is a profound meditation on the pain of exile, the ache of love lost, and the endurance required in a world rife with sorrow. Through its detailed descriptions and haunting imagery, it reveals the isolation inherent in human experience, particularly for those marginalized by society. The speaker’s voice is one of lamentation but also of subtle resistance against her fate, as she continues to articulate her grief despite her desolate surroundings. In exploring themes of loyalty, betrayal, and existential solitude, the poem remains a poignant reflection on the inevitability of suffering and the strength found in endurance, resonating with readers across time.
The gaps you see in Old English poetry, are a deliberate feature reflecting the poetic structure of the time. This style is known as alliterative verse and was common in Old English and other early Germanic poetry.
Each line is split into two halves (or half-lines), separated by a noticeable gap, called a caesura. This pause allowed singers or readers to take a brief breath and emphasise the rhythm.
Instead of rhyme, Old English poetry often relied on alliteration (the repetition of initial consonant sounds). The two halves of the line would often alliterate with each other, helping listeners focus on the sounds and rhythm. For example, in the line:
Nu sculon herigean heofonrices Weard
the alliteration of h in “herigean” (to praise) and “heofonrices” (heaven-kingdom’s) ties the halves of the line together.
This layout helped with memorisation and recitation, which was vital in a mostly oral culture. The caesura, alliteration, and rhythm acted as cues to aid memory and performance.
These gaps are thus a visual reminder of how early English poetry sounded and functioned. They’re integral to the poem’s rhythm and alliteration, distinguishing Old English verse from modern poetry’s use of rhyme and metre.
Note: The poem's original author is unknown, and no historical records confirm the existence of Ealhswith of Mercia. I imagined her life, drawing upon the social context, themes, and values of early medieval Anglo-Saxon England to create a plausible background for the poet behind this enigmatic work. My intent was to bring to life the human being who shaped 'The Wife’s Lament' while respecting the uncertainties that surround its origins.