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Wat se �e cunna›,
hu sli�en bi› sorg to geferan,
�am �e him lyt hafa› leofra geholena.
Wara› hine wr�clast, nales wunden gold,
fer›loca freorig, nal�s foldan bl�d.
Gemon he selesecgas ond sinc�ege,
hu hine on geogu›e his goldwine
wenede to wiste. Wyn eal gedreas!
For�on wat se �e sceal his winedryhtnes
leofes larcwidum longe for�olian,
›onne sorg ond sl�p somod �tg�dre
earmne anhogan oft gebinda›.
�ince› him on mode ��t he his mondryhten
clyppe ond cysse, ond on cneo lecge
honda ond heafod, swa he hwilum �r
in geardagum giefstolas breac.
›onne onw�cne› eft wineleas guma,
gesih› him biforan fealwe wegas,
ba�ian brimfuglas, br�dan fe�ra,
hreosan hrim ond snaw, hagle gemenged.
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He
remembers hall-retainers and treasure
and how, in his youth, his gold-friend
entertained him. Those joys have all vanished. A man who lacks advice for
a long while from his loved lord understands this, that when sorrow and
sleep together hold the wretched wanderer in their grip, it seems that he
clasps and kisses his lord, and lays hands and head
upon his lord’s knee as he had sometimes done when he enjoyed the gift-throne
in earlier days. Then the friendless man wakes again and sees the dark waves
surging around him, the sea-birds bathing, spreading their feathers,
frost and snow falling mingled with hail.
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