The Old English poem "The Wanderer" (c. 975) is usually considered an elegy, since the narrator mourns the loss of earthly joys and companions:

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.

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.