In a sesone of somere þat souerayne ys of alle,
Þat was þe myry monþ of May when many myrthys spryng,
Þe sonne ys somnore and syre and sendyth tyl vs doun,
And byddyth vs bisy for to be oure bodys for to glade;
Man for to myrth hym in al maner wys,
Bestys for to buske ham on bentys tyl abyde,
Moððe word fræt. Me þæt þuhte wrætlicu wyrd, þa ic þæt wundor gefrægn, þæt se wyrm forswealg wera gied sumes, þeof in þystro, þrymfæstne cwide ond þæs strangan staþol. Stælgiest ne wæs wihte þy gleawra, þe he þam wordum swealg.
Wrætlic hongað bi weres þeo, frean under sceate. Foran is þyrel. Bið stiþ ond heard, stede hafað godne; þonne se esne his agen hrægl ofer cneo hefeð, wile þæt cuþe hol mid his hangellan heafde gretan þæt he efenlang ær oft gefylde.
Ic wat indryhtne æþelum deorne giest in geardum, þam se grimma ne mæg hungor sceððan ne se hata þurst, yldo ne adle. Gif him arlice esne þenað, se þe agan sceal on þam siðfate, hy gesunde æt ham findað witode him wiste ond blisse, cnosles unrim, care,...
In a somer seson, whan softe was þe sonne, I shoop me into [a] shrou[d] as I a sheep weere, In habite as an heremite, vnholy of werkes, Wente wide in þis world wondres to here. Ac on a May morwenynge on Maluerne hilles Me...
Wolleward and weetshoed wente I forþ after As a recchelees renk þat [reccheþ of no wo], And yede forþ lik a lorel al my lif tyme, Til I weex wery of þe world and wilned eft to slepe, And lened me to a lenten,...
Some strong enemy snatched my life, deprived me of strength and soaked me, drenched me in water, dragged me away, set me in the sun, where I soon lost all the hair I had. The hard edge, clean-ground blade of a knife cut me, then fingers...
Listen! I will speak of the sweetest dream, what came to me in the middle of the night, when speech-bearers slept in their rest. It seemed that I saw a most wondrous tree raised on high, wound round with light, the brightest of beams. All...
Swarte smekyd smepes smateryd wyth smoke. dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes. Swech noys on nyghtes ne herd men neuer. what knauene cry & clateryng of knockes þe cammede kongons cryen after col col. & blowen here bellewys þat al here brayn...
It wanes into wrechednes, þe welth of þis worlde. Robes and ritches rotes in dike, Prowde payntyng slakes into sorow, Delites and drewryse stynk sal ful sone, Þair golde and þaire tresoure drawes þam til dede. Al...
I know a noble guest within the gates, whom great men love. Grim hunger cannot harm him, nor hot thirst, nor illness or age. If the servant treats him well, who must go with him on his journey, then food and joy they will find ready...
A marvelous thing hangs by a man’s thigh, under his tunic. There’s a hole at the tip; it’s stiff and strong and set in a good place. When a young lord lifts his cloak over his knees, there's a well-known hole he hopes to greet...
Something’s swelling over in the corner, rising and standing, raising its cover. A haughty bride grabbed that boneless thing with her hands, and the prince’s daughter slipped that swelling thing under a cloth.
A moth ate words. A marvelous fate it seemed to me, when I heard of that wonder, that a worm could swallow some man’s song, a thief in the dark, tales of glory and their firm foundation. That thieving guest was none the wiser for...
Wenne, wenne, wenchichenne, her ne scealt þu timbrien, ne nenne tun habben, ac þu scealt north eonene to þan nihgan berhge, þer þu hauest, ermig, enne broþer.