Beowulf

The sad death of Seamus Heaney has drawn me to look again at the great Anglo-Saxon epic of Beowulf, a splendid translation of which Heaney published some years ago.  Nothing can compare, however, to the rich and complex original text.  Here are the first few lines:

Hwæt! We Gardena         in geardagum,
þeodcyninga,         þrym gefrunon,
hu ða æþelingas         ellen fremedon.
Oft Scyld Scefing         sceaþena þreatum, 

5

monegum mægþum,         meodosetla ofteah,
egsode eorlas.         Syððan ærest wearð
feasceaft funden,         he þæs frofre gebad,
weox under wolcnum,         weorðmyndum þah,
oðþæt him æghwylc         þara ymbsittendra 

10

ofer hronrade         hyran scolde,
gomban gyldan.         þæt wæs god cyning! 

Splendid stuff.  They just don't write them like that any more.