Wulf and Eadwacer 

I give such a sacrifice. It is for my people. 
They will kill him. If he comes as a threat....
It is different with us.
Wulf is on one island, I another.
That island is securely surrounded by fens,
and war-starved men lay waiting there.
They will kill him. If he comes as a threat....
It is different with us.
I am hounded by thoughts, by my Wulf’s farsteppings
when it was raining and I was a wretched mother...
when the battlehardened warrior seized me in arms,
it was my bliss; it was my worst pain.
Wulf, my Wulf! My heart weeps,
my dreams of you and your seldomcomings
have sickened me – these are not hungerpangs.
Do you hear, Eadwacer? Wulf takes our
whelp from home to the woods.
That is easily divided, what was never one:
the story of us. 




(from the Exeter Book; Codex Exoniensis, Exeter Cathedral Library MS 3501)

Leodum is minum    swylce him mon lac gife;
willað hy hine aþecgan    gif he onþreat cymeð.
Ungelic is us.
Wulf is on iege,    ic on oþerre.
Fæst is þæt eglond,    fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælreowe weras    þær on ige;
willað hy hine aþecgan    gif he onþreat cymeð.
Ungelice is us.
Wulfes ic mines widlastum    wenum dogode,
þonne hit wæs renig weder    ond ic reotugu sæt,
þonne mec se beaducafa    bogum bilegde,
wæs me wyn to þón;    wæs me hwæþre eac lað.
Wulf, min Wulf!    wena me þine
seoce gedydon    þine seldcymas,
murnende mod,    nales meteliste.
Gehyrest þu, Eadwacer?    Uncerne earne hwelp
bireð Wulf to wuda.
Þæt mon eaþe tosliteð    þæt næfre gesomnad wæs:
uncer giedd geador.