The Wanderer
Written in the 10th century by an unknown poet, "The Wanderer" is an elegy, a plaintive call to lost joy and comfort. It represents the thoughts of a warrior whose lord has died, who searches for another benefactor in the chilling winter. The language is frigid and weary as the wandering knight makes his way across freezing waters, remembering times of glory and happiness in the mead-hall of his former protector:"...it all comes back, he embraces and kisses
the lord he is loyal to, lays on his knee
hands and head as he did long ago
when he knew the triumphs and treasures of the throne.
Then the unfriended man wakens again,
watches in front of him waves of grey,
sea-birds swimming and flashing their wings,
snow falling, hoarfrost thickened with hail."
The warrior carries with him the smallest glimmer of hope that he will find the hall of a generous lord. He thinks of the slow decay that the earth and man's work is prey to: "So the Maker of men laid waste this globe,/ till those old cities, the labour of titans,/ stood in their desolation silent after revelry." Seeing the crumbling world around him, the warrior can take comfort only in the promise of heaven. Even while searching for a new protector, knowing that all will end, he can meditate on his faith and receive the strength to see the wintry-gray day.
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