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riddeos

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Exeter Book Riddle 51 (or 49): Ic seah wrætlice wuhte feower samed siþian… / I saw four weird fellows traveling together as one…

An Old English riddle from the tenth century, set to new music.
Composed and performed by Hanna Marti.

Old English text:
Ic seah wrætlice   wuhte feower
samed siþian   swearte wæran lastas
swaþu swiþe blacu   swift wæs on fore
fulgum framra   fleotgan lyfte
deaf under yþe   dreag unstille
winnende wiga   se him wægas tæcneþ
ofer fæted gold   feower eallum.

Translation:
I saw four weird fellows traveling together as one.
Dark were their tracks, the path very black.
They moved quickly, faster than birds:
Flew through the air, dove under waves.
The fighting warrior who showed them the way
over plated gold – all of the four.

SOLUTION: Various solutions have been proposed. Stef and Hanna like: hand writing with a quill-pen.

Click here to read more about the riddle (and see possible solutions), on Megan Cavell’s brilliant ‘The Riddle Ages’ blog. And click here to see an alternative translation.

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Exeter Book Riddle(s?) 68 and 69 (or 66) [Confused about all the numbers? CLICK HERE], I saw the creature going on its way… / Ic þa wiht geseah on weg feran…

An Old English riddle from the tenth century, set to new music by Stef Conner and Hanna Marti.

Old English text:

Ic þa wiht geseah on weg feran.
heo wæs wrætlice, wundrum gegierwed.
Wundor wearð on wege; wæter wearð to bane.

Translation:

I saw the creature going on its way.
It was splendidly, wonderfully arrayed.
The wonder was on the wave; water became bone.

SOLUTION: Most likely WATER (turning to ice).

Click here to read more about the riddle (and see possible solutions), on Megan Cavell’s ‘The Riddle Ages’ blog. And click here to see an alternative translation.

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Exeter Book Riddle 83 (or 79), My lineage is ancient / frod wæs min fromcynn…

An Old English riddle from the tenth century, set to new music by Hanna Marti.

Old English text:

Frod wæs min from cynn    biden in burgum
siþþan bæles weardwera    life bewunden
fyre gefælsad    nu me fāh warað
eorþan broþor    se me ærest wearþ
gumena to gyrne    Ic ful gearwe gemon
hwa min fromcynn    fruman agette
eall of earde    ic him yfle ne mot 
ac ic on hæft nyd    hwilum ārære
wide geond wongas    hæbbe ic wunda fela
middangeardes    mægen unlytel ·
Ac ic miþan sceal    monna gehwylcū
degolfulne dōm    dyran cræftes
siðfæt minne    saga hwæt ic hatte.

Translation:

My lineage is ancient, I lived in towns
since the fire-guardian wrought with flame
my clean beginning in the world of men.
Now earth’s brother, an enemy, guards me,
who was first for me a bringer of sorrow.
I remember who in the beginning
drove my lineage, destroyed all the world.
I may do him no harm
but I raise up captivity from time to time,
the wide world over.
I have many glories, no little strength
in all the land,
but I must conceal from every man
the secret power of precious skill
and the path I follow.
Tell what my name is!

SOLUTION: Several solutions have been proposed. Stef and Hanna like: GOLD.

Click here to read more about the riddle (and see possible solutions), on Megan Cavell’s ‘The Riddle Ages’ blog. And click here to see an alternative translation.

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Exeter Book Riddle 47 (or 45), A moth ate words… / Moððe word fræt…

An Old English riddle from the tenth century, set to new music.

Composed and performed by Hanna Marti and Stef Conner.

Old English text:

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.

Translation:
A moth ate words! It struck me
super strange, when I heard
a worm had swallowed someone’s speech-craft.
A thief in darkness, munching through the might of myth.
and its earthly imprint. But that cheeky trespasser was
no wiser for having gulped down all those words!

Click here to read more about the riddle (and see possible solutions), on Megan Cavell’s ‘The Riddle Ages’ blog. And click here to see an alternative translation.

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Exeter Book Riddle 28 (or 26), Part of the earth grows lovely and grim with the hardest and fiercest of bitter-sharp treasures… / Biþ foldan dæl fægre gegierwed mid þy heardestan ond mid þy scearpestan ond mid þy grymmestan gumena gestreona…

An Old English riddle from the tenth century, set to new music.

Composed and performed by Hanna Marti.

Old English text:
Biþ foldan dæl   fægre gegierwed
mid þy heardestan   ond mid þy scearpestan
ond mid þy grymmestan   gumena gestreona,
corfen, sworfen,   cyrred, þyrred,
bunden, wunden,   blæced, wæced,
frætwed, geatwed,   feorran læded
to durum dryhta.   Dream bið in innan
cwicra wihta,   clengeð, lengeð,
þara þe ær lifgende   longe hwile
wilna bruceð   ond no wið spriceð,
ond þonne æfter deaþe  deman onginneð,
meldan mislice.   Micel is to hycganne
wisfæstum menn,   hwæt seo wiht sy.

Translation:
Part of the earth grows lovely and grim
with the hardest and fiercest of bitter-sharp treasures.
cut, cleaned, turned, dried,
twisted, wound, bleached and bound,
adorned, arrayed and borne away to the doors of men.
Joy is within for living creatures.
It clings, and stays for a long while
lingering in that body, which before lived,
but didn’t speak.
But after death, it started talking and singing.
Wise listeners will know, what this creature is called!

Click here to read more about the riddle (and see possible solutions), on Megan Cavell’s ‘The Riddle Ages’ blog. And click here to see an alternative translation.

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Exeter Book Riddle 57 (or 55), The air bears little critters over the high hillsides… / Ðeos lyft byreð lytle wihte ofer beorghleoþa…

An Old English riddle from the tenth century, set to new music.
Composed by Stef Conner; performed by Hanna Marti and Stef Conner.

Ðeos lyft byreð    lytle wihte
ofer beorghleoþa.    Þa sind blace swiþe,
swearte salopade.    Sanges rope
heapum ferað,    hlude cirmað,
tredað bearonæssas,    hwilum burgsalo
niþþa bearna.    Nemnað hy sylfe.

The air bears little critters
Over the high hillsides. They’re jet-black,
Deep-dark, dusk-coated. Bursting with song,
They travel in troops, chirruping aloud!
Treading the woody headlands, sometimes the townships
Of the children of men. They name themselves.

Read more about the riddle (and see possible solutions) here: https://theriddleages.wordpress.com/2…

Filmed and recorded by James Bradbury at the University of Huddersfield, 2019. Part of a research project funder by the Leverhulme Trust.