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The Exeter Book: An Anthology of Anglo-Saxon Poetry & Literature
This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.
This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.
Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface.
We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.
Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface.
We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
382 pages, Hardcover
First published October 15, 1936
5 people are currently reading
254 people want to read
About the author
Anonymous
791k books3,371 followersBooks can be attributed to "Anonymous" for several reasons:
* They are officially published under that name
* They are traditional stories not attributed to a specific author
* They are religious texts not generally attributed to a specific author
Books whose authorship is merely uncertain should be attributed to Unknown.
See also: Anonymous
* They are officially published under that name
* They are traditional stories not attributed to a specific author
* They are religious texts not generally attributed to a specific author
Books whose authorship is merely uncertain should be attributed to Unknown.
See also: Anonymous
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 10 reviews
October 12, 2012
I actually am reading the manuscript version--something that gives me a ridiculously tremendous amount of joy.
March 23, 2025
One of my favourite lines:
Gehȳrest þū, Ēadwacer?
Uncerne eargne hwelp bireð wulf tō wuda.
Þæt mon ēaþe tōslīteð
þætte nǣfre gesomnad wæs,
uncer giedd geador.
Gehȳrest þū, Ēadwacer?
Uncerne eargne hwelp bireð wulf tō wuda.
Þæt mon ēaþe tōslīteð
þætte nǣfre gesomnad wæs,
uncer giedd geador.
August 20, 2023
from The Wanderer:
The wise man must realize how ghostly it will be
when all the wealth of this world stands waste,
as now here and there throughout this middle-earth
walls stand blasted by wind,
beaten by frost, the buildings crumbling.
The wine halls topple, their rulers lie
deprived of all joys; the proud old troops
all fell by the wall. War carried off some,
sent them on the way, one a bird carried off
over the high seas, one the gray wolf
shared with death—and one a sad-faced man
hid in an earthen grave. The ancient
ruler of men thus wrecked this enclosure,
until the old works of giants stood empty,
without the sounds of their former citizens.1
He who deeply considers, with wise thoughts,
this foundation and this dark life,
old in spirit, often remembers
so many ancient slaughters, and says these words:
‘Where have the horses gone? where are the riders? where is the giver of gold?
Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?
O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!
O the glory of princes! How the time passed away,
slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!’
from The Seafarer:
And now my spirit twists
out of my breast,
my spirit
out in the waterways,
over the whale's path
it soars widely
through all the corners of the world—
it comes back to me
eager and unsated;
the lone-flier screams,
urges onto the whale-road
the unresisting heart
across the waves of the sea.
Indeed hotter for me are
the joys of the Lord
than this dead life
fleeting on the land.
I do not believe
that the riches of the world
will stand forever.
from The Riming Poem:
He who granted me life created this sun
and graciously provided its radiant engine.
I was gladdened with glees, bathed in bright hues,
deluged with joy’s blossoms, sunshine-infused.
from Deor:
He sits sorrowful and anxious,
bereft of joy,
darkening in his mind,
he thinks to himself
it is endless
his part of troubles;
then he can consider
that throughout this world
the wise Lord
always goes,
to many men
he shows honor,
sure glory,
to some a share of troubles.
from Wulf and Eadwacer:
Do you hear, Eadwacer? A wolf bears away
our wretched cub to the woods.
One can easily split what was never united,
the song of the two of us.
from The Wife's Lament:
Commanded was I to dwell in a forest grove.
Under an oak tree, in a cave—the earth’s chest.
Old is this earth hall and I am filled with longing.
Here is a gloomy valley, treacherous hills,
bitter hedges, briars waxing, overgrown
in this house without joy. Very often my cruel departure
takes hold of me. Friends live on earth
lying in bed with their beloveds
while I in the time before dawn alone walk
under oak tree. In the earth’s chest
I sit many long summer days
weeping for the misery of exile
my many hardships; there I am never able
to rest from my mind’s grief
nor from all the longing that in this life takes hold of me.
from The Husband's Message:
At my master’s command I have often crossed the sea,
Sailed in the ship’s hold to strange destinations.
And this time I have come especially
To sow assurance in your mind
About my lord’s great love for you.
I swear that you will find in him
Great faith to you, great loyalty.
O lady adorned with such lovely ornaments,
He who carved the words in this wood
Bids me ask you to remember
The oaths you swore so long ago together;
In those distant days you lived in the same country,
Lived in love together,
Sharing one estate in the beautiful city.
from The Ruin:
This masonry is wondrous; fates broke it
courtyard pavements were smashed; the work of giants is decaying.
Roofs are fallen, ruinous towers,
the frosty gate with frost on cement is ravaged,
chipped roofs are torn, fallen,
undermined by old age. The grasp of the earth possesses
the mighty builders, perished and fallen,
the hard grasp of earth, until a hundred generations
of people have departed.
The wise man must realize how ghostly it will be
when all the wealth of this world stands waste,
as now here and there throughout this middle-earth
walls stand blasted by wind,
beaten by frost, the buildings crumbling.
The wine halls topple, their rulers lie
deprived of all joys; the proud old troops
all fell by the wall. War carried off some,
sent them on the way, one a bird carried off
over the high seas, one the gray wolf
shared with death—and one a sad-faced man
hid in an earthen grave. The ancient
ruler of men thus wrecked this enclosure,
until the old works of giants stood empty,
without the sounds of their former citizens.1
He who deeply considers, with wise thoughts,
this foundation and this dark life,
old in spirit, often remembers
so many ancient slaughters, and says these words:
‘Where have the horses gone? where are the riders? where is the giver of gold?
Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?
O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!
O the glory of princes! How the time passed away,
slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!’
from The Seafarer:
And now my spirit twists
out of my breast,
my spirit
out in the waterways,
over the whale's path
it soars widely
through all the corners of the world—
it comes back to me
eager and unsated;
the lone-flier screams,
urges onto the whale-road
the unresisting heart
across the waves of the sea.
Indeed hotter for me are
the joys of the Lord
than this dead life
fleeting on the land.
I do not believe
that the riches of the world
will stand forever.
from The Riming Poem:
He who granted me life created this sun
and graciously provided its radiant engine.
I was gladdened with glees, bathed in bright hues,
deluged with joy’s blossoms, sunshine-infused.
from Deor:
He sits sorrowful and anxious,
bereft of joy,
darkening in his mind,
he thinks to himself
it is endless
his part of troubles;
then he can consider
that throughout this world
the wise Lord
always goes,
to many men
he shows honor,
sure glory,
to some a share of troubles.
from Wulf and Eadwacer:
Do you hear, Eadwacer? A wolf bears away
our wretched cub to the woods.
One can easily split what was never united,
the song of the two of us.
from The Wife's Lament:
Commanded was I to dwell in a forest grove.
Under an oak tree, in a cave—the earth’s chest.
Old is this earth hall and I am filled with longing.
Here is a gloomy valley, treacherous hills,
bitter hedges, briars waxing, overgrown
in this house without joy. Very often my cruel departure
takes hold of me. Friends live on earth
lying in bed with their beloveds
while I in the time before dawn alone walk
under oak tree. In the earth’s chest
I sit many long summer days
weeping for the misery of exile
my many hardships; there I am never able
to rest from my mind’s grief
nor from all the longing that in this life takes hold of me.
from The Husband's Message:
At my master’s command I have often crossed the sea,
Sailed in the ship’s hold to strange destinations.
And this time I have come especially
To sow assurance in your mind
About my lord’s great love for you.
I swear that you will find in him
Great faith to you, great loyalty.
O lady adorned with such lovely ornaments,
He who carved the words in this wood
Bids me ask you to remember
The oaths you swore so long ago together;
In those distant days you lived in the same country,
Lived in love together,
Sharing one estate in the beautiful city.
from The Ruin:
This masonry is wondrous; fates broke it
courtyard pavements were smashed; the work of giants is decaying.
Roofs are fallen, ruinous towers,
the frosty gate with frost on cement is ravaged,
chipped roofs are torn, fallen,
undermined by old age. The grasp of the earth possesses
the mighty builders, perished and fallen,
the hard grasp of earth, until a hundred generations
of people have departed.
December 14, 2025
Kind of cheating since I haven’t read every text within the Exeter book, but the ones I explored for my personal statement and interview prep really were fantastic. I never thought I’d enjoy old English works, yet the themes of poems like The Wanderer were just so easy to empathise with. So interesting to see how an anonymous work written thousands of years ago touches upon the same feelings of loneliness and companionship that humans experience today. Also very intrigued to see a poem from a female perspective in an anthology so old. A really eye opening collection of pieces that challenged my ideas about a period of literature I knew relatively little about.
July 6, 2022
I'm not usually one for poetry, especially old poetry. Having said that, I can see why The Wanderer is such an influential piece of work. It captures the sorrow of an old, abandoned warrior with such beauty and elegance.
September 12, 2020
I read three poems from this book. It was sorrowful and depressing, yet well-written poems
December 18, 2021
the tearstained copy of this book will be up for sale in June. translation and analysis is painful.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 10 reviews