Exeter Riddle 5
From Cunnan
This is riddle number 5 from The Exeter Book.
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Translation
I am solitary, scored by knives Bitten by swords, sated of battle Weary of blades. War I see often Terrible conflict. No comfort I seek With thoughts of safety in the thick of war Before I die amidst daring men But I am hurt by hammer-leavings The bitter and hardy handiwork of smiths Nip me in castles; I need yet await Grimmer ordeals. I could never In any dwelling discover a healer Whose art in herbs could heal my wounds But my blade-gashes grow yet bigger By deadly blows by day and night.
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Original
Ic eom anhaga iserne wund, bille gebennad, beadoweorca sęd, ecgum werig. Oft ic wig seo, frecne feohtan. Frofre ne wene, žęt me geoc cyme gušgewinnes, ęr ic mid ęldum eal forwurše, ac mec hnossiaš homera lafe, heardecg heoroscearp, hondweorc smiža, bitaš in burgum; ic abidan sceal lažran gemotes. Nęfre lęcecynn on folcstede findan meahte, žara že mid wyrtum wunde gehęlde, ac me ecga dolg eacen weoršaš žurh deašslege dagum ond nihtum.
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Answer
A shield
