The Wanderer | The Poetry Foundation

The weary mind cannot withstand wyrd , the troubled heart can offer no help, and so those eager for fame often bind fast in their breast-coffers a sorrowing soul, just as I have had to take my own heart— Often wretched, cut off from my own homeland, far from dear kinsmen—and bind it in fetters,…

The Wanderer (2 versions) Share Always the one alone longs for mercy, the Maker's mildness, though, troubled in mind, across the ocean-ways he has long been forced to stir with his hands the frost-cold sea, and walk in exile's paths. Wyrd is fully fixed. Thus spoke the Wanderer, mindful of troubles, of cruel slaughters and dear kinsmen's downfall: "Often alone, in the first light of dawn, I have sung my lament. There is none living to whom I would dare to reveal clearly my heart's thoughts. I know it is true that it is a nobleman's lordly nature to closely bind his spirit's coffer, hold fast h

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