Anonymous Olde English


Anonymous Olde English Poems

41. Beowulf (Episode 20) 1/1/2004
42. Beowulf (Episode 21) 1/1/2004
43. Beowulf (Episode 22) 1/1/2004
44. Beowulf (Episode 24) 1/1/2004
45. Beowulf (Episode 25) 1/1/2004
46. Beowulf (Episode 26) 1/1/2004
47. Beowulf (Episode 27) 1/1/2004
48. Beowulf (Episode 28-30) 1/1/2004
49. Beowulf (Episode 31) 1/1/2004
50. Beowulf (Episode 35) 1/1/2004
51. Beowulf (The Prelude) 1/1/2004
52. Carol 4/7/2010
53. Chevy-Chase 4/7/2010
54. Childe Waters 4/7/2010
55. Cock Lorrelle's Bote 4/7/2010
56. Corydon's Doleful Knell 4/7/2010
57. Corydon's Farewell To Phillis 4/7/2010
58. Cradle Song 4/7/2010
59. Cuckoo Song 4/7/2010
60. Earthquake In London 4/7/2010
61. Edom O' Gordon 4/7/2010
62. Edward The Confessor 4/7/2010
63. Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad 4/7/2010
64. Envoy To Alison 4/7/2010
65. Epigram : If Breath Were Made For Every Man To Buy 4/7/2010
66. Episode 32 1/1/2004
67. Episode 33 1/1/2004
68. Episode 34 1/1/2004
69. Episode 36 1/1/2004
70. Episode 37 1/1/2004
71. Episode 38 1/1/2004
72. Episode 39 1/1/2004
73. Episode 40 1/1/2004
74. Episode 41 1/1/2004
75. Episode 42 1/1/2004
76. Episode 43 1/1/2004
77. Epitaph Found In Otham Church, Kent 4/7/2010
78. Epitaph Of William Walworth 4/7/2010
79. Fair Rosamond 4/7/2010
80. For The Victory At Agincourt 4/7/2010
Best Poem of Anonymous Olde English

Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad

MODERN TRANSLATION (original below)

'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
And why so sad are ye, O?'
'O, I have killed my hawk so good,
Mother, mother:
O I have killed my hawk so good:
And I had no more but he, O.'

'Your hawk's blood was never so red,
Edward, Edward:
Your hawk’s blood was never so red,
My dear son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
That once was so fair and free, O.'

'Your steed was ...

Read the full of Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad

Beowulf (Episode 31)

"So held this king to the customs old,
that I wanted for nought in the wage I gained,
the meed of my might; he made me gifts,
Healfdene's heir, for my own disposal.
Now to thee, my prince, I proffer them all,
gladly give them. Thy grace alone
can find me favor. Few indeed
have I of kinsmen, save, Hygelac, thee!"
Then he bade them bear him the boar-head standard,

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