Riddles From The Book Of Exeter 11-20 by Riddle Genius Lyrics
11. My garb is ashen and in my garments
bright jewels, garnet-coloured, gleam.
I mislead muddlers, despatch the thoughtless
on fool's errands, and thwart cautious men
in their useful journeys. I can't think
why, addled and led astray, robbed
of their senses, men praise my ways
to everyone. Woe betide addicts
when they bring the dearest of hoards on high
unless they've foregone their foolish habits.
12. I travel by foot, trample the ground,
the green fields, for as long as I live
Lifeless, I fetter dark Welshmen
sometimes their betters too. At times
I give a warrior liquor from within me,
at times a stately bride steps on me;
sometimes a slave-girl, raven-haired,
brought far from Wales, cradles and presses me -
some stupid, sozzled maidservant fills me
with water on dark nights, warms me
by the gleaming fire, on my breast
she places a wanton hand and writhes about,
then sweeps me against her dark declivity.
What am I called who, alive, lay waste
the land and, dead, serve humankind?
13. I saw ten in all, roaming the greensward,
six brothers strutting with their sisters;
they had living spirits. A garment of skin -
there was no mistaking it - hung on the wall
of each one's house. And none were worse off,
nor their movements more painful, though
they must gnaw at the grey-green shoots,
robbed of their garments, roused by the might
of the guardian of heaven. New clothing
is furbished for those who before walked out naked;
they scatter and roam over the land.
14. I was once a warrior's weapon.
Now a noble young retainer
dresses me in threads of twisted gold
and silver. At time men kiss me,
at times I summon close friends
to do battle; a horse sometimes bears me
over the earth, sea-horses sometimes
sweep me, gleaming, over the ocean;
now and then a maiden, ring-adorned,
replenishes my paunch. I must lie on planks
at times, plundered, hard and headless;
often, gold-garbed, I hang on the wall
above drinking warriors, a splendid sight,
instrument of war. Covered in riches,
I draw in breath from a brave man's lungs
when retainers ride towards battle.
At times I tell proud warriors
that wine is served; at times rally them,
save booty from hostile men, drive off
the enemy. Now ask me my name.
15. Whereas my neck is white, my head
and sides are brown; I move swiftly
and bear a battle-weapon; hair covers my back
and my cheeks as well; two ears tower high
above my eyes. I step on my toes through
the green grass. Grief is ordained for me
if any fierce creature should catch me
in my hole where I have my house and children;
should I stay there with my offspring
after this guest comes knocking
at my door, they are doomed to die.
I must bravely carry my infants
far from our house, save them by flight,
if that creature still follows me.
He advances on his breast. I dare not await him
in my hole . . . that was not a wise plan at all.
I must burrow through the steep hillside
With my two forefeet as fast as I can.
I can save the lives of my loved ones
with ease, once I've guided them out
by a secret way through a hole in the hill.
Then, if it comes to blows and battle,
I feel no fear of this murderous foe.
If he still gives me chase
through that narrow hole I've just made in the hill,
I will not fail to fight him fiercely.
Once I've tunnelled my way to the top,
I will angrily batter my enemy,
That hateful foe from whom I long fled.
16. I must fight with the waves whipped up by the wind,
grapple alone with their force combined,
when I dive to earth under the sea.
My own country is unknown to me.
If I can stay still, I'm strong in the fray;
If not, their might is greater than mine,
they'll break me in fragments and put me to flight,
meaning to wreck what I must protect.
I can foil them if my fins are not frail,
and the rocks hold firm against my force.
You know my nature, now guess my name.
17. Confined by a wire fence, and filled
with princely treasures, I'm the bulwark
of my people. Many is the morning
I spew spear-terror; the more I'm fed,
the greater my strength. My guardian watches
how darts whistle out of my belly.
At times I almost swallow the burnished
dark bolts, the baleful weapons,
searing poisoned spears, esteemed by warriors.
Men remember what issues from my mouth.
18. This Riddle was Destroyed :(
19. This Riddle was Destroyed :(
20. I'm a strange creature, shaped for a scrap,
dear to my lord, finely decorated.
My clothing is motley and bright metal threads
mount the deadly jewel my master
gave me - the man who at times involves me
in a fight. I carry treasure then,
the handiwork of smiths, gold in the court,
all the clear day. I often dispatch
well-armed warriors. A king enriches me
with silver and precious stones, honours me
in the hall; he doesn't stint but sings my praises
to the gathering - men swigging mead;
at times he holds me in reserve, at times
sets me free, travel-weary, eager
in the fray. Often I put friend
at the throats of friends; I'm widely reviled,
the most accursed of weapons. If a cruel warrior
should assault me in battle, I cannot hope
for a son to avenge me on my slayer;
nor will the family from which I sprang
be increased through children of mine
unless, lordless, I have to leave
the guardian who once gave me rings.
If I follow a warrior and fight on his behalf,
as I done before for my master's satisfaction,
I must forego, as fate wills, the chance
to father children. I cannot lie
with a woman, but the same man who once
bound me with a belt denies me now
the rapture of love play; I must enjoy
the treasure of heroes single and celibate.
Tricked out with metal threads, I often
irritate and frustrate some woman; she insults me,
smacks her hands and runs me down,
yells abuses. This is not my kind of contest . . .
bright jewels, garnet-coloured, gleam.
I mislead muddlers, despatch the thoughtless
on fool's errands, and thwart cautious men
in their useful journeys. I can't think
why, addled and led astray, robbed
of their senses, men praise my ways
to everyone. Woe betide addicts
when they bring the dearest of hoards on high
unless they've foregone their foolish habits.
12. I travel by foot, trample the ground,
the green fields, for as long as I live
Lifeless, I fetter dark Welshmen
sometimes their betters too. At times
I give a warrior liquor from within me,
at times a stately bride steps on me;
sometimes a slave-girl, raven-haired,
brought far from Wales, cradles and presses me -
some stupid, sozzled maidservant fills me
with water on dark nights, warms me
by the gleaming fire, on my breast
she places a wanton hand and writhes about,
then sweeps me against her dark declivity.
What am I called who, alive, lay waste
the land and, dead, serve humankind?
13. I saw ten in all, roaming the greensward,
six brothers strutting with their sisters;
they had living spirits. A garment of skin -
there was no mistaking it - hung on the wall
of each one's house. And none were worse off,
nor their movements more painful, though
they must gnaw at the grey-green shoots,
robbed of their garments, roused by the might
of the guardian of heaven. New clothing
is furbished for those who before walked out naked;
they scatter and roam over the land.
14. I was once a warrior's weapon.
Now a noble young retainer
dresses me in threads of twisted gold
and silver. At time men kiss me,
at times I summon close friends
to do battle; a horse sometimes bears me
over the earth, sea-horses sometimes
sweep me, gleaming, over the ocean;
now and then a maiden, ring-adorned,
replenishes my paunch. I must lie on planks
at times, plundered, hard and headless;
often, gold-garbed, I hang on the wall
above drinking warriors, a splendid sight,
instrument of war. Covered in riches,
I draw in breath from a brave man's lungs
when retainers ride towards battle.
At times I tell proud warriors
that wine is served; at times rally them,
save booty from hostile men, drive off
the enemy. Now ask me my name.
15. Whereas my neck is white, my head
and sides are brown; I move swiftly
and bear a battle-weapon; hair covers my back
and my cheeks as well; two ears tower high
above my eyes. I step on my toes through
the green grass. Grief is ordained for me
if any fierce creature should catch me
in my hole where I have my house and children;
should I stay there with my offspring
after this guest comes knocking
at my door, they are doomed to die.
I must bravely carry my infants
far from our house, save them by flight,
if that creature still follows me.
He advances on his breast. I dare not await him
in my hole . . . that was not a wise plan at all.
I must burrow through the steep hillside
With my two forefeet as fast as I can.
I can save the lives of my loved ones
with ease, once I've guided them out
by a secret way through a hole in the hill.
Then, if it comes to blows and battle,
I feel no fear of this murderous foe.
If he still gives me chase
through that narrow hole I've just made in the hill,
I will not fail to fight him fiercely.
Once I've tunnelled my way to the top,
I will angrily batter my enemy,
That hateful foe from whom I long fled.
16. I must fight with the waves whipped up by the wind,
grapple alone with their force combined,
when I dive to earth under the sea.
My own country is unknown to me.
If I can stay still, I'm strong in the fray;
If not, their might is greater than mine,
they'll break me in fragments and put me to flight,
meaning to wreck what I must protect.
I can foil them if my fins are not frail,
and the rocks hold firm against my force.
You know my nature, now guess my name.
17. Confined by a wire fence, and filled
with princely treasures, I'm the bulwark
of my people. Many is the morning
I spew spear-terror; the more I'm fed,
the greater my strength. My guardian watches
how darts whistle out of my belly.
At times I almost swallow the burnished
dark bolts, the baleful weapons,
searing poisoned spears, esteemed by warriors.
Men remember what issues from my mouth.
18. This Riddle was Destroyed :(
19. This Riddle was Destroyed :(
20. I'm a strange creature, shaped for a scrap,
dear to my lord, finely decorated.
My clothing is motley and bright metal threads
mount the deadly jewel my master
gave me - the man who at times involves me
in a fight. I carry treasure then,
the handiwork of smiths, gold in the court,
all the clear day. I often dispatch
well-armed warriors. A king enriches me
with silver and precious stones, honours me
in the hall; he doesn't stint but sings my praises
to the gathering - men swigging mead;
at times he holds me in reserve, at times
sets me free, travel-weary, eager
in the fray. Often I put friend
at the throats of friends; I'm widely reviled,
the most accursed of weapons. If a cruel warrior
should assault me in battle, I cannot hope
for a son to avenge me on my slayer;
nor will the family from which I sprang
be increased through children of mine
unless, lordless, I have to leave
the guardian who once gave me rings.
If I follow a warrior and fight on his behalf,
as I done before for my master's satisfaction,
I must forego, as fate wills, the chance
to father children. I cannot lie
with a woman, but the same man who once
bound me with a belt denies me now
the rapture of love play; I must enjoy
the treasure of heroes single and celibate.
Tricked out with metal threads, I often
irritate and frustrate some woman; she insults me,
smacks her hands and runs me down,
yells abuses. This is not my kind of contest . . .