Éadig Béo Þu by J.R.R. Tolkien
Éadig béo þu, góda mann!
Éadig béo þu, léofe wíf!
Langre lisse ic þe ann -
hafa lof and líe líf!
Hé þe hér swa sáre swanc,
rúna rǽdde’ and fyrngewrit,
hál beo hé, on sálum wlanc,
healde láre’ and wis gewit!
Éadge béo we eft swa nú!
Dréam ne dréose, drync genóg
flówe on fullum síþ swa iú -
fyllaþ wǽge, fyllaþ cróg!
Byrla! byrla! medu scenc!
Dóm is feor þeah dóm sie strang.
Swanc forlǽt and géot ús drenc!
Lust is lýtel, earfoþ lang.
Uton singan scírne sang,
herian Beorc and byrcen cynn,
láre’ and láreow, leornungmann -
sie ús sǽl and hǽl and wynn!
Ác sceal feallan on þæt fýr
lustes, léafes, lífes wan!
Beorc sceal ágan langne tír,
bréme glǽme glengan wang!
Good luck to you, good man,
and to you, dear woman.
I give you lasting joy,
have praise and pleasant life.
He who worked here so hard,
expounded runes and ancient texts,
may he be happy too, merry at his feasts,
and keep up good sense and learning.
May we be happy later as we are now,
may joy not fail, and drink enough
flow in the cups in times to come as times gone by - fill the cups and fill the pitchers!
Waiter, waiter, give us mead!
Doom is far enough though doom be strong,
give up work and pour us drink.
Joy is little and labour long.
Let’s sing a cheerful song,
praise the Birch and birch’s race,
the teacher, the student and the subject,
may we all have health and joy and happiness.
The oak will fall into the fire,
losing joy and leaf and life.
The birch shall keep its glory long,
shine in splendour over the bright plain.
From Songs for the Philologists
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2087
