The Seafarer: A poem in Anglo-Saxon.

MÆG ic be me sylfum soðgied wrecan

siþas secgan hu ic geswincdagum

earfoðwile oft þrowade

bitre breostceare gebidan hæbbe

gecunnad in ceole cearselda fela

atol yþa gewealc

þær mec oft bigeat

nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan

þonne he be clifan cnossað

calde geþrungen

wæron fet mine forste gebunden

caldum clommum þær þa ceare seofedun

hate ymb heortan hungor innan slat

merewerges mod

þæt se mon ne wat

þe him on foldan fægrost limpeð

hu ic earmcearig iscealdne sæ

winter wunade wræccan lastum

winemægum bidroren

bihongen hrimgicelum hægl scurum fleag

þær ic ne gehyrde butan hlimman sæ

iscaldne wæg hwilum ylfete song

dyde ic me to gomene ganetes hleoþor

ond huilpan sweg fore hleahtor wera

mæw singende fore medodrince

stormas þær stanclifu beotan þær him stearn oncwæð

isigfeþera ful oft þæt earn bigeal

urigfeþra

nænig hleomæga

feasceaftig ferð frefran meahte

forþon him gelyfeð lyt se þe ah lifes wyn

gebiden in burgum bealosiþa hwon

wlonc and wingal hu ic werig oft

in brimlade bidan sceolde

nap nihtscua norþan sniwde

hrim hrusan bond hægl feol on eorþan

corna caldast

forþon cnyssað nu

heortan geþohtas þæt ic hean streamas

sealtyþa gelac sylf cunnige

monað modes lust mæla gehwylce

ferð to feran þæt ic feor heonan

elþeodigra eard gesece

forþon nis þæs modwlonc mon over eorþan

ne his gifena þæs god ne in geoguþe to þæs hwæt

ne in his dædum to þæs deor ne him his dryhten to þæs hold

þæt he a his sæfore sorge næbbe

to hwon hine dryhten gedon wille

ne biþ him to hearpan hyge ne to hringþege

ne to wife wyn ne to worulde hyht

ne ymbe owiht elles nefne ymb yða gewealc

ac a hafað longunge se þe on lagu fundað

bearwas blostmum nimað byrig fægriað

wongas wlitigað woruld onetteð

ealle þa gemoniað modes fusne

sefan to siþe þam þe swa þenceð

on flodwegas feor gewitan

swylce geac monað geomran reorde

singeð sumeres weard sorge beodeð

bitter in breosthord

þæt se beorn ne wat

sefteadig secg hwaet þa sume dreogað

þe þa wræclastas widost lecgað

forþon nu min hyge hweorfeð ofer hreþerlocan

min modsefa mid mereflode

ofer hwæles eþel hweorfeð wide

eorþan sceatas cymeð eft to me

gifre and grædig

——————————————————————————–

Gielleð anfloga

hweteð on wæl weg hreþer unwearnum

ofer holma gelagu

forþon me hatran sind

dryhtnes dreamas þonne þis deade lif

læne on londe ic gelyfe no

þæt him eorðwelan ece stondað

simle þreora sum þinga gehwylce

ær his tiddæge to tweon weorþeð

adl oþþe yldo oþþe ecghete

fægum fromweardum feorh oðþringeð

forþon þæt is eorla gewham æftercweþendra

lof lifgendra lastworda betst

þæt he gewyrce ær he on weg scyle

fremman on foldan wið feonda niþ

deorum dædum deofle togeanes

þæt hine ælda bearn æfter hergen

ond his lof siþþan lifge mid englum

awa to ealdre ecan lifes blæd

dream mid dugeþum

dagas sind gewitene

ealle onmedlan eorþan rices

nearon nu cyningas ne caseras

ne goldgiefan swylce iu wæron

þonne hi mæst mid him mærþa gefremedon

ond on dryhlicestum dome lifdon

gedroren is þeos duguð eal dreamas sind gewitene

wuniað þa wacran ond þas woruld healdaþ

brucað þurh bisgo blæd is gehnæged

eorþan indryhto ealdað ond searað

swa nu monna gehwylc geond middangeard

yldo him on fareð onsyn blacað

gomelfeax gnornað wat his iuwine

æþelinga bearn eorþan forgiefene

ne mæg him þonne se flæschoma þonne him þæt feorg losað

ne swete forswelgan ne sar gefelan

ne hond onhreran ne mid hyge þencan

þeah þe græf wille golde stregan

broþor his geborenum byrgan be deadum

maþmum mislicum þæt hine mid nille

ne mæg þære sawle þe biþ synna ful

gold to geoce for godes egsan

þonne he hit ær hydeð þenden he her leofað

micel biþ se meotudes egsa forþon hi seo molde oncyrreð

se gestaþelade stiþe grundas

eorþan sceatas ond uprodor

dol biþ se þe him his dryhten ne ondrædeþ

cymeð him se deað unþinged

eadig bið se þe eaþmod leofaþ

cymeð him seo ar of heofonum

meotod him þæt mod gestaþelað forþon he in his meahte gelyfeð

stieran mon sceal strongum mode

ond þæt on staþelum healdan

ond gewis werum wisum clæne

scyle monna gehwylc mid gemete healdan

wiþ leofne ond wið laþne bealo

þeah þe he hine wille fyres fulne

oþþe on bæle forbærnedne

his geworhtne wine wyrd biþ swiþre

meotud meahtigra þonne ænges monnes gehygd

uton we hycgan hwær we ham agen

ond þonne geþencan hu we þider cumen

ond we þonne eac tilien þæt we to moten

in þa ecan eadignesse

þær is lif gelong in lufan dryhtnes

hyht in heofonum

þæs sy þam halgan þonc

þæt he usic geweorþade wuldres ealdor

ece dryhten in ealle tid

Amen

:: This endlessly fascinating poem, which I think I understand less each time I read it, has been translated many times by many authors and scholars. A selection of translations, some in verse and some in prose, can be found here, with a hypertext edition of the poem, along with a Canadian scholar’s Masters thesis on the poem, here.

(Crossposted to Collaboratory.)

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I found a couple of interesting word-quizzes yesterday. The first one is about political word origins and is pretty straight-forward. We do have some pretty strange words in our political discourse. I got seven right out of ten.

The second quiz is a fairly devilish word-association thing. Pairs of words are given, and it is your task to decide if they mean roughly the same or the opposite. My score was 151. There were a lot of words here that I had never seen before, so I’m thinking that around twenty or so of my right answers are the product of sheer guesswork. I’m also of the opinion, though, that while I might not be able to always give a meaning of some of the more obscure words here when they’re simply placed on the page before me, I can usually glean from context clues what the words mean. Words are meant to be used in sentences, which is why spelling-bee participants will often ask to hear the word as used in a sentence.

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Steven Den Beste on the current state of Al-Qaeda:

al Qaeda has let opportunity after opportunity for a major blow against the US go by. Two New Years have passed, with streets of major cities filled with revelers. Not a single suicide bombing. They didn’t attack on the 4th of July. They didn’t attack on September 11, 2002. They’ve let several major dates which are significant to Arabs and Muslims pass by. They didn’t attack the malls during Christmas season. They haven’t managed to pull off a single attack against us in the 12 months since the Tora Bora fight. Do you really think they’re holding back?

We’ve seen lots of threats, and dire warnings, and exhortations to the faithful. We’ve seen damned little in the way of actual carrying-out. What we’re seeing looks immensely like one or two guys with Internet access trying to make al Qaeda look threatening to cover up the fact that they are in deep crisis, such among them as are even left free and alive.

For civilians like us, the only reasonable conclusion is that al Qaeda has been deeply crippled, and the reason they have not made any attacks is that they can’t. I do not for an instant believe that they have a bazillion sleepers in the US, and preplaced weapons, and all kinds of other stuff like that which they’re holding back for some special occasion. If they could hit us, they’d have done so by now.

I found this initially compelling, until I considered something I heard on (of all places) The McLaughlin Group last week. The show’s participants were making predictions for the coming year, and one of them (I don’t recall which) said that he believes that in 2003 Al-Qaeda will launch its next big attack, because it fits into the Al-Qaeda time-frame of roughly a year-and-a-half between major attacks. Keeping this in mind, I looked at this timeline of Al-Qaeda’s history, and I saw that he was right. Al-Qaeda takes its sweet time in planning and executing its attacks; they select their targets very carefully for psychological effect; while they definitely do exult in the killing of civilians, pure body count does not seem to be their primary concern when planning a strike.

SDB tells us that they’re probably crippled, since there have been so many great opportunities for strikes that Al-Qaeda has allowed to go by; but with the exception of their averted plots at the millennium, none of Al-Qaeda’s attacks have been aimed at big, splashy events when they could kill tens of thousands in a single stroke. (And one could make the case that this was even the case of the busted millennium plot, as the target was not the throngs in Times Square but LAX.) One thought that has kept coming back to me since 9-11-01 is the fact that if they had merely wanted to kill as many Americans as possible with their four highjacked airplanes, the terrorists would have been better advised to strike on Sunday, 9-09-01 — which was the opening day of the 2001 NFL season. Imagine the carnage if those highjackers had flown their jets into four sold-out football stadiums, each packed with 70,000 people. Hell, imagine if they had struck the World Trade Center later in the day on 9-11-01, when more people would have arrived for work in the buildings.

I think that SDB is operating under the idea that “No news is good news”, and there may be an extent to which this is true — but it’s not, I think, to the extent that SDB believes. We’ve almost certainly disrupted Al-Qaeda, but on the basis of the evidence we’ve seen (which isn’t much, since the effort against Al-Qaeda is, as SDB rightly notes, a shadow war the victories of which are not trumpeted or heralded as much as they might deserve to be) and on the basis of Al-Qaeda’s own history, I don’t think it’s at all reasonable to conclude that we have crippled them.

SDB seems to be committing the classic error of drawing a conclusion that is unwarranted by the facts. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

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I’ve mentioned a couple of times in previous posts — most recently here — how the City of Buffalo, in the face of all manner of other pressing budgetary problems some of which ended up in such measures as closing police and fire precincts and shutting schools, nevertheless managed last year to come up with tax incentives amounting to $400,000 a year to keep a single K-Mart location within the city open.

Well, guess what.

I know that $400,000 doesn’t buy what it used to, but I’m thinking that surely Buffalo could have come up with something better to do with that money than keep a K-Mart open for an additional year.

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Is it just me, or is this motorcycle, introduced by Dodge last week, strikingly reminiscent of the light-cycles from the movie TRON?

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The divisional round of the NFL playoffs often provides the best games, but that wasn’t the case this week after the dual-comeback barnburners of Wild-Card week. Nevertheless, there was some scintillating action this week, most of it coming from the Pittsburgh-Tennessee game.

:: First off, I didn’t watch much of yesterday’s games, so I don’t have too much to say. I will note that the 49ers shockingly conceded defeat by electing to simply go to the locker room as the clock ticked away the last seconds of the first half, despite the fact that they were in a hole and they had two timeouts left. They might have been able to get into field-goal range, at least, and gone to the half on a positive note. When you’re down at the half in any football game (excepting preseason games, only), the last impression you want to give is, “Let’s get the f*** out of Dodge.” But that’s precisely what the 49ers did. Shame on them.

:: Michael Vick is still exciting as hell to watch, and he’s only going to get better — as long as his coaches don’t do to him what Randall Cunningham’s coaches did to him, way back when, and try to convert him into being a pocket passer. That effort resulted in Cunningham suffering a season-ending injury in the first game of the 1991 season, and Cunningham’s career never really fluorished again, except for his remarkable season with the Vikings in 1998. (Oh, and I expect Eagles safety Brian Dawkins to be fined sometime this week for his helmet-skewering of Michael Vick on a play where Vick scored a touchdown. It was exactly the kind of hit the NFL seems to really frown upon these days.)

:: I was surprised at the lackluster performance by the Eagles on offense. Granted, they were playing one of the league’s more underrated defenses, but the Buccaneers sport an even tougher defense. They need to step it up next week.

:: Sadly, it became official Saturday night: at least half of my original Super Bowl prediction was wrong. The Steelers have exited the playoffs, and as they head into the offseason they have some unexpected bright spots — they can freely unload Kordell Stewart now, for example — but they also have some uncharacteristic holes to fill, all of them on defense. When you create four turnovers and still give up 34 points and lose the game, especially by giving up big plays in OT, then you’ve got some serious problems on the defensive side of the ball.

As for the ref’s call of roughing-the-kicker which gave the Titans another shot at the game-winner (which the kicker, Joe Nedney, had just missed), well: this one can’t be blamed on the officials. It was the right call. The “running into the kicker” rule exists for a reason, and Pittsburgh cornerback Dewayne Washington really did run into him. Had the refs not thrown the flag, Titans fans would be justified in wondering why not. (There were other missed calls as well, including some very obvious interference with Titans tight end Frank Wycheck.)

Granting that it was the right call, given the rules, there’s still a certain feeling of “Oh, come on!” that sets in when watching the replay of the hit in question. Washington did run into Nedney, ’tis true; but it was such a glancing blow that a visual dictionary could use that play as its definition of the very term “glancing blow”. I was hit harder with wiffle balls in high school gym class than Nedney was hit by Washington; and for that matter, I’m getting a bit tired of the exaggerated pratfall that kickers and punters do when they come within inches of contact with another player. Are they actually coached in this? Yes, a placekicker who has just kicked a FG attempt is in a precarious position, standing on one foot with another pointing almost vertical, but these are professional athletes of whom I would expect enough balance and agility to not be vaulted into the air at the slightest hint of contact, with their legs soaring into the space where their head should be and their arms wildly flailing as if conducting the United States Marine Band in a performance of “The Stars And Stripes Forever”. Whenever I see a kicker or punter do this little act, I’m invariably reminded of the scene in The Mighty Ducks when Emilio Estevez, having realized that his youth hockey team isn’t particularly good, decides to coach them on how to fake injuries (“When he takes a shot, drop your stick and put your hands on your face and scream, Oh my EYE!.”) I know why they do it, but I still don’t like seeing grown men playing a game like football when they’re wearing the modern-equivalent of chainmail armor acting like they’re suddenly made of bone china.

One final note: I don’t like the Titans (“Homerun Throwback” is just not forgiveable), and now I don’t much like their fans, either. This was the game where they bring out all those young kids who won that “Pass, Punt and Kick” thing the NFL does. The fans did their duty and cheered the kids as they were introduced — except for the last kid, a fourteen-year-old who just happened to be from Pittsburgh. He was booed. Lots of class, that.

(Actually, I find football fans a pretty scary bunch in general…I mean, what’s up with these guys dressed up as skeletons attending the Raider games?)

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BBOOOIIIINNNNGGGGG!!!!

That’s my reaction to Robert Heinlein’s The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress. I got about 120 pages in, and I couldn’t get any farther. I was totally, utterly, uninterested in the story as it was proceeding. I’ll try it again sometime, as I’ve found more often that bouncing off a book is more indicative of my actual reading mood at the time than the quality of the book itself. For now, I’ve shifted gears entirely and am sinking my teeth into a Ken Follett thriller (Jackdaws). (I am of course disappointed that my first attempt at digging into the classic works of SF that I haven’t yet read should have met with failure, but I shall plug on undaunted.)

In other book news, last week I finished Julie Czerneda’s A Thousand Words For Stranger, which I enjoyed even though I found the goings-on in the book very hazy and hard-to-follow. It’s a space-opera-slash-romance about a woman named Sira who finds herself in the middle of a spaceport on some dingy planet, with no memory of who she is, and her adventures as she pursues her own memories and is herself pursued by…well, pursuers. She meets up with the captain of a space-freighter, Jason Morgan, and ends up joining him first as something of a refugee, then as a member of his crew (the only member, it turns out — he’s got a small ship) and finally they fall in love. Complications abound when it turns out that Sira is a member of The Clan, a race of beings who look just like humans but have telepathic powers and who can tap into and travel through something called the M’hir. The Clan is after Sira for some reason (it is explained late in the book), as is a group of Enforcers from the Trade Pact (I’m still fuzzy on just what the Trade Pact is — I think it’s a federation of star systems, organized around trade). In fact, everyone is after Sira, but she does not know at all who she is or why they might be after her. So, she and Captain Morgan (yes, I kept thinking of spiced rum every time I encountered his name) evade the pursuers all the while trying to unlock her past. It was a fun novel, and I plan to read the sequels (collectively called “The Trade Pact Universe”), but I found that A Thousand Words For Stranger was lacking in the exposition. Too much of the backstory is revealed very late in the book, so much of the story ends up being harder to follow than it really needs to be — characters’ motivations are kept shrouded in mystery, and Sira’s own motives are obviously a total mystery, so the effect ended up being that much of the time I was simply wondering, “Why on earth are all of these characters doing these things?” There were a couple of times that I nearly stopped reading, but the strength of Czerneda’s characterizations kept me going. I hope that the next books in the series are more fleshed-out, though.

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This news item isn’t particularly humorous in and of itself, but Warren Ellis’s one-sentence summation of it disrupted my breakfast this morning when I read it. Fortunately I had just swallowed, or my keyboard and printer would have been sprayed with partially-chewed bits of shredded-wheat. (My monitor, being positioned to the right, would have been spared.)

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Boy, once the NFL playoffs end and/or the commercials featuring Don Cheadle are put online someplace, my daily hit total is going to take a big drop. I’m getting at least ten hits a day from people looking for those ads. I don’t have them, but if they show up somewhere I’ll definitely link to them.

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I’m hoping against hope that this isn’t for real. I mean, come on, people.

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