Riddle 62 (or 60)

Ic eom heard ond scearp,     [i]ngonges strong,
forðsiþes from,     frean unforcuð,
wade under wambe     ond me weg sylfa
ryhtne geryme.     Rinc bið on ofeste,
5     se mec on þyð     æftanweardne,
hæleð mid hrægle;     hwilum ut tyhð
of hole hatne,     hwilum eft fareð
on nearo nathwær,     nydeþ swiþe
suþerne secg.     Saga hwæt ic hatte.

I am hard and pointed, strong going in,
firm departing, not unfamiliar to a lord.
I go beneath the belly, and myself open
a fitting passage. The warrior is in haste,
5     who presses me from behind,
the hero in garments; sometimes he draws me out,
hot from the hole, sometimes again ventures
into the confines of… I know not where. He vigorously urges,
the man from the south. Say what I am called.

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: Poker, Boring tool, Phallus

Riddle 61 (or 59)

Oft mec fæste bileac      freolicu meowle,
ides on earce,     hwilum up ateah
folmum sinum      ond frean sealde,
holdum þeodne,     swa hio haten wæs.
5     Siðþan me on hreþre      heafod sticade,
nioþan upweardne,     on nearo fegde.
Gif þæs ondfengan     ellen dohte,
mec frætwedne      fyllan sceolde
ruwes nathwæt.      Ræd hwæt ic mæne.

Often a noble woman, a lady, locked me
fast in a chest, sometimes she drew me up
with her hands and gave me to her husband,
her loyal lord, as she was bid.
5     Then he stuck his head in the heart of me,
upward from beneath, fitted it in the tight space.
If the strength of the receiver was suitable,
something shaggy had to fill
me, the adorned one. Determine what I mean.

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: Shirt/Kirtle/Tunic, Garment, Helmet

Riddle 60 (or 58)

Riddle 60’s translation is once again by Brett Roscoe of The King’s University, Alberta. (thanks, Brett!)

Ic wæs be sonde,      sæwealle neah,
æt merefaroþe,*      minum gewunade
frumstaþole fæst;       fea ænig wæs
monna cynnes,      þæt minne þær
5    on anæde      eard beheolde,
ac mec uhtna gehwam     yð sio brune
lagufæðme beleolc.      Lyt ic wende
þæt ic ær oþþe sið      æfre sceolde
ofer meodubence       muðleas sprecan,
10     wordum wrixlan.       Þæt is wundres dæl,
on sefan searolic      þam þe swylc ne conn,
hu mec seaxes ord       ond seo swiþre hond,
eorles ingeþonc      on ord somod,
þingum geþydan,       þæt ic wiþ þe sceolde
15     for unc anum twam       ærendspræce
abeodan bealdlice,      swa hit beorna ma
uncre wordcwidas     widdor ne mænden.**

I was by the shore, near the sea-cliff,
with the surging of the waves.* I remained
fixed at my first place; there were few
of mankind who there,
5     in that solitude, could see my home,
but each morning the wave in its dark,
watery embrace enclosed me. Little did I know
that ever before or after,
I – mouth-less – across the mead-bench would have to speak,
10     exchange words. It is a kind of wonder
to one who does not know such things,
how, with a clever mind, the point of a knife,
the right hand and the thought of man together in a point,
press me for this purpose: that I with you should,
15     in the presence of us two alone,
boldly declare my message, so that no men
should spread our words more widely.**

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: Reed (pen), Rune staff


Translation Notes:

* Old English dictionaries do not agree on the meaning of merefaroþ, which has been defined variously as shore or bank, seawaves, or the surging of the waves.

**Lines 16b-17 literally read “so that [it] more men should not spread our words more widely” but since the double “more” sounds awkward in Modern English, I have omitted one of them.

Riddle 59 (or 57)

The following translation post is by Brett Roscoe, Assistant Professor at The King’s University in Alberta, and researcher of medieval wisdom literature. Take it away, Brett!

Ic seah in healle      hring gyldenne
men sceawian,       modum gleawe,
ferþþum frode.      Friþospede bæd
god nergende       gæste sinum
5     se þe wende wriþan;       word æfter cwæð
hring on hyrede,      hælend nemde
tillfremmendra.      Him torhte in gemynd
his dryhtnes naman      dumba brohte
ond in eagna gesihð,      gif þæs æþelan
10     goldes tacen       ongietan cuþe
ond dryhtnes dolg,      don swa þæs beages
benne cwædon.      Ne mæg þære bene
æniges monnes      ungefullodre
godes ealdorburg      gæst gesecan,
15     rodera ceastre.       Ræde, se þe wille,
hu ðæs wrætlican      wunda cwæden
hringes to hæleþum,       þa he in healle wæs
wylted ond wended       wloncra folmum.

I saw in the hall men behold
a golden ring, prudent in mind,
wise in spirit. He who turned the ring
asked for abundant peace for his spirit
5     from God the Saviour.* Then it spoke a word,
the ring in the gathering. It named the Healer
of those who do good. Clearly into memory
and into the sight of their eyes it brought, without words,
the Lord’s name, if one could perceive
10     the meaning of that noble, golden sign
and the wounds of the Lord, and do as the wounds
of the ring said. The prayer
of any man being unfulfilled,**
his soul cannot reach God’s royal city,
15     the fortress of the heavens. Let him who wishes explain
how the wounds of that curious ring
spoke to men, when, in the hall,
it was rolled and turned in the hands of the bold ones.

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solution: Chalice

Translation Notes:

  • * Here I follow the Craig Williamson in translating god nergende as the object of the clause. Given the meaning of biddan (to pray, entreat, ask), I don’t think it likely that God is the subject. After all, who would God pray to?
  • **P.J. Cosijn suggests changing the manuscript ungefullodre to ungefullodra, translating it “of the unbaptized” (p. 130), the sense then being that the prayer of the unbaptized will not get them to heaven. The translation given here adopts the suggestion made by Frederick Tupper Jr. (p. 198).


  • Cosjin, P. J. “Anglosaxonica. IV.” Beitrage, vol. 23 (1898), pages 109-30.
  • Tupper, Frederick Jr., ed. The Riddles of the Exeter Book. Boston: Ginn, 1910.
  • Williamson, Craig, ed. The Old English Riddles of the Exeter Book. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977, pages 102, 313-14.

Riddle 58 (or 56)

Ic wat anfete      ellen dreogan
wiht on wonge.      Wide ne fereð,
ne fela rideð,      ne fleogan mæg
þurh scirne dæg,      ne hie scip fereð,
5     naca nægledbord;      nyt bið hwæþre
hyre mondryhtne      monegum tidum.
Hafað hefigne steort,      heafod lytel,
tungan lange,      toð nænigne,
isernes dæl;      eorðgræf pæþeð.
10     Wætan ne swelgeþ      ne wiht iteþ,
foþres ne gitsað,      fereð oft swa þeah
lagoflod on lyfte;      life ne gielpeð,
hlafordes gifum,      hyreð swa þeana
þeodne sinum.      Þry sind in naman
15     ryhte runstafas,      þara is Rad foran.

I know a one-footed thing, working with strength,
a creature on the plain. It does not travel far,
nor rides much, nor can it fly
through the bright day, no ship ferries it,
5     no nail-planked boat; it is however a benefit
to its master at many times.
It has a heavy tail, a little head,
a long tongue, not any teeth,
a share of iron; it treads an earth-hole.
10     It swallows no water nor eats a thing,
nor desires food, often however it ferries
a flood into the air; it boasts not of life
of a lord’s gifts, nonetheless it obeys
its own ruler. In its name are three
15     right rune-letters, with ‘rad’ at the front.

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: Well-sweep

Riddle 57 (or 55)

Today’s translation post is by Michael J. Warren. He has just completed his PhD on birds in medieval English poetry at Royal Holloway, where he is now a visiting lecturer. His new projects continue to focus on animal studies and ecocritical approaches to the natural world. Check out Michael’s blog, The Compleat Birder, here.

Ðeos lyft byreð      lytle wihte
ofer beorghleoþa.      Þa sind blace swiþe,
swearte salopade.      Sanges rope
heapum ferað,      hlude cirmað,
tredað bearonæssas,      hwilum burgsalo
niþþa bearna.      Nemnað hy sylfe.

The air bears little creatures
over the hillsides. They are very black,
swarthy, dark-coated. Bountiful of song
they journey in groups, cry loudly,
tread the woody headlands, sometimes the town-dwellings
of the sons of men. They name themselves.

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: Swifts, Swallows, Crows, Jackdaws, Starlings, House martins, Letters, Musical notes, Gnats, Stormclouds, Hailstones, Raindrops, Bees, Midges, Damned souls, or Demons

Riddle 56 (or 54)

Ic wæs þær inne      þær ic ane geseah
winnende wiht      wido bennegean,
holt hweorfende;      heaþoglemma feng,
deopra dolga.      Daroþas wæron
5     weo þære wihte,      ond se wudu searwum
fæste gebunden.      Hyre fota wæs
biidfæst oþer,      oþer bisgo dreag,
leolc on lyfte,      hwilum londe neah.
Treow wæs getenge      þam þær torhtan stod
10     leafum bihongen.      Ic lafe geseah
minum hlaforde,      þær hæleð druncon,
þara flana,      on flet beran.*

I was inside there, where I saw
a wooden object wounding a certain struggling creature,
the turning wood; it received battle-wounds,
deep gashes. Darts were
5     woeful to that creature, and the wood skillfully
bound fast. One of its feet was
held fixed, the other endured affliction,
leapt into the air, sometimes near the land.
A tree, hung about by leaves, was near
10     to that bright thing [which] stood there. I saw the leavings
of those arrows, carried onto the floor
to my lord, where the warriors drank.

Highlight the box with your cursor to reveal the possible solutions: Loom, Lathe


*Note that I’ve followed Craig Williamson’s emendation of line 12a, which in the manuscript reads þara flan (Krapp and Dobbie change it to þara flana geweorc). See:  Williamson. The Old English Riddles of The Exeter Book. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977, page 307.